by N. M. Brown
The Leighton Jones Mysteries
Books 1- 3
N.M Brown
Contents
The Girl On The Bus
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Carpenter Road
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Epilogue
A Note from Bloodhound Books:
Acknowledgments
Toys in The Dust
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Epilogue
Copyright © 2017 N. M. Brown
The right of N. M. Brown to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2017 by Bloodhound Books
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bloodhoundbooks.com
'To my family, for your faith and patience'
Prologue
Claire Woods sighed as she carefully placed Rita back into her cushioned baby seat. Thankfully, after two hours in a hot car, the infant was almost asleep. It had been Claire’s seven-year-old son’s helpful suggestion they take a break at the roadside services. The baking car had been like a glass prison for him and when he spotted the red and white diner sign, it offered an escape to fresh air and the promise of an iced soda.
As she struggled to manipulate the baby’s arms through the webbing straps, Claire felt her son tug at her elbow. He stood restlessly next to her, wearing a yellow Sponge Bob T-shirt and blue denim shorts, and moving helplessly from side to side.
‘Hang on a minute, Daniel,’ she said whilst trying to remain patient.
‘I really need to use the bathroom,’ he whined, squirming and twisting his small fingers together.
‘Don’t be silly, you've just been.’ Claire let out an aggravated breath as she continued to fight against the unforgiving child harness.
Her statement was not entirely correct. After sitting in a red leather booth for the half hour it had taken Rita to reluctantly accept her bottle, Daniel had consumed two large cups of Sprite. Claire had therefore assumed both her children would be full, and took the baby to the changing room – telling Daniel to come too. Daniel, however, had recently reached that age where he was uncomfortable peeing in front of his mom. This was a humorous and poignant development for a mother who had watched her liberated little boy dance around the house blissfully naked for most of his life. To accommodate his new-found modesty, Claire sent her son to use the men’s washroom, which was located beside the baby changing area. For added security, she left the door unlocked. Yet rather than going to the bathroom as agreed, Daniel – who was hopelessly attracted by all things glitzy – had stopped to gaze at the small cluster of arcade games. He had peered wide-eyed at the claw grab machine, which – as if sensing his presence – had spontaneously come to life. Daniel pressed his nose against the glass and watched the silver claw judder to the centre of the cabinet, then descend like the hand of a god to pluck at the grinning stuffed toys below.
As Daniel stood hypnotised by the metallic machine, Claire eventually approached him with a look of triumph on her face. The baby was finally asleep. Clai
re held a finger up to her lips and nodded her head towards the exit, indicating it was time to leave.
It wasn't until he and his mom were already at the car that the boy realised he had forgotten to go the washroom and his full bladder suddenly felt swollen and painful. At first, Daniel thought he could possibly hold on with his legs crossed until the next comfort break, but his body was already struggling to contain the fluid. This sensation was what convinced him to tug his mother’s elbow as she arranged Rita in her seat.
Claire looked down at Rita who was, for the moment, still asleep. To risk taking her back inside and potentially reawakening the beast was not a viable option, but neither was leaving the baby in the busy car park. Over the years, Claire had heard various horror stories about infants in Oceanside being snatched from public places, or tales of social services getting involved when an infant had been left in a car for mere minutes. Her only possible option was to tell Daniel to hurry into the washrooms with Claire watching from the driver’s seat. It didn’t seem risky; Daniel was a sensible boy, and even aged four, he had received the Gingerbread Kindergarten prize for road sense.
‘Okay.’ Claire stood up and peered across the three rows of parked cars and buses to the building. ‘I can’t leave Rita, and if I lift her out of the car she will probably wake up. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ her son replied, nodding vigorously.
‘So,’ she continued, ‘I'm going to let you walk back yourself, okay?’
‘Sure,’ Daniel said quickly.
‘Now the washrooms are just inside the entrance over there,’ Claire said slowly as she pointed to the double doors.
Her restless son nodded enthusiastically.
‘It’s the first door inside.’
‘I know.’ Daniel squirmed some more. ‘We've just been there.’
‘Well, you go back in yourself and watch out for cars, and use the crossing point. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ Daniel whined and then hurried off.
Keeping her eyes locked on her son, Claire climbed into the warm seat of the Toyota Camry. She followed Daniel’s journey as he snaked through the labyrinth of cars. He moved quickly between a Lexus and a Ford Focus then disappeared between two white coaches only to reappear a moment later at the crossing point. Claire watched the doorway of the building for a few minutes. Behind her, Rita began to snore lightly. In the moments that Daniel was lost from sight, dark fears appeared like storm clouds around the fringes of Clare’s mind. However, they were quickly dispelled by the reappearance of her son a moment later in the doorway of the service station. Holding up one hand, he waved proudly to his mother and then purposely checked the road before crossing. Claire exhaled then smiled and turned around to check on her sleeping baby.
It was in that fleeting instant that Daniel Woods vanished.
