HE WILL KILL YOU an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist

by Charlie Gallagher

  HE WILL

  KILL YOU

  An absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist

  CHARLIE GALLAGHER

  First published 2019

  Joffe Books, London

  www.joffebooks.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this.

  ©Charlie Gallagher

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  THERE IS A GLOSSARY OF ENGLISH AND POLICE SLANG IN THE BACK OF THIS BOOK FOR US READERS.

  CONTENTS

  Author’s Note

  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

  OTHER BOOKS BY CHARLIE GALLAGHER

  FROM CHARLIE GALLAGHER

  VOCABULARY

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  Author’s Note

  There is a strong theme of domestic violence throughout this book. Some scenes describe actions that are brutal, inexcusable and shocking, and may be harrowing or traumatic to read.

  They are based on unequivocal fact. Two out of three murder victims in the UK are killed by an intimate partner. Most victims of domestic violence take years to seek help, if at all.

  This book carries a message: if you recognise even a small part of your situation or yourself in these pages, any part of it, then know that you don’t have to suffer it; you don’t have to live it. You’re worth so much more.

  Tell someone. Tell the police or a mate or one of the many excellent domestic violence charities that can easily be found on the internet or whoever you can.

  Get yourself safe.

  I am inspired by what I do and see in my day job as a front-line police detective, though my books are entirely fictional. I am aware that the police officers in my novels are not always shown positively. They are human and they make mistakes. This is sometimes the case in real life too, but the vast majority of officers are honest and do a good job in trying circumstances. From what I see on a daily basis, the men and women who wear the uniform are among the very finest, and I am proud to be part of one of the best police forces in the world.

  Charlie Gallagher

  Chapter 1

  Noon Monday

  Christine Lang stepped out of the house, gripping her young son tightly. Her husband, Scott, followed her out, still yelling, despite them moving beyond the confines of their home.

  ‘Why can’t we talk about this?’ he bawled. ‘Whenever we try and talk, you just run away! Just like now!’

  Christine tugged open the rear door of their hatchback. It bumped off her shoulder as she slid Ethan into his baby seat. Ethan wriggled and scowled at his new surroundings. He was usually good in the car and they had used a car ride to settle him down more times than she could remember over the previous six months. Today, it was her husband who was doing the wailing and she was running late.

  ‘Look, Scott, I’m out of time. I’ll drop Ethan at my mum’s for the afternoon so you can get on with some work. I need to get going. I’m not running away from anything.’

  ‘But you acted like I was being unreasonable! I just need some time to work. I’ve been running around all morning doing your chores and now I need to work!’

  ‘Yes, Scott. And so do I. And I’m going to be late. If you’d told me your schedule a little earlier I might have been able to plan something. As it is, I’ve upset my mum’s day as well as my own. But you have your peace and quiet.’ She pushed the rear door shut and moved around to the driver’s side.

  ‘Fine! I will have Ethan for the afternoon! I wouldn’t want to upset your precious mother!’ Scott tore the door back open. He dipped his head into the back. Christine stood in her open door, sighed and folded her arms. She was so tired. All they seemed to do these days was fight. It was always the same outcome, too.

  They were both tired. All they had been told throughout her pregnancy was how much of a blessing it was, how it was going to make their little family complete. He truly was a blessing too, she loved him to his very bones, but complete their family? Right now she felt she was holding it together at the seams. She watched Scott bending over Ethan, cooing at him. Scott didn’t hide stress well and she could see the colour running to his face. He was a tall man and he had stooped to get into the back of the car. The clasp on the seat was fiddly; you had to have the knack. Scott had never been able to do it since they had bought the thing. She watched Ethan’s tiny hand reach up and push into Scott’s mouth. She stifled a laugh. She was almost past being stressed now. What was the point? It didn’t get them anywhere.

  Scott was still struggling with the clasp. He was starting to get very angry. ‘Stupid thing! Stupid THING!’

  Ethan made the noise he did just before he cried.

  ‘Shouting in his face won’t help the situation, Scott. You need to be calm to undo that seat. Just pulling on it won’t do it. Press the red button.’

  ‘I . . .’ He stopped himself. She saw him take a deep breath. He backed out of the car and straightened to stare at her over the top of the car. ‘I am pressing the red button.’

  Christine rubbed her eyes and sighed. ‘Look, Scott, what are we doing? We’re yelling at each other on the drive. Let’s just not be those people. I’m not upset at you — I know you have a lot to do right now. We should have planned out how this week looked. Now I’m back to work, it’s going to be a bit more difficult, but we’ll sort it. I’ll take him to my mum’s. She’s expecting him now and it’s no big deal. You have four hours. Make the most of it!’ She tried a grin.

