by Jay Gill
“Nope.”
“How about you read a few case files?”
“Nope. Shut up and drive.”
Chapter Eighty-Two
Emma put the last box in the back of her car and slammed the boot. It didn’t amount to much, but it represented the time she and Dave had spent together. She’d kept a couple of photos and the t-shirt she’d liked seeing him in, but everything else she was letting go. The drive to his parents’ house she did in silence with just her thoughts for company.
When she reached the house, she switched off the engine and sat deep in thought, staring at the front door. Dave’s parents had always been very welcoming to her, and she wondered why she was finding it so hard to see them now. Of course, she thought, mentally smacking her forehead. It was because she blamed herself for their son’s death.
After a few more deep breaths and heavy sighs, she plucked up the courage to go up the front steps and knock.
Jean opened the door. Emma was shocked at how much older she looked.
“Oh, Emma, it’s so good to see you. Come here, sweetheart.” Jean put out her arms and enfolded her in a hug. “How are you coping?”
“I’m okay. How are you and John?”
“You know. Good days and bad days.”
“I’m so sorry, Jean.”
“I know you are. We all miss him. He had such a big heart. He’ll leave a huge hole in all our lives.”
“He will,” said Emma.
“There’s something I need to say, and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”
“Oh?” She took a step back. “What’s that?”
“I know you and Dave never actually tied the knot, but I want you to know that for a long time now I’ve seen you as my daughter-in-law. I don’t want that ever to change. I want you to think of yourself as my daughter. Every day, I thank God for you.”
Emma tried to smile. How could she ever tell Jean the truth?
“Thank you, Jean. It means a lot.”
“Well, come in, come in. John will be delighted to see you.”
Emma said, “I have some of Dave’s belongings in my car; bits and pieces he’d want you to have.”
“That can wait. We’re just about to go to Mass. They’re going to say a few words. Ask people to pray for him.”
“I won’t keep you. I can come back another time. I was just going to drop the boxes off. I don’t want to impose.”
“We can do that later. John will give you a hand after church. He’s around here somewhere. Spends most of his time tinkering with his car at the moment. It stops him having to think about it. I suppose that’s how men cope.”
Emma brushed off her jeans. “I’m not really dressed for church.”
“Nonsense. You look lovely. You always do. It would mean a lot to me to have you by my side.” Jean put her hand on Emma’s arm and rubbed it. “It would really help.”
She hadn’t been to church since she was a child. Given a choice, she would rather have jumped back in her car and driven as far away from this situation as possible. But right now, she felt an obligation she didn’t understand. Jean was a good woman, and she was hurting.
“Let me get my bag.”
Chapter Eighty-Three
Charles and Patti Gregory were sitting on the terrace of their Spanish villa.
They had risen early and were eating breakfast in the cool of the morning.
Charles turned the page of his British newspaper and scanned the headlines. He lifted his cup of breakfast tea to his lips and sipped it carefully. He placed the cup back down on the saucer and spread out the page he was reading in front of him to get a better look.
“Are you okay, dear?” asked Patti.
He said nothing for a moment as he continued to read. “He’s bloody done it.”
“Please don’t use that language, Charles. Especially at breakfast. You know I don’t like it. Who’s done what? You’re not making any sense.” Patti continued to spread marmalade on her English muffin.
“That inspector, Hardy. The one that came here,” he said.
“Hardy. What about him?”
“It says here that although the body has yet to be formally identified, it is believed the prime suspect in a series of murders, Kelly Lyle, died in a vehicle accident while being pursued by retired DCI James Hardy.”
Patti felt lightheaded. “I hope she fucking rots in hell.”
“Language, Patti,” said Charles. “Do we still have his card? I might call him later.”
“What good will that do?”
“I don’t know. I have an urge to do something. You’re probably right. No, damn it; I’m going to write to Hardy and show my gratitude.”
Patti no longer felt hungry. She put down her muffin, pushed the plate away and said, “She’s dead. That’s all that matters. Jacob can finally rest in peace. We all can.”
Chapter Eighty-Four
Saying goodbye to Dad was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
After the funeral, Monica and I decided to invite everyone back to the house for the reception. The place was packed with Dad’s friends and colleagues as well as our family. Brad, my Royal Marine brother, had been granted leave and was in the front room keeping an eye on Mum and catching up with old acquaintances.
I was taking some time to gather my thoughts and had been joined in my study by Rayner. A knock at the door made us both look up.
Emma put her head around the door.
“DI Cotton,” said Rayner, his voice slurred. “Helloo!” He attempted to heave himself out of my old comfy chair to welcome her but gave up.
Seeing three glasses and an almost empty bottle of whisky on my desk, she apologised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I can speak to you another time.” She went to leave but I pointed to a chair.
“Take a seat. Come in. Join us for a drink. I insist. Rayner, get Cotton a glass, would you?”
