Driven by Fear (The DS Lasser Book 27) Read online

  D.S. Lasser

  Beginnings

  The Needle House

  The Way That It Falls

  Tethered To The Dead

  Twisted

  More Equal Than Others

  Vanished Beneath

  Riven

  Bad Self

  Crave

  Moments Back

  Conspiracy of Ravens

  Dark Necessities

  Living Ashes

  Stations Of The Cross

  The One With All The Pain

  Shadows Cast

  Blood Bought

  Desolate Hearts

  Winter's Lament

  Shedding Skin

  Dark Of Mind

  Tears For The Living

  Constructing A Killing

  Pain Of Never

  Third Eye

  Needs Must

  Driven By Fear

  D.S. Marnie Hammond

  Whippersnapper

  Rain Of Souls

  Day Is Done

  Plymouth

  Stormcock

  Shrive

  The Strife And Grime Of Charlie Roebuck

  Pinches Of Salt

  Standalone

  Imprint Of The Past

  Tunny

  Axe to Grind

  Death In Dapple Dyke – A Robert Engelbart Mystery

  Driven By Fear – DS Lasser 27

  Author Robin Roughley

  Copyright © 2021 by Robin Roughley

  Published on Amazon 2021

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  60

  61

  62

  63

  64

  65

  66

  67

  68

  69

  70

  71

  72

  73

  74

  75

  76

  77

  78

  79

  80

  81

  82

  83

  84

  85

  86

  87

  88

  89

  90

  91

  92

  93

  94

  95

  96

  97

  98

  99

  100

  101

  102

  103

  104

  105

  106

  107

  108

  109

  110

  111

  112

  113

  114

  115

  116

  117

  118

  119

  1

  'Watch where you're going!' Rea warned nervously as the car drifted towards the twin white lines in the centre of the road.

  Behind the wheel of the BMW, Mark Draper grimaced as he adjusted the steering. 'What are you waffling on about?'

  'You told me the lager you were drinking was alcohol free.'

  'I'm not pissed if that's what you mean?' he glanced towards her, bleary eyed, as the vehicle started to drift again.

  'Jesus, Mark, slow down!'

  This time Draper snatched at the wheel, the car swerved, his face showing a flash of panic before he regained control. 'Just shut your bloody mouth then I can concentrate,' he complained with a huff.

  Rea Lomax kept her mouth closed, both hands grasping the seat belt tight, the sense of impending doom growing as the car sped down the road.

  It was right then and there that she decided she was going to end the relationship with Mark Draper.

  Inwardly she sighed, yet again she had chosen an idiot for a boyfriend. They had been together for almost twelve months and at first, she had managed to convince herself that this time she had found a keeper.

  That was her problem, she always ignored the obvious warning signs, the ones that everyone else saw from a mile away, until they became large neon signs flashing on and off in her mind, and then she was left feeling guilt-ridden when she ended the relationship.

  The car continued to pick up speed, headlights cutting into the darkness as she pressed herself further back into the seat, her feet planted in the footwell.

  Right from the start her father had warned her that Mark was not to be trusted, but she had snapped out a reply telling him to keep his nose out of her business.

  Now, as the car barrelled along the road, she admitted to herself that her dad had been right when he had called Mark Draper a ''complete waste of space and a dickhead to boot''.

  The car started to drift again, but this time she closed her eyes rather than say anything and risk him slamming his foot down on the accelerator just to terrorise her further.

  In an effort to quell the growing fear, she thought of Tom, he had been the one before Mark, and right from the outset she had known he was a taker not a giver, yet she had still got involved. She had lost count of the number of times she had paid for everything. Tom had claimed he was all about ''sharing'' and for a brief moment in time she had believed him and then gradually, she had come to realise that he hardly ever put his hand in his pocket, and when he did it was always to buy something cheap, like a coffee or a two-for-one meal deal that consisted of everything frozen and nuked on a plate.

  Mark was the complete opposite, he always insisted on paying for everything, the trouble was he had a serious drink problem, and she had reached the stage where she was dreading it whenever he suggested going out for a ''quiet drink''.

  When the wheels clipped the kerb, she gasped as the car juddered and she glanced at her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, he was hunched over the wheel, eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on the road ahead.

  Suddenly the anger flared, and she lashed out, slamming her fist into the top of his arm.

  'Stop the car!' she demanded, her voice urgent an
d full of anger.

  Draper blinked several times before hitting the brakes, bringing the car to a halt with a screech of tortured rubber. 'What's the matter, what have I done?' he asked, looking at her bleary eyed and baffled.

