Dark Skies: A DCI Ryan Mystery (The DCI Ryan Mysteries Book 7)

by LJ Ross

  * * *

  A mile to the east, Ryan and MacKenzie soothed their horses as the sound of the jet plane scorched across the sky. They waited quietly, both absently stroking their horse and listening intently for the direction.

  “It’s circling back around,” Ryan murmured after a few seconds.

  MacKenzie closed her eyes and focused on the sound, trying to ignore the patter of rain against the leaves all around.

  “You’re right,” she said. “It’s sweeping the area up ahead. I’ll radio in and ask for the location.”

  A moment later, Phillips’ voice came over the airwaves to tell them the RAF had located a strong heat source approximately four miles south of the border, one mile west of their current position.

  “He’s close,” Ryan muttered.

  “There are teams surrounding him from all sides, but they know our position and they’ll await our signal,” MacKenzie said once the transmission ended. “Let’s finish this.”

  “Ladies first,” Ryan replied.

  MacKenzie smiled fiercely and blazed a trail through the forest, vowing that she would never be afraid again.

  * * *

  Hunter was slick with rain by the time he reached a clearing section of the trail, where trees were being felled and harvested. Every year, another three and a half million trees were planted to replace the ones that were lost, but right now long pieces of timber had been stacked on one side of the clearing and enormous logging machines were parked and ready for use the following day.

  The jet followed his progress and continued to make passes above him. The horse began to turn in erratic circles, terrified by the noise.

  Hunter tried to think of the best thing to do as he stood there in the middle of the clearing, wondering whether he could shelter beneath one of the large iron machines so the jet would no longer be able to see his body heat. If he let the horse roam free, maybe they’d mistake it for him and go in pursuit of the dumb animal instead.

  But they were so close now, they’d be able to see his every move.

  Then he thought of the peat bogs.

  If he could make his way to the moorland bogs a mile or so further along, he could wade through the bog and shield himself that way.

  With one last, desperate push, he urged the horse onwards.

  * * *

  Barely five minutes behind him, Ryan and MacKenzie entered the clearing. The uppermost branches of the trees were still swaying from side to side, so even without the information being fed through on their radios, they would still have guessed that Hunter was not far ahead.

  “That way!” MacKenzie called over to Ryan, holding the reins in one expert hand as she pointed the direction. “We’ve nearly got him!”

  Ryan nudged his thighs and the mare picked up a surprising amount of speed now that they’d come to a bit of open ground. He lowered his body into position as the horse flew across the rain-slicked turf and MacKenzie followed somewhere not far behind. They covered the ground quickly with the cold night air whipping against their skin and the rain battering against their clothes.

  Soon, they emerged onto an area of open moorland with a purpose-built slatted mountain biking trail cutting across it. The land inclined gently at first but then dropped without warning in parts as it gave way to sharp precipices.

  A quarter of a mile up ahead, the jet made a series of fly-bys over the horse and rider. Hunter was riding like a madman, Ryan thought, watching him weave and seemingly trying to outrun the jet in his bid for freedom.

  He would kill himself, at this rate.

  Hunter must have sensed something, or heard the clatter of their horses’ hooves against the wooden slats behind him, and he twisted around in his saddle.

  Then, everything happened quickly.

  Hunter gripped the reins in one shaking hand while he swung the shotgun off his shoulder with the other.

  When he spotted the shotgun, Ryan reacted instantly and manoeuvred his horse in front of MacKenzie’s so that she would not be in Hunter’s direct line of fire.

  “Don’t be a fool, Hunter! You’re surrounded!”

  But his words were drowned out by the engine noise. The jet passed by again and Ryan found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

  * * *

  As with all animals—human, domestic or wild—there is a level of tolerance which cannot be breached without consequence. Craig Hunter had forgotten that as he punished his horse again and again, tormenting it with noise, exhaustion, hunger, thirst and painful kicks.

  He pushed the animal once too far, dragging its head around to face Ryan and MacKenzie as he prepared to pull the trigger.

