Hunting the Silence - The Yorkshire Murders
DI Haskell & Quinn Crime Fiction Series Book 4
Bilinda P. Sheehan
Copyright © 2021 by Bilinda P. Sheehan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Also by Bilinda P. Sheehan
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Contents
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
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Also by Bilinda P. Sheehan
Prologue
Less than a week after he’d killed, he was back in the countryside. Sucking down a lungful of the fresh air, he hopped the fence and began his exploration of the garden. He’d watched her leave that morning, taking the small noisy dog with her; he could be grateful for small mercies, at least.
She’d set up a small floodlight in the back garden a couple of days after his failed attempt at getting into the house. Obviously, she’d listened to the advice of the police officers who’d paid her a visit. It wasn’t such a problem for him, though. It was easy to loosen the wires so that the light failed to turn on when it was supposed to. He’d been more worried that she would get a CCTV camera, that would be much harder to avoid, but he’d been pleasantly surprised to discover she’d refused to invest in one. Clearly, she was a woman after his own heart.
He grabbed a couple of bricks from the broken barbeque area at the side of the garden. Carrying them over to the back wall of the house, he positioned them on top of the others he’d already added. It was easy to build a small pile over time, something she wouldn’t notice because the progress of it was so gradual. Reaching up to the bathroom window, he tested the frame, and was pleased to discover she still hadn’t realised just how damaged it was.
Hopping back down onto the path, he contemplated waiting around until she returned from work, and then changed his mind. It was almost time to pick up Lily from school, and he couldn’t be late again or it would only lead to more grief from the, bitch.
With a backwards glance, he sighed, satisfied with the minor adjustments he’d made. It would soon be time to take action, but until then he would just have to relive the last one. He slipped back over the fence and jogged back to his car.
Chapter One
"I can't believe you agreed to stay on call for the Christmas shift." DI Melissa Appleton slid into the vacant seat next to Drew's desk, and he glanced up at her in surprise.
"How do you know?"
She waggled her eyebrows at him. "I've got my sources," she said. "You're not the only one around here who can get their hands on info when it's needed."
"And my working the Christmas shift was 'needed' information?" Drew leaned back in his chair and stretched. Warmth spread down through his spine, as he rolled his shoulders and felt the stiff knots in his neck slowly unravel. His abdomen barely twinged, a sign that at least outwardly, he was more or less whole again.
"It is when it screws with our plans," she said, a pout crossing her lips. Suddenly, the heat Drew felt wasn't just caused by the stretching out of his weary muscles.
"Excuse me?" He tried not to sound like a strangled cat, but failed. He coughed, straightening in the seat, as he swivelled around to face Melissa. "What plans?"
"The Christmas Party?" Exasperation tinged her voice, and she rolled her eyes in a typical display of histrionics. "Are you sure you haven't got some sort of early onset dementia? You'd forget your own name if it wasn't printed on the front of your mug," she said, jabbing a finger in the direction of the cup on his desk with his name printed on the front in large black letters. DC Green had thought it would be a nice gesture for the team. Monk had asked Green to join the team after the graft he'd put in on the trafficking case—and Drew couldn't deny that the young constable was an asset to the team—but the mugs had seemed a little too much.
"This wasn't my doing," Drew said, pushing the cup aside.
"Do you, or don't you remember our discussion about the Christmas party?"
He glanced back down at the reports scattered across the desk. "I remember."
"Good, so you haven't completely lost your marbles then." She sighed. "You working is going to make things right awkward."
"Maybe it's best if I steer clear then--"
"Stop trying to wriggle out of it," Melissa said indignantly. "You're coming to the party, and you're going to sing Karaoke whether you like it, or not. I’ve managed to pull some strings and rearrange everything for Saturday night. That way, everyone gets to go, you included."
"Or not..." Drew muttered beneath his breath and caught sight of Melissa's blistering stare. "Fine, I'll come, and do all the usual daft shit that happens on a night out, but I’m not singing no karaoke."
“Yes you are.”
Drew opened his mouth to argue but noted the obstinate look on Melissa’s face and changed his mind. “Fine.” It was easier to capitulate now and keep things sweet. When Saturday came around he’d keep a low profile, if she didn’t see him then she wouldn’t remember the conversation.
