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

  Reaching out, his fingertips brushed gently through her hair, leaving smears of her life's blood on his skin.

  Rising to his feet he glared into the darkness though the car was long gone, and all his planning had come to nothing.

  'You killed her, you killed my Julie,' he raged, the fury running rampant through both mind and body.

  Whoever was responsible for this had ruined everything and someone had to pay, no, not just someone, the driver of the car, the bastard behind the wheel would be made to suffer for what they had done.

  Stepping back into the long grass, he tried to decide what to do and then he lifted the phone from his pocket and stared down at the screen. If he called the police, he could perhaps watch from a distance to see what they would do. The man shook his head, that would be pointless, it was too dark to see anything of value from a distance. Maybe it would be better to wait until a car came along, he scowled in indecision as the anger continued to slither and slice through his faltering mind.

  All that time and energy wasted, and all because some bastard hadn't been paying attention, hadn't been concentrating on the simple act of driving. It seemed almost laughable, but the man knew well enough how fate could play a hand in even the best laid plans.

  Raising his anguished face towards the night sky, he stared at the stars, his hands once more forming fists. The thought of leaving Julie here in the darkness cut to the very heart of him, then he turned and stalked back into the field, booted feet retracing his steps, his body clammy with the sweat of the chase. After a hundred yards, he suddenly slumped down in the grass and tried to come to terms with what had happened. It had started so well, and the thrill had coursed through his body as he gave chase.

  Julie had been everything he could have hoped for, fast and agile with a spirit that had been indomitable, the will to survive bright in her eyes.

  He had no idea how long he sat there in the darkness, though the moon slid further across the night sky as he relived every moment until the bastard in the car had robbed him of the woman he had loved.

  When the scream lanced out into the darkness, he gasped, his heart rearing, convinced that his mind was tormenting him with the echo of Julie's scream as the car hit her. Leaping to his feet, he spun around and peered into the darkness.

  The man held his breath, tension making his body shake but when the scream came again there was no denying the reality, it was a woman screaming and no doubt coming from the road.

  He felt his heart skip a beat and then he was running back along the trampled path, the excitement rearing as he dashed into the night.

  5

  'How did the holiday go?' Shannon asked.

  They were standing in the morgue; the doc's beard had been trimmed making his head appear shrunken on his wide shoulders.

  'We stayed local, just got out for plenty of walks, we even had a couple of picnics,' Lasser explained.

  Shannon raised a caterpillar eyebrow. 'Somehow I can't picture you carrying a wicker basket with a floral tea towel on top.'

  'I've always been in touch with my feminine side, doc, you know that,' Lasser said with a half-smile.

  'But no doubt you're glad to be back in the thick of it?' Shannon asked wryly as he opened the fridge door and pulled out the metal trolley.

  'Not really.'

  'Well, this definitely won't cheer you up,' the doc said as he eased back the plastic sheet.

  Averting his eyes, Lasser took a quick breath before looking down at the body, grimacing as he saw the damage done to the woman's skull, her brown hair matted with red and grey, shards of white bone visible through the wreckage, though thankfully her eyes were closed.

  'What kind of bastard does something like this and then drives off?' Shannon asked with a sad shake of his head.

  It had been half-past four when Lasser's phone had chimed, and he had known that his holiday was over as Bannister told him about the hit and run.

  'Spenner's at the scene, but I want you to head out there and see what you can find and then touch base with Shannon.'

  There had been no pleasantries, no apology for the early morning call, it was Bannister back to his normal gruff self.

  Half an hour later he had been standing on the country road, blue lights from the squad car swirling out over the fields.

  Spenner had stood by his side as they looked down at the blood on the tarmac, bright red in the glare of Lasser's Maglite.

  'What the hell was she doing out here in the middle of the night?' he pondered aloud.

  'I think she came across country,' Spenner replied.

  Turning, Lasser raised an eyebrow. 'What makes you say that?'

  Spenner shone his own torch into the field and along the track of flattened grass.

  Moving left, Lasser flicked the beam along the trail, the powerful light fading into the darkness.

  'She didn't run out in front of the car, you can see the tyre marks, the driver left the road and hit her.'

  'That's what it looks like,' Spenner lowered his torch until it pooled around his feet.

  'Do we know who put the call in?'

  Hitching up his trousers, Spenner nodded. 'It was a female and apparently she was distressed, the ambulance arrived fifteen minutes after she reported the incident but there was no sign of the woman, though hopefully we'll be able to get her details from despatch.'

  Lasser pursed his lips in thought. 'Perhaps she was the driver of the car, she called for help and then panicked before driving off.'

  'Wouldn't be the first time,' Spenner agreed with a sigh.

  Lifting the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, Lasser lit one before blowing smoke towards a sky that was starting to gradually lighten as the sun clawed its way over the horizon.

  'What was the victim wearing?' he asked.

  'Sweatpants and a black Berghaus jacket, running shoes on her feet.

  'So, she was dressed in jogging gear then?' Lasser asked.