Emma and Rayner looked at the spare glass of whisky on the desk at the same time. Pointing to it, Rayner said, as though he was letting her in on a secret, “That glass is for Hardy Senior. We’re toasting him. Just wait a minute. I’ll get you a glass. Just wait. Wait.”
She looked at me with an amused smile and we both watched the big man as he concentrated on coordinating his movements.
Rayner twisted his body and leaned back behind his chair and, with a lot of puffing and drunken effort, extracted another glass from the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet. “I know where Jamie-boy keeps his stash. He’s a man of habit.”
He poured Emma a glass of whisky and handed it to her.
“It was a lovely service,” she said, raising her glass respectfully.
“Thank you,” I said. “It was great so many people were able to make it. They came from all over.”
“The best,” said Rayner. The big man drained his glass and poured the last of the bottle into it. I guessed he’d be sleeping in my old comfy chair tonight. “The best service, for the great man.”
Emma looked uneasy, so I asked, “What’s on your mind?”
She absently stroked her jacket pocket.
Drunk as he was, Rayner didn’t miss a thing. He leaned towards her with a broad smile on his face. “Don’t ever take up poker. Your body language is an open book.”
“I didn’t want to bring this up today,” she said, “but under the circumstances, I think it’s important.”
“What circumstances? What are you talking about?” I asked.
She took out a single sheet of paper and handed it to Rayner, who had his hand out and half snatched it from her. He read it, looked at Emma, then at me, and shook his head.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He handed me the paper, which I could already see was part of a post-mortem report.
“Do we know who Samantha Dickson is?” asked Rayner.
“She was reported missing a few days ago. She worked at the nursing home where Lyle’s mother is a resident. Lyle must have met her there.”
/>
There was a moment of stunned silence before Rayner burst out angrily, “We’re all doing the happy dance because we think Lyle roasted until she was good and crispy. Instead, it’s some poor kid she abducted.”
For a moment I was confused. I’d seen Lyle burn in the van. My mind went back to the chase. I pictured the taxi pulling up directly in front of me. Lyle seeing me before turning and running. The small white van conveniently left with its engine running. The port security guard, holding on to me and slowing me down, giving Lyle the chance to turn the corner and remain out of sight for a few seconds. Enough time for her to jump from the speeding vehicle and disappear. Then, finally, the same port security guard holding me back and preventing me from getting close enough to see inside the van before it burst into flames.
I handed the report back to Emma. “Meanwhile, Lyle slips out of the country while our backs are turned,” I said quietly.
“Let’s just hope the bitch catches some tropical disease and crawls under a rock to die an agonising death,” Rayner spat. He reached around to the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet for another bottle of whisky. He twisted the lid off a single malt I’d received for my birthday.
All I could think about was the sick agreement I’d made with Lyle. I thought I’d got away scot-free, but with her on the loose I was still on the hook. If she ever came back, she’d expect me to keep my side of the bargain. If I didn’t, she had told me, plain and simple, what the consequences would be.
I looked over at the pictures of the Scrabble pieces that were still pinned to the wall. R-I-C-H-T-E-R. The man Lyle expected me to kill.
I pushed the thought away. I couldn’t think about that today. Not today. Today was for remembering Dad.
Rayner topped up our glasses, and we toasted the best father and role model anyone could have.
Chapter Eighty-Five
Monica and I walked hand in hand along the promenade at Flag Head beach. It felt good for us all to finally be out as a family. Alice was recovering nicely, and despite recurrent nightmares she was coping well day-to-day and was happy to be back at school with her friends.
As a family, we had a lot of catching up to do. Each of us was being forced to make significant adjustments to our way of life. But we were a strong family, and I knew we’d get through this together.
Walking and talking, Monica and I watched Alice, Faith and Mum down on the beach collecting shells while Sandy barked and bounced around enthusiastically.
“Penny for your thoughts,” said Monica.
“I was just thinking about Dad and how he loved these walks.”
“I think he enjoyed collecting the shells as much as the girls do,” said Monica. She squeezed my hand.
“You’re right. He enjoyed acting like a big kid. I miss him, but I wasn’t feeling down about it. I was feeling happy. We have so many great memories.”
“That’s a lovely way to think about him. He’d want that.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“Life is okay right now. Mum is coping. I’ve got you, and we have our two beautiful little girls. What more could we ask for?”
Monica’s face reddened. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at me in a way I hadn’t seen before.
I stopped walking and looked at her. I could see something wasn’t right. I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask, but I had to.
Hesitantly, I said, “Whatever it is, you must tell me. I can take it. I know you’re keeping something from me. We agreed we would never keep secrets from one another, and whatever it is, I will deal with it.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, James. I’ve been waiting for the right time.”
