High Force: A DCI Ryan Mystery (The DCI Ryan Mysteries Book 5)

by LJ Ross

  Anna picked up her heels and ran towards the tourist gate, ignoring the shouts from the officers who tried to call her back.

  * * *

  Ryan chased after The Hacker, relying on the thick tread of his hiking boots to provide traction against the slippery surface of the stone. Night had fallen and the world was nothing more than shades of grey, the waterfall a curtain of silver in the light of the moon. They were approaching the highest point of the falls, where the river gushed over the lip of the whinstone, and Edwards stopped just beside it. Ryan realised he was about to try to cross to the north side, where it was possible for him to slip along the riverbank.

  Sheer madness.

  Ryan skidded in his haste to stop him, arriving just in time to grasp a handful of Edwards’ jacket and haul him away from the edge.

  “Give it up, man! There’s no place to cross. Give yourself up!”

  Edwards only response was to lash out violently, landing a hard punch to Ryan’s face that left his ears ringing. It bought Edwards some time to break away and plunge into the freezing cold water, to make his way across the rocky path hidden underneath. His feet remembered the journey and knew exactly where to step but all Ryan saw was the possibility of a man falling to his death.

  He had not come this far, nor given up the chance of killing him two years ago, to watch Edwards commit an act of suicide. Ryan knew he could not live with the knowledge that he might be able to prevent it.

  “Stop!”

  Edwards carried on wading, almost reaching halfway across the waterfall.

  Ryan swore violently but lowered his feet into the water, feeling the icy shock of it penetrate his bones. He was a strong swimmer but the waterfall hadn’t been named ‘High Force’ for nothing; the impact of the water nearly swept him off his feet. He hunkered down against it, feeling the rocks beneath for toe-holds to help him cross.

  Up ahead, Edwards seemed to have frozen.

  “Wait there!” Ryan called. “I’ll help you out!”

  He gritted his teeth and continued across, blinking the water spray from his eyes. When he reached Edwards, the other man turned around to face him with a bold, fearless expression. His face had taken on the quality of a waxwork dummy after the water loosened the dried crusts of blood so that it ran in tiny streams down his pale face.

  Edwards grinned and felt the power of the water rushing around him, making him feel like a god.

  “My father taught me to cross this waterfall,” he boasted. “The Drewes have owned the land around here for centuries and every man learned the path beneath the water.”

  He laughed and raised his hands to the wind.

  “Did you think I was going to kill myself? Is that what you thought?”

  He threw his head back and laughed again.

  “You’re priceless,” he told Ryan, before his eyes darkened. “But it’s time to say ‘goodbye’ now.”

  With that, his hand shot out to grasp Ryan’s neck like a cobra’s fangs, his fingers digging into the sinews until Ryan heard the blood roaring in his ears.

  * * *

  MacKenzie reached the edge of the forest and limped out onto the cliff overlooking the river gorge. She scanned the area for signs of Phillips or Ryan, and saw the back of two running figures further up, in the direction of the waterfall. She recognised them instantly as Ryan and Edwards and they were covering the ground at speed. She knew there was no hope of catching them up but she looked down at the rifle and wondered if there was another way to help.

  Carefully, so as not to slip and damage her leg any further, she hobbled across to a collection of small rocks and lowered her body onto one of them, using one of the smaller rocks as a prop for the rifle. She stayed like that, tracking the progress of the two running men until she could see a clear shot. The moon was almost full so it acted like a spotlight and she hoped that, if the time came, her aim would not be off.

  * * *

  Phillips spotted MacKenzie the moment she emerged and was about to call out to her, his joy at finding her still alive almost too much to contain.

  But he had seen the same crisis unfurling and, now that he knew Denise was alive, he could turn his attention elsewhere.

  His heart rose to his throat as he watched Edwards, then Ryan, wading out across the top of the waterfall.

  What had possessed him?

  But he knew why Ryan had followed. He believed Edwards was going to jump, to deprive the families of the dead of any rightful punishment in one fell swoop. But there was a confidence in the way Edwards walked across the water and Phillips knew he must have done it before. He had not gone out there to die, he had gone out there to kill.

  Phillips raised his firearm again and waited for the right moment to pull the trigger.

  * * *

  Anna flew down the pathway leading to the waterfall but didn’t see Phillips standing a little way down, beside the rocks. The moon shone down on the two figures above the waterfall, seeming to dance against the sky as they battled each other and the water. Her heart seemed to stop and then restart, violently slamming against the wall of her chest as she saw the man she loved standing precariously on top of the falls, locked in a fight that would end badly for one of them.

