by OMJ Ryan
Deadly Vengeance
A Detective Jane Phillips Novel
OMJ Ryan
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Contents
1. October 31st – Halloween
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
6. November 2nd
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
11. November 3rd
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
15. November 4th
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
22. November 5th
Chapter 23
24. November 6th
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
28. November 7th
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
36. November 8th
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
40. November 9th
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
48. November 11th
DEADLY BETRAYAL
Free Crime Thriller
Acknowledgments
Also by OMJ Ryan
Rights Info
1
October 31st – Halloween
Hollie Hawkins climbed into the back seat of the large Range Rover parked outside the family home in Altrincham, taking extra care not to scuff her brand new, gleaming white Adidas trainers. She had bought them just that morning on a solo shopping trip into Manchester, along with the rest of the evening’s outfit: skinny jeans and a cute little T-shirt from Topshop, plus a funky black bomber jacket from Harvey Nichols. All courtesy of a credit card, of course.
From the front passenger seat, her mother turned to inspect her. She shook her head and let out a loud sigh of disapproval. ‘I do wish you’d get into the spirit a little more, Hollie. We are going to a Halloween party, after all.’
Hollie scoffed. ‘Just because you want to dress-up like Paddington Bear doesn’t mean I have to.’
‘I think you’ll find I’m a werewolf.’
‘Whatever,’ said Hollie, and turned her head away.
At that moment, the drivers’ door opened and a version of Count Dracula – Sir Richard Hawkins, the man who called himself her father – pulled himself up and behind the wheel. As normal, he was talking in a loud voice into his phone. ‘You tell them to get their bloody arses in gear and sort it out. If they don’t, then I’ll come over there personally, and they can explain to me why they’re so far behind schedule. These delays are costing me a fucking fortune.’
Hollie huffed, loud enough for him to hear. What kind of a man speaks like that in front of a fifteen-year-old daughter? He’s such an arsehole, she thought.
Hawkins soon pulled the car away towards their destination, continuing his discussion on his phone. In a vain attempt to drown him out, Hollie connected the tiny Bluetooth headphone pods that sat in her ears and turned up the volume. As music played, she folded her arms and stared out of the window, wishing she was somewhere else. Anywhere was better than being stuck in this fossil-fuel-guzzling monstrosity, driving to a lame Halloween party at her parents’ posh country club.
God. Hollie hated her life.
Fifteen minutes later, Hawkins turned the large SUV away from the main drag and onto the long private road leading to Marstons Golf and Leisure Club. Hollie stared out at the array of orange pumpkin lanterns and fake cobwebs that lined the road. The phone call came to an end as they entered the car park, and the car came to a stop. Her mum turned and waited for Hollie to remove her headphones.
With great reluctance, Hollie obliged. ‘What now?’
‘Do you need some money for food?’
‘There won’t be anything vegan in this dump,’ spat Hollie.
Hawkins let out a sardonic chuckle and locked eyes with Hollie in his rear view mirror. ‘At fifteen grand a year for membership fees, it’s hardly a dump.’
Hollie held his gaze.
‘Ok,’ her mum continued. ‘Well, how about some money for a diet coke or an orange juice?’
Hollie continued staring at Hawkins in the mirror as she said, ‘Twenty quid should do it.’
‘Twenty quid for bloody orange juice? What are you, diabetic or something?’ moaned Hawkins.
Her mum let out a deep sigh. ‘Stop teasing her and just give her the money, will you?’
Hawkins shook his head as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, then handed a crisp twenty-pound note over his shoulder to Hollie. She snatched the cash away and yanked open the back door of the car. A split second later, she dropped down onto the gravel drive.
Her mother continued to talk from the front seat. ‘Now Hollie, remember—’
Hollie slammed the door to cut her off. She had no intention of listening to anything else her mother had to say. Instead, she ran towards the front door of the club.
Inside, the club was decorated in the same style as outside: pumpkin lanterns, fake cobwebs and an assortment of spiders adorned every available surface. The lights were deliberately low to further enhance the ghoulish atmosphere, and it seemed everyone – except her – had chosen to wear fancy dress for the evening. For a split second she felt out of place and uncomfortable, but soon steeled herself, reasoning that they were sheep following the herd – something she would never be.
Keen to get as far away from her mother and Hawkins as possible, she knew she had to stay away from their favourite place, the bar. So she moved through the large ground floor and made her way to the outdoor tennis courts, which had been turned into a funfair for the evening. A mix of rides and amusements, ranging from bumper cars and a waltzer to ‘hook a duck’ challenges and candy floss machines, adorned the space. It all seemed pretty lame to her.