  Rea said nothing as she unclipped the seat belt and thrust the door open before scrambling out onto the stretch of deserted road, not a house or roadside light to be seen.

  'Where are you going?' he asked, bemused by her actions.

  'I refuse to simply sit there waiting for you to smash the car up with me in it.'

  'Bollocks,' he snarled. 'Now get back in.'

  Rea shook her head, hitching the bag over her right shoulder. 'Not a chance, you're not fit to be behind the wheel.'

  'I've already told you I'm not fucking drunk,' he slurred the words, his eyes starting to lose focus again.

  Rea slammed the door closed and stepped back onto the kerb, seconds later, the passenger window slid down. 'Don't be bloody soft, Rea, just get in the car.'

  'Not a chance,' she shook her head vehemently.

  He looked at her – or at least he tried to – though he appeared totally hammered as the drink took effect again, and then he shrugged.

  'Suit yourself, you soft bitch,' he hiccupped before sliding the window back into place.

  Seconds later, wheels spinning, the car sped away, and she watched as it weaved off into the darkness until the red lights faded to nothing.

  Rea sighed in relief, glad to be out of the car and away from the idiot behind the wheel.

  Looking right and left, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder before rummaging inside for her phone, for a couple of seconds she contemplated ringing her father, the trouble was she knew he had to be up at half-five for work and it was already past midnight.

  She had no doubt that he would come and collect her, but he would also fume about Mark, calling him all the names under the sun, and she just wasn't in the mood for any more confrontation.

  Looking up at the star-filled sky, she hunched her shoulders in, it would take her the best part of an hour to reach home, but it was a mild night, so she set off walking, her mind full of Mark Draper. She would wait until he was sober and then ring him and tell him it was over.

  As she walked, she tried to fathom what his reaction would be but, in the end, it didn't matter, she refused to risk her life simply because he had a drink problem.

  Five minutes later she was in full stride, her mind determined to move on and forget about Mark bloody Draper. Thinking things through, she made her way along the road that stretched out over open countryside, the ribbon of black vanishing into the darkness.

  2

  Tossing another log into the burner Lasser closed the glass door before sinking back on the sofa.

  He and Jackie had spent the day walking the towpath, a packed lunch in the backpack, the spring sunshine had been warm and bright, the conversation light with plenty of laughs thrown in for good measure. Jackie had looped her arm through his as they walked, the whippet trotting along by their side.

  Now, she was asleep, and yet for some reason he had been unable to drift away so he had sneaked from the bedroom and made a brew before adding fuel to the fire.

  Stretching out his legs, he felt the heat on the soles of his bare feet as he took a sip of hot chocolate, his eyes watching as the orange flames twisted behind the glass.

  This was his last day off after a week's leave and he wasn't looking forward to getting back to work. He grimaced slightly as he thought of the past and how he had hated to take his holidays, afraid to leave the job just to sit within four walls with sod all to do.

  Now, he had Jackie, though the last seven days had gone by too quickly, and he was wishing he had taken a fortnight off, then perhaps they could have gone to the Lakes for a few days.

  As soon as he thought of the Lake District, he pictured Plymouth in the passenger seat of the Audi, bleeding from a gunshot wound to his shoulder and fighting to stay conscious, while he had driven him to a house deep in the countryside, where a female doctor had patched him up.

  It had been six weeks since Plymouth had been in touch to thank him for his help.

  'How's the shoulder?' Lasser had asked.

  'Feels almost bionic,' Plymouth had quipped in reply.

  One of the logs spat behind the glass and for a moment the flames turned pale blue before morphing back to orange.

  Taking another sip from the cup, his mind conjured Bannister and his slow return to normality.

  It felt like an age since Suzanne had passed away and for long periods the DCI had been in a dark place, but at last he seemed to be breaking free of the guilt and loss. Though there were times when Lasser had spotted the distress in his boss's eyes, that lost and broken look and Lasser suspected that deep down the remorse would always be there, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

  For the past seven days his phone had been silent, and he hadn't checked in with any of the team like he would have done in the past, desperate for something to happen so that he could dash out of the house and back into the thick of it to disguise the fact that his life had been a shambolic mess.

  The flames continued to flicker, his mind drifting into the past and suddenly out of the blue, he pictured DCI Simms, his old boss, a curmudgeonly bugger of a man, old school and proud of it, until he was shot in the head by a maniac with a high-powered rifle. His tartan flat cap flying from his head as he fell to the tufted moorland grass, the wind howling, the rain lashing down from the darkness.