  Working on instinct alone, she scanned the rocks for a way to get up there to help him but the rocks were pitch black and slick with water. To her right, there was a small gate marked ‘DANGER—DO NOT ENTER’ and a narrow flight of stairs that would take her to the top of the waterfall from the north side. She flung it open and raced up the steps, her palm slipping against the handrail as she forced her legs to move faster.

  She reached the top and raced along the narrow path running beside the cliff face until she could find a position where both men were clearly in sight.

  A large boulder sat just inside the river, requiring a dangerous jump to get to it but from there she would have the perfect view.

  And a perfect shot.

  Not giving herself time to panic, she rocked back on her heels and then leaped across the rushing water, fingers splayed to grasp the stony edges before she could tumble across the other side. Her feet splashed into the water but she scrambled up onto the surface of the boulder and pulled the firearm from her pocket.

  She had to focus for a moment to distinguish the two men grappling violently in the moonlight but she would have recognised Ryan anywhere. Her hands might have shaken from the cold but there was no fear as she raised the gun and aimed it directly at Edwards’ head.

  * * *

  Ryan broke free from Edwards’ grip and landed a hard blow to his face, bringing the heel of his hand upward to connect with his already broken nose. Blood poured from the wound and Edwards screamed, clutching his face with a look of surprised anger. In the moments it took him to react, Ryan had him by the throat.

  He felt the terrible urge to finish the job this time, to rid the world of Edwards once and for all. Ryan saw nobody else, just Edwards, and his fingers tightened against the thick cord of his neck in an effort to shut off the blood supply. He didn’t know where he found the strength. It wasn’t muscle alone, it was force of will. Ryan could feel the sinews in Edwards’ neck straining, could feel the skin of his face and hands tearing as the other man tried to claw himself free, but the muscles of his arms were locked in position and he knew that, in another minute or so, it would be over.

  Over.

  The roaring in Ryan’s ears started to slow and his fingers relaxed, bit-by-bit.

  He had never killed a man.

  He was not a killer.

  His grip released and Edwards fell away, gasping and spluttering for air, hands clutching at his throat. Ryan watched as the river current took him by surprise, sweeping him off his feet towards the water’s edge. He began to turn away, pushing through the water to return to the safety of the riverbank while the anger drained from his body, no longer caring whether Edwards was swept away.

  He turned again at the last moment, but it was too late.


  Edwards reared up and threw himself across the waves, the heavy weight of him toppling Ryan into the water so that his head submerged and he began to choke. He twisted and turned, thrashing against the hard body pinning him beneath the water. His lungs screamed, begging for air, and freezing water ran up his nose and into his mouth. His ears rang and the splashing waves dimmed to a gentle hum.

  Beneath the water, he heard a single shot fire. It sounded like a tape being played in slow motion; a record skidding and slowing to play out the final long note of a melody.

  The pressure on his back lifted and his head burst from the water, mouth wide and searching to draw deep, nourishing breaths of air into his bursting lungs. His body heaved, expelling the river water from his stomach as he fought to make his way through the current.

  Ryan collapsed against the riverbank, legs shaking and body shivering from the icy cold, then turned to look back across the water. There was no sign of another living person and the river continued to flow, surging over the dolomite ridge as it had done for millions of years.

  EPILOGUE

  Phillips found MacKenzie collapsed against a huddle of rocks atop the cliff face and radioed for immediate medical assistance. Somewhere in the corner of her mind, she heard Frank’s voice as she was moved onto a stretcher. Her skin remembered the feel of his calloused hand rubbing her chilled fingers, clutching them as he walked along beside her towards the ambulance. She felt herself being hoisted upward and frowned at the blaze of interior lights against the thin wall of her eyelids.

  “Come on, lass. Open your eyes.”

  Phillips sat beside her as the ambulance began to trundle back across the bumpy track toward the main road, moving slowly so as not to dislodge its patient. The harsh light showed up every cut and bruise marring her lovely face and he swallowed back tears of rage, raising her hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss against her dirty skin.

  “Please,” his voice shook. “I’ve missed you so much. Please open your eyes.”

  MacKenzie gripped his fingers a bit harder and he let the tears come, falling against the back of her hand.