She let out a frustrated breath, which billowed like smoke in front of her face thanks to the cold autumn night, as she scanned the courts, looking for anyone she knew. She had always made a point of avoiding coming to the club whenever possible, so had yet to make any good friends. However, after a few minutes wandering through the space, she spotted a girl she had chatted to from time to time, and headed in her direction. The girl’s name was Charlotte, but everyone called her Lottie. Lottie was leaning against a wall on the edge of the tennis courts, staring down at the phone she held her hands. Like Hollie, she too had decided to forego a fancy-dress costume.
‘Hey?’ said Hollie, feeling a little nervous.
Lottie looked up from the screen. ‘Hey,’ she said, appearing nonplussed.
Hollie had never felt confident in social settings, and small talk wasn’t one of her strengths. ‘What you looking at?’
Lottie shrugged her shoulders. ‘Insta.’
The social media platform, Instagram. Hollie had an account, but rarely updated it. ‘Pretty lame party, huh?’ sh
e said, hoping to make a connection.
Lottie glanced around and nodded. ‘Yeah. My parents make me come here all the time, and I fucking hate it.’
Hollie’s heart leapt. ‘Me too.’
Lottie looked Hollie up and down. ‘You didn’t fancy dressing up either?’
Hollie scoffed. ‘No way. It’s for kids and sad adults trying to recapture their adolescence.’
Lottie nodded. ‘Too right.’
Hollie tucked her hands in her pocket and swivelled on her heels, hoping to think of something else to talk about. As she turned back to speak, Lottie’s phone began to vibrate and the screen came to life. She answered it, and her demeanour changed in an instant as she stood tall, brimming with excitement. ‘Hey, girlfriend. Whatchya doin’?’ she said in a fake American accent. She turned away from Hollie, now totally engrossed with her phone call.
Hollie stood and watched Lottie for a moment, wishing she had someone to call too. But she was a bit of a loner at school, and didn’t know any of the local kids where she lived.
Standing alone for a few minutes, watching the ‘forced fun’ taking place around her, a pang of loneliness gripped her abdomen. Try as she might, she didn’t seem fit in anywhere.
‘Are you ok, love?’ a soft voice behind her said.
Hollie turned, and jumped as she came face to face with a figure, she suspected a woman, in a black mask and a long coat. ‘Jesus! You scared me.’
‘Oh, yeah. The Army of Two mask. It can have that effect sometimes,’ said the woman. She offered an outstretched hand. ‘I’m Blackie.’
Hollie shook it without conviction, confused. ‘Army of two?’
Blackie pointed at her mask. ‘You know, the computer game? It’s who I’ve come to the party as.’
Hollie chuckled. ‘Sorry. I don’t really know much about them, to be honest. Computer games aren’t really my thing.’
Blackie nodded. ‘What about a spliff? Is that your thing?’
Hollie was taken aback. ‘Say what?’
‘A spliff. Do you want one?’ Blackie raised a gloved hand in front of Hollie’s face. In it was a large cone-shaped joint.
Hollie’s eyes widened, and a knowing grin spread across her face. ‘Is that cannabis?’
‘Sure, is,’ said Blackie. ‘You ever had it?’
Hollie glanced around to ensure they weren’t being watched, then nodded. ‘Once, when I stayed at my cousin’s house last year. He brought some back from uni and let me have some. It gave me the giggles.’
‘It can do that,’ said Blackie. ‘So. Do you want some now?’
Hollie took another cautionary look around before nodding eagerly.
‘In that case, follow me. I know the perfect place, just around the corner. No windows or security cameras, so no one can see us.’ Blackie began walking, and beckoned Hollie to follow her.
Hollie was excited now, and chattered as she followed her new friend. ‘My parents would go ballistic if they found out.’
As they reached the corner of the building, Blackie stepped left and out of sight for a moment. Hollie giggled, then looked back one last time to see if they were being followed. Satisfied they weren’t, she darted left and into the darkness. The sight that greeted her almost stopped her heart. Three people, each wearing Army of Two masks and long coats, stood in a triangle formation. The shortest, Blackie, stood in the centre, holding a small automatic weapon in her hands. ‘Sorry Hollie. It’s nothing personal.’
Hollie opened her mouth to scream, but one of the people was on her in an instant, covering her mouth with a large gloved hand as a second rushed forwards and secured her wrists with cable ties. The hand covering her mouth was replaced with thick duct tape, and a moment later a cloth hood was pulled over her head. In a flash, she was bundled forwards, then pulled left and right through a maze of disorientating turns until they came to a sudden stop.
