by Liz Mistry
Uncommon Cruelty
DI Gus McGuire Book 4
Liz Mistry
Copyright © 2018 Liz Mistry
The right of Liz Mistry to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2018 by Bloodhound Books
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bloodhoundbooks.com
Contents
Also by Liz Mistry
Praise For Liz Mistry
Prologue
Unbroken Truths
1. 20:30 Robin Hood’s Bay
Sunday
2. 10:30 Cottingley
3. 12:30 Manningham
4. 21:36 Cottingley
5. 22:15 Cottingley Ridge
6. 22:30 Heaton
7. 22:30 Manningham
8. 22:40 Cottingley Ridge
9. 22:40 Heaton/Cottingley
10. 23:10 Cottingley Ridge
11. 23:45 Cottingley Ridge
12. 23:55 Heaton/Cottingley
Monday
13. 00:30 Cottingley Ridge
14. 01:05 Holmewood Estate
15. 03:55 Unknown Location
16. 06:25 The Fort
17. 06:45 Heaton/Cottingley
18. 06:55 Ashwell Road, Heaton
19. 07:15 Cricklewood Police Station, Brent
20. 07:30 Bradford Royal Infirmary, mortuary
21. 07:55 Unknown Location
22. 08:00 Bradford Royal Infirmary, Mortuary
23. 08:05 Paradise Road, Cottingley
24. 09:35 The Fort
25. 09:55 The Fort
26. 09:30 Unknown Location
27. 09:35 The Fort
28. 10:30 The Fort
29. 10:35 The Fort
30. 11:30 Outside The Fort
31. 11:45 Quarry Street
32. 12:05 Bradford Royal Infirmary Mortuary
33. 13:30 Nab Wood
34. 14:35 The Fort
35. 14:45 City Academy
36. 16:10 Manningham
37. 16:50 Unknown Location
38. 17:45 St Anne’s Road Mosque, Heaton
39. 20:45 Marriners Drive
40. 21:25 Marriners Drive
TUESDAY
41. 03:25 Unknown Location
42. 07:25 The Fort
43. 09:30 Oak Lane
44. 10:15 Unknown Location
45. 10:30 Manningham
46. 11:20 The Fort
47. 11:55 The Fort
48. 13:05 The Fort
49. 13:45 Unknown Location
50. 14:05 The Fort
51. 15:45 City Academy
52. 15:50 Bradford Royal Infirmary
53. 17:15 The Fort
54. 18:15 Tetley Street
55. 18:55 St Anne’s Road Mosque, Heaton
56. 20:05 The Fort
57. 20:25 Unknown Location
58. 20:45 The Fort
59. 21:50 Alice’s House, Titus Street, Saltaire
Wednesday
60. 06:30 The Fort
61. 06:55 The Chaat Café
62. 06:55 The Fort
63. 07:55 The Fort
64. 08:15 Unknown Location
65. 08:55 Cottingley Ridge
66. 09:25 Redburn Drive, Frizinghall
67. 10:15 The Fort
68. 10:30 The Fort
69. 11:30 The Chaat House
70. 12:15 Unknown Location
71. 13:00 Alibi Bar, Sunbridge Wells
72. 15:15 The Fort
73. 17:15 The Family Church of Christ, Frizinghall
74. 18:15 Paprika Lounge Heaton
75. 19:10 The Fort
76. 21:15 The George, Keighley
77. 22:25 Outside The George, Keighley
78. 22:25 Unknown Location
79. 23:15 The Fugitive Bandits Clubhouse, Ilkley Moor
80. 23:30 Tetley Street
Thursday
81. 00:30 Ilkley Moor
82. 00:30 Unknown Location
83. 01:35 Ilkley Moor
84. 02:45 Bradford Royal Infirmary
85. 03:35 Redburn Drive, Frizinghall
86. 04:15 Heaton Woods
87. 04: 45 Redburn Drive, Frizinghall
88. 04:55 Redburn Drive
89. 04:55 Redburn Drive
90. 07:30 The Fort
91. 08:45 The Fort
92. 10:30 St Augustine’s Church
January 2018
Epilogue
Coming Soon
Unspoken Truths
10:40 Rural Rover train Manchester - Bradford
10:55
A Note from Bloodhound Books:
Unquiet Souls
Uncoiled Lies
Untainted Blood
Acknowledgments
Also by Liz Mistry
DI Gus McGuire Series
Unquiet Souls ( Book 1)
Uncoiled Lies ( Book2)
Untainted Blood ( Book3)
Praise For Liz Mistry
"I cannot wait to read more by this author. This book is perfect for readers who enjoy an outstanding crime, suspense and mystery rolled into one full plot." Gemma Myers - Between The Pages Book Club
"What a fantastic story which is full of twists and turns whilst being sensitively written about an absolute horrendous subject!" Clair Boor - Have Books Will Read
"It is a very complex story with many strands intertwined to make up a very gripping, adrenaline filled book that has the reader turning page after page well into the night." Jill Burkinshaw - Books n All
"Omg what an excellent start to a brand new series....Absolutely brilliant storytelling." Livia Sbarbaro - Goodreads
"Another fantastic read from Liz. I loved unquiet Souls so I knew this would be just as good." Susan Angela Wallace - Goodreads
"A gritty storyline, an excellent ending and very believable characters. A very well written book." Misfits Farm - Goodreads
"Strong writing. Believable characters and a fast paced plot." Owen Mullen - Author
"Untainted Blood is yet another great book in an already gripping crime series. I have to admit to racing through the pages towards the end to what was an extremely satisfying climax." Sarah Hardy - By The Letter Book Reviews
