And what was in store for me in Grey’s replacement, what would I be facing in Kevin Baxter?
What I needed after today, were my painkillers.
If you enjoyed Made to be Broken, you can go right back to the beginning of the story with the FREE prequel novella, Three Weeks Dead, which is told from the point of view of Sally. You can view that HERE.
Acknowledgements
My name is the one attached to Made to be Broken, but it takes so many more people than just the author to create a novel and this one has been no different.
I may know my police procedure, but I don’t know my poisons or how they affect the body and I don’t know how to write a newspaper article and I don’t know the real world that high functioning Aspergers people must contend with. So, it is with my deepest thanks and heartfelt gratitude that I acknowledge the following people for their help, expertise and guidance and ask for their understanding with any liberties I may have taken.
I am indebted to Denyse Kirkby, who helped me, not only with Aaron during Made to be Broken, but who knew from the very start of the series, as I wrote Shallow Waters, that he was living with Aspergers and as a writer who lives with Aspergers herself, Denyse has been instrumental in making sure he is not a comedy version, but a genuine, functioning member of the team. This was important to both of us.
With thanks, again to Lauren Turner for her expertise with Ethan. I found out just how different writing fiction and writing articles were during Made to be Broken and I’m sure Lauren must have laughed hysterically when I sent her my first attempt at an article. Any errors, as always, are my own.
For advice on arm injuries and mental health (a particularly important subject to portray in a manner to which it is based in reality), I have to thank, Rosie Claverton, who is both a doctor and author.
Now, poisoning someone. It’s not something you have to think about every day and asking the difficult questions of a pathologist can be quite unnerving. You never know quite what they’re going to think of you, but Dr Mark Stephens answered every question very calmly without getting worried. So, thank you.
Thank you to the book club, Bookit! at Mansfield in Nottinghamshire, run by Sadie Booth, for the advice given on labelling Isaac’s chapters, after a book club meeting where I wondered out loud about the best way to label two timelines for one character.
To Jane Isaac and Dave Sivers for trudging through and early draft that was making me want to give up writing all together. It made it to completion!
Thank you, Jane, Lisa Cutts and Susi Holliday for providing me with such fabulous quotes. I adore you.
To all the book bloggers who have been so generous with their time when it came to launching Made to be Broken, thank you. The blogging community is a thriving and generous community and I am thrilled to be a part of it.
With thanks to my launch team who are a great bunch of people who offered up their time freely and have been a great support – thank you!
There are so many people who have offered words of encouragement along the way, they are too many to name for fear of leaving someone out and offending, but to you all, I am truly grateful. To those who are responsible for making me laugh when I wanted to cry, when I wanted to tear this manuscript up into tiny pieces, you are always there and I am so grateful. We need drinks!
Without Keshini Naidoo, I would not have turned this from scrambled mess into something resembling a novel. I owe you so much gratitude. Thank you.
And Helen Baggott, thank you for the finishing touches, without which, it all falls down.
Finally, to those who I really couldn’t have done it without, Pete and our children, who always put up with me. And there is a lot to put up with. Thank you.
Fighting Monsters
Rebecca Bradley
Text copyright © 2018 Rebecca Bradley
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover art by Design for Writers.
Do you want to claim your FREE copy of Three Weeks Dead, the prequel novella to Shallow Waters, Made to be Broken and Fighting Monsters? I’d love it if you joined my readers’ club and joined the many others who have enjoyed the book that comes before the experience you are about to embark upon.
The great thing about Three Weeks Dead is that it can be read before or after Shallow Waters.
View it now.
Lee
Lee felt suffocated as the usher pulled the doors to, as the thick wood closed with a gentle whoosh. The courtroom was filled with a hushed expectation.
All seats were taken. The public gallery had been rammed since the trial had started. Family of the defendant. Multiple reporters from local and national papers, as many members of the public that could be accommodated and the family of the deceased, PC Ken Blake, shot in the line of duty nine months ago at the address of the defendant, Simon Talbot.
Not only was interest high because this was the murder of a police officer, but, it was at the hands of Talbot, the head of the most powerful crime family in Nottingham. They ran drugs and guns and girls through the city. No one moved unless they said they could. Unless they paid Talbot to do so. Talbot in prison was big news. People were fascinated. If Talbot went down then there would be a massive power struggle for the area of the city that the Talbots controlled.
Whether the family could maintain that control with Simon on the inside, while the rival Buckhurst crew pushed at them in his absence was under question because no one knew if Nathan Talbot, Simon’s brother, was strong enough to keep competition at bay and run the family operation.
There was a buzz of excitement as everyone waited for the court session to start again. Three and a half weeks of trial and now after only two and a half hours of jury deliberations they were about to come back and the expected verdict was guilty.
Though the weapon had never been found the prosecution had two witnesses to the offence. Both of whom had been present, in the room, at the time PC Blake had been killed.
Nathan Talbot sat bolt upright next to his mother, Karen. He was silent. His jaw set. Karen was dressed in black as though at a funeral, and many said she was. This was the end of Simon. They didn’t believe Nathan had what it took to keep the family together.