An engine was running in front of her. She attempted to scream, but no sound penetrated the thick tape. She heard what sounded like a set of van doors being opened just in front of her, and then she was lifted from her feet and laid flat on the floor of the vehicle.
‘Go! Go! Go!’ shouted a male voice from above her. The doors slammed shut, tyres screeched, and the vehicle moved off at speed.
The next thing she knew, Blackie spoke to her. ‘Hollie, this will hurt for a split second, but after that you won’t care about anything.’
Hollie felt a sharp scratch and a needle was plunged into her right arm. She cried out in pain, muffled by the duct tape, then her world went black.
Sandra Hawkins took a sip from her glass of Prosecco, then placed it back on the table as she checked her Cartier watch; it was approaching 10 p.m. True to form, she sat alone in the club lounge while Richard held court with a group of young men at the bar. She recognised two as professional footballers, but couldn’t recall which of the Manchester teams they currently played for. She was bored, and frustrated that yet another night out with her husband and daughter had turned into a networking event for him and an opportunity for Hollie to demonstrate how much she detested her parents. She sighed. She had never imagined, ten years ago, that marriage to such a charming man would leave her feeling constantly alone.
She picked up her glass again, and wandered out to see if she could locate Hollie. She had had enough, and wanted to go home. Knowing Hollie, she probably felt the same. After all, Hollie never tired of telling her parents how much she hated these kind of events.
As she stepped out into the cold night air, Sandra didn’t recognise the floodlit outdoor tennis courts. Many of the noisy rides were still in operation, even at this late hour, the playful screams of teenagers echoing through the night air as Sandra made her way around, looking for Hollie. After five minutes of searching, there was no sign of her, Something told Sandra things weren’t right. She was tempted to head back inside and talk with Richard, but he would just chastise her for once again being a ‘silly, over-protective mother.’ So she continued her search, pacing through the funfair as she checked every corner of the tennis courts. When ten minutes had passed and Hollie was still nowhere to be seen, Sandra started to panic. Where could she be?
Making her way back into the main building, Sandra scoured the various rooms that had been made available to parents and their children for the evening. Hollie wasn’t in any of them. Her instincts told her something was very wrong. As much as Hollie could be a brat when she wanted to be, she wasn’t a confident teenager and rarely strayed far on nights like these. She usually chose to demonstrate her petulance and apparent irritation from a relatively close distance.
On her return to the bar, she came across a young girl she had seen Hollie speaking to on previous occasions – Lottie, or something similar. Sandra thought her father was a television producer in Media City. Lottie was in an armchair, staring at her phone, as Sandra approached. ‘Excuse me, Lottie? Have you seen Hollie?’
Lottie looked up from her phone, a waxy gaze across her face. ‘Huh?’
‘My daughter, Hollie. Have you seen her?’
Lottie took a moment to think, then nodded. ‘Yeah. She was outside by court number three.’
‘When was that?’
The girl shrugged. ‘Dunno. About eight, I ’spose. Maybe half-eight.’
‘What was she doing?’
‘Nothing really. Just hanging out.’
‘Was she with anyone?’ Sandra’s voice was laced with panic now.
Lottie shook her head. ‘Don’t think so.’
‘Did she say anything to you?’
Lottie’s brow furrowed. ‘Not really. Just that she hated fancy dress.’
‘That was it? That’s all she said?’
Lottie nodded and held up her phone so Sandra could see the screen. ‘Beatrice FaceTimed me, so we didn’t talk for long.’
‘And you’re sure you haven’t seen her since then?’
Lottie offered Sandra a blank look, then shook her head before turning her attention
back to her phone.
Sandra felt certain now that something was seriously wrong. It was time to talk to Richard. He would know what to do. He would be able to find Hollie.
She headed back to the bar.
2
Detective Chief Inspector Jane Phillips pulled her unmarked squad car into the car park at the Marstons Golf and Leisure Club and parked up between a large Bentley and a Porsche SUV. Following her well-worn routine when arriving at a new investigation, she reset her dark ponytail, then cleaned her lightweight glasses. After so many years, she wasn’t sure whether she now did it out of habit or superstition.
As she stepped out onto the gravel, she pulled up the collar of her grey overcoat against the cold night air. A moment later, her second in command, Detective Sergeant Jones, approached her.
‘How the other half live, hey Guv?’ he said, smiling, his thick South London drawl in contrast to his wiry frame and gaunt features, which were accentuated by his long beige trench-coat.
Phillips returned his smile and pointed at the Bentley. ‘This one would cost about the same as a small family home, Jonesy.’
‘Not around here it wouldn’t, Guv. A hundred and fifty grand’d get you nothing more than a garden shed in Altrincham.’