He was good at it too, earning several commendations for bravery and forging a respected reputation as an officer of the law. His last ten years had been spent as a detective, his life becoming an endless sea of evidence and puzzle-solving.
He lived for it.
He loved it.
When the time came, they had both retired together so that they could spend their twilight years doting on their grandchildren and seeing the world. Life has a funny way of paying you back for being a good person thought Fletcher, as he looked at yet another empty bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the kitchen counter. His hangover headache pressed sharply against his skull and he took a deep breath and finished his coffee. He put the empty mug in the sink, next to the whiskey-stained glass from last night’s drinking session, making a note to wash them when he got home.
He walked out of the kitchen and through the hallway, glancing at the photos hanging from their hinges, faces of a family that he used to be the lynchpin of.
He turned into the front room, his desk full of papers scattered untidily around his laptop. He had begun to write a memoir of his time in the police service but he was struggling to keep to anything resembling a writing schedule. He lifted his jacket from the leather recliner that was his usual destination most nights. An ashtray lay on the oak coffee table, a pyramid of cigarette butts jutting out over the edge of it. Next to it was another empty bottle of whiskey, alongside a police radio that he kept for company.
It was hard letting Susan go.
He couldn’t lose the police as well.
He slid his arms into his jacket, the weather outside once again infuriating the nation with its unpredictability. The light rain that had drummed gently against his bedroom window as he awoke that morning had turned into a full-on downpour.
He stood in the hall way and looked at the picture of Susan that hung with pride over the small, oak side table. A tinge of sadness bolted through his body.
“I miss you, darling.”
He forced a smile at the photo: the one returned by his wife was constant and beautiful.
He zipped up his jacket, opened the door and disappeared into the rain.
Lucas pulled into the gravel car park outside the front of 'Minute Motors', parking his car with precision in the space between the others. Lucas enjoyed his job as a mechanic. A chance to fix things, solve problems and make things better had appealed to him and he was a valued asset to his manager, John Bracken.
John had been a mechanic for over thirty years and had opened his own body shop six years ago. Although he still got involved with the day to day work, John was spending more time inside the office overlooking the work area, pushing the company towards a better future. He waved to Lucas as he got out of the car, his large belly pushing against the shirt and blazer of his suit.
“Morning Lucas,” he smiled. “We thought you were going to be late today.”
“Really? How come?”
Nick Partridge, the young apprentice was also standing in front of the shutters, a cigarette in his hands and the pale face of a man who had had a heavy night. Although at times he could be lazy and unprofessional, Lucas enjoyed having him around and was regularly in fits of laughter due to the young man. Nick spoke up.
“You’re usually the first one here. Like, every day.” He took a long pull on his cigarette. “Do you have the shutter key?”
Lucas shook his head, the hood of his jumper pulled up to block off the rain. He joined the other two men under the protruding arch of the building, Nick making a conscious effort to blow his smoke away from Lucas.
“I told you, Nick. I don’t mind,” Lucas offered.
“Yeah right. You’re the world’s healthiest man. I would blow the smoke in your face however you would probably batter me, so I think I’ll let it slide.”
John and Lucas both laughed, and before Lucas could ask where Den was, Den Harvey pulled up in his van. He had a sheepish look on his world-weary face and he quickly scuttled out of the driver’s door. Den was in his mid-forties and he suffered from what he called a ‘chronic appetite’. His large frame was covered by a thick coat, his thinning black hair already wet and stuck to his scalp. He jogged over to the rest of them, a set of keys jingling in his hands.
“Sorry guys.” His embarrassment was obvious in his voice. He immediately crouched down to the padlock of the shutter, scrambling the correct key from the chain.
“No worries.” Nick said sarcastically through a plume of smoke. “I wasn’t too attached to my bollocks so it’s okay that they’ve frozen off.”
“Last night didn’t go well then?” Lucas enquired.
“Don’t even get me started.”
“Of course it didn’t,” John said chuckling, the metal shutter rising slowly as Den turned the correct key in the mechanism. “Nick’s an ugly fucker.”
“Excuse me!” Nick said, faking offence. The cigarette in his hand dropped a clump of ash to the wet pavement. “I think you’ll find she was up for it. I just decided not to.”
“Is that because she looked a little bit like Stephen Fry?” Den asked, standing up now the shutter had fully retracted. Lucas immediately turned to Nick with an ‘is that true?’ expression on his face and Nick’s stuttered silence was all the confirmation that was needed.
“Oh, Nick…” Lucas shook his head.
“Right, someone get the kettle on!” John barked as he turned on the lights to the workshop.
The long, halogen bulbs flickered and then burst into life, a low humming sound resonating from the ceiling. Three work bays were lined along the garage on the right, two with cars in mid-repair. One was situated in the sheeted-off spraying area, a speciality of Den’s although the job had been delayed due to a mix up with a paint order.