Behind them, Ken Blake’s widow, Lisa, sat with her head bowed, her hand held by her friend.
The door behind the public gallery opened and Simon was brought into the defendant’s box and his handcuffs taken off. He looked out at the courtroom. His best suit on, but unshaven. He didn’t need to make an impression, time for impressions was past.
Blake’s widow kept her head down.
‘All rise for Her Honour Judge Clay.’ The courtroom shuffled to its feet and Margaret Clay walked in and eyed her court, for she knew that there would be outbursts today. She requested the jury be brought in and the twelve men and women of the jury who had listened to the evidence against Talbot over the length of the trial filed in. Their heads bowed, hands clasped in front of them. Their eyes firmly on the floor where they walked. With a final shuffle of clothes, they sat, in the positions they’d assumed for the duration of the trial.
Margaret Clay addressed the court, ‘If anyone should disturb my courtroom this afternoon, they will be removed without prior warning. I will not tolerate disorder. I understand you have waited a long time for today but you are here to view these proceedings in silence.’ And with that she nodded to the court usher.
‘In the case of the Crown versus Talbot for the murder of PC Kenneth Blake do you find Simon Talbot guilty or not guilty?’
The foreperson, a woman on the end of the jury line looked along at her peers, bit her lower lip and rose from her chair. She was a rotund woman with hair that curled around her face. This afternoon that face was flushed, her eyes dark and small in her face. Her mouth a set line, so pale you had to look hard to see it. Her hands shook but were clasped tight in front of her.
<
br /> ‘We find—’ her voice cracked, she tried again, ‘We find him not guilty.’
Hannah
I put the green tea on the desk at the side of me where I was perched on the corner of Aaron’s desk. It was too hot to drink and I was interested in the heated discussion in the room about the recent release of local gang leader Simon Talbot.
‘It had to be fixed. He had to have fixed it,’ said Ross Leavy, a young, hardworking DC who was passionate about what he believed. If you were the bad guy, you were the bad guy.
‘The jury found him not guilty, Ross. They heard all the evidence, we haven’t,’ Martin, the longest serving DC on the unit countered. ‘Because we didn’t have the case we’ve only heard snippets from the cops who did. The interesting titbits, not all the info.’ He stretched out in his chair, arms up over his head. ‘You know how it is, the boring bits don’t make good gossip. Like the rest of the force, we could only go on the small leaks out of that incident room.’
‘Huh, I still think—’ Ross started.
‘Yeah, I know you do,’ Martin laughed, ‘but come on, you think you can diddle a jury like they do in the films?’
‘Talbot has huge reach, Martin,’ said Pasha, who was relatively new to the unit and had arrived at the same time as our new DCI, Kevin Baxter, a replacement for Anthony Grey. My friend. Who had been moved sideways into a CID unit. I missed his ways. The way he worried and the security he provided as a boss. How he constantly checked we were safe. Now we had Kevin Baxter and Pasha Lal. Two cuckoos that had invaded the nests of others.
I didn’t want to feel this way about them, particularly Pasha. These feelings were nothing to do with her. How I felt wasn’t her fault, but it was a vacancy that held a sensitive place in the heart of each and every one of us on the team. The spot that was vacant was because of Sally Poynter’s death, because of her murder on duty. A young DC I was responsible for.
Pasha was like Ross, also young, and a hard worker. She had come to us from divisional uniform and was now doing her CID training in our department. She was eager, intelligent, good with people and volunteered for all jobs. I couldn’t fault her. And yet I was uncomfortable with her presence. Our unit felt fractured and every time I looked at Pasha I was reminded that Sally was no longer here and that I had not been able to save her. This anger at myself gnawed at my insides and there was an acidic feel deep in my stomach whenever Pasha was in my vicinity. I needed to deal with it. This was my problem and not hers.
She had a point about Talbot, he did have a lot of clout in the outside world.
‘Thank you, Pasha.’ Ross was gleeful that he had been backed up.
‘Well, you don’t get to run their kind of empire on an estate like the Meadows unless you have something about you and part of that something has to be fear. He has a tight grip and no one would dare try to take him down. They want to get into bed with him but they don’t want to take him on.’
I turned to Aaron. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think we’d have known more about Simon Talbot and the case if we’d have dropped on for the job, but we didn’t, so we don’t.’
I rolled my eyes behind his back. I understood where he was coming from, but I sometimes wished he would give me an opinion. Aaron never gave an opinion unless he had the facts, but I wouldn’t be without him. It was this trait that I relied upon when I became too emotional about a job. Aaron kept me in check and in turn, I added the emotional balance to him.
‘Who wants to—’ Ross’ sentence was cut short as the incident room door opened and detective chief inspector Kevin Baxter walked in.
‘Afternoon, Hannah.’ He tapped his fingers on the side of his legs as he came further into the room. He looked relaxed. ‘Where are we on the Stanton job?’
