Collision Course

by Matt Hilton

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Also by Matt Hilton

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Also by Matt Hilton

  The Grey and Villere thrillers

  BLOOD TRACKS *

  PAINTED SKINS *

  RAW WOUNDS *

  WORST FEAR *

  FALSE MOVE *

  ROUGH JUSTICE *

  Joe Hunter series

  RULES OF HONOUR

  RED STRIPES

  THE LAWLESS KIND

  THE DEVIL’S ANVIL

  NO SAFE PLACE

  MARKED FOR DEATH

  * available from Severn House

  COLLISION COURSE

  Matt Hilton

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This first world edition published 2020

  in Great Britain and the USA by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  Eardley House, 4 Uxbridge Street, London W8 7SY.

  Trade paperback edition first published

  in Great Britain and the USA 2021 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

  eBook edition first published in 2020 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Copyright © 2020 by Matt Hilton.

  The right of Matt Hilton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved including the right of

  reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  The right of Matt Hilton to be identified

  as the author of this work has been asserted

  in accordance with the Copyright,

  Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-9046-7 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78029-729-3 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0450-9 (e-book)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents

  are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described

  for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are

  fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

  business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk,

  Stirlingshire, Scotland.

  ONE

  Punching a person’s head with a closed fist is never advisable. The human hand is brittle in comparison to the skull, and is prone to breaking on impact. As only a few years earlier her fist had almost been severed from the wrist it was not only a stupid idea but also a reckless one. Tess Grey knew from the unarmed combat training she’d completed when she was a sheriff’s deputy not to pound her knuckles into an assailant’s skull, but like most things absorbed in training it gave way to instinct during highly stressful encounters. Actually, it was never her idea to punch Nathan Doyle; it was a knee-jerk response to the fact he was about to kick her fiancé, Nicolas ‘Po’ Villere, in the face. Po, grappling on the ground with Nathan’s brother Adrian, in an effort to free an axe from his hands, wasn’t in an ideal position to defend against a sneak kick from his sibling.

  Tess lunged in and swung for him. Despite the wrongness of her punch, and of the situation that had devolved rapidly from a curt exchange of words to Adrian picking up the axe, it had an extraordinary effect. Caught poised on one leg, his mouth open in a wordless shout as he aimed for Po’s face, Tess’s fist impacted with Nathan’s jaw. This was the first time she’d personally witnessed anyone having their lights knocked out for real. It was certainly the first time she’d ever stopped an assailant with a single blow. Nathan collapsed, dropped clean, with one foot still in the air. He shuddered on his back, his outstretched leg twitching in response to the shock to his nervous system. Tess stared down at him, stunned also by the finality of her punch.

  Po and Adrian had also paused in their tussle. Po had gained dominancy, kneeling astride Adrian’s chest, with his left heel forcing down the hand wielding the axe. Astounded, Po blinked once at Tess, then he grabbed for the weapon. He plucked it out of Adrian’s grasp and slung it away, while his other palm was jammed against the other man’s face. Adrian no longer wished to fight; he was more concerned with his brother’s wellbeing than carrying on. He attempted to crane his head, to see past Po to where Nathan rasped in an effort to breathe. He struggled to rise, but Po pinned him in place.

  Po coiled his fist and shook it an inch from Adrian’s nose. ‘Quit strugglin’, bra, or you’ll be next to go to sleep.’

  ‘My brother!’ Adrian was too concerned for Nathan to take heed of a threat. ‘You have to help him!’

  Tess stooped at Nathan’s side. His labored breathing was a result of his positioning. Unconscious, everything relaxed, including the soft tissue at the rear of his throat: the rattling was due to his epiglottis vibrating with each intake and exhalation. She eased him onto his side, placing him in the recovery position and immediately his breathing calmed. She touched fingertips to his carotid pulse: it was strong and even. He’d awaken shortly with a sore jaw and a loss of dignity, but otherwise he’d be fine. She caught Adrian’s eye. ‘He’s going to be OK; now do as you’re told and you’ll be fine too.’

  Adrian relaxed, relieved that Nathan was going to recover.

  Po stood, leaving Adrian flat on his back. Both men exchanged looks. Po’s mouth formed a tight line. ‘You expect me to kick you when you’re down? Don’t. S’long as you don’t go crazy on me again, you can get up.’

  Adrian glanced at Tess. After she’d knocked his brother unconscious he was possibly wonde
ring if she was the one to be most wary of. She shook her head in disbelief, gesturing for him to stand.