  Scott’s whole body was tensed; he looked like he was ready for a fight, certainly like he was expecting one. He relaxed. His shoulders slunk forward in unison. He smiled back. It looked weak and tired. Last night had been worse than usual for sleep. Poor Ethan was teething. They knew he was in pain, it had to be horrible for the little fella — but it was hell for them too. In truth it had been nearly two weeks since their last reasonable sleep. Something had to give and right now it was their combined patience.

  ‘I can’t get him out of the damned seat anyway!’ His grin got wider.

  ‘Outwitted by a child seat!’ She chuckled.

  Scott pushed the rear door sh
ut. ‘Right, then. Go away. I’ve only got three hours, fifty-nine minutes now.’ He walked round the car to peck her on the lips. When he trudged back towards the house she could almost see the relief ebbing off him. He was in battered old slippers, board shorts and a cosy hoody. If he had any sense he would nap first. Hell, he would nap for the whole four hours. She felt more than just a pang of jealousy as she pulled off the drive.

  Christine worked the late shift in a care home — permanent lates for now. Between them they had decided that this was the best way to work childcare. Scott was a self-employed architect. He worked from home. He hadn’t been self-employed for long. Had they known what a baby would mean, he would probably have stayed with his old firm, where he was paid a regular pay cheque for regular hours.

  Christine checked her mirror — angled so that she could see Ethan in the back. He hadn’t cried. He seemed to settle down with the movement of the car. Soon he would be asleep.

  She turned right, joining one of the main roads out of the seaside town of Langthorne. She was in a stream of traffic and chose the lane to head for the motorway. Her mother lived in Dover and her place of work was on the outskirts of the same town. It was a fifteen-minute deviation and she was due to start work in ten. She was beyond caring about that too.

  As she moved onto the motorway, her vision blurred a little with a yawn. She heard Ethan giggle. She had no idea what he might find amusing lying on his back staring at the roof. Her heavy eyes flicked to the mirror again and she felt herself smile; there was surely no better sound. The Roundhill Tunnels approached. The motorway was on stilts at this point, suspended high over the North Downs area of outstanding natural beauty. She could see long-haired cattle grazing on the wild grasses far below. In front of her was a huge, grass-topped mound of earth, shaped like a giant dome. The tunnels were cut crudely through it. Her tyres thumped on a grate as she entered its darkness. Immediately she could see brake lights trailing off in front of her. She applied her own brakes. The car slowed. The tunnels weren’t long, maybe two hundred metres. They weren’t quite straight either, she could see daylight framed in the oval exit ahead and off to the right. Orange strip lights ran along the ceiling and on the curved walls. She had to bring the car to a complete stop. The road was down to two lanes at this point, and both were at a standstill. She checked her side mirror; the traffic was already backed up behind her as far as she could see. She was about halfway through. She sighed and pulled out her phone to check for any traffic updates.

  ‘Ah, dammit!’ Her phone was dead. She remembered taking it off charge at 2 a.m. to play some soothing noises for Ethan. Sometimes that worked. It hadn’t last night. She must have forgotten to charge it back up. She looked ahead. There was still a row of brake lights. Movement caught her eye. A figure was walking down the middle of the two lanes. The walk looked masculine, albeit with a slight limp. He wore a dark, hooded top and the hood was pulled up. His head was fixed, as if all his attention was straight ahead. His feet followed the central lines. Why would someone be walking back along a motorway? He had come from further ahead and he must have seen what was causing the blockage. She whirred her window down. She would ask him what was going on. He was getting closer. He seemed to slow his pace and was around ten cars in front of her, walking past a red car, his head twisted towards it. He stopped near the rear and he stooped down. He seemed to be feeling around under the boot area. Then he stood up and walked away, his pace noticeably quicker, his limp more pronounced as a result. He was on her quickly. Her window was still open — he was going to walk right past.

  ‘Excuse me!’ she said.

  His face was slightly turned away. She could just make out a nose and lips protruding out from the hood. He didn’t acknowledge her. He strode right past.

  She leant out. She considered shouting after him, but he obviously wasn’t in a mood to answer. She shrugged. She checked his progress in the mirror. His head moved; it turned to the right as if he was looking through her rear window. Then he stopped close to the rear of their car. He turned side on and then he was gone. She thought maybe he had walked behind her car. She turned to look through the back window and saw movement again. The man appeared like he had got up from crouching behind her boot. He stepped back into the middle of the road, his hand pushed into his hip, his limp worse still. She looked back in her side mirror where she could see he was walking away, his pace still hurried. Suddenly he broke into a clumsy run. Her attention was snatched towards a roll of thunder that seemed to be coming from some distance in front. It was close enough for her to feel the vibrations through the road beneath her. She saw car doors pushing open in front. Some people stood in them, their arms hooked over the metal. Others pushed the doors shut and stepped away from their cars. All of them were staring forwards, towards the oval shaped glimpse of daylight.

