by Linda Coles
Amanda, having completed her report, approached the ambulance where Ruth and Lorna sat. “How are you both feeling now?” Her eyes were filled with concern.
Lorna nodded her head. “Okay.” Ruth started to cry gently again, tears running down her cheeks like raindrops.
“I’ve got to tell Dad.” It was a half wail, half sob, and Amanda put her arm around her tightly.
“I know, hun. I’ll come with you and we can tell him together if that helps.” Ruth’s head bobbed a yes, but the tears kept flowing steadily.
“Jack can finish up here with the rest of the team so we’ll just be a minute, okay?” Amanda rubbed her shoulder soothingly before leaving her and going back to talk to Jack.
“I’m going to take Ruth to tell her stepdad the bad news. Between you and me Jack, I can’t believe Madeline Simpson is, I mean was, Ruth’s stepmother. I’d no idea. I’ve never met her family, not socially anyway.”
“Ah, don’t fret. It is what it is. You go and do what you need to do with her and I’ll finish up here with the lab rats. The morgue van should be here shortly so it’s probably best if you take Ruth away now before it gets here. What about the other woman, Lorna? She okay to go home, do you know?”
“Yes, I called her husband a moment ago. He’s en route – only lives around the corner. Any news on finding the perp? I’m guessing he wasn’t stupid enough to go back home and wait for us to knock on his door.”
“You’re right there – no sign – but they’re doing a thorough search of the place now, see what they can dig up. Forensics will be having a field day, I’m sure. Handy the vic said the street name before she went down. Won’t be long before we get the sicko now. I bloody hate perverts and sexual attackers. Should be castrated if you ask me.”
Amanda nodded in agreement and jingled her car keys in her pocket. “Right. I’ll be off, then. Call me when you know something. I’ll go and get this over with. I might be a while – we’ll see.”
“Take your time,” said Jack, and turned back to speak to another officer who was waiting to talk to him.
Amanda walked back to Ruth and helped her from the ambulance and back into the passenger seat of her car. She looked numb still. The tears had stopped for the time being, but Amanda could tell they were lying close to the surface, ready to spring out again at a moment’s notice. What a way to meet your sort of father-in-law for the first time.
The engine turned over and Amanda slowly pulled away from the chaotic scene and the flashing red and blues, driving across the grass and back out of the park. She headed towards the A22 and an address she’d been to a couple of times before without knowing the relevance of it.
Oakwood Rise would once again be the focus of her attention, though tonight for quite a different reason.
Chapter Seventy-Five
Jack watched as Ruth’s car drove off with Amanda at the wheel. He’d had his suspicions about her, the reason she never dated men, and having seen her here tonight with her ‘friend,’ as she’d referred to her, he knew they were much more than that. Even under these circumstances it was obvious how deep their relationship was, and how much Amanda cared for her. What a tragic night it had been, and now Amanda not only had to tell the victim’s husband she’d been killed, she had to deal with the trauma and upset of her lover too. He knew she was in for a rough few days. His phone buzzed and he answered it.
“He’s not here. He’s gone, Jack.” It was Hancock, one of the other detectives. “You’d better come on over, though. There’s something you’re going to want to see.”
“Can’t you tell me over the phone?” He was tired and in no mood for show and tell.
“No, best not.” Hancock gave him the house number.
“I’m on my way.”
Jack could see which house it was without needing the number. Flashing blue and reds lit Grey Man’s street like a Christmas pageant. He could see Hancock in the doorway of the mid-terraced house. He turned and went inside as Jack approached, and he followed him inside.
“Down in the basement.”
As they descended the old wooden steps, the air was thick with the smell of damp. The old lime-painted walls flaked like bad dandruff and stray cobwebs drifted lightly around his shoulders. A single bare bulb hung from ceiling wire, illuminating the dank room in an eerie low light.
Hancock shone his torch to show him what he wanted him to see.
“What the hell?”
There on the wall was a CSI-style collage of all the news reports on the attacks that Grey Man, or Bill Winters as they now knew him, had collected, going back two decades. There were curled old yellow clippings dating from the ’90s, reports from various towns across the south of England, along with a few mementos he must have snatched from his victims during the attacks. The little wooden box on the old table contained a handful of cheap necklaces and a silky scarf, no doubt snatched while committing his dirty crimes.
