Night Eyes (The Detective Temeke Crime Series Book 2)

by Claire Stibbe

  “Now, I can leave you alone if you want, or I can sit here quietly,” the detective said.

  “I’ll be OK on my own, thank you.”

  That way he would hear Ramsey’s voice and it would make it all better. Like he was sitting right there beside him telling the same old stories he always did.

  “One more thing,” the detective said, handing him a flip phone with a blue screen. “Officer Running Hawk found it. It think you’ll find it still works.”

  “Thank you.” Adam felt a surge of pride. Of course it still worked. It was brand new, wasn’t it?

  “Mr. Ramsey was a bit off his chump, son. Most of his brain was missing and what was left of it rattled around in that head. So I doubt it will make much sense.”

  “It’ll make sense.”

  “I’m glad you said that. Cause I almost called in an interpreter.”

  Adam half smiled, even as his eyes watered. “He couldn’t stand being away from us. Said it was unnatural. Like putting a pig in a sty and taking away the mud. Anyway, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” The detective stood up and smiled. He left after that.

  When Adam thought of Ramsey he wasn’t a monster. He was a man who taught him to hunt, a man who made him laugh. It had been an adventure.

  He opened the book.

  I don’t remember when it all began, but I do know this. You were always part of it. A bright spark in a dark world. You were the last thought in my head when I went to sleep and the first when I woke up.

  Now don’t get blubbery, cause I need to tell you how it all started.

  The weather was unusually cold that night and there was a ring around the moon. I walked to the beach with six other men, hearing only the sound of my footsteps. Your father was standing there, arms by his sides. I couldn’t be sure, but he was laughing. Raised his gun in the air, held it there for the count of three.

  I had time. A second or two. Waded into the shallows until my feet were well covered. Until I could feel how cold it was. I could almost touch that trident, smell it against my collar.

  Unless my heart missed a beat. There was always that. Tricky things hearts. They can switch off without you knowing.

  I heard a click and a laugh. Nothing new. It’s what he always did to see if we’d take off. But we stayed right there until we heard the crack, the echo, and then shouts as if the beach was alive with voices. I could hear the men behind me, feel hot sticky breath against my neck.

  I was first when we plunged into the breakers. First when we got to the red buoy. Then it happened. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Swallowed a wash of salty water.

  There was a bright light streaking to one side, a tunnel tracking down into the earth. I thought I was seeing things.

  Adam remembered a time when he was afraid of the tube slide in the playground at school. How he heard the pounding of his footfalls on the platform and the occasional drip of water from the trees above. And then he was sliding, tumbling, arms bracing as he broke out into the sunlight. There was snow on the ground, spread out like a bright shimmering mirror. He would have slid all the way to the parking lot if his mom hadn’t stopped him.

  I woke up in hospital. There was no going back. No trident. There’s a hole in my heart now where the pain comes in. And when it does, I see dead leaves all spiny and withered. I’m reminded of the things I left behind. You. Her. Family.

  Adam could see Ramsey in his mind’s eye, hair matted across his face, teeth clenched in a moue of pain. One hand clasping his chest, blood oozing between his fingers.

  You probably want to ask me what I loved the most. Your mom. She wouldn’t approve of me now. It wouldn’t have been fair to expect her to suffer my appalling relapses. That’s memory to you. My tattered clothes, a body that could have done with a shower. If she had seen me in the street, she would have made appropriate noises of sympathy, dropped a nickel in my hat and passed me by.

  Didn’t stop me loving her though.

  Adam took his mind back to that night in the tent. The words were right there. In the book. How Ramsey brushed her hair, how it turned red in the sun. Adam remembered how the lantern swung in the wind and he could still smell the camp fire. He was afraid then. But not now.

  That Spitfire’s just the small piece. Maybe you’ll have a good laugh at some of the things we did. Maybe you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. And maybe you’ll marry Runa and tell your kids about me. I’d like that.”

  Adam made the sound with his lips, strange at first. It was the second time he’d said the word and it would be the last.

  “Dad.”