"Good," she said, sounding more pleased with herself than she had any right to be. "That's settled, then. Saturday night, we're going to paint the town red."
"Can I get back to this report now," Drew said, with a long-suffering sigh. "Gregson wants it on his desk by close of day."
"You working on anything interesting?" she asked, leaning over his
shoulder to peer down into the report he'd laid open on the desk. The scent of her Jo Malone perfume tickled his nose, and he fought the urge to sneeze. It seemed some things never changed, and Melissa's love of Lime, Basil, and Mandarin cologne was one of them.
Melissa caught him staring and glared at him. "Stop staring down my cleavage."
"I wasn't, I--" Drew cut off, grumbling beneath his breath as Melissa dropped back into her seat as she creased up with laughter.
"You should have seen your face," she said, gulping down a breath, she swiped a hand at the tears that had collected at the corners of her eyes. "Christ, Drew, I don't think I've ever seen you look so worried."
"Yeah, well, that kind of shit nowadays can get a person suspended," he said gruffly. "Or worse."
"It's nothing you haven't seen before," she said, with a shake of her head as she pushed onto her feet. "It's not like we haven't got changed in the same room when we were both in uniform many moons ago."
Drew kept his head down, his gaze trained on the reports in front of him. Not that the words were making any sense now. The words just blurred into each other, turning to gibberish before his eyes.
Laughing, Melissa patted his shoulder as though he were nothing more than an awkward child in need of reassurance. He kept his attention on the papers on his desk as she left him to his work.
What he needed now was something new to sink his teeth into. Something to help him move past the shit-show that had been Templeton's short-lived reign in charge of the task force. A palate cleanser, so to speak. Of course, getting that meant that some other poor misfortunate out there had to get served up a shit-sandwich. And no matter how he tried to spin that, there was just no good way around it.
Sighing, he glanced down at his watch. Just a couple of hours more, and he would finally be out of here, and free to once again roam the many listings on RightMove, in search of the perfect space to call his own. Why he'd ever thought it would be easy was beyond him.
Picking up his mug, he grimaced as the over-sized lettering with his name in bold, black print caught his attention. Drew pushed onto his feet and made a beeline for the coffee machine. That was the one truly glorious side to his promotion onto the task-force; no more shitty vending machine coffee. Templeton had been a man with many issues, but his choice in coffee was definitely not one of them, Drew thought, as he selected a pod from the basket and popped it into the machine.
Chapter Two
"I dare you to go into the woods, and spend the night there," Darren said, his brown eyes darted over toward the woodland that loomed over them.
"I can't do that," Oliver said, fear causing his voice to rise in pitch as he spoke. He gripped the handles of his bicycle tighter, as though that alone would be enough to ward off Darren's dare.
"I double-dog-dare you," Darren said, sounding somewhat braver the second time around. "If you don't do it, I'm going to tell everyone in school tomorrow what a loser you are."
Oliver shook his head and swallowed back the lump that formed in the back of his throat. "No, you won't."
"Yeah, I will!" Darren jammed a finger into Oliver's chest. "You're nothing but a scaredy-cat, loser, and I'm going to tell everyone."
"Mum won't let me stay in the woods for the night," Oliver said, seizing upon the very obvious solution.
"So tell her you're staying over at mine," Darren said.
"She won't let me on a school night."
Darren fell silent and chewed his lip thoughtfully as he glanced over at the forest. Oliver felt the tension slowly ease out of his shoulders. The fear-filled knot that tightened his gut began to unravel as the seconds ticked by. He'd outwitted Darren, and there was nothing he could do about it. He slipped his hand into his zippy-pocket and removed his blue inhaler. The plastic shell was warm in his hand as he lifted it to his mouth and took a puff. The medicated mist hit his throat and made him cough.
"Saturday night, then," Darren said triumphantly.
"What?" The inhaler very nearly tumbled from his hand, and he gripped it a little tighter. Mum would kill him if he lost another one.
"Saturday night, you tell your mum you're staying over at mine. And I'll tell mine, I'm staying at yours, but we'll come here instead."
Oliver shook his head. The fear that had just receded returned with a vengeance. "I can't--"
"We'll do it together," Darren said, excitedly. "We'll both go in there and spend the night. And then on Monday when we go into school we'll tell everyone what we did, and they'll think we're so cool!"