"I just loved Liz Mistry’s writing style, there is such a simplicity about it that makes if very easy to follow, as all the characters are very distinctive." Susan Hampson - Books From Dusk Till Dawn
"The writing style was spot on and it covered a controversial but highly relevant topic and boy it was done well." Donna Maguire - Donnas Book Blog
"The book is well written and keeps you gripped throughout and has a few twists that made me gasp!" Julie Lacey - Goodreads
For Nilesh, Ravi, Kasi and Jimi
Cruel minds take pleasure
In hedonistic pursuit
Forsaking all that’s pure
Prologue
Leeds, 2012
Mushrooms of dense throat-clogging smoke hung in the air. Every breath was like sucking through cotton wool and, even after gargling with mouthfuls of cold water, Detective Inspector Sandy Panesar could still taste it; a coating of ash, sharp and acrid on her tongue.
‘Have they got the child?’ Her voice was shrill as she
rushed forward towards the dark figure of a firefighter wearing breathing apparatus leaving the blaze.
The figure carried an amorphous bundle that was wrapped so completely in a blanket that it was impossible to tell if it was even human. With practised ease, the package was transferred onto a stretcher trolley, leaving Sandy to watch, her heart hammering in her chest as the paramedic unwrapped the small, still body. Her heart plummeted. The child’s face, beneath its mucky streaks, was pale and its eyes remained closed, its body unmoving. Sandy focussed on the child’s chest but could detect no movement as she willed the paramedics to make a miracle happen. Their examination seemed to take forever and Sandy’s view was obstructed as they started chest compressions and fitted a drip. Their muttered words meant nothing to her as they worked with an economy of movement she would, in different circumstances, have admired. Just when she’d given up hope, one of the paramedics turned towards her with a smile and stepped away from the child; ten years old yet the size of a three-year-old, with an oxygen mask dwarfing its tiny face.
Sandy, realising she’d been holding her breath, took in a huge gulp of air and sent a quick prayer heavenward before bending down and gently ruffling the child’s matted black hair. Two huge, unblinking eyes stared right through her, seemingly lost in whatever hell played out in its mind. Her heart almost broke. Surviving the fire was only half the battle for this little one. The biggest battle lay ahead. She patted the kid on the arm and stood back.
The paramedic smiled. ‘It’s the shock, that’s all. It’ll pass with a good night’s rest and some food.’
Sandy wondered if he was referring to her or the child. Watching them take the child away, she thought, Yeah, a good night’s rest, some food and a lifetime of counselling. Pulling herself together, she glanced through the darkness at the crowd. The tall distinctive figure of her detective sergeant, with his head of three-inch-long dreadlocks, rose like a sphinx above everyone else. He tilted his head to let her know he’d seen her and continued directing the uniformed officers to control the gathering crowd before striding over.
He pointed to the departing ambulance. ‘Was that the kid, then?’
Sandy thrust her hands in her pockets, and glowered, ‘Yep, uninjured bar some smoke inhalation and shock, according to the paramedics.’
DS Gus McGuire acknowledged her words. ‘Yeah, although not unharmed.’
‘No, not unharmed,’ she agreed and kicked a loose stone towards the blazing house. ‘When the fire service have left and their assessors are done, get the scene processed.’
‘Sure thing.’ He wiped the back of his hand over his streaming eyes, ‘No news yet of the social worker, boss?’
She shook her head, knowing that the chances of finding Amina Rose alive decreased with every passing second. The heavy lump in her chest wasn’t just anger at the situation: it was also personal worry. She’d worked with Amina before and knew her well. ‘They’re still looking for her.’ She turned and glared at the four trollies situated outside one of the ambulances. Each one bore a body bag and Sandy’s gaze was directed to the two largest ones. ‘The firefighters said she wasn’t anywhere near those bastards in the living room, so maybe she got lucky, like the child. Shame the other kids weren’t so lucky.’ She rubbed the back of her hand over her nose. ‘Hell, we don’t even know that the kid and Amina were together.’