  Her eyelids flickered open and he could see that her left eye was completely bloodshot, the eyelid torn by the sharp branch of a tree. He wanted to look away, to pretend he hadn’t seen it, but instead he raised a gentle hand to smooth the hair away from her face.

  “My love,” he said.

  “Frank,” she said hoarsely. “Oh, God, Frank.”

  “You’re safe now,” he managed.

  “You came for me,” she sobbed. “He said you wouldn’t but I knew. I knew you would.”

  Phillips dashed the tears away from his eyes and kissed her gently on the lips.

  “I’ve thought of nothing but you.” He rested his forehead against hers.

  “You saved me.”

  He looked up and shook his head.

  “I wanted to,” he admitted. “I would have gone to the ends of the earth, but you saved yourself. You did it, Denise.”

  Her lips trembled into a smile.

  “I always said you were a handful,” he added, with a lopsided grin.

  MacKenzie managed a weak laugh and breathed in the scent of him. It was like coming home. Then a shadow crossed her face.

  “Where—where is he?”

  Phillips sat up to look deeply into her eyes, understanding that she needed this closure.

  “Edwards is gone, lass. Smashed against the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall, not ten feet from where they found his father twenty-five years ago. He’ll never hurt anybody ever again.”

  MacKenzie closed her eyes and thought of a small, lonely boy living out on the moors. But then she remembered the emptiness behind his eyes, the brutality, and when her eyes fluttered open again, they burned a bright, emerald green.

  “He’s at peace,” she whispered.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Although it has been noted elsewhere that this is a work of fiction, wherever possible I like to remain true to the landscape of my beloved North East. For any readers who feel compelled to visit after reading High Force, you should find it largely similar to the country waterfall I have described. However, it is worth mentioning that distances between landmarks and villages have been lengthened or shortened to fit the pace of the story. Likewise, certain geological landmarks have been shuffled around here and there to create a more impactful chase scene at the climax of the story. For all that, the Pennine Way walking route which takes you past High Force waterfall remains a stunning scenic outing and is well worth the trip.

  Many readers have asked me whether Anna’s little stone cottage in Durham is real—I am sorry to tell you that it is entirely fictitious but the city itself is beautiful and I have tried to capture its essence in these pages.

  One final point to note is a matter of genealogy. The village of Blanchland is, in fact, a conservation area operated under Lord Crewe’s Charity. It was established under the terms of the will of Nathaniel, Lord Crewe, Bishop of Durham, to distribute the income from his estates following his death in 1721. When I visited Blanchland prior to writing High Force, I was struck very much by its charm and beauty and the history of the area inspired me to think of the fictional Drewe family which, needless to say, bears no resemblance to any members of the Crewe family or their descendants.

  LJ ROSS

  19th January 2017

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born in Newcastle upon Tyne, LJ Ross moved to London where she graduated from King’s College London with undergraduate and postgraduate degrees in Law. After working in the City as a regulatory lawyer for a number of years, she realised it was high time for a change. The catalyst was the birth of her son, which forced her to take a break from the legal world and find time for some of the detective stories which had been percolating for a while and finally demanded to be written.

  She lives with her husband and young son in the south of England but will always be a northern girl at heart.

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I can hardly believe that High Force is the fifth DCI Ryan mystery book—it feels like it was only yesterday when I was tentatively publishing Holy Island and hoping that one or two people might like it! To say that I am grateful to the hundreds of thousands of readers who have invested their pennies in my books would be an enormous understatement. Your faith and support has meant so much to me over these last two years—thank you all so very much.

  Likewise, my thanks go out to all the wonderful book bloggers and enthusiasts who have read my stories and taken the time out of their busy lives to write such beautiful reviews, I am grateful to all of you!

  Particular thanks to Jim Kitson, my Dad, for his location scouting. As always, his nose for what would be an atmospheric site for a murder mystery is spot on! Thanks also to Gordon Spedding for his very useful advice around the local boxing scene in the North East—it is fascinating to learn about its proud traditions and I’m sorry that DS Frank Phillips isn’t in better condition but I’m afraid he likes his ham and pease pudding stotties too much! Sincere thanks to Charlie Charlton for his excellent photograph of High Force waterfall, which provided the base for the book’s cover.

  Lastly, but never least, to my wonderful husband and family. James, you are my rock and without your unstinting support I doubt any of these books would have been written. Mum, Dad, Rachael and Ethan—your love and laughter is infectious and I love you all very much.

 

 

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