Dead Justice (Brian McDone Mysteries Book 6)
Page 1
Dead Justice
Ryan Casey
Contents
Bonus Content
Previous Brian McDone Books
DEAD JUSTICE
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
Thank you for reading the McDone series!
About the Author
Copyright
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Dead Justice is the sixth book in the Brian McDone series.
If you’d like to read the first books, visit here:
Dying Eyes
Buried Slaughter
Nameless Kill
Eye Snatcher
Ritual
DEAD JUSTICE
One
Elaine Schumer stood crammed at the front of the gig venue and wished she’d stayed at home.
The 57 Celsius venue was packed with students. One of the big local bands, Golden Herex, was playing an intimate gig here, and it brought everyone out, whether they liked them or not. In all truth, Elaine wasn’t their biggest fan. She’d heard a few of their songs on the radio, but they were a bit mainstream for her tastes. She preferred her music with a bit of an edge. A bit more unconventional and daring.
She stared into the strobing lights, the sounds of the guitars rattling her eardrums. All around her, sweaty people danced and moshed embarrassingly to a song that wasn’t particularly heavy. Every now and then, she got an elbow in the ribs. But it didn’t bother her. It barely even broke her attention.
She was too focused on something else.
She felt a hand grab onto her arm. When she looked around, she saw Sammi grinning at her. Sammi had been her best friend for fourteen years. They were both twenty-one now, in their final year at the University of Central Lancashire, and approaching their last exams. They came from Preston in the first place, but they shared a flat with a few other friends in the city centre so they could get the full uni experience. Elaine did English with Creative Writing, and Sammi did Travel & Tourism, which meant they had jack all to do, in truth. She wasn’t so stuck up that she recognised her course was a doss compared to the others. Instead, she made the most of it by coming to gigs like this.
“Aren’t you loving ’em?” Sammi screamed. She was short, with glossy black hair. She wasn’t the skinniest girl, with what she called a “rugby build,” but she seemed to attract a lot of attention from guys and girls. Way more than Elaine.
It didn’t bother Elaine. Her life wasn’t defined by relationships. She’d worked so hard to make sure that was the case.
Elaine forced a smile. She was happy to see Sammi enjoying herself. She looked over her, over by the door, but there was no sign of him yet. She glanced down at her phone. Nine forty-five. He was supposed to be here. He was…
A text, received five minutes ago.
She opened it, and her stomach sank.
She tasted some of the booze she’d necked roll back up her throat when she read the text. Truth be told, as the music got louder and the dancing got more frantic, she could feel herself growing more edgy. She’d pick at a scab on her left elbow when she was agitated. She was doing it right now.
Sammi narrowed her eyes. Through her enjoyment of the gig, Elaine saw genuine concern on her face. “You okay?” she mouthed.
Elaine nodded. She brushed her hair back. She was sweating. She could hear voices that weren’t really there, all of them swirling around her mind.
She needed to control them.
She could fight them. She could resist them. She could—
But that text. That text she’d…
When she looked down, the text had gone.
She stared at her screen a few seconds. Had she deleted it? She was always catching the delete button on this phone. That had to explain it. Didn’t it?
Right?
She put her hand on Sammi’s shoulder and leaned into her ear. “Gonna go get some air.”
She wasn’t sure whether Sammi heard her, but she went back to her dancing regardless. She’d either heard her and was okay with it, or she hadn’t heard her, and she was just drunk and stoned. That was one problem with Sammi—the amount of drugs she did. She liked to party. Elaine wasn’t as big into drugs as she was. The odd thing here and there, but they made her feel agitated.
They made her pick at that scab some more…
She pushed past the crowd. It thickened around her. For a moment, Elaine wasn’t even sure she was going to get out at all.
And then she surfaced at the other side and got a lungful of fresh air from outside the venue.
She looked around. She’d tell Sammi she just hooked up or something. She’d tell her tomorrow that she’d met someone, and that’s why she hadn’t ever gone back to 57 Celsius. Sammi wouldn’t mind. She was always doing the same thing to Elaine, so she could hardly talk.
And if she did appear, Sammi would understand that, too. She always did.
When the scratching got too severe…
Elaine walked down the steps into the cool May air, phone in hand. It was chillier than she thought. She looked all around town and realised it was remarkably quiet. She looked back at the venue. Still no sign.
And that text…
Where had that text gone?
She was about to walk away when she felt someone was watching her.
She looked to her right, and she saw a figure. She didn’t recognise them. And in all truth, she didn’t think much of it.