“Looks like she was right with her suspicions, Hancock. Just a shame she had to die trying to stop him. Any sightings of him yet?”
“None so far, but he’s on foot, so it shouldn’t be too hard. Now we know exactly who we’re looking for, we should have him soon enough. He can’t get far. Seems he doesn’t drive either, so that goes in our favour. We’ll have him before dawn – mark my words, Jack.”
Epilogue
Gordon stood looking out at the garden through the same window Madeline had spent so much time looking through herself. The Great Orange Machine had finally been picked up and Ruth had asked the driver if he wouldn’t mind just moving some of the piled-up soil back into the hole before he took it, which he’d obligingly done.
“Sad news,” Sid had said when Ruth had told him Madeline had passed away, and he’d been happy to help.
But the area looked a bit of a mess now, with loose soil and bits of grass strewn all over. It needed Madeline’s love and attention. But she wasn’t around any longer to give it.
Dressed smartly in his black suit, Gordon was thankful it was a clear day and not raining. Standing by a graveside would be bad enough without the added discomfort of rain, though he couldn’t help his own tears from falling that morning. He wiped one away as Ruth entered the kitchen.
“I was just thinking about whether to build the damn pond myself for her, fill it with fish like she’d wanted. I think she’d have liked that. What do you think?” He sniffed loudly and took his handkerchief out of his pocket to blow his nose and dry his face.
Ruth rested her hand on his shoulder in comfort. “She would like that, I’m sure, but let’s talk about it more later. The car is here, now, Dad. It’s time to go.”
“All right. Don’t want to keep everyone waiting.” He dabbed his damp nose again and gathered the little strength he had left. He walked slowly down the hallway and out through the front door, where the rest of the family were waiting for him.
Ruth turned to glance out at the garden herself, and saw Dexter at the exact same spot they’d just been talking about, digging a hole for himself, changing his mind, then digging another. She watched him crouch down as he relieved himself into the earth, then stood and covered it up, scratching more earth from around the original hole he’d dug until all the evidence of his little visit was gone. Satisfied, he walked away, flicking his rear leg and the dirt from his back paws as he went.
Ruth stood there, stunned. Realisation dawned on her and goose-bumps spread over her body. She shivered as everything became crystal clear. It wasn’t Dexter’s having a pee so much as how he’d covered it up. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud in disbelief while she stood there alone in the kitchen. She now knew how Madeline had disposed of the landscaper, and exactly where he was laid.
“Holy hell, Madeline! You clever woman, you! And to think you could drive a damn digger!” She chortled to herself. “Don’t worry, Mum. Your secret is safe with me.”
Dexter turned and looked at her through the window as he sauntered back to his spot on the patio and
curled up to go back to sleep. Ruth could have sworn he winked at her.
The End.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Linda Coles
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A tough detective. A family on the rocks. The greatest danger may come from inside his own house…
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One Last Hit is a standalone novel in the gritty DS Amanda Lacey contemporary suspense series. If you like riveting drama, close-to-home crimes, and cops on the trail of justice, then you'll love Linda Coles' street-smart thrill-ride.
Buy One Last Hit to solve a crime with its finger on the pulse today!
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Buy Hey You, Pretty Face to unravel a missing persons mystery today!
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About the Author
Hi, I’m Linda Coles. Thanks for choosing this book, I really hope you enjoyed it and collect the following ones in the series. Great characters make a great read and I hope I’ve managed to create that for you.
Originally from the UK, I now live and work in beautiful New Zealand along with my hubby, 2 cats and 5 goats. My office sits by the edge of my vegetable garden, my very favourite authors are Harlan Coben and Karin Slaughter and apart from reading and writing, I get to run by the beach for pleasure.
If you find a moment, please do write an honest online review, they really do make such a difference to those choosing what book to buy next.
Enjoy! And tell your friends.
Thanks, Linda
Keep in touch:
www.lindacoles.com
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