It had been the Ben 10 alien figure which had caught his attention- like a glittering fishhook in some murky depths. Having crossed the road safely, the boy had walked purposely through the space between two buses. Hidden from the afternoon sun, the corridor formed by the long, silver vehicles was cool like a shadowy ravine. Yet it did not seem lifeless – the two coaches were gently shuddering as if they were great sleeping beasts.
Halfway along the strange alleyway, Daniel noticed that one bus had its long luggage compartment open. The flap covering the cavity had been lifted up and pushed back to rest against the side of the bus. This had exposed a deep, dark cavity in the belly of the vehicle. Daniel thought it looked like an open doorway lying on its side.
As he drew level with the long opening, Daniel found himself overwhelmed with curiosity. Crouching down – as if to waddle duck-like – he peered into the chamber beneath the bus. What he saw there in the shadows made him gasp. The cavity was almost entirely empty with the exception of a red plastic crate, which had been pushed against the distant back corner. This glossy container overflowed with brightly coloured toys and bulging packets of candy. Action figures and Barbie dolls were stretching out of a tangle of Slinky Springs, whilst jewellery sets and Hot Wheels cars were arranged in fans shapes. Around the outside of the plastic box, a selection of Ben 10 – Daniel’s current favourite – figures were arranged in clusters. The scene reminded him of pictures of Santa’s sleigh or the fascinating shop window displays that would often appear in the weeks before Christmas. Only this wasn’t December; it was July.
The temptation placed before the boy was simply too much. He knew his mom would be waiting so he had to be quick. Daniel glanced furtively back over his shoulder, then, happy enough with the lack of witnesses, he climbed into the cool shade of that rectangular compartment. Within the metal crawl space there was a faint smell which reminded Daniel of the large white medical room at his kindergarten. It was an aroma the boy associated with painful things like injections and scraped knees, but the temptation as great that he pushed such thoughts aside. Crawling over towards the box of toys, the small boy made a quick grab for a Rip-jaws figure. However, as his fingers closed around the figure, someone slammed the door of the compartment shut and trapped Daniel inside.
Claire was out of the locked car now and running crazily back and forth calling her son’s name. Her efforts were undermined by the dull blasting horn of some large vehicle, which was regularly obliterating her cries. Cold fear began to flood her body as she darted around the vehicles. Seeing no sign of her son, Claire dropped to her knees. She looked desperately beneath the sea of cars in the hope of glimpsing red size five baseball boots wandering by. Maybe he’s just lost, she repeated to herself in a tenuous mantra. After standing up, Claire began to stop random strangers, clutching their arms in swelling desperation.
‘Have you seen a little boy?’ she asked repeatedly, her voice rising to a panicky crescendo.
Suddenly, Claire formed a notion of hope. Perhaps her son had simply returned to the washroom, which was quite possible. Tracing Daniel’s initial route, she ran back to the service building and rushed inside. Pushing the washroom door open, and with no regard now for propriety, Claire found nothing but empty cubicles.
‘Miss, are you okay?’ asked a female employee, who appeared over her shoulder. She was wearing a red cotton vest and carrying a plastic clipboard.
‘I’ve lost my son,’ Claire blurted out through a ripple of hot tears. ‘He’s only seven years old.’
‘Okay,’ the woman spoke calmly. ‘Let me help you. What’s his name?’
‘It’s Daniel,’ Claire sobbed.
As the woman spoke purposefully into a small radio clipped to her lapel, Claire hurried back outside and ran over to the Toyota. By now she was making all sorts of deals with God to let her find her son standing nonchalantly at the side of the car. As she reached the vehicle, she discovered only Rita, who remained blissfully oblivious of the chaos unravelling around her.
Whilst a group of hastily organised employees began to sweep systematically through the parking lot, Claire felt a new wave of desperation wash over her. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she began shout her son’s name. Rushing randomly from car to car, Claire did not realise that her calls were still being regularly punctuated by the angry blasts of some air horn. As the minutes passed, Claire’s shouting evolved into screaming her son’s name until her voice grew hoarse, and there was finally no breath left.
Then – in the hopeless silence – a sound formed. To Claire, it seemed like a tiny bright flare in an eternity of darkness. The broken mother thought she heard her lost son call out to her.
Pausing for a moment, Clare’s cocked her head. Her eyes widened, and then she heard the sound again – faint, but enough to recognise. She moved closer to the sound, passing cautiously by a rusty Volvo and then a Lexus.
Claire was vaguely aware that the blasting of the horn was louder now and emanating from a large silver bus, which was angrily lurching inches forward. A refrigerated truck with European plates had entered the parking lot via the exit rather than the entrance and had stopped in front of the
service area. It was blocking the exit of all other vehicles – including the impatient bus. But then, in the small silences between the raging snorts of the horn, Claire heard her son’s muffled voice. It was faint and yet somehow undeniable. She felt her heart stutter and, operating on some instinctive level, she followed the sound to the side of the silver bus. Kneeling on the hot asphalt, she was oblivious to the diesel staining the knees of her cream pants as she put her ear to the side of the warm shuddering vehicle.