  Lasser sighed at the memory, knowing that other distressing images were lining up waiting to stride forward to make him squirm with guilt. Rising quickly, he walked over to the window to break the chain of grim thoughts and opened it wide. He could smell the scented evening air, two swans were close to the boat, long necks tucked beneath their wings as they slept on the placid water.

  He spotted the brief blur of a bat flick by as the ducks squabbled in the darkness, and he felt himself relax a little as the distressing thoughts drifted down into the depths of his mind.

  When his stomach rumbled, he frowned as he realised he was hungry.

  Leaving the window wide open, he went to have a rummage in the cupboards, like some old drunk on the hunt for something cheap and nasty to guzzle.

  3

  'Stupid bitch,' Draper growled as he sped along the road, the view beyond the windscreen blurred by the effects of the booze, his mind replaying the poisonous look Rea had given him as she slammed the car door.

  He wasn't pissed, he'd only had a couple of pints – he was sure of it.

  The tall grass that grew by the side of the country lane brushed against the car as he hiccupped and grimaced at the whisky taste in his mouth.

  He had thought that Rea was the one, but just lately he had seen another side to her that he didn't like, she was a bloody whinger, always pulling him up about his drinking as if she thought he had a problem with alcohol.

  It was all bollocks; he liked a beer as much as the next man, but the way she wittered on anyone would have thought he was a full-blown alchy.

  The wheels on the left of the car started to rumble as he drifted closer to the grass verge, darkened fields to the left and right, no sign of any houses. His speed increased, his right foot automatically pressing hard on the accelerator, though the truth was he never even noticed – he was too busy being pissed off by Rea's bullshit attitude.

  The car drifted to the left again, then suddenly he saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye, he gasped and snatched at the wheel, the nearside tyres flattening the tall grass, then he heard a brief piercing scream half a second before the car smashed into the darkened figure that seemed to dash out in front of the car. The almighty bang jerked him back in the seat, eyes springing wide as he briefly saw the shadow take to the air, arms and legs flaying at the darkness, hair streaming as the figure vanished from view over the roof of the speeding BMW. Mark Draper hit the brakes, the car weaving, tyres smoking before comin
g to a stop over thirty yards away.

  'Oh, fuck no!' he screeched; his mind suddenly alert; any sense of numbness blasted away as he glanced in the mirror.

  The road behind was in total darkness and he sat there stunned, his body starting to shake as he realised what he had done.

  'Oh, shit no!' he swallowed the bitter taste of fear, his mind crammed with thoughts and images, not of the person he had hit but how the accident could impact on his future.

  He could lose his licence and he needed the car for work, that would mean he would lose his job and salary, and no one ever employed a…

  'Pisshead,' he gasped as he fumbled with the handle and thrust the door open, the evening air sobering him up even more as he clambered out and staggered to the front of the car to check for damage.

  There was a crack in the nearside headlight, though miraculously there were no dents in the bodywork, and he shuddered a sigh of relief before hurrying back inside the car. Pale exhaust fumes drifted into the darkness, the seconds ticked by, and slowly but surely Mark Draper managed to convince himself that it had been an animal he had hit, perhaps a deer or even a stray dog.

  Deep inside, he knew it was a lie and yet he chose to believe it, there was too much at stake to admit the truth, too much to lose.

  Taking a deep breath, he selected first gear and pulled away, glancing in the mirror, his eyes frantic, his hands locked on the wheel as he vanished into the night.

  4

  The man sprinted through the tall grass, arms and legs pumping as he hit the tarmac and came to a staggering stop. He looked down at the body in disbelief, his headtorch illuminating the horror that lay sprawled on the ground, her right leg was twisted back at an impossible angle, white shin bone showing through the blood. Julie, his Julie had landed on her head, her skull split asunder, brains smeared across the tarmac. Reaching up, he flicked off the beam of light, the sight too distressing to be bathed in stark light.

  Roadkill.

  Slowly, his hands closed into fists, rage searing his mind. 'NO!' he howled in anguish before falling to his knees, his hands hovering over her broken body, his fury-filled eyes shimmering with tears.

  How could this have happened? It hadn't been part of the plan; he had tracked her over two miles, and she had been wonderful, truly exceptional though he had been closing her down when he saw the glare of the headlights to the right. For a few heart-stopping moments he had been convinced that the car would pull over to aid the lone female running through the darkness. Then he had heard the scream, the loud bang followed a few seconds later by the screech of tyres on tarmac. By the time he'd reached the body, the sound of the car driving away had faded to nothing until silence took over.