Den scurried past them all to the small kitchen in the break room at the far right of the building, clicking on the kettle and pulling four mugs from tiny white cupboard above the counter. Lucas approached his work station. The Ford KA had seen better days. The red car belonged to a young lady named Joanna, who had panicked behind the wheel no more than five weeks after receiving her licence. The head-on collision with the lamp post had left her with moderate whiplash and the entire front of her car in a 'v' shape. As he stared at the wreck of a day’s work he had in front of him, Nick threw a white hand-towel at him, breaking his trance and garnering his attention.
“Look out, Lucas,” He nodded to the open shutter. “Missus alert!”
Lucas turned to the shutter to see Helen’s black Honda Civic pull in to the gravel car park. Surprised, he walked to the shutter entrance as his smartly dressed wife climbed out of the driver’s seat, a smile on her face.
“Hello, honey.” Lucas said as he walked out to meet her, the rain immediately hitting his face. Helen sneered at the weather, shielding her immaculate blonde hair with the box she was carrying.
“Hello, you!” She kissed him, who sheepishly smiled, fully aware that his colleagues were all watching from the dry doorway.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well I didn’t lovingly prepare lunch for you, for you to then leave it on the kitchen counter.” She playfully pushed the lunch box into his chest.
“Whoa hold up!” Nick interjected. “Are you telling me that ‘Mr Everything to the last detail’ forgot something? Jesus!”
“Well, Nicholas,” Helen said, her arms wrapped around her embarrassed husband’s neck. “Lucas may have been a little distracted this morning.”
She winked at Lucas’s colleagues and he buried his head in her shoulder.
“Anyway, I have a patient at nine, baby, so you have a good day.” She kissed him gently, but through it he felt how much she loved him. She then reached up and with her index finger pushed the tip of his nose up, oinking at him. He immediately felt the warmness of love; the ‘pig nose’ as Helen called it had been something she had done for years, their little show of affection. She then kissed him again and then turned to the onlookers.
> “Goodbye boys. Don’t get him into any trouble.”
“We won’t Helen,” John said, taking charge. “Lovely to see you!”
She waved to them all as she got into her vehicle, and pulled out, her tyres crackling over the wet stones. Lucas watched his wife leave, the rain falling on his lunch box he clasped in his soon-to-be oil-stained hand. He turned, the entire workforce looking at him with over the top expressions of love on their face.
“That was...tender,” Nick said as Lucas walked past them, trying not to laugh.
“Shut up!”
Lucas walked through towards his work station, putting his recently arrived lunch next to his tool box. John barked orders for everyone to get to work as the wheels of the morning routine began to turn and the work day started, while rain continued to fall.
Helen turned right out of the garage car park, and followed the main road down towards the dual carriage way that would take her to Preston. Her office was situated in one of the large buildings just to the south of the town.
She watched the wet road disappear and then quickly reappear through her windscreen wipers. She thought of how much fun it was to potentially embarrass her husband in front of his work colleagues and was almost intrigued to see how he would get her back.
Lucas always had a creative yet wicked sense of humour.
It was one of the first reasons she’d fallen in love with him all those years ago. Yes, it helped that he was very handsome and had that fractured past that draws women in, but it was the dry humour, the way he spoke about his situation that made her fall and fall hard.
Their love had blossomed so fast. As she looked at her hand that was gripping the steering wheel she swelled with pride to be wearing the wedding ring he’d given her.
He loved her.
She loved him.
Her family may have taken a while to come around to the idea. Her father instantly dismissed Lucas as a mistake and still hadn’t really warmed to him. Although recently he had admitted he was happy that his daughter was with somebody that would keep her safe. Her mother always showed her support, coming into more than one argument with her husband over their daughter's relationship with Lucas. Her younger sister Kelly was the one who really made Lucas feel welcome, so much so that she asked Helen and Lucas to be Godparents to their nephew, Alfie.
She brushed her fringe that had danced across her face to the side and looked at her ring again. Her heart tightened with happiness, vanquishing any frustration she would usually feel as she meandered slowly to a stop in the rain-soaked traffic on the long road to work.
She thought of Lucas at work, getting teased about earlier this morning and then getting on with the job that he was exceptionally good at. Another trait she loved about her husband: his meticulous attention to detail. Her heart pounded.
Lucas was a good man.
She had seen it from the very first moment and had loved him ever since. Their life together had been so wonderful and she thought about this coming Saturday, her conference in London that Lucas was attending with her and she shook with excitement. His interest in psychology was healthy - all things considered - and she appreciated a husband who showed interest in her line of work. It was another reason to love him.
After this Saturday, after her trip to London, she knew her life would change forever. And she couldn’t wait to share it with Lucas.
The love of her life.
Her husband.
A good man.
“Scalpel.”
Lucas opened his left hand, his right hand holding the nut in place. The car was lifted off the ground, securely locked in the frame as he stood underneath it. Nick was standing nearby, chewing his gum loudly and handed a wrench to Lucas with an oil-stained hand. Lucas accepted, and began turning.
“So I checked on my phone and I was right.” Nick seemed a little agitated. “She was at his house. After she told me there was nothing going on with him. Fucking unbelievable!”
“Hold on,” Lucas finished tightening the bolt and stepped away from it slightly, casting an expert eye over his handiwork. “That should hold. Sorry, Nick, she was with him?”
