Inescapable Fate: Hanleigh's London (The Fate Series Book 1)

by Hanleigh Bradley

  “Ace. Right, got to go. Criminals to catch and all that.”

  “Speak to you soon.”

  “Yeah – we’ll have to go out for a pint.”

  “Good call.”

  He’s a good lad, Tristan. He doesn’t tell me he told me so. He doesn’t point out that I was stupid for even considering proposing. He’s a great mate. It’s a pain I didn’t listen to him in the first place.

  “Actually Trent, I have a favour to ask…”

  That’s not like Tristan. He doesn’t do favours.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “I have a little boy that would love to come visit the yard.”

  “Bring him by any time,” I say without hesitation.

  “Really?” His voice rings with excitement.

  “Sure. Who are you talking about? What kid?” I frown slightly as I try to work out who he’s talking about. Tristan doesn’t have a close family. “Does your new girlfriend have a kid?”

  “It’s her brother, Thomas. They’ve had a rough time of it recently. Their mum just died.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say even though I’m talking about people I’ve never met.

  “No worries. We might pop in today after school…”

  “Sure. Bring him by.”

  Turns out that Kentley is about as disobedient as a… well actually, I can’t think of anything that could possibly be as disobedient as her.

  Last night when I sent her home, she decided to completely disregard my order. Instead, she spent what was left of her evening running the suspect’s face through the facial recognition software.

  It was a job we could have done this morning but apparently it wouldn’t be soon enough.

  As pissed as I am, I have to admit it is nice having a lead. She managed to get a name and an address. I should be impressed with her dedication or something but actually what I feel is peeved. I sent her home.

  Jackson and Milton are interviewing Miss Lolt’s friends this morning, leaving me to go with Detective Sergeant Kentley to the address.

  “I’m driving,” I tell her without so much as a glance her way as we walk towards the carpark.

  “Yes, Sir,” she replies.

  Her eyes are glued to the screen of her phone.

  “You’re not focused, Kentley. Get in the game.”

  My voice is terse and probably angrier than I mean it to be.

  “Sorry, Sir,” she apologies but doesn’t put her phone away.

  I shouldn’t give two hoots but I’m irrationally irritated that her attention isn’t on me. I’m her boss. She should be… she should be what? Sucking up? That would piss me right off. Hanging on my every word? Again, I’d be angry…

  “Put your phone away,” I demand, trying not to overthink.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  She does as she’s told but not two seconds later it rings and it’s back in her hand again.

  “Bloody hell,” I growl with annoyance.

  “Sorry, Sir.”

  “Stop apologising and put your phone away.”

  Again, she obeys me and climbs into the passenger seat of my black BMW. She doesn’t make chit chat or try to engage me in conversation.

  Her eyes are on the case file in front of her.

  “Tell me about the suspect,” I demand when I can’t take the silence any longer.

  “He’s in his mid-thirties, lives alone. Has form for sexual assault and one account of armed robbery.”

  I nod my head.

  “Anything else?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Keep your eyes peeled then. I’m not going to come save you if you get into trouble.”

  She chuckles.

  “Like I’d need saving.”

  I spare a second to look at her.

  “Everyone needs saving sometimes.”

  “Not me,” she says with an adamant arrogance that infuriate me further.

  Bloody Bint.

  It’s not like it’s a bad thing to need saving once in a while. Heck, even I’ve needed rescuing once or twice. She doesn’t have to act like she’s better than the rest of us normal plebs.

  “Maybe not yet,” I argue back.

  She looks seriously at me for a split second.

  “I hope to God no one ever has to save me.”

  “What’s so wrong with being saved?”

  I just can’t understand her. As police officers surely, we know more than anyone just how dangerous life can be.

  “Nothing is wrong with being saved,” her eyes are focused on the passing houses, “except that usually someone has to risk themselves to save you.”

  I park out front of the house. It’s pretty run down.

  “It’s hard to believe someone lives there,” Kentley is saying as she opens her door.

  We’re in the middle of one of the rougher parts of the city; I wouldn’t be surprised if it is actually a crack den.

  Kentley is the first to reach the door. She raps her knuckles on the wood and we wait. I can’t hear any sound from inside but that doesn’t mean anything.

  He could be hiding, waiting for us to leave.

  I hear a noise from the back yard.

  Kentley automatically moves towards the gate so that she can enter the back garden. She’s stopped when a figure with a hood covering his face jumps the gate, landing directly on top of her.

  Something crunches.

  I hope it’s the gravel beneath them and not one of her bones. Rushing to catch the suspect as he clambers up, I sprint down the path after him. He runs straight out into the road and I can only watch as a car swerves to miss him.

  Kentley isn’t far behind me.

  She can run, I’ll give her that.

  Chapter Five – Georgia

  I wear ugly shoes to work every day just so I can give chase to criminal thugs for a living. I’m running at top speed and yet I’m still losing them.

  My arm is definitely broken.

  It’s burning violently, practically screaming at me, but I won’t cry. I won’t scream. I won’t because right now I need to catch up with Trent.