  Spenner jiggled the torch in his hand. 'Yeah, though you don't normally get lone females jogging over rough ground in the middle of the night.'

  Now, Lasser looked down at the unknown woman on the metal trolley and sighed as Shannon gently covered her body with the plastic sheet.

  'Both legs were broken plus her left hip; and several ribs, though you can see that it was the damage to her head that killed her.'

  'What sort of speed are we talking about?' Lasser asked as he felt the flutter of anger inside.

  Shannon lifted his heavy shoulders. 'Hard to tell but she must have been airborne to land as she did, so I'd say the driver was doing at least forty miles an hour possibly even a lot faster than that.'

  'The speed limit on that road is fifty and there was a trail leading from a field on the left, we're thinking the driver left the road for a couple of seconds and hit her.'

  'Everyone knows that accidents happen, but you don't drive off and leave the victim to die alone,' Shannon growled, his eyes narrowed in a mixture of sorrow and anger.

  'I just don't understand what she was doing running across a field at gone midnight,' Lasser's frown deepened.

  'You've got me there,' Shannon replied, a frown of perplexed confusion on his face.

  Lasser slipped his right hand into his jacket pocket, holding onto the cigarette pack like a comforter. 'We know a woman put the call in about the accident but then she just vanished from the scene.'

  'Perhaps she was the driver,' Shannon suggested. 'She put the call in, realised that the woman was dead, panicked, jumped back in the car and drove away.'

  'Spenner thinks the same thing.'

  'And you don't?' the doctor asked as he raised an eyebrow.

  Lasser thought for a moment before answering. 'What you say makes perfect sense, we've had it happen before, the driver stops and calls for help and then loses their nerve and does a runner, but something feels wrong about this.'

  'One of your gut feelings?' Shannon asked.

  Lasser shrugged. 'If you like.'


  'Well, your gut feelings often turn out to be true.'

  'Don't let Bannister hear you say that, he would only flip his lid,' Lasser checked his watch. 'Right, I'd better get a move on, but if you find anything else then give me a ring.'

  'I'll do the full autopsy this morning and bell you,' Shannon said as he followed Lasser out into the corridor.

  The doc watched as he strode away before turning and heading towards his office, the frown still fixed to his bearded face.

  6

  Draper leaned forward on the sofa, his panicked eyes fixed on the TV screen, hands clasped together in fear as the reporter did his piece to camera. Under normal circumstances Draper would have made some barbed comment about the guy in front of the camera. The reporter had the most ridiculous hair he had ever seen, bushy grey curls that brushed his shoulders. His face had the look of an aging rock god who had spent too many years over-indulging in booze and drugs, with plenty of cakes and fried food thrown into the mix. The tosser was even wearing a leather flying jacket with fake fur around the collar, the kind you would often see a tramp wearing after picking it up from Oxfam.

  'As of yet the police are refusing to name the victim, though it is believed that she was involved in a fatal hit and run collision late last night on this deserted road.'

  The camera angle changed slightly sweeping along the road, and Draper closed his eyes for a moment as he recalled the sudden impact. Deep inside he had known it had been a woman and not some animal he had hit, his mind had tried to block it out, but now he could see her flying high into the air, her scream cut off as she vanished over the roof of the BMW.

  'She's fucking dead,' he whispered to himself, though the truth was he had known that from the moment he slammed into her.

  Arriving home, he had parked the car in the garage before heading straight upstairs to bed, hoping to sleep the rest of the night away, though sleep had proved elusive, his mind working in overdrive.

  The image of the airborne woman had crashed through his head over and over again, the sound of the tyres screeching sounding like the shriek of a banshee.

  Gradually the effects of the alcohol had faded, and he had drifted into a dream full of torment and screams, and now here he was with the bare bones of the truth being revealed to him by the prog-rock reporter.

  It hadn't been a dog or deer that he had struck, it had been a woman, as yet unnamed, but he had known that, known the truth and he had done nothing to try and help her.

  Shame weighed down on his shoulders as the bastard on the TV continued to delight in telling the world about the death on the deserted road.

  'It's believed that the victim suffered horrific injuries and whoever was responsible then drove away without stopping to help,' he tilted his head slightly as if trying to disguise his weak double chin.

  Draper stabbed a finger at the remote and the screen instantly went blank.

  'Shit,' suddenly he leapt from the sofa, he needed to see the car again to check on the damage. After the accident, he had looked at the front of the vehicle, but it had been dark, and he had been… pissed.

  Draper groaned at his stupidity, Rea had told him, warned him that he was over the limit, and he had ignored her completely, the booze clouding his judgement as she climbed out and slammed the passenger door.

  Spinning around, he hurried along the hallway and yanked open the front door, bright morning light making him gasp, forcing him to squint against the onslaught as he dashed to the garage. Grabbing the handle, he pushed the doors open before scurrying alongside the car, holding his breath as he approached the front of the vehicle.