  Without warning, the horse reared up and Hunter’s shotgun went off as he was thrown backwards onto the wooden trail, narrowly avoiding the bog that might have cushioned his fall. He fell badly, twisting his neck at an angle that would have ensured he would never be able to walk again.

  But it always paid to be sure.

  The horse bucked and kicked out at the explosive shotgun discharge beside its head, bringing its back legs crashing down against Hunter’s chest, and then his neck and face, before it escaped into the night with a clatter of angry, blood-stained hooves.

  There was no time to prevent it, Ryan and MacKenzie knew that much, but they could not help but feel the bitter sense of defeat. They would have preferred to see Craig Hunter behind bars and felt cheated; there was no sense of victory to be found in the man’s death, for it robbed the families of his victims of their right to see him pay for his crimes.

  And yet, being trampled by a horse was an ignominious, painful way to die, so perhaps that was retribution enough.

  MacKenzie lifted her radio.

  “All units stand down. I repeat. All units stand down.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Monday, 2nd October

  The lengthy process of retrieving Hunter’s body, coordinating the withdrawal of tactical and service team personnel, and the small matter of retracing their steps along the Bloody Bush Trail meant that neither Ryan nor MacKenzie arrived back at Kielder Waterside until dawn. After a deluge of rain, the trail was slippery and the going was slow as they led their tired horses back on foot, but they were relieved to find a police horse trailer waiting for them at the first available access road.

  Before Ryan handed over the mare into their capable hands, he raised a gentle hand to rub the horse’s nose.

  “Thanks, girl,” he murmured. “Go and have a rest and I’ll bring some carrots for you soon.”

  The horse lowered her head and nuzzled at his hand.

  MacKenzie watched the exchange with a smile and realised that, just when she thought she knew the man, Ryan still had a habit of surprising her.

  “You ready to go home now, Doctor Doolittle?”

  “You’re just jealous I can talk to the animals.”

  They sat side by side in the back of a squad car as they were driven back to the Waterside, surrounded by the potent smell of horses and sweat.

  “You put yourself in danger out there,” MacKenzie said, looking across at his strong profile.

  “So did you,” Ryan said with a yawn.

  “No. When Hunter took out his shotgun, you protected me. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

  Ryan gave in to temptation and closed his eyes.

  “Would you rather I’d used you as a shield?”

  MacKenzie rolled her eyes.

  “I’m not handling this very well,” she muttered, and tried again. “Ryan, I’m not trying to assert myself and I’m not complaining about your instinct to protect others. I’m trying to thank you.”

  His eyes opened again and he turned to look at her.

  “You’re welcome, Mac. The world would be a much sadder place without you in it.”

  “I could say the same of you.”

  Ryan cleared his throat.

  “Do you want to hug it out?”

  “Bring it in, big guy.”

  * * *

 
Ryan and MacKenzie found a welcome party waiting for them back at Kielder Waterside with food, fresh sheets and warm beds inside the rental lodge. Ryan was chilled to the bone, physically and mentally exhausted, and so he was pliant as a child while Anna led him to a warm shower, waited as he stood under its spray and nudged him when he fell asleep against the tiles, then towelled him off afterwards.

  “I could get used to this,” Ryan murmured sleepily.

  “So could I,” she said with a chuckle. “I’ve never known you to be so agreeable.”

  Anna tumbled him into bed and whipped the sheets over him before he had a chance to make a grab for her.

  “Sleep,” she whispered, placing a tender kiss on his lips.

  By the time she’d drawn the thick curtains to blot out the bright sunshine outside, Ryan had fallen into a deep sleep.

  Anna sat on the edge of the bed and watched him for a few minutes, brushing the wet hair back from his forehead with gentle fingers as she wondered what he had seen during the night and what fresh horrors his mind would be forced to bear. Her eyes traced the lines of his face, envying the thick sweep of black eyelashes that any woman would have paid good money for, then smiled at how mortified he would be if she ever told him that.