She just made her way to Baker’s Inn, just like she was supposed to.
She took a deep breath of the polluted Preston air as she stepped inside, shaking, still scratching that scab on her arm.
She’d never breathe that polluted air again.
She banged on the lift controls.
She needed to get away. She needed to go but—
The door. The door just wouldn’t close.
She stepped outside and kicked at the floor. This wasn’t right. The truth was out. The truth was out and she wasn’t well. She was sick. Something was wrong. Something was—
Footsteps.
He was coming.
He was out there.
He was—
“Elaine?”
She tried to hold her breath. She tried to resist opening her mouth. She scraped her nails against the metal, tearing them from her fingertips.
She felt warmth between her legs and she knew what it was. She was pissing herself. She was terrified.
And rightly so, because she saw the truth now.
She tried to scream out but she couldn’t because of the mass of water surrounding her. It was pitch black. She felt so, so alone.
But someone was up there.
She wasn’t alone.
As the thoughts got blurry and her muscles got weaker, Elaine heard the voices telling her to just open her mouth. Let it all in. Scream.
And she wanted to, now.
She wanted to fade away.
She wanted to go.
She struggled against the underside of the metal once again, the taste of blood from her snapped nails one of the final things she’d ever taste.
Her muscles tensed up.
Her body shook.
She scratched that scab on her elbow, tugged it right away from her skin, and she opened her mouth and took a deep breath.
She kept on hoping they’d open that metal container lid. That this would turn out some sort of a joke. Something gone way too far.
She held on to that hope as the water crippled her lungs.
Her last thought?
Someone had told her once that drowning was a peaceful way to go.
How wrong they were.
Two
If there’s one thing Brian McDone hated more than dinner parties, it was…
No. Wait. There wasn’t a bloody thing Brian McDone hated more than dinner parties.
It was the middle of June and the weather had turned decent, which was apparently a cue for the gatherings to start, in Hannah’s world. A bit of sun had reared its head earlier today, so of course the whole crew was down to see it in. There were Hannah’s idiot friends, Gavin and Alice. Granted, Gavin was a decent enough bloke, but he had this droning voice that just drove Brian up the wall. At least he didn’t have to speak much, not when Gavin and Alice were around. They pretty much invented the conversation themselves. He wondered if that’s what it was like between them when they were home alone, just droning on at one another.
Stacey and Kieran were here, too. Another two of Hannah’s friends. You’re getting the picture now. Brian didn’t exactly have many friends of his own to invite. But that was fine by him. He’d never been one for too many mates. Just meant it was harder to keep track of people.
To Brian, the main things in his life were Hannah, Sam, and Davey.
“More wine, Brian?”
Brian smiled and raised a hand. “I’m good.”
“Didn’t think you were s’posed to be drinking,” Stacey said. She had long ginger hair, pale features, and was definitely too skinny to be healthy.
“It’s grape juice,” Brian said.
“What?”
“It’s grape juice. Hannah calls it wine ’cause she thinks it’s funny.”
A few half smiles around the table, before Gavin and Alice launched into their next tirade, this time about the European Union.
Brian sunk back into his chair, sipped his grape juice, and tried to keep as low a profile as possible.
He’d given up booze for the same reason he’d given up meat. His old ticker. It’d caused him problems in the past, and he’d be damned if it ever caused him problems again. He had to keep fit and healthy. He’d lost a shitload of weight since giving up meat, and it made him feel better about himself.
But had it given him a personality transplant? No. God no. He was still the same old miserable shit he’d always been.
“Anyway, Mr Straight Edge,” Stacey said, at least trying to make conversation, bless her. “I thought you were supposed to have retired by now?”
The “R” word. Shit. One Brian liked to avoid.
“He should’ve done months ago,” Hannah said. “But apparently work are making it hard for him. The budget cuts, and all that. Isn’t that right, Brian?”
She glared at him with her hazelnut eyes. She looked good. Well, she always looked good. But there was something so forced about the way she was trying to squeeze conversation out of him. She knew the man she’d married wasn’t one for social gatherings like this. “Yeah. I… They’re making it trickier for me to leave than I’d have liked.”
“I thought there was a requirement when you work in the police?” Kieran said.
“Hmm?”
“Early retirement. Aren’t you entitled to it when you’ve had health issues like yours?”
It was the “like yours” that bugged Brian. “I’m not an invalid, Kieran.”
“Brian!” Hannah said.
