Chase Down (A Detective Ryan Chase Thriller Book 2)

by M K Farrar

“What about the others?” he asked Nikki. “Anything that might help us find out who did this?”

  “Because the father was killed so quickly, he didn’t have time to fight back. His nails were dirty, but there was no DNA belonging to anyone else underneath them. The mother has some bruising on her knuckles where she may have put up a fight, but her nails were completely clean, as were her hands, and so I’d say the killer cleaned them after she was dead to remove any DNA. The girl didn’t fight back as far as I can tell.”

  Ryan closed his eyes briefly against the image of the girl being too frightened to defend herself. “I wonder if that’s because she knew her killer.”

  “Possibly, or she might have just frozen. It’s common for people to do that in times of intense fear.”

  Had the poor girl been aware of her parents being murdered at that point?

  They finished up going over the findings and left the examination room, stripping off their outer protective wear and dumping it in the hamper outside. They paused in the corridor.

  Mallory seemed to sense there was friction between Ryan and Nikki. “I’ll meet you back at the car.”

  Ryan nodded. “Won’t be a sec.”

  Ryan and Nikki fell silent as Mallory left and then faced each other.

  “I’ll send everything through as well,” Nikki said, “but if you have any questions, you can always call.” She paused and then added with a smile, “assuming you still have my number.”

  “Yes, I’m sure I do.”

  Ryan knew she was just teasing him, but it still made him feel like he’d acted like a prick towards her.

  “And keep me updated,” she said. “I’d like to know how this pans out.”

  “I will.”

  She looked as though she was going to walk away for a moment, but then she turned back to him. “You can get in touch for reasons outside of work, too, Ryan. If you want.”

  “I’d like that...it’s just work...it’s crazy busy right now.”

  She arched her brow. “You don’t have to make excuses. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

  “Would you believe the old ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line?” he offered.

  She looked him up and down. “Actually, yes, I would.”

  He gave a small chuckle. “Well, good, because it is.”

  “I’ll see you, Ryan,” she said and spun on her heel and walked down the corridor, away from him.

  Ryan sighed and went to join Mallory at the car. He checked his watch. Time was getting on.

  “You mind if I drop you back at the station?” he asked Mallory.

  “Of course not.”

  He had somewhere he needed to be.

  Chapter Ten

  After he’d dropped Mallory back, Ryan drove to the hospital.

  He found his way to the oncology ward with ease. This wasn’t his first time here.

  He recognised one of the nurses on the reception desk, nodded his hello, and continued through to the day room where several people sat in high-backed chairs and were positioned around the outside of the room. It took him a moment to pick his ex-wife out of the patients. He still hadn’t got used to seeing her without any hair. It’d always been a source of pride for her when they’d been married, and she rarely missed an appointment with the hairdresser, but now those locks were no more. She hadn’t wanted to go down the wig route, claiming that she didn’t feel any need to hide what was wrong with her, and he respected her for that.

  It was strange how the people she shared the room with were all so different—young, old, male, female, thin or fat—and yet all somehow shared that similar appearance.

  Donna had been sitting with her eyes closed, her head rested against the back of the chair, but she must have sensed someone entering and she sat up and caught his eye. She gave him a tired smile and lifted her hand in a half wave.

  Ryan returned the smile, reminded of the old adage to fake it till you make it, and walked over.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She shrugged. “Tired, as usual. You didn’t have to come. I could have caught a taxi.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. I’m more than capable of giving you a lift home.”

  She smiled weakly. “I have cancer. I don’t think you’re allowed to call me an idiot.”

  “You really want me to start treating you like a patient?”

  “No, you’re right. I don’t. Everyone else is treating me with kid gloves, I’d rather at least one person is normal.”

  He pulled over a spare chair so he could sit beside her. Everyone gave him a smile and nod of recognition, a strange kind of camaraderie that they were all in the same position, joined by the silent battle either they, or their loved ones, were going through.

  “Have you heard from Dickhead?” he asked, referring to Donna’s boyfriend, who had walked out on her after learning about her cancer.

  “A couple of text messages, just asking how I am, but that’s all.”

  “What do you think will happen when you’re well again? Do you think he’ll come crawling back?”

  Donna let out a sigh. “Honestly, I don’t have the emotional capacity to even think about that right now. I doubt he will, since I still won’t be the person or future that he imagined, and it’s not as though he’s shown himself as a reliable, caring person, is it? Even if I was healthy, I’d know I wouldn’t be able to rely on him sticking around if anything else happened.”

  He paused for a minute and then dared to ask, “Do you think that’s what I did, after Hayley died, I mean. Did I do the same as Dickhead and ran the moment things got tough?”

  “That was different, Ryan. For one, our marriage wasn’t exactly filled with excitement and passion before we lost Hayley. But also, losing Hayley affected us both. We were both going through our own grief individually—we still are—and neither of us had the strength to prop the other one up.”

  He thought she was being too forgiving, but she was probably right. Hell, he still found getting through each day a struggle.