  She leaned across the bed to brush her lips against his and then padded out of the room.

  * * *

  Four hours later, Ryan awoke to the smell of bacon.

  He yawned and stretched, then rolled out of bed and straight down into a few quick press-ups to wake himself up. Another few hours’ sleep would have been good for his body but his mind was too wired to sleep any longer, not while there was work still to do.

  Downstairs, he found the rest of his team tucking into bacon and eggs.

  “Morning, lad,” Phillips greeted him. “How’re you feeling?”

  Ryan’s thighs were aching but he wasn’t about to admit that to a roomful of people.

  “Fresh as a daisy,” he replied. “How about you, Mac?”

  MacKenzie thought her glutes would never recover, but she sipped daintily at her coffee and smiled.

  “Never better.”

  “That’s good,” Phillips said innocently. “I thought your arses would be falling off, after all that riding yesterday.”

  Ryan burst out laughing.

  “Frank, I can always rely on you to tell it like it is.”

  “Aye, lad, that you can. And since we’re chatting, I should tell you Lucas has been on the phone. She wants an update.”

  Ryan nodded.

  “I’ll get around to it.”

  Anna walked across to hand him a cup of coffee and he pulled her in for a quick kiss.

  “I seem to remember having a very pleasant dream about a dark-haired angel who looked after me earlier this morning. Was that you, by any chance?”

  “Well, you did smell pretty bad,” she told him.

  “Ah, marital bliss,” he joked, earning himself a jab in the ribs.

  “Why don’t you leave Lucas to me?” MacKenzie called out. “The cold cases are my remit, so I should update her on that side of things anyway.”

  Ryan wasn’t fooled by his friend’s nonchalant tone. She was offering him a reprieve from dealing with a woman he couldn’t stand, and they both knew it.

  “Thanks, Mac. I appreciate it.”

  She polished off her coffee and leaned across the table to give Frank a farewell kiss.

  “Right, I’d better get cracking. The media have had a feeding frenzy after last night’s drama and I need to make sure we jump through all the right hoops when we’re dealing with Hunter’s body. The last thing I want is some eejit picking holes in our case management.”

  Ryan nodded.

  “Keep us in the loop.”

  MacKenzie paused with her hand on the door.

  “I could have done with Lowerson helping me on this one, but I haven’t heard from him at all. Anybody know what he’s been up to?”

  Ryan’s jaw tightened and Phillips realised he hadn’t yet had time to tell MacKenzie about the situation.

  “Jack’s working with Lucas now. She offered him a fast-track promotion,” Phillips told her, and watched incredulity pass over her expressive face.

  “That’s…sudden,” she said.

  “It’s a shame not to have him around,” Yates chipped in, and then blushed furiously when four faces swivelled around to look at her. “I just mean it was nice working together, that’s all.”

  Ryan walked over to the window to look out across the reservoir and saw that the little fishing boats were back on the water now that people thought the danger had passed. Normal business had resumed at the Inn and families were gathered once more beside the shoreline and in the picnic area. It was time to move forward.

  “Jack saw an opportunity and he took it,” he said quietly. “We should all wish him well.”

  “He’s out of his depth working for Lucas,” MacKenzie averred, with her usual insight. “I hope he knows what he’s letting himself in for.”

  “If he doesn’t, he’ll find out soon enough.”

  * * *

  Jack Lowerson walked into the office on Monday morning as if he were walking on air. He could hardly believe it, but he’d found somebody special after all.

  And her name was Jennifer.

  Jen.

  Jenny.

  Jen Lucas.

  Jen Lowerson?

  He laughed at his own imagination and reminded himself not to start getting too excited. He’d had plenty of relationships fizzle out after the first few days or weeks, so there was no point in getting his hopes up too soon.

  All the same, it had been a wonderful weekend.

  There had been no sign of any husband and she wore no ring on her finger, so he’d decided that must have been the office rumour mill going berserk again. He’d stayed the whole weekend at her home making love, making breakfast, making dinner…doing everything together. She’d wanted to know all about his life, his family and friends, the things that were important to him. When it came time to leave, it had felt like a real physical wrench.