  Crumbs, that boy can run, I think to myself as I struggle to breathe.

  Eventually, I have to stop. I’m completely winded. I can’t go on any further. Trent is still in my line of sight.

  I want to start running again but my body says no.

  I can no longer see the suspect and I have no idea in which direction he went. I bend so that my head is between my knees and try once more to breathe.

  I jump when I feel a hand on my arm.

  “Shit!” I cry out.

  The pain is excruciating.

  “You’re hurt?” he asks.

  Trent is so confusing. He doesn’t sound concerned; he sounds downright angry.

  “I think my arm is broken.”

  “Fuck sake.”

  He reaches out for my arm with a gentleness that is in complete contrast to the tone of his voice.

  “What do you think you were doing?”

  “What?”

  I’m so confused. I was just doing my job.

  “Why did you go first? I could have gone first. I’m bigger than you.”

  “It’s fine. It’s not that bad.”

  “Your arm is broken, you Bint.”

  “Don’t call me a Bint,” I complain.

  “You’re a stupid Bint for going and getting yourself hurt,” he says as he inspects my arm. “Right, we’re going to the hospital.”

  “But the suspect…”

  “I’ve already called it in,” he tells me. “The PCs are looking for him.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. We’re going to the hospital.” He pulls me up from when we’re currently crouched. “Careful.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not,” he argues. “You’re going to be a right pain in my arse, I can tell.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “That’s no way to talk to your superior!”

  I refuse
to back down.

  “Let’s just get this done quickly,” I grumble.

  DCI Trent is impatient. That’s something I’ve learnt over the last forty-eight hours.

  He spent the entire time we were in A&E tapping his foot angrily against the floor while telling me that he was going to make me a desk sergeant, so I won’t be allowed out in the field again. I wasn’t sure if he was being sweet and thinking about my safety or pissed at me again for something.

  “What a waste of four hours,” he had ranted in that patronising voice of his, as he checked his phone every thirty seconds.

  The only consolation was that he bought me a sandwich when he heard my stomach rumbling.

  “We haven’t got time to get anything else. Hurry up and eat it,” he had told me, flinging the sandwich into my non-injured hand as he climbed into the car. “What am I going to tell your dad?”

  “My dad?” I frown. Since starting at Scotland Yard no one has ever worried about my dad being concerned about me.

  “You’re hurt and it’s only my second day.”

  “So?” I say between bites of my sandwich.

  “Never mind,” he responds as he pulls out of the car park space.

  “My dad doesn’t really get involved in what I do…” I’m rambling. “I don’t think he’ll be that surprised that I’ve hurt myself.”

  “Do you hurt yourself a lot then?” He grins at me teasingly.

  “More often than I should.”

  “Maybe I should give you a desk job then.”

  His eyes are sparkling that liquid copper colour and I can’t tell if he’s serious, angry or laughing at me.

  Perhaps, it’s all of the above.

  “HA HA. I’d still hurt myself,” I mumble.

  He glances at me briefly, his eyes showing concern for just a second.

  “How is your arm?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “You don’t have to be brave.”

  “I’m good. I’ve had worse.”

  “What’s the worst injury you’ve gotten on the job?” he asks with a smirk.

  I don’t answer him.

  I’m not going to tell him about the hostage situation. It’s a no go conversation. I don’t talk about it with my family. I’ve never been willing to talk to Darren about it, as much as he tried to force the matter. I’d even refused to talk to the colleagues that were involved in the case.

  The only person who had gotten more than two words out of me on the subject was the therapist that my dad insisted I see before returning to work.

  I try to laugh it off. “Oh, you know… the usual.”

  “The usual?”

  His hands are resting on the steering wheel. He has nice hands.

  “What’s the usual? A broken bone or two? Some bumps and bruises?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “When we get back to the yard the boys all take rounds teasing me for getting hurt.

  “Trust you, Kentley,” John says.

  Alvin offers to write on my cast, but I don’t let him.

  Historically, that right would be reserved for Darren but this time I’ve decided to keep it bare. He always used to draw the most intrinsic pictures on my casts and I’d kept a photograph of each one so as not to forget that my casts had become.

  Except this time, Darren wouldn’t be available to draw on my cast. We wouldn’t be sitting in bed with marker pens surrounding us.

  Things are different now and that’s okay, but I don’t want anyone else drawing on my cast.

  Maybe it’s not as okay as I want it to be.

  Trent sends me home on the dot at five. I’m not happy about it. Home isn’t home anymore. It’s an empty space. The large rooms with their soaring ceilings that I had loved when we first bought the place bow just make me feel lonely – because my best friend is missing.

  Walking into our… no, my flat, I can’t help but be a little overwhelmed by the silence that meets me.

  He’s usually home before me.

  Usually, he can be found in the kitchen preparing us dinner, two beers already waiting on the table. We had normalcy down to an art.

  Maybe I should get a cat…

  I don’t want a cat…

  But I don’t want to be on my own in this big, old apartment either.