  When he saw the splash of dried blood on the bumper and bonnet, he swallowed the sense of terror that reared in his mind. Dragging a hand through his hair, his heart picked up speed, face crumpled with fear and disgust, not only at himself but at the bloodstain on the car.

  His terrified brain suddenly envisioned a barrage of police cars heading to his house, sirens wailing, lights flashing as they hunted him down. They would block the drive and storm into the garage, see the bloodstained paintwork, and then he would be led away in handcuffs, head bowed in shame as the neighbours came out to see what all the fuss was about. Then he thought of the wider implications of his actions, as soon as his boss found out what had happened, he would be sacked on the spot, leaving him unable to earn a living, his life would fall apart, he would lose the house and without a licence the car would have to go. The ramifications were truly horrific, and he pictured himself forced to live on the streets, his mind appeared to delight in showing him the worst-case scenarios, though the truth was none of the grim thoughts were beyond the realms of possibility.

  He had seen before how drink drivers were treated, let alone those who mowed someone down under the influence and then drove away from the scene of the accident. They would crucify him; the local media would camp on his doorstep – probably someone like the poodle-haired reporter – hounding him daily, ruining his life simply because it got their name on the front of the local rag. Then there was social media, and that was the thing that scared him the most. In the past he had taken to Facebook and Twitter to voice his opinions on anything and everything, calling people not fit to burn and secretly delighting in the hurt he hoped he was causing. If this came out, then he would be the one on the receiving end of all the abuse and he knew he would never be able to stand that.

  Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he tried to decide what to do. The woman, whoever she was, had died and there was nothing he could do about that. Even if he went to the police and explained what had happened then she would remain dead, and he would suffer the consequences.

  Turning, he hurried out of the garage and back into the house heading for the small utility room to grab the bucket and fill it with soapy water.

  Two minutes later, he was washing the stain away, the water sloshing on the garage floor, his brow lathered with the sweat of fear as he went to work with the sponge. Once satisfied, he pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the time, his eyes widening in disbelief.

  He was going to be late for work and he'd already had two written warnings for his lack of punctuality. Suddenly, he realised that he could lose his job and the irony was that it would have nothing to do with the accident on the darkened country road.

  'Fuck,' he dashed from the garage and into the house, before sprinting upstairs to grab his jacket and car keys.

  Two minutes later, he was pulling off the drive, the dead woman slipped from the forefront of his mind as he got his foot down, breaking several speed limits as he tried to beat the clock.

  7

  Rea Lomax cracked her eyes open and blinked in confusion, seconds later, terror flooded her mind as she realised that she couldn't see a thing, the darkness was absolute along with the cloying stink of damp earth and something darker that she couldn't name.

  When she tried to move and found that she couldn't, she bucked her legs back and forth, her arms thrashing at the ties that bound her wrists, she could feel the same tightness around her ankles, and the terror erupted through the heart of her as the memories of the night before ripped through her brain.

  She could recall getting out of the car, Mark glaring at her with his pissed-up bloodshot eyes as he drove away into the darkness, the car weaving left and right.

  Half an hour later, she had been striding along the road that led towards home, the moon shining above, the evening air had been warm, her head bowed, cursing her soon to be ex-boyfriend for being a complete dick.

  So lost was she in the dark thoughts that she almost tripped over the body, then her eyes had focused, and she had screamed at the sight of the woman sprawled on the dark tarmac, the silver moonlight providing enough light to reveal the blood from the head wound trickling towards the centre of the road.

  For the next few seconds all she had been able to do was scream at the horror of what had once been a human being, though in the darkness with her mind unravelling, the re
mains had resembled something almost alien. The woman's right leg had been bent back at an unnatural angle, the left side of her face smeared with blood; sharp white shards of bone seemed to pick up the silver moonlight.

  The horror had been so intense that it had taken her two attempts to snatch the phone from her bag and a further three to contact the emergency services.

  When the voice had answered, asking her which service she required, the words had fired from Rea's mouth in a torrent of jumbled fear.

  The voice on the phone had asked her several times to calm down, and eventually she had taken a huge gulp of air and turned away from the body so she could explain what had happened in something that resembled a rational manner.

  Seconds later, the voice had informed her that help was on the way, she had ended the call and dropped the phone back into her bag, the silence suddenly seemed deafening.

  Then… she blinked in the darkness as she realised that she could remember nothing after making the call. Her legs thrashed out again and yet she knew the binds held her tight. Salty tears stung her eyes as she screwed them shut against the darkness, her body shaking with adrenalin-fuelled fear. As she kicked out, she could feel the ground beneath her, sharp shards of what felt like shale biting into her flesh until she gasped at the pain, her body sagging to a halt.

  Her heartbeat quickened and for a few terrifying seconds she found that she couldn't breathe, she became convinced that she was going to suffocate in the dark, not knowing where she was or how she had got here.

  She could sense the terror threatening to swamp her again and it took all her willpower not to scream into the darkness, knowing that it would be a futile response to her torment.