by Bill Kitson
It would be their house. One which held no conflict of memory for either of them. Not that Daniel viewed it that way. He saw it merely as a great new adventure.
During their absence, the British press and media had been full of the identification and death of the notorious serial killer known as the Cremator. Despite that, Nash felt uncomfortable, dissatisfied.
His feeling had nothing to do with the injuries he’d suffered or the destruction of his home. Although the media had hailed the unmasking of the Cremator as a great triumph, Nash knew that the truth was that it had been down to pure luck rather than good detection. They had gone to interview Dawson about one crime, only to find evidence that linked him to a far worse one.
On top of that, although media and public alike were unconcerned by the inquest findings, which recorded a verdict of murder, Nash felt frustrated that this too remained unsolved. His only solace, at what he knew to be a low point in his career, was that women would feel marginally safer knowing that with Dawson’s death, the Cremator no longer prowled the streets. The media would talk about closure for the families of the Cremator’s victims. Nash didn’t believe there was such a thing as closure. It was the sort of glib phrase used by those who were not closely involved with violent crimes and who didn’t witness at first hand the anguish they caused.
Nor had their efforts in the other cases proved much more successful. Although they had arrested three potential suspects in the van hijack and bank robbery, and recovered a substantial amount of money, the rest of the gang remained at large. They had no idea who the other men were: hardly Nash’s finest hour.
Before leaving England, Nash had bought a laptop, one of his main aims being to search for properties suitable for purchase. Shortly before he and Daniel were due to return, he had received a long e-mail from Clara containing an item of good news. Viv Pearce had asked Lianne Ford to marry him. ‘The girl must be an idiot,’ Clara wrote, ‘because she said yes. Can you believe it? Viv setting up home and playing happy families? He’s already talking about the wedding.’
Her message also contained an item of far less welcome news. It had been decided that the police presence in Bishopton was to end with immediate effect. The small team headed by Fleming and Nash would be responsible for crime prevention and detection over an area that had just doubled in size. It was somewhat ironic that Nash had left the Met in search of a quieter, less stressful existence. Well, that hadn’t worked.
Nash looked at his son. He thought briefly of the boy’s mother, wondering how much of a struggle it had been for her to raise him alone. Now, Daniel’s future lay in Nash’s hands. He wasn’t one to shirk a challenge, but this would be like no other he had faced before. And perhaps it would be an adventure for him too.
As they turned to walk towards the car deck, Daniel reached out and took his Papa’s hand. Nash looked down and smiled. Whatever the challenges, he thought the future was going to be that much brighter, for both of them.
‘Papa,’ Daniel said. ‘When we buy a new house, could we get one with a lawn big enough to play cricket on?’
Copyright
© Bill Kitson 2012
First published in Great Britain 2012
This edition 2013
ISBN 978 0 7198 1161 6 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1162 3 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1163 0 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7090 9816 4 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Bill Kitson to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
acknowledgements
Contents
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
Copyright