“She goes out there at Chinese New Year, watches those babies go up, and BANG!” Roxy pulled out a box and put it just out of Donnie's reach.
“She brought these back after her last trip. Cost a fortune to get them through customs I can tell you, but with Mum when she sees something she's got to have, well she gets it. We were saving them for her birthday. It's next week, but the doctors say she probably won't be out of the hospital for a while yet. I suppose there's no point in wasting them, is there?”
Roxy pulled out a cigarette and his matches. He lit it, watching the flame swell enthusiastically. Realisation set in and Donnie started to panic. Humming to himself, Roxy lit the fuse to the box. He blew out a stream of smoke from the side of his mouth, gave Donnie his winning smile, and he left the lockup. He locked the door and the banging started.
Roxy jumped into his car. He started the engine and cranked up the radio. Dawn was cracking across a purple sky, dissolving under chemical smog. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do. A perfect day to get into trouble. He patted the stuffed tiger wedged into the passenger seat and drove.
Epilogue: Eight Months Later
The first hints of autumn were flashing like a warning sign to the inmates on Work Unit 52. Mark had been working the harvest with the other prisoners, cutting the crops by hand when the machinery broke. There were guards watching him from every direction, watching him and the other twenty men in his team. Sweat was pooling in his eyes as the sun scorched across the grain fields. Soon it wouldn't be hot. Soon it would be so cold he'd look back on these days fondly. Mark had already spent one winter at the work camp, he wasn't sure he could bear another.
The whistle sounded. It was time for lunch. He'd take his measly ration of cold soup and stale bread and eat away from the others. The guards didn't like him, and the prisoners hated him. What was a cop doing in a place like this?
He asked himself the question again and again. They say he'd murdered his partner; stabbed him in the neck and dumped his body in the river. It was ridiculous, but there was blood in his house. Blood and bleach, and Rachel was gone. Mark didn't know what had happened. For eight months he'd churned that night around in his head and still he came up clueless.
A shadow shaded him from the burning sun. Mark looked up, ready to hand over his ration to one of the leaders demanding their fair share. A man in a trench coat stood over him.
“Mark Bellamy?” The voice was commanding, like his old sergeant had been.
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know a woman by the name of Rachel Aaron?”
Mark's heart began to sink. “Is she okay?”
“Come with me, son, we have a lot to discuss.”
END
Acknowledgements
Many people were involved in the making of this story over the past four years. To start with I'd like to thank all my incredible beta readers who picked up my first draft and offered such kind words of encouragement all those years ago. I'd like to thank Alina for all her hard work promoting me back when I was a struggling indie and making me believe in my work. Thanks to the readers and supporters of the Reacher series, who kept me going when I wanted to give up. A huge thanks to; Jennifer, Carol, Ashley, Majanka and Belle for all the hard work you have put in and for bearing with me. Seriously guys, you're all amazing. Also huge thanks to Miika and Creativia for taking a shot on me at a difficult time. As well as hugs to the #Awethors and the online community who continue to have my back through the good and bad.
Finally a big “diolch yn fawr” to my long suffering family, who have supported, tolerated and encouraged me throughout this whole journey. Sorry – this is a series so we've still got a few more torturous years to go.
About the Author
L E Fitzpatrick is a writer of dark adventure stories and thrillers. Under the watchful eye of her beloved rescue Staffordshire Bull Terrier, she leaps from trains and climbs down buildings, all from the front room of a tiny cottage in the middle of the Welsh countryside.
Inspired by cult film and TV, L E Fitzpatrick's fiction is a collection of twisted worlds and realities, broken characters, and high action. She enjoys pushing the boundaries of her imagination and creating hugely entertaining stories.
www.lefitzpatrick.com
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