“Yeah. The whole evening. Lying bitch!”
“So what, did you call her?”
“No I used ‘Phone Finder’.”
Lucas looked blankly at Nick, oblivious to the knowledge Nick assumed he knew. Nick rolled his eyes and pulled his mobile phone from the pocket of his dirty overalls, attacking the touch screen with grubby fingers.
“It’s an app you can download for free.” Nick started up the application on his phone. “So, take yourself for example. If Helen’s phone is connected to Wi-Fi or she has her phone internet switched on, this app will allow you to trace the location of the phone.”
Lucas stared at Nick, almost in disbelief.
“You can trace a phone through your phone?”
“Yeah. And she was at his house. It’s disgusting.”
“It’s stalkerish, is what it is,” Lucas said, almost a twinge of disappointment in his voice.
“Welcome to the world of technology my friend,” Nick said sarcastically. “Where everything you do, think or say is accessible at the click of a button.”
“Hmmm.” Lucas didn’t seem too impressed and turned to inspect the underside of the car. The job had been a long one and didn't show any signs of ending soon.
“So... do you think I should confront her?” Nick suggested.
“About what?”
“About being with this guy.'
'No I don’t think you should confront her,” Lucas shook his head.
“Maybe I should kick his arse?” Nick smirked. “Or maybe you could? You’re like a fighting machine, can you do me a favour?”
Lucas stared at Nick, trying not to smile. Nick held up his hands in apology, shrugging his shoulders. “What do you think I should do?”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.” Nick stood, hands on his hips. Lucas wiped his hands on a towel, making zero progress on removing oil stains.
“She is your ex, right?” Nick nodded. “As in not with her anymore? Maybe you should just leave her be, forget it and move on. Seems to me like she has.”
“So what you’re saying is I should give her space?” Nick asked, and Lucas sighed.
“No. What I’m saying is, if she wants to be with this guy and you seem to care this much about her, then maybe you should do what would make her happy? Just leave her to it.”
Nick looked at Lucas with a shocked look on his face. Lucas raised his eyebrows, suggesting he had no other answers for him.
“See, this is what I was saying to you the other day Lucas. It’s your wife’s words coming from your mouth. All of this psychic nonsense.”
“For the last time, my wife is a psychotherapist. Not a psychic.” Lucas shook his head, picking up his cup of tea from atop a tool box. It had cooled down a little too much and he shuddered slightly as he sipped the coldness.
“Still, she has got you good and proper up here.” Nick poked his own temple a few times. “That’s why she knows you so well. She has you brainwashed.”
“She hasn’t brainwashed me.” Lucas said, chuckling at yet another of Nick’s wild rants about relationships.
“Well she has you being all sensitive, she makes you lunch, she knows you inside out. And she has you saying things like ‘do what’s best for her’ et cetera.” Nick counted off the list on his fingers, much to Lucas’s amusement. Somewhere on the other side of the shop, Den dropped a metal tool and the clang echoed around the garage.
“Everything okay, Den?” Lucas yelled across.
“Yup,” Den could be heard but not seen. “Just got cow’s tits for fingers.”
Lucas grinned at the comment, and then looked across the garage to John’s office. The blinds on the window were open and John was sitting back in his chair, the phone planted between his cheek and shoulder as he shuffled with papers on his desk. Lucas turned back to a rather stern loo
king Nick, who obviously hadn’t finished.
“So if it’s not brainwashed, Lucas, then what is it?”
Lucas took another sip of his cold tea, grimacing slightly. He paused to think and then looked at the young, unlucky in love apprentice.
“Marriage.”
Nick nodded as if he agreed and then began chuckling. A smile glided across Lucas’s face as he picked up the wrench and wandered back underneath the vehicle. John strode out of his office, his blazer left behind and he seemed excited. He marched towards the two of them, his tie flapping wildly. Both of them turned in interest.
“Lucas, can I have a word?”
“Sure.” Lucas turned from the car and picked up the cloth, wiping his hands again.
“In my office.” He smiled a warm, reassuring smile at his mechanic before turning and heading back to the door. Lucas looked at Nick who shrugged. Lucas tossed the cloth at Nick.
“Finish tightening them up for me, will you?”
“See, there you go again, using brainwashing techniques.” Lucas laughed as Nick picked up the wrench. “It’s like I’m working with Helen, it really is.”
Lucas shook his head as he laughed, heading to the office. Nick blew a bubble with his chewing gum and meandered under the vehicle, as another clang could be heard from the other side of the garage followed by a string of curse words from Den.
The rain was falling at a rapid rate all over the country and it was no different in Romford, Essex. Through the downpour, pockets of sunshine were struggling to break through and PC Oliver Starling was actually impressed with how nice a day it was going to be. His shift began at midday, however he had taken the morning to drive out of London to the Romford Hills Retirement Home to visit his father.
Starling knew his dad was proud of him, proud that he had made something of his life. An honest man with little education, Starling’s father had worked his fingers almost to the bone on construction sites to give his son the opportunities he himself never had. And Starling made good on them.
One by One: A brutal, gritty revenge thriller that you won't be able to put down. Page 3