Kieran raised his hands. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I’ve got time left before I retire. I’m healthy. I can do my job. Alright?”
Everyone around the table was silent. Brian realised then that he’d shouted. He could tell from the look in Hannah’s eyes that he’d crossed the line. She was mad with him, and no doubt he’d get an earful about it later.
“Sorry,” Kieran said. “Really. I guess I just…”
“It’s fine,” Brian said, waving him off. “More wine, anyone?”
“If it’s grape juice then stuff it,” Alice said, before chuckling her way into another inane conversation point.
Brian stood and walked over to the fridge. He pulled it open, looked inside.
The calendar fell to the floor.
When he picked it up, he caught a glance of a speck of blood on the calendar at June. It was last years’ calendar. They’d never bothered getting a new one.
His guts turned inside out. He’d never noticed that blood before. He knew when it was from, though. Last year. Last June, to be precise.
He must’ve caught his hand on it. He must’ve caught his hand and not noticed it.
His mind had been elsewhere.
“Brian?”
Brian’s chest tightened. His heart pounded. He remembered the pain he’d felt where the bullets hit him in his left leg. He remembered the dodgy surgeon who he’d arrested years before fixing it up. He’d paid good money from his savings to buy his silence.
And that wasn’t the only thing Brian had bought.
The memories of a year ago flooded into his head.
Crawling away from the River Edge Methodist Church into the undergrowth.
Hiding from the mass of Children of the Light cult members hurtling towards him.
But before that, facing a moment torn between two decisions.
Kill chief constable Jerry Matthews or let him live?
Get his own personal justice, or watch Jerry disappear into the justice system, no doubt conning his way back into power?
“Brian?”
His mind was lost now, lost totally in the memories of that day, what he’d done.
He’d pulled the trigger.
Blasted Jerry Matthews’ brains out.
Then he’d taken the body and he’d hid.
After that, totally wounded, he’d made a call to another ex-con. Stan Walker. Someone dodgy he knew about from his time in the police. He’d paid him all his savings that were supposed to go to Sam one day to make sure the people chasing down his family would disappear. Forever. There weren’t many left, but enough to make Brian worry.
In exchange, Brian had agreed to let Stan off the hook for another crime.
One hitch? The guy asked that Brian was the one to get rid of Jerry’s body.
He’d taken the body in the boot of his car and ditched it into the docklands. He knew one day it might surface. He knew it’d float to the top of the water, and nobody would understand the true reasons why.
But Brian had killed him because Jerry Matthews was responsible for horrors beyond comprehension. He’d abused his position and abused the system for years.
Someone had to make him pay.
He was lucky there’d been no search for Jerry. His wife was
an active Children of the Light member, so she hadn’t survived the fallout. His death had been set up to make out he’d done a runner to the Costa Del Sol. It wasn’t easy. It was fragile. It’d caused meltdown in the police.
But somehow, amazingly, it had worked.
For now.
“Brian? Oh God, someone call an ambulance.”
Brian was still lost in his thoughts, but he knew he was on the kitchen floor. His heart pounded. His breathing was difficult.
He’d ditched Jerry Matthews’ body, and his contact had taken care of the rest of the Children of the Light. And as much as Brian worried every single day that one of them would come after him, he tried to convince himself he’d done the only thing he could to keep his family safe.
But if anything happened, he’d never get over the guilt.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep the truth at the bottom of the docks.
“Brian. It’s okay. Just take a deep breath. Deep breaths in through the nostrils.”
Brian drifted back into reality. He was on the kitchen floor, flat out. He was shaking. Hannah was by his side. Stacey was on the phone to someone. Everyone looked concerned.
“Deep breaths,” Hannah said. “Nice and deep.”
“I’m okay,” Brian said. “Put the phone down.”
Hannah shook her head. “Stacey, don’t put that—”
“Put the phone down!”
After Brian’s shout, Stacey ended the call. Brian stayed on the kitchen floor, trying to steady his breathing.
All the time, as Hannah’s hand rubbed around his back, and as Sam started to cry upstairs, he couldn’t drag himself away from that secluded part of the docklands he’d ditched the chief constable’s body.
He couldn’t shake the guilt that he’d done the wrong thing. That he’d made the wrong call, all in the name of his own personal kind of justice.
He couldn’t ever forgive himself if anything happened to his family.
“I think it’s about time I went easy on the grape juice,” Brian said, steadying himself. “Now who’s for Trivial Pursuit?”
Three