A bead of sweat formed in the middle of Oliver's spine and slowly tracked its way down over his clammy skin. "I suppose so," he said. "I mean, if we both did it, and he came for us, we could fight him off."
Darren nodded. "No way could he take us both. And if he grabbed you, then I could always go for help."
"Why would he grab me, and not you?" Oliver asked, indignantly. "He's just as likely to take you, as he is to grab me."
Darren shook his head. "I'm a faster runner than you, remember?"
He had a point, Oliver thought. He was a much faster runner...
"Okay," he said. "If we do it, then we do it together."
Darren's grin was wide and gap-toothed. "We're going to need supplies," he said. "Food, and sleeping bags, and torches--"
"And don't forget batteries," Oliver said. "You know in case the others run out."
Darren nodded. "Maybe we should bring some tins of dog-food, and ham with us."
"Why?"
"Because AJ from year nine said that you could stop him from taking you if you gave him dog food, and ham instead."
"I think maybe that's made up," Oliver said thoughtfully. "Why would dog food, and ham stop him from taking you?"
"Because isn't dog food made from like dead animals and stuff? And ham is made of pig so, to him, it tastes the same as people."
Oliver's face twisted up in disgust. "That's yuck!"
Darren nodded sagely. "I know. My older brother said cannibals call human meat, long-pig, because we taste like ham."
Oliver's eyes were wide, a mixture of horror and awe swept over his features before he finally nodded. "I can get us some dog food." Bixby wouldn’t mind if he took a couple of cans.
"I'll get the ham," Darren said, before he glanced down at his watch. "I've got to get home. Mum said if I was late once more this week she'd take my X-box away, and I'm so close to completing this month's season pass on Fortnite." Darren kicked off on his own bike, and with one last wave over his shoulder disappeared down the hill towards home.
Oliver glanced up at the trees swaying overhead and shivered. The woods were the very last place he wanted to spend Friday night.
Zipping his jacket up to his chin, he kicked off on his bike, and followed Darren down the hill. Perhaps if he was lucky, Darren would have forgotten all about his hare-brained scheme by the morning, and moved onto something a little easier to tolerate.
Not that Oliver truly believed that. Once his friend got an idea in his head, he had a tendency to cling onto it like a dog with a bone. And in this case, the bone was one that might get them killed.
Chapter Three
"In this week's seminar we'll be examining the relationship between childhood trauma, and the development of aberrant personalities, and the consequences of that." Harriet smiled broadly. "We'll be taking a close look at serial offenders." Taking a moment to clear her throat, Harriet glanced down at the notes in front of her. There was a light shuffling of feet, as the small group of students gathered in the room with her got comfortable. This was what she enjoyed most about her work at the university. It was always much easier to deal with smaller groups, there was a higher level of engagement, and Harriet found in an environment such as this the students were far more receptive to what she had to say.
"Excuse me, Dr Quinn." A voice from the back of the group drew her attention away from the copious notes she'd brought with her. Harriet lifted her gaze from the papers and focused on the
young man who had spoken. His sandy brown hair hung down into his brown eyes, and he swiped at it almost impatiently as he straightened up under her scrutiny.
"Yes, Craig, what is it?"
"Doesn't this kind of thing just excuse their behaviour?"
"How so?" Harriet asked, leaning back in her chair as the first frisson of excitement traced down her spine.
"Well, we're basically telling them they’re not responsible for their actions because their mummy was mean to them." His statement caused the others in the room to laugh, and Harriet watched as the attention brought a broad smile to his lips. He puffed his chest out as he scanned the room, bathing in the appreciation of the joke he'd just made. The behaviour made Harriet smile inwardly. There was always one.
"And you think it's wrong to find the reasoning behind certain--" Harriet waved her hand in the air as she struggled to find the correct word--"undesirable behaviours?"
Craig shook his head. "That's not what I'm saying."
"Then what are you saying?"
"Well, I don't think we should give them a free pass."
"Who said we should?"
He shrugged. "Well, you did."
Hunting the Silence: The Yorkshire Murders (DI Haskell & Quinn Crime Thriller Series Book 4) Page 1