  Christine’s eyes dropped to the armrest. Sometimes there was a cable in there, where she could charge her phone. There was no time to search, her attention snatched back to a huge noise, just like the first but closer. Only this time she knew it wasn’t thunder.

  The explosion ripped through the tunnel with a mighty roar. Her car rocked on its suspension and bits of something thudded and pinged all around her. Through her open window she could hear the sound of glass bursting and falling over the floor. She ducked down instinctively, her ears suddenly flashed with pain and the noise that had been deafening was suddenly muffled, as if it was being filtered through a stack of pillows. When her car’s front window shattered suddenly, it happened in near silence. The red car that was ten ahead was now engulfed in flame and thick black smoke rolled upwards and outwards as it caught under the concrete arch. It swept back towards her like an incessant wave. The cars that had been around it all seemed to be a little further away and turned at angles, as if the red car had pushed out for a bit of room. She could see more doors opening. A man fell out onto his knees from the car in front of her. He clutched at his face then started stumbling back towards her before the dust cloud consumed him. Her mind cleared. There had been two explosions: one much further up and then a car much closer — the red one, where she had seen the man kneeling down. Her eyes flared open. She spun in her seat. Ethan’s hands were straight up, his fists clenched as if he was crying. The man had knelt down next to her car too!

  They had to get out.

  She unclipped her belt and pushed the door. The dust and smoke was already piling in through the window but now it surrounded her like a thick, grey blanket. Instantly she couldn’t breathe. She sucked in a deep breath so she could hold it in, but all she got was a lungful of black, putrid smoke and she coughed immediately. She made it to the back door, yanked it open and leant in. The car was filling quickly with smoke and Ethan’s face was scrunched up in a cry — she could just about hear it. She told him it was going to be okay. She could hear her own voice louder than anything else. Her hands stumbled over the red button on his belt. There was a knack, she knew it; you had to do it one-handed and you had to be calm. Her hand was shaking so hard she could barely find the button. She forced herself to pause and rubbed Ethan’s cheek with her free hand as a way of soothing them both. They needed to get out. It needed to be now.

  She steadied her fingers and felt the central button push in. The straps should have snapped out either side. She tugged them; one side came free, the other didn’t. She was tugging it at an angle; she knew you needed to pull it out straight. She focused. She couldn’t hold her breath much longer. She coughed and it boomed inside her head. Ethan was still crying. Then the belt came away and she pushed her arm underneath him, scooped him out and pulled him close to her. She felt the door bang into her back. She was aware of people running past her car, away from the one that was burning. She started to run in the same direction but collided with someone and was struck in the side — hard enough to send her sprawling to the ground. She used one arm to cushion her fall, the other to hold Ethan tightly to her chest, managing to keep him from touching the ground.
She looked across, under her own car. There were fewer people on the other side. She could cut across and out. Her eye was drawn to a brick-sized package towards the rear wheel. It had a smiley face drawn on it. Underneath was the word: Boom! Christine froze for just an instant then she scrambled to her feet. They had to go!

  She ran towards the entrance with her head down. She needed air but it was still thick with smoke. Breathing it in was agony. She heard another roar that felt like it was just behind her. She kept running until she felt something strike her between her shoulder blades — hard enough to force the breath out of her in a coarse moan. Her right arm was stinging too, and her legs felt like they might give out. Her head wouldn’t lift but she strained to see the curved roof where smoke was being sucked out into the daylight. It wasn’t far now. She set her sights on it and kept moving. She knew she was slowing up; her legs were getting heavier as if she was wading through water.

  She made it to the entrance and the light came all at once. She was now surrounded by people: some bent double, choking and spluttering; others laid out flat on their backs. Someone stepped towards her through the light. They reached out for Ethan. She let them take him. She could feel her strength seeping away and she needed him to be safe. A voice broke through the cloth over her ears.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ it said, ‘Are you okay?’

  Then the bright light was gone.

  Chapter 2

  Chief Inspector Julian Lowe collapsed into his chair. The radio was busy, officers cutting in over each other. He ignored his mobile phone: a major incident had been declared and they didn’t know what they were facing right now. It had the potential to be anything from a vehicle fire to a terrorist attack. Multiple reports were coming in, many of them contradictory. He needed to get away from his desk and out onto the ground — that was the only way he was going to make sense of it all. There was a knock at the door, something he couldn’t ignore.