  You probably want to ask me what I hated the most. Silence. You have to fill it with something. A good laugh, a good story. Like the time when I met your mom’s dad and how he used to say, ‘it must be March when the mad hares breed.’ He was probably hoping for a personal tragedy, hoping I’d disappear down a manhole so he could wake up from that particular nightmare and chalk it down to experience. He even told me I was a crook. But crooks aren’t that stupid.

  I went away for a while. But don’t think for one moment, I forgot. Cause I stalked the crap out of you, followed you to New Mexico. I saw you in the park. Yes, that was me. Watched you grow up.

  I know your dad’s strict. I know you sometimes don’t get along. But you’re a great kid. He saw to that.

  I had a strict dad once. Used to hide behind the tub panel when I’d done something wrong. Strange, because it was a screamingly obvious hiding place, I’m surprised he missed it.

  I flushed four small dinosaurs down the toilet once. Velociraptors I think they were. They did a number on the honey dipper, sewage everywhere. Amazing those raptors got past the U-bend. Don’t try a T-Rex. Too big.

  Adam chuckled. He felt very lucky. Because some kids only have one dad. He had two. Three actually, if you counted the big guy in the sky.

  You probably want to ask me what I regret most. I should have fought for you. Because in two short weeks we went everywhere together. Did things other people never get to do. I learned a few things too. Doesn’t matter where we come from. It’s the people we meet, the trials we face.

  I met you. That makes me a man.

  Now don’t go tearing up when I tell you you’ll see me in the thunder and the lightning. Means I’m up there somewhere having a party. Probably drinking a few beers and hurling them against a tree. Might not have my trident, but I have a son.

  And don’t get too excited either because I’m not about to go down on my knees. But you’re right. Truth is the only father. I can see him clear as I can see you. Got my ticket. So I’ll wait for you at the entrance… save you a seat.

  But while you’re still there, it’s very important you follow instructions. Paper’s for sissies. So just use grass.

  Adam felt the sweat popping on his forehead and the shudder in his legs, and he felt the soft brush of fur against his arm. He heard a laugh that never broke for breath and somewhere in the pit of his mind, he realized it was his.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Originally from Norfolk, England, Claire lived in Hong Kong for three years before eventually finding a second home in New Mexico, USA. Her genres include Historical Fiction, Action and Adventure, Psychological Thriller, Mystery and Suspense.

  Her first Detective Temeke mystery, The 9th Hour, is available on Amazon. She has also written two historical fiction novels, Chasing Pharaohs and The Fowler's Snare, both set in ancient Egypt during the 18th Dynasty.

  Claire has written short stories for Breakwater Harbor Books, a publisher of anthologies. The collection won Best Anthology of 2014 in the Independent Book Awards hosted by eFestival of Words.

  For news and updates, why not sign up for her newsletter here. Claire blogs at Wordpress and loves meeting new people on Twitter (@CMTStibbe) and Facebook. You can also follower her on Google.

  Thank you to all those who have left a review and a star rating for Night Eyes on Amazon. Reviews make these
books and they also help others find them. I am truly grateful.

  www.cmtstibbe.com

  ALSO BY CLAIRE STIBBE

  The 9th Hour

  When the ninth young girl falls into the clutches of a serial killer, maverick detective David Temeke, faces a race against time to save her life.

  The Duke City Police Department in Albuquerque, New Mexico is no stranger to gruesome murders, but this new serial killer on their block keeps the body parts of his eight young victims as trophies and has a worrying obsession with the number 9. The suspect is incarcerated in the state's high security penitentiary but Unit Commander Hackett is faced with a dilemma when another teenage girl goes missing.

  Detective Temeke and his new partner, Malin Santiago, are sent to solve a baffling crime in the dense forests of New Mexico’s Cimarron State Park. But time is running out. Can they unravel the mysteries of Norse legends and thwart the 9th Hour killer before he dismembers his next victim?

  This is the first in the Detective Temeke mystery series.

  “An intense, superbly crafted reading experience.

  I guarantee you'll go on reading well past

  the ninth hour.”

  ~ Jim Pingelly, Kingdom Writing Solutions

  “Gripping, innovative, brutal and yet redemptive.

  This is crime fiction with a serrated edge

  and a brilliant sheen.”

  ~ Marco Storey, author and speaker