  “I should have worked harder on our marriage before we lost Hayley. We didn’t know how good we had it, did we? Really, we had the perfect lives, and we didn’t appreciate it for a second. Instead, I was so overly focused on work, thinking that was the be all and end all, and that homelife was just an irritation that got in the way.” She noticeably flinched. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m glad you did. We got into a rut, didn’t we? Took each other, and having Hayley, for granted.”

  He forced a sad smile. “Guess it’s true about not appreciating something until it’s gone.”

  She reached out and squeezed his hand. “You make a better friend than you did a husband, Ryan.”

  “I have no idea if that’s meant to be a compliment or not.”

  She gave a small laugh. “Let’s not look into things that deeply.”

  Are you scared? he wanted to ask her but couldn’t quite bring himself to form the words. If she admitted she was frightened, it would mean there was something to be frightened of—not only of dying, but also of there not being anything waiting for them afterwards. If there was nothing, then their daughter also went to nothing, and that didn’t bear thinking about.

  “How long’s it got left?” he asked, nodding towards the bag of chemo that fed into the drip that went into the port. Donna had a port fitted into her chest which allowed the nurses to administer the chemo without having to find a vein each time. The unnatural shape of it beneath the thin layer of skin reminded him of something robotic.

  “Not long. Should be done shortly. You can go and grab a coffee or something, if you want.”

  “Nah, I haven’t got anywhere else to be.”

  “Rubbish,” she scoffed. “I’ve never known you without at least five other things calling to you. How was work?”

  “Crazy.” He lowered his voice. “You seen the news lately?”

  She shook her head. “No, I deliberately try to av
oid it. My life’s depressing enough.”

  “There were four murders in the early hours of Monday morning, all in one family.”

  Her eyes widened, and he knew she’d at least momentarily forgotten about her cancer.

  “My God, that’s terrible. Any idea who’s responsible?”

  “Can’t say for the moment, but let’s just say it wasn’t a simple break-in. Things are more complicated than that.”

  They’d spent enough years married for her to understand what he was saying even when he wasn’t saying it.

  “How awful.”

  The machine she was attached to started beeping, and automatically they both glanced up towards the bag.

  “Looks like I’m done,” Donna said.

  A smiling nurse came over. “All finished for today,” she said. “Try to have something light to eat when you get home. Plenty of water and plenty of rest.” She carefully took the tape of line going into Donna’s chest. “Blow out for me.”

  Donna did as she’d been instructed, and the nurse removed the line. “You giving her a lift home?”

  “I certainly am.”

  “Good.” The nurse addressed Donna once more. “Take it easy for the next few days. Any worries, get in touch.”

  She gave a tired smile. “Thanks, I know the drill.”

  Ryan helped gather up Donna’s belongings, and together they walked out to his car. She was slow and seemed to pick her footsteps carefully but refused to take his arm.

  On the drive home, she sat in the passenger seat with her eyes closed and her head against the window. Ryan hated seeing her like this, but he knew she had it so much worse.

  He parked in the driveway and carried her bag into the house. “I’ll make you a cup of tea before I go.”

  She sank onto her sofa and fished the blanket off the back of it to wrap around her. Now she was having the chemo, she always seemed to be cold. “Don’t worry, I’ve got Colette coming over after she’s finished work. She’s bringing me something to eat, too.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, absolutely. I’m fine. You’ve already done enough.”

  He knew she was far from fine, and the next few days would be even harder on her already fragile body as the chemo did its job.

  His phone rang. It was Mallory.

  “I’m at the house with the SOCOs,” she said, “going over everything with new eyes in light of what we learned from the post-mortems. Haven’t found anything new yet. Just thought you’d want to know.”

  “Thanks. I’m with Donna at the moment.”

  “Oh, how’s she doing?”

  “So-so. She just finished chemo. I’m going to hang out here until her friend arrives to take over.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll see you back at the office.”

  He ended the call.

  “You don’t have to stay with me,” Donna protested. “I’m fine. Seriously, I’ll probably just have a nap until Colette gets here and I have my phone, if there are any problems I can call.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll work later tonight to make up for it. It’s not like I have anything I have to get home for.” He turned for the kitchen. “I’ll go and make that tea.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Helen.”

  Her husband stood with his hands folded across his chest as he took in the sight of the boxes stacked on the upstairs landing.

  “Why?” she said. “It needs to be done.”

  “I know, but we haven’t even sold yet.”

  Her husband’s criticism of what she’d done rankled her. It wasn’t as though he’d put in any hard work to get the house ready. He was always either at work or too tired, so it was all down to her. And yes, she knew he worked more hours than she did—especially now he had this new job—and he had the long commute to deal with as well, but things weren’t exactly easy for her either right now. She would rather have his support than his criticism.

  “And when we do sell,” she said, “I want to be prepared. Do you have any idea how much crap we’ve managed to accumulate over the years, Andy? Seriously, this lot are filled just from the cupboards over the stairs.”

  He exhaled an irritated breath. “I’m just saying that it doesn’t need to be done yet.”

  “Well, when will it be done, ’cause it’s not as though you’re here much at the moment to help out?”