  He could picture her waving him off at the door with that shy smile on her face and he realised it was going to be difficult to remain professional in the office when she dominated his every waking thought.

  She was so lovely.

  Lowerson hummed to himself and hardly noticed when he turned the corner and almost barrelled into MacKenzie.

  He looked up in surprise.

  “Sorry, Mac, I wasn’t watching where I was going. How’re you doing?”

  MacKenzie gave him a searching look and noticed with surprise that he’d undergone some sort of style overhaul. Usually, Jack was one of the sharpest dressers in the whole office and his attention to detail was the stuff of legend. But today, instead of his usual tailored silk suit and tie, he wore a plain cotton shirt and chinos with brown suede boots that reminded her of a similar pair owned by Ryan. His mid-brown hair had been left to dry naturally rather than being primped and gelled to within an inch of his life. It should have suited him but, instead, MacKenzie couldn’t help but miss the old Jack.

  “New boots?” she asked, and Lowerson looked down at his feet self-consciously.

  “Oh, right. Yeah, I’ve had these a while.”

  He wondered why he’d felt it necessary to lie, but MacKenzie didn’t seem to have noticed.

  “I heard you got a new job,” she said, and gave him an encouraging smile. “Congratulations.”

  Again, he looked embarrassed.

  “Ah, thanks. Um, did Ryan tell you about it?”

  “No, Frank mentioned it,” she said. “But Ryan is pleased for you.”

  Lowerson’s face fell into sulky lines of disbelief.

  “I doubt it,” he muttered.

  He’d had several revealing discussions with Jen over the weekend and she’d told him all about Ryan’s exploits during his younger years down at the Met.

  MacKenzie frowned at his choice of words.


  “Jack, is everything okay?” she said, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. “Look, I know we’re working in different teams now, but I want you to know I’m always here if you need me.” But Lowerson shrugged her off.

  “Why does everybody always assume I need help? Do I have ‘LOSER’ stamped on my forehead or something?”

  MacKenzie was startled by his tone of voice.

  “No, Jack, I only meant—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you meant. I’m perfectly bloody fine as I am, thanks, and you can pass the message on to Ryan when you see him.”

  With that, he brushed past her and made his way up to the second floor where Jen would be waiting for him.

  CHAPTER 26

  As the lunch crowd bustled in the restaurant next door, the remaining staff attached to Operation Stargazer turned up to the conference suite at Kielder Waterside for what they imagined to be a final briefing. The sun was at its highest point in the sky, burning off the fog that clung to the shoreline. Light streamed through the windows and sent dust motes dancing on the air of the incident room and, aside from a few messy boot prints on the floor and some leftover markings on the whiteboard, it bore no evidence that it had been the hub of operations for a manhunt only hours before.

  “Do you want us to start packing up?” Yates asked, once everyone had assembled.

  Ryan hitched himself onto the desk at the front of the room and linked his hands.

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  Yates looked startled.

  “Well, don’t we need to tidy up, now that the investigation is over?”

  “What makes you think it’s over?” Ryan asked, patiently.

  “But… I thought, now that Craig Hunter is dead, that would be the end of it? We know that he killed Kate Robson and Guy Sullivan—”

  “We know nothing of the kind,” Ryan interjected, and reminded himself that she was still learning. “In fact, I’m going to walk you through exactly why this investigation is very far from being over. Is everybody comfortable?”

  Phillips raised his cup of milky tea in salute.

  “Alright, let’s work backwards and look at Craig Hunter. We know that he was born Robert Jepson and went by the name of ‘Bobby’ until around ten years ago, when he changed his name and went off-grid. He was paid in cash, didn’t have a driving licence or a bank account and paid his rent on a weekly basis to a local family who own the cottage he’s been living in. But when he was Bobby Jepson, the DNA evidence would suggest he was responsible for the murder of at least two sex workers, possibly more if we look at his MO.”