  ‘Things didn’t have to get to this,’ she reminded him. ‘We only came here with a few questions; you were the one that got all uppity and picked up a weapon.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Po growled, ‘about that.’

  ‘I’d never have used it on you,’ Adrian whined, showing the palms of his hands as he rose. ‘I mean, whaddaya think I am?’

  ‘I don’t take too kindly to anyone wavin’ a hatchet in my face. Certainly don’t wait till it’s planted in my skull before decidin’ if the threat’s real or not.’

  ‘I overreacted, man. Look, I’m sorry. Uh … is it OK for me to help my brother?’

  Already Nathan was stirring. His legs jerked a couple of times, and then he had his right knee under him and he pushed up onto his braced arms. His head hung and he shook it like a dog dislodging a bug from its ear; he’d no idea where he was. Adrian stooped, patting him on his shoulders as he cajoled some lucidity back into his brother. Po and Tess exchanged a look. The situation had gone from naught to sixty in a few seconds, and it had reversed equally fast.

  While Adrian cared for his brother, Tess rubbed her wrist. It wasn’t sore; the action was an unconscious habit. Remarkably her knuckles didn’t hurt either, but things might have gone horribly wrong if her blow had landed a few inches higher on Nathan’s head, or, worst case scenario, had struck him in the teeth. An ex-colleague of Tess’s had once punched an aggressive felon in the mouth, splitting his hand open. He’d contracted a raging infection from the mouth’s bacteria and almost lost his hand: he’d undergone a series of surgical procedures but to this day he couldn’t form a fist and had lost feeling and mobility in two fingers. Unlike she, whose injury had forced her resignation from the Cumberland County Sheriff’s Department, he now worked as a dispatcher, hanging in there for his pension. Since leaving the sheriff’s, Tess’s latest work choice was due to a series of events that had led her from compiling family trees as a genealogist to licensed private investigator, while her life choices had also seen Po transcend from reluctant hired guide to best friend and lover, and – if all went well – to future husband. She checked on Po.

  He was dressed in high-topped boots, jeans, T-shirt and a black collarless leather bomber jacket. His knees were dusty and his short greying hair tussled, but otherwise he’d taken no harm from his brief scuffle with Adrian Doyle. If anything it had placed sparks of amusement in his turquoise eyes. When he caught her checking, he returned her gaze and she saw the lights didn’t diminish, and his lips pulled up at one corner. ‘You musta got him right on the sweet spot, Tess. I’m impressed.’

  She was torn. She was mildly embarrassed by her uncouth actions, but couldn’t shake a touch of pride that she’d taken down a guy standing six inches taller, and who outweighed her by at least seventy pounds, with one punch. ‘Resorting to violence is nothing to be proud of,’ she scolded him, but couldn’t avoid a brief quirk of her own lips. Po grinned unabashedly.

  ‘There’s a time and place for it, f’sure,’ he countered. ‘Y’ask me, the Doyle brothers are gonna be more amenable to our questions from now on.’ He turned his attention to the siblings. ‘Hey, guys, how’s about we start again from the beginnin’ and you tell us where to find Jacob?’

  Nathan wouldn’t look at Po, due mainly to concealing his shame from Tess. Not only at being knocked flat by a woman, but that it had happened during his cowardly attack on Po. He placed his face in his hands, massaging his jaw, but also hiding behind his fingers. Adrian, the older of the two, continued patting his brother’s shoulders, but he also returned Po’s stare. ‘We’re Jacob’s brothers, man, you can’t expect us to rat him out to the law.’

  ‘Do I look like the law to you?’ Po set his jaw.

  Adrian flapped a hand at Tess.

  ‘I’m not a cop either, and you should thank your stars I’m not.’ She nodded at the discarded hatchet. ‘If I were, you’d both be in cuffs and on your way to jail.’

  Adrian hadn’t actually tried to strike Po with the axe. Whether it was his intention or not, Po hadn’t hung around. He’d pounced on him and grappled for the weapon the instant Adrian yanked it out of the old tree stump he employed as a chopping block. It mattered not though; there were few police officers that’d be as lenient as Tess was prepared to be. She tilted her head, offering a sympathetic grimace to Nathan, and reiterated her earlier words. ‘Like I said, things didn’t have to get to this. How about we all take a deep breath and try again, in a more civilized manner this time?’

  ‘If you’re not cops, who are you?’ asked Adrian.

