The Night Caller: An utterly gripping crime thriller
Page 28
She hesitated, partially concealed from his view by her car, before making up her mind and stepping out into his path.
He waved and came to a stop.
‘Lee,’ she said. ‘How are you feeling?’
He leaned over, catching his breath, propping his hands on his knees. His face was turned away from her, but she saw the tears that rolled down his neck. Eventually he scrubbed at his eyes, stood upright and looked at Carrie straight on.
‘I feel like I didn’t know him, a year we were together, and I had no idea of the sort of person he was.’ He shook his head, closed his eyes. Carrie’s heart cracked a little at the pain etched upon his face.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘But it’s over now, and Jordan is at peace.’
Empty words, proven by the look he shot her.
‘How can you not know someone, when you think you know them inside out, you think you know everything about them and yet,’ he broke off, swiped at his eyes again. ‘All the things he did…’
She saw it then, in this young man. Jordan had probably been his first real love, and finding out he knew nothing about the man he was in a long-term relationship with had clearly shaken Lee to his core. Carrie reached out a hand, hovered near his shoulder.
‘Don’t let this change you, Lee,’ she said. ‘You deserve happiness, and it will take time, but don’t shut people out.’
A bitter laugh bubbled up inside her; why couldn’t she practice what she preached? She pushed on regardless. ‘You have my number, if you ever want to talk, okay?’
He nodded, a small smile breaking through. Carrie forced a smile of her own, wondering why she’d said that.
She raised her hand in a wave, watched him running away, a more relaxed jog this time. With a sigh, she turned and walked into the care home.
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Carrie’s mother’s room was clean and clinical, devoid of family memorabilia or mementoes. To Carrie, looking now, it seemed like she could be back in Jordan Robinson’s room all over again.
When she came here, Carrie herself was emotionless, methodical. She rarely sat with her mother, holding her hand, stroking her arm like she saw so many of the other family members doing. Instead she rearranged the flowers she had bought on her previous visit, replaced them with new blooms, read through the medication and incident log, ensured her mother had been fed and had fresh water or juice.
Today was different. Today, Carrie felt like there could be a breakthrough.
For years she had chased the Pusher, working her way with her colleagues through the many threads of the investigation that had tangled and snagged. At times – many times – she had been convinced there would be no end, that the man, or men, as it turned out, would never be caught or stopped. It had been a constant reminder that there were crimes that went unsolved, including that which had impacted her own family.
But the Pusher was no more, he had been stopped, albeit by his own hand, and he had been identified. And it was finished.
Carrie felt warm, hopeful and well-rested after nearly a week off.
Today she ignored the wilting flowers and the activity log and pulled up a chair to sit opposite her mother. Reaching out, she laid her hand on top of her mother’s and softly patted the papery skin.
‘Ma, I solved a case at work.’ Carrie removed her hand and sat back in her chair. ‘It had been going on for years, but finally it’s over. It made me think of… us and what we went through.’
There was no response from her mother. Mary Flynn remained much like she had for the last two decades; still, blank, devoid of any thought or feeling.
Carrie pushed on. ‘It made me hopeful, Ma. I know it was a long time ago, but maybe there’s still a chance I can close our case.’
Silence shrouded the small room, the only sound Mary’s breathing, thick and hard.
‘If I… if I caught him, Ma…’ she trailed off, observing her mother. Never did they say her name, and maybe that was what Mary needed.
Carrie tried again. ‘Would you come back to me, if I caught the man who took our Hattie?’
Just saying her sister’s name was like a glass mirror shattering. Mary’s eyes flickered. Carrie grabbed her hand, lifted it, a dead weight, and kissed her mother’s knuckles. Had she been cruel, saying the name that neither of them ever allowed to pass their lips? Or had she been doing a disservice all these years to Hattie, pretending that she never existed?
‘Our Hattie.’ Carrie said it again, tested out the name. It tasted like childhood, long-ago summers and all the memories that had died when she had vanished. ‘If I caught him, would you come back, Ma, would you at least try?’
Mary’s head dipped, her chin coming to rest on her chest. Carrie let her hand go. Pushing back the chair, she stood up.
She would take it as a ‘yes’.
She felt light and hard, all at the same time. With a sense of renewal she walked out into the Salford evening, feeling as though for the first time that anything might be possible.
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A Letter from J.M. Hewitt
I want to say a huge thank you for choosing to read The Night Caller. During my research for this book, I spent some time around the network of canals around Salford, Manchester. Some of these water ways are welcoming, surrounded by the exciting and vibrant Media City, the Lowry Centre and all of the bars, hotels and restaurants. But if you catch these canals on a particular day or night, when the fog hangs low over the water, and there isn’t a soul in sight, they can give off a very different vibe. I hope I’ve captured this in the pages of The Night Caller, and you, the reader, can experience the evocative setting I tried to portray. I also hope you enjoyed meeting Detective Carrie Flynn as we’ll be spending more time with her and partner Paul in later novels!
If you did enjoy it, and want to keep up-to-date with all my latest releases, just sign up here. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.
I hope you loved The Night Caller and if you did I would be very grateful if you could write a review. I’d love to hear what you think, and it makes such a difference helping new readers to discover one of my books for the first time.
I love hearing from my readers – you can get in touch on my Facebook page, through Twitter, Goodreads or my website.
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Thanks,
J.M. Hewitt
www.jmhewitt.com
Acknowledgements
I owe an enormous amount of gratitude to my mum and dad – Janet and Keith, who have always been an incredible support. My life with you and the rest of my family shines with your love.
I’m so lucky to have some fabulous friends who, although they might not realise, really helped me to finish this novel through the summer of 2018; Lou, Lisa, Kim, Vic, my brother, Darren Hewitt, and his family – the messages, calls, walks, holidays and visits were priceless and inspirational, just like you. I’m so grateful for your friendship.
And those wonderful crime writers who, despite not being local are a constant support; Ruth Dugdall, Vicky Newham, Jane Isaac, Susi Holliday, Noelle Holten and all the others; writers, readers and bloggers alike – the crime fiction community really is filled with the best people.
Thank you to my agent; Laetitia Rutherford of Watson, Little. I’m so grateful for your support, encouragement and advice and the time you spent helping to make this book the best it could possibly be.
For my wonderful editor at Bookouture, Maisie Lawrence. The time and care you’ve taken on The Night Caller means so much, and with all of your editorial skills I couldn’t have asked for my first Bookouture baby to be in better hands. Kim Nash and Noelle at Bookouture, thank you so much for your tireless shout outs, your enthusiasm is catching!
Published by Bookouture in 2019
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An imprint of StoryFire Ltd.
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Copyright © J.M. Hewitt, 2019
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J.M. Hewitt has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-78681-874-4
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.