“What is it?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re going to be a dad again. We’re going to have a baby.”
It took me a moment to register what she was saying. I looked into her big, beautiful, uncertain eyes, and they sent my head and my heart racing.
I felt an intense, joyous energy surge through my body, which culminated in a huge, cheerful roar. I was laughing uncontrollably; I felt giddy. I picked Monica up and kissed her. I put her back down gently and said, “Are you sure? Really? How? When?” I didn’t know what to do with myself. I wanted to run and tell Alice, Faith and Mum and at the same time stay and hold this gorgeous woman in front of me.
Monica watched my reaction with delight and amusement. She’d not often seen me acting like a dopey fool. “Yes, I’m sure. We are going to have a baby. I assume you’re okay with it? I know we hadn’t planned this.”
“If you’re okay, then I am one thousand percent okay. Let me look at you. You’re so beautiful. I love you.”
Seeing the commotion and hearing my voice from down on the beach, Alice, Faith, and Mum came running up to us.
“What’s going on? You look a bit weird, Dad,” said Faith.
“You tell them, Monica,” I said.
“No, you tell them. Let’s tell them together.”
“Tell us what?” demanded a smiling Alice.
Monica and I told them together in a giddy, jumbled way. “You’re going to have a baby brother or sister. Monica is pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.” “You’re going to be big sisters, both of you. How does that sound?”
The excitement on the girls’ faces told us everything we needed to know.
Mum was smiling and wiping away happy tears. “It’s about time we had some good news in this family. And this really is the best news. This is truly wonderful news.” She looked up to heaven and blew a kiss to Dad.
“Do you hear that, Dad? You’re going to be a grandad again.”
DCI Hardy returns in…
INFERNO
Book 5
Searching for the truth,
means coming under fire.
DCI James Hardy was hoping for a quiet life. He stepped away from his career at New Scotland Yard and moved his family to the south coast to start over. For a short while, life was good. But now the past is catching up with him.
Hardy recently learned that Edward Fischer, aka Edward Richter, the man he arrested for a string of killings, is also the man who orchestrated his wife's murder. And now, Fischer has escaped from prison and is on the run.
Fischer is a free man, and before he leaves the country and disappears for good, he’s looking for compensation from Hardy. The sort of compensation money can't buy. The kind that will cause Hardy pain and suffering.
And when Hardy's new home becomes a target and his family come under threat, he finds he has no choice but to step up and do what he's best at... catching killers.
Angels, the third book in the series is out now.
Continue DCI Hardy’s journey today:
INFERNO - Buy on Amazon
Spread the Word
If you’ve enjoyed this book, please help spread the word by leaving a review on Amazon. It can be as short or as long as you like. Reviews help bring the Hardy novels to the attention of other readers who may not have heard of DCI James Hardy – or me!
If you’ve never left a book review before, it’s easy: simply write whatever is true for you – for example, your experiences as you were reading, your impressions of the characters, what you thought of the writing itself, and who else the story might appeal to. Your words will be a beacon of sorts for others like us, who love crime thrillers.
Many thanks, Jay Gill
About the Author
Born in Dorset, southern England, Jay Gill moved to Buckinghamshire where he worked in the printing industry, primarily producing leaflets and packaging for the pharmaceutical industry. After several years of the London commute, and with his first child about to start school, he realised it was high time for a change and moved back to the south coast of England. This change freed up time for him to write the detective stories he dreamed of one day publishing.
Safe to say, he’s caught the writing bug in earnest now. With three Hardy novels and a novella under his belt, a growing
“family” of characters both good and heinous, and a host of exciting new ideas bouncing around in his head, Jay busily juggles his writing and family life and is hard at work on the next instalment in the DCI James Hardy series of thrillers.
If you would like to be kept up to date with new releases from Jay Gill, please complete an email contact form on his Facebook page or website, www.jaygill.net
Connect with Jay on online:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/JayGillAuthor
Twitter: @JayGillAuthor
Website: www.jaygill.net
Enjoy more DCI Hardy for FREE
Building a relationship with my readers is the most rewarding part of writing. I occasionally send newsletters with updates on new releases, and other bits of news relating to the James Hardy series.
It’s easy to join my newsletter mailing list, and when you do, you’ll gain access to free reading:
A profile of James Hardy called ‘Who is James Hardy?’ Exclusive to my mailing list: you can’t get this anywhere else.
Bonus scenes from all my James Hardy novels: For example, you’ll find out what happens to Melvin Barclay, a particularly nasty piece of work featured in Hard Truth, when Kelly Lyle catches up with him again. (Hint: Brace yourself. It isn’t pretty!). There is also a scene from my latest book INFERNO which has been described as taut and nerve-shredding. (Again, it’s exclusive to my mailing list, you can’t get it anywhere else.)
Visit my website at www.jaygill.net/newsletter