  ‘I’m Tess Grey, I’m a private investigator—’

  ‘So you’re as bad as a cop in my book. No good’s ever come of any investigator showing up around here.’

  ‘Here’ was the front yard of the Doyle family house, a split-level timber structure just outside Standish, about fifteen miles west of Portland, Maine. The property backed onto a swathe of orchards, comprised of different varieties of apple trees; a destination for families who made a fun day out of ‘picking their own’ and picnicking under the leafy canopy. The Doyles weren’t involved in the fruit growing business. In fact, Tess had no idea how the brothers made a living, but judging by the decrepit look of their home it wasn’t lucrative. She wondered if they were involved in petty crime to bolster their existence, which would explain their distrust of investigators.

  ‘Jacob isn’t in any trouble,’ Tess reassured him.

  ‘Why are you so keen on finding him then?’

  ‘He can help us with another case we’re looking into.’

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. Client confidentiality.’

  ‘What’s with all the secrecy? You’re not an attorney and your buddy over there sure isn’t a priest.’

  Po had stepped away to give Tess room, but not too distant; staying close in case the conversation disintegrated into anger again. He leaned his hips against the chopping block, arms folded across his chest. He raised his head and gave Adrian a tight smile.

  Tess said, ‘Let’s just say I’m bound by my word. Besides, I’m not in the mood for sharing if you’re not going to help.’

  ‘Jacob’s a good kid. I can’t think how he’d be involved in anything you might be investigating.’

  ‘Perhaps he isn’t. In fact, I’m sure he isn’t involved. But he might be able to give us the location of someone that is.’

  ‘Who?’ Adrian checked with Nathan that he wasn’t overstepping a sibling boundary with his question: Nathan was more interested in nursing his jaw. ‘We’re a close family, we share friends; maybe we know whoever it is you’re interested in finding.’

  Tess mulled his suggestion over and decided to hell with it. Once they found Jacob, he’d likely inform his brothers who she was looking for. ‘What do you know about a girl called Hayley Cameron?’

  He grunted. ‘Yeah, we know that no good bitch! Jacob ran around with her a few months ago, acting like a lovesick fool. We warned him she was just stringing him along, using him, but he wouldn’t listen. She was, too; she used him right up until the moment she dumped his penniless ass.’

  ‘How did Jacob take being dumped?’

  ‘Well, he wasn’t crying into his beer, if that’s what you mean. He realized we’d been right about her, put her down to a bad experience and moved on. Good riddance to garbage, y’know?’

  ‘Jacob didn’t see her after they broke up?’

  ‘If he did he didn’t tell us, ’cause we’d have hauled him out here in the yard and knocked some sense into him.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Po interjected from his perch, ‘he kept schtum because he didn’t want you two lunkheads wailin’ on him like you tried with us.’

  Adrian looked suitably abashed. ‘Maybe, man, but I don’t think so. Hayley was trash, and now Jacob’s seeing another girl, a nice girl. He’s got no reason to have anything to do with Hayley again. If ev
er he goes near her again I’ll—’

  Tess’s somber expression halted him.

  It dawned on him why a private investigator might be seeking Hayley.

  ‘It’s her who’s in trouble, right? Doesn’t surprise me. What’s she gone and gotten herself into now?’

  ‘She,’ Tess said, ‘has simply gone and I need to find her.’

  TWO

  Po drove them towards Portland in his vintage Ford Mustang. The muscle car was uniform black, sleek and powerful. The car suited Po, but seated in the passenger seat Tess often felt self-conscious. The nature of her employment meant she preferred to keep a low profile, while the Mustang was guaranteed to draw attention – particularly when Po drove it as if they were in a street race, contesting for ownership slips. Though he always drove as if he was trying to beat a clock, it was with skill and control, so it wasn’t his manner of driving that caught attention; she had to admit, to certain tastes the car was a beauty to behold. While the car got appreciative looks, she usually kept her head down and averted, hiding her face behind her blonde locks. On the trip back to Portland her face was averted in the opposite direction, to conceal her blushing cheeks from Po. He had retold her David versus Goliath moment twice now already and wasn’t finished glorifying the details. He was impressed, and also grateful that she’d saved him from a mouthful of boot leather, but she wished he’d drop the subject. Like she’d told him, resorting to violence was nothing to be proud of, but she had to admit to experiencing a fresh shiver of adrenalin each time he’d brought up the knockout blow. She should be horrified but was secretly proud, and that was rather unbecoming of her.