  “That’s not my fault, Helen. It’s the whole reason we’re moving, remember? Why don’t you get the kids to help out?”

  She snorted—a sound that she realised was wholly unattractive. “I can barely get them to bring a cup down from their bedrooms. Do you really think they’re going to start packing boxes? I just don’t want to leave all of this to the last minute. Imagine if we sell to someone who needs to move quickly, and I haven’t even made a start on packing and you’re still away all the time? It’ll be an absolute nightmare. I still have to work, on top of looking after the kids and packing up the house.”

  “So quit your job early. I know you want to. We’ll manage.”

  “You know I can’t. If we don’t sell for six months, then we’ll be stuffed financially.”

  “You mean you want to pack in case we sell early, but you also don’t want to quit your job in case this takes months?” He let out a tired sigh and ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say or do, Helen. It’s not like I can take time off from a job I’ve only just started.”

  She realised she’d got herself into a fluster and allowed herself to deflate. She’d been so stressed out lately—not that it was any surprise. “No, I know you’re right. Just all this change has been a lot to take on.”

  “There have been a lot of changes for me, too.”

  Why did he always have to turn things into a competition? She wanted to say that his changes had been fun, challenging changes. He got to start a new job doing something he loved in street architecture and planning, and meet new people, and be wined and dined by his new employer. Yes, the commute was hard, but it couldn’t be harder than being stuck in the house trying to deal with two mardy kids. But she managed to bite her tongue. It wasn’t worth having an argument about, and life was stressful enough without them not talking.

  “Actually,” he said, “there is something I need to talk to you about.”

  Instantly, her stomach dropped. He hadn’t told her what it was about yet, and she already knew she wasn’t going to like it.

  “My boss thinks I should stay down in Exeter a couple of nights during the week so I’m not having to do the drive every day. I got caught in traffic a couple of times last week and I ended up being late.”

  “What do you mean? In a hotel?”

  “Don’t worry, the company will cover the cost until we’ve moved.”

  “So, you’re going to be away from home even more than normal?”

  “You’ll hardly notice. I mean, I’m barely home for a few hours in the evening anyway, and then we just go to bed and then I’m up at the crack of dawn to drive back down again.”

  She wanted to tell him that she wanted him to come home, but it would be childish of her. He was right—it was pointless him being back here for a few hours and leaving again. She liked having another adult in the house, though, and him coming home helped to break up her day. It was no fun sitting in the evening having a glass of wine in front of the television on her own, and Reese would rather be in her room chatting to her friends on FaceTime.

  “And when is that going to start?” she asked.

  “There’s a meeting tomorrow night, so I’ll stay over then, but I’ll be back for the weekend.”

  “You’re right, it’s fine.” She forced a smile. “It’s only for a short time, anyway.” Hopefully.

  He pulled her in for a hug and kissed the top of her head. “I knew you’d understand.”

  Chapter Twelve

  A muffled cry from somewhere in the house had her awake in an in
stant. Mallory was out of bed before she’d even strung a thought together.

  Ollie.

  The shout came again, and she grabbed her dressing gown from a hook on the back of the door and threw it on. She caught a glimpse of her digital clock: 3:42. The tiredness hadn’t hit her yet, she was surging on adrenaline, but she knew she’d feel it in a few hours when her alarm went off. She couldn’t remember when she’d last managed to get a full night’s sleep. A part of her wished she could sneak off to a hotel for just one night and leave her parents in charge, but she would worry that they wouldn’t cope, and she’d probably end up getting even less sleep than normal. At least here, she was in her own bed.

  She hurried across the landing and pushed open the door to her brother’s room. He had a night light on in the corner, so it was easy to make out the shape of him sitting up in bed.

  His eyes were open, staring at something she couldn’t see. There was something eerie about it, as though another world existed that she wasn’t privy to.

  “It’s okay, Ollie. It’s just a bad dream. You’re just having a bad dream.”

  Ollie didn’t show any sign that he’d heard her. She approached the bed.

  “No, I don’ wanna—” He shoved an arm out as though he was batting someone away.

  “Hey, it’s all right, Ollie. I’m here.”

  She tried to remember the best thing to do when someone was sleepwalking. Not that he was properly sleepwalking—he hadn’t even got out of bed—but he was clearly still trapped in his nightmare.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and put out her hand to rub his back. “Ollie, you’re just—”

  He swung his right arm around, and a second later she was sprawled on her backside on his bedroom carpet. The shock was so great that at first she didn’t even notice the throbbing of her eye and cheekbone, but as the heat bloomed, she realised what had happened.

  Ollie had hit her.

  He hadn’t meant it—he hadn’t even known she was there—but still the sense of hurt and betrayal swept through her. She gave up so much to care for him and now she was sitting on the floor in his bedroom in the middle of the night and she could feel her eye already starting to swell. Shit, how was she going to explain that away to her boss? She couldn’t tell him, or anyone, the truth. They’d start saying that maybe she wasn’t capable of taking care of Ollie and that perhaps she should look at him living somewhere else, but there was no way she was going to let that happen.