Stanton, a young man who, on a night out with his mates had got into a fracas with his best mate, Mark Russell, over a girl. They’d traded a few punches, something they were known to do every so often, it never broke their friendship up, but Stanton had landed a blow to his friend’s head that had resulted in his death. A sorry case if ever there was one. The room quietened. We were all saddened by this one. Mark’s parents had lost their only child and Corey Stanton had ruined his life, lost his friend and his parents were also grieving for the loss of their own son, his life, what it could have been if this hadn’t have happened. It was a huge loss all round. Mark’s parents didn’t blame Corey. Which, to me, was incredibly brave of them. No matter how close their friendship, it must be so easy to want to blame someone.
‘He’s coming in tomorrow to be charged. Pasha is dealing with him.’
‘And this little powwow is to discuss the file for CPS?’
I still wasn’t sure how to take Baxter. He’d only been here a matter of weeks. I decided to go with the truth. I couldn’t lie in front of the team and expect them to be honest as and when I asked awkward questions of them. ‘We’re talking about Simon Talbot and his not guilty verdict. Ross thinks he nobbled the jury.’
Baxter laughed. ‘Ross, we’re not in the movies.’
A flush crept up Ross’ face. ‘It has been known to happen though, Sir.’
‘It’s been an interesting case. Feel for Blake’s wife, Lisa, in all this.’
‘Do we know how she’s holding up?’ I asked.
‘She’s getting a lot of support.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Damn fine cop he was.’
‘You knew him?’ asked Pasha.
‘Hmm? Yes. Yes, before I was at Mansfield I worked at the Meadows as an inspector for a short time. He was a bloody good cop.’
Baxter had come to us from an office at Mansfield police station. I had not realised he had known Blake. ‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ I offered.
He gave me a tight smile, rubbed his forehead. ‘So, we’re not going in hard with Stanton tomorrow?’
‘No. I don’t see a reason to ask for a remand. It’s a simple charge to magistrates.’ This meant that while Corey would still go through the court process, he would do it on bail at his home address with his parents’ support, as most offenders did for many offences. This had been discussed with Mark Russell’s parents and they were on board with it. Their pain did not include causing more to their son’s best friend.
Baxter nodded, he seemed distracted now, turned and walked back out the room without another word.
Hannah
Evie slowly made her way over from the bar, a drink in either hand. The Pitcher and Piano on High Pavement was a Grade II-listed refurbished church and it was quite beautiful inside with its towering ceiling and arched stonework. It was a favourite of ours when we wanted to come out for a drink. Evie took her time on the way back from the bar because she’d spotted someone she wanted to stop and talk with - regardless of the fact that I was waiting for one of the drinks that was currently getting warm in one of her hands.
The male in question leaned in closer when she threw back her head and her light auburn curls bounced around her face. She had his interest. Trapped him in her femininity, but that’s what it was. Evie was all feminine wiles on the outside, but the reality was that she was a dedicated, no nonsense police analyst that had seen her fair share of shit that was in the world and would not take any crap from a man. It was one of the reasons she liked to play the field. She enjoyed the game. Whenever she felt she was getting close she always found fault. This was what she wanted. The frivolity. The froth.
I watched as she dipped her head but kept her gaze on him. He removed his phone from his pocket and tapped at the screen. His gaze moving between his phone and Evie.
‘So, what’s his name?’ I asked as she placed the gin and tonic in front of me.
‘Who?’
‘The guy who took your number.’
‘You saw that?’
‘I couldn’t miss it.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘Does he have a name?’
‘I’m sure he does.’
I laughed.
‘That’s a nice sound.’ She took a
drink of her mojito.
I eyed her over my own glass. I knew what she was saying. I wouldn’t ask.
‘So, the verdict was interesting at court today,’ I said instead.
Evie smirked. ‘It was. Unexpected to say the least. I wonder who covered it at the Today.’
The Today was the Nottingham Today, Nottingham’s largest daily newspaper.
‘I don’t know, I didn’t notice the byline.’
‘You’ve read it?’ she asked. Her phone buzzed on the table where she’d placed it. It was face up and a number flashed across the screen with no name attached which meant she hadn’t listed a name to the number. I looked across the bar to the male she had stopped to talk with and he was sporting another wide grin.
‘I read it. It’s already been reported in the online version.’
‘Ah, of course.’ She picked up her phone. Her face then matched that of the male sitting not too far away from us. ‘Let me read it now.’
I sipped on my drink while she tapped the screen, located the page she needed and read down the report of the Talbot verdict.
I watched the male who Evie had flirted with. He was handsome in a rugged kind of way. He looked as though he’d had his nose maybe broken, his hair was not long, but scruffy, rumpled. His eyes held a cheeky twinkle that I could see from here and I could understand what had drawn Evie to him.
‘Miles Gordon.’
‘What?’ I switched my attention back to Evie.
‘The guy who wrote the Today article, it’s Miles Gordon. So, how does that make you feel?’
‘Fine. I don’t know Miles. I was more interested in the content, the shock verdict that happened today and the comments from Talbot after he walked out of court.’ I looked at her. ‘Did you actually read it or did you just look for the byline?’
The DI Hannah Robbins Series: Books 1 - 3 (Boxset) (Detective Hannah Robbins Crime Series) Page 46