  I curl up on the sofa with a bottle of wine as I try to do the sums in my head, that have been making me nervous since Christmas Day.

  Can I afford to live here without him?

  We own the place. The mortgage is almost completely paid, and he doesn’t want his share back apparently but that seems ridiculous.

  I will have to buy him out. I don’t want him having any claim to my home.

  It’s a three-bedroom apartment in the centre of London.

  My parents had helped a lot with the mortgage but he’d still paid just under a third of it with his trust fund. I consider my options as I get to my feet in an attempt to keep busy.

  I can’t stop. I’m restless.

  I grab the cardboard boxes my dad brought by a few days ago. I can’t believe I’m the one packing his shit up. I make quick work of divvying up our belongings.

  Anything that reminds me too much of him gets added to the box even if it isn’t exclusively his. I don’t want anything to remind me of him. I want this home to be completely devoid of Darren Jacks.

  Options… As I pack, I consider getting a couple of roommates – that could work. It might be my only option if I want to stay here. Alternatively, I could just sell up and get a place that is exclusively mine.

  But a small voice in my head says that I won’t find another flat as perfect as this one in the whole of London.

  Roommates it is then…

  Chapter Six – Walker

  I’m still in my office a little after six when DCS Kentley pops his head around my door.

  “Still here?” he asks gruffly.

  “Yeah, just catching up.”

  I feel slightly on edge. Has he heard about his daughter’s injury and is here to chastise me?

  He nods his head.

  “How have your first few days gone?”

  He takes the seat opposite me. I try to get a read on his emotions but can’t. He doesn’t give anything away.

  “Not bad…” I don’t really know what he expects me to say. Does he want me to outright tell him that I let his little princess get hurt?

  “Good, good,” he folds his arms and leans back, “good to hear it.”

  There’s a knock at the door and I’m grateful for the interruption. John Bertell walks in.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Sir. Just wanted to let you know, everyone else has gone and I’m heading out myself unless you need anything.”

  “Thanks John.”

  I grin at the older man that was once my idol.

  Detective Chief Superintendent Kentley smiles happily at John too.

  “How are you, John?”

  “Great, DCS Sir.” He returns the smile with ease. “Although DS Kentley has a new cast.” He says it as if it’s a running joke.

  I’m surprised when the DCS barks out a laugh before retorting, “another one for the collection.” But then his eyes turn dark. “I guess this one won’t be sold on e-bay though.”

  “No, I guess not, Sir.”

  John’s eyes match the DCS’s and I can’t help but wonder what the fuck I am missing.

  “I offered to help you sort him out.”

  “I bet she refused?”

  Kentley’s eyes are full of an emotion I’ve never witnessed in their depths before.

  “Yeah… She said you could take him but that it wasn’t necessary.”

  “That’s my daughter for you. Far too optimistic for her own good.”

  His smile contradicts his tone. His tone censures her behaviour while his smile shows his pride.

  “I’ll have to threaten her with a desk job tomorrow.”

  John laughs.

  “Didn’t do her any favours la
st time.”

  Kentley’s eyes bulge.

  “No. No. I guess it didn’t.” His voice is cold, quiet with a hint of self-loathing and again I’m left wondering what I’m missing.

  When I leave Scotland Yard, I have several missed calls from my girlfriend… ex-girlfriend? I don’t know what she is right now.

  All I know is she is definitely not my fiancée.

  Alicia and I have been together for what feels like forever. We started seeing each other when we were eighteen and in Uni. I had realised University wasn’t for me, much to my parents’ disapproval and joined the police. Alicia had supported my decision even when everyone I loved thought I was an idiot.

  We’d been together for seven years and I’d gone and messed it all up by asking her to marry me.

  “I’m coming home,” I tell her when she picks up my call.

  “I won’t be here when you get back.” Her tone is clipped and her words final.

  This is it.

  The moment I’ve been dreading.

  “Okay.” I don’t know what else to say. “Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll work it out.”

  “I should leave,” I offer because it’s the polite, gentlemanly thing to do. “You can stay.”

  She’s silent.

  She doesn’t know how to have this conversation and neither do I.

  “Okay. I’ll help you pack.”

  “Okay,” and with that I hang up.

  Tristan’s flat is nice. I’m surprised he’s not staying here right now. Apparently, he’s been kipping at his new girlfriend’s house, so I have the place to myself until I find somewhere new to live.

  After that he’s going to give up the lease and move in with Ella full time. He’s there all the time now any apparently.

  The flat is in the centre of London. It’s a perfect location. Not far at all from work. Within walking distance in fact. Although, I’ll probably still drive.

  I like having my car at work. Then again, I could always just leave it at the Yard.

  It’s strange being alone. I’m used to having Alicia with me. But it’s not an unpleasant strangeness. If anything, I’m actually enjoying it.

  I pour coffee into my thermos and prepare for work.

  It’s early but I’ve got a lot to do today and I’ve got to make it up to Tristan and Thomas. Their trip to the Yard yesterday had to be cancelled because of stupid Georgia Kentley and her broken arm, so they’ll be visiting today instead.