Biting his lip, Gus spoke in a quiet voice. ‘The boyfriend is waiting over there, boss.’
Sandy’s shoulders slumped as she saw the man leaning against a police car at the periphery of the scene. She’d met him once at one of those inter-departmental Christmas party that spouses were invited to. His name was Kyle and he’d his face looked like a slapped arse all night, so presumably Amina had forced him to come. Not surprised she wanted back-up. Those does were always a trial in themselves. A scarf was tied round his nose, probably to block out the toxic smoke that was drifting in his direction. She sighed, and with a rueful glance at Gus, walked slowly over the grass verge to stand beside him. Kyle acknowledged her presence with a quick nod and then continued his silent vigil, until a flurry of activity near the front of the blazing house brought him lurching forward. A firefighter carrying an inert figure over his shoulder stumbled through the flames. Amina was the only other person unaccounted for, so this had to be her.
‘Amina!’ Kyle’s voice cut through the smoke like a machete and he began to run, his movements uncoordinated. Sandy followed, catching hold of his arm as the firefighter passed the figure over to the paramedics. A frenzy of activity played out in slow motion as they approached. Twice, the screech of the defibrillator charging rent the thick air, followed by a thud as they tried to jump-start Amina’s heart. Twice they failed. A quick shake of the head was enough to tell Kyle that his fiancée was dead. He flung himself towards her lifeless body and a high-pitched shriek splintered the heavy atmosphere, before two firefighters managed to pull him away. Sandy wrapped her arms round his shoulders and held on tight. As he collapsed, she fell onto the wet grass with him, holding him as he cried. Over his shoulder, she watched, tears in her eyes, as three firefighters removed their helmets respectfully and averted their gaze.
When she’d come on shift three hours ago, she’d had nothing more pressing on her plate than a teenager caught shoplifting. Until, out of nowhere, a hostage situation involving a social worker and at-risk children had erupted. Now, shift’s end in sight, she’d chalked up five dead bodies and a traumatised child.
On days like this, Sandy Panesar could happily retire.
Unbroken Truths
1
20:30 Robin Hood’s Bay
The rolling mist and drifting clouds cast eerie shadows over the coastline and the boats bobbing in the distance were becoming ever harder to see as night descended. The autumn chill made DI Gus McGuire glad that he’d worn his shabby fisherman’s jacket over his jumper. He and his best friend, Mo, sat in companionable silence on a wooden seat at the top of the steep hill that wound down past shops and pubs to the bay. They were well used to this view for Gus’ parents had brought them here often when they were boys; Gus and his two compadres. They’d had such fun, rock pooling and paddling and searching for fossils. An unlikely trio they were: the posh mixed-race kid with the Scottish parents and annoying sister, the working class white kid from a single-parent family and the Pakistani Muslim with a wicked sense of humour. Once, Gus had overheard one of his teachers referring to them as the ‘united colours of Benetton’. At the time he hadn’t understood what she was on about.
Now though, it was only him and Mo left. Greg, the third musketeer, had died when Gus stabbed him. Gus still struggled with that. Greg had been in the grips of a schizophrenic episode and had attacked his wife and young son. In the end, he’d attacked Gus, nearly killing him before he’d got the upper hand. However, he’d been too late to save Greg’s wife and little Billy. How things had changed for the three boys from Bradford.
Greg, a talented artist, was gone. Mo owned a popular fast food samosa café. He’d settled down with his childhood sweetheart, Naila, and together they seemed to be working towards producing an all-woman football team. Gus, meanwhile, had headed off to university, got a psychology degree and become a detective inspector with Bradford Police.
Nearby, the sound of a badger snuffling its way in the shrubbery, seeking discarded fish and chip wrappers, held their attention. Its nose appeared, followed by its distinctive white stripe and then, as if it could sense their presence, it was off. A stone’s throw away in The Smugglers cottage the voices of his parents, his ex-wife Gabriella, his sister Katie and Mo’s family drifted up to them. They’d been playing a game of Monopoly round the kitchen table when Gus and Mo had escaped and, judging by the laughter, his dad was keeping them entertained as usual. He glanced back and saw his mother’s head outlined against the light from the kitchen window as she pottered about. His heart contracted and the awareness of everything he had so nearly lost hit him like a cudgel. It did this so
metimes – however, if he concentrated on his breathing, he could, more often than not, avoid a panic attack.