Driven by Fear (The DS Lasser Book 27) Page 3

  Instead, she breathed in slowly through her nose and held it for a few seconds before letting the air seep from her lips, desperately trying to curb her ravaged emotions. Seconds turned to minutes, she continued to breathe in and hold it before letting the air out, and slowly her body began to relax a little, the locked muscles quivering as she gained control of her senses.

  Suddenly, she thought of her father, she had no idea how long she had been here, wherever ''here'' was, but she knew that eventually he would start to become concerned for her and he would track Mark down to question him.

  As she lay in the darkness the stark truth came to her as she realised that her boyfriend would lie, the last thing he would want was for her father to find out that she had got out of the car, and he had driven away to leave her at the side of the road simply because he had been too pissed to drive.

  Her eyes widened as she pictured Mark driving away, the car swerving left and right as she stood by the roadside. She knew he would have gone along the road where she had found the woman, her body twisted, her skull crushed, blood and brains spilling from her head, and suddenly she saw it all with such clarity that it almost took her breath away again.

  Mark had been drunk, no he had been hammered, and now she pictured him slamming into the woman by the side of the road. He was responsible for her death, suddenly she knew it to be the truth, could feel it deep inside and then he must have panicked and driven away, leaving the woman to die alone on the deserted stretch of road.

  Despite the fear of being tied in the darkness, Rea Lomax suddenly felt the anger flare as she realised the enormity of what he had done.

  'Spineless bastard,' she gasped, picturing him heading for home, desperate to deny and escape the terrible thing he had done.

  She started to shiver again, though this time it was a concoction of fear and fury that seared through her mind. Fear of the unknown, and fury at Mark Draper, this was all his fault, he had killed the woman because he had been drunk, and now she was locked here in the darkness, arms and legs tied, the terror once more pushing at her senses as the tears slipped free from her screwed-up eyes.

  8

  Dan Lomax frowned as he looked down at the ringing phone in his hand, he had been on the road by six, delivering parcels locally and now he was sitting behind the wheel of the van, a cup of coffee steaming away on the dashboard as the phone continued to drone. When it went to voicemail, he frowned before clearing his throat.

  'Listen, Rea, I know you don't like me mithering you but I'm getting worried here sweetheart,' he paused to take a calming breath, 'I've sent you three texts and tried ringing you at least four times. Did you stay at Mark's last night, it's just that I'm sure you said you would be coming home, so just let me know you're OK?'

  Ending the call, he looked through the windscreen at the view of open fields, this was his favourite place to park when he was having his mid-morning brew. The sun was shining, open countryside swept away into the distance, fields of green that in a few weeks would be tall with golden wheat. In the distance he could see the familiar woodland and he sighed. Borsdane Woods was one of his favourite places to walk with the dog, though the truth was Betsy was getting too old for long walks and he tended to leave her at home in her basket – curled up and snoring – while he went for a wander.

  That was the trouble with dogs, they didn't live long enough, and he suspected that a trip to the vets would soon be in order as Betsy became weaker, her back legs shaking with the effort of going into the garden to do her business.

  Taking a sip from the cup, he sighed again and wiped the steam from the windscreen with the palm of his hand before turning up the heater a couple of notches.

  Then he scowled as he thought of Mark Draper.

  'Waste of space,' he muttered under his breath.

  Rea had only had three serious boyfriends, and as far as he was concerned none of them had been good enough for his daughter.

  Though in his opinion Draper was the worst, and as soon as Rea had introduced the man, Dan had known there was something iffy about the guy. Trouble was he had been unable to put his finger on the hunch, after all the man held down a job and as far as he was aware, he treated Rea well, but there was an underlying something that rubbed him up the wrong way.

  Taking another sip from the cup, he slid the window down and breathed in the scent of the countryside, the sound of a skylark in full voice trilled into the van as he drained the cup and rolled a cigarette sprinkling flakes of tobacco into his lap in the process.

  He thought back over the years and felt the faint sense of sadness as he pictured Jenny, the woman he had been married to for over twenty years, the woman he would always love and even though it was years since she had passed away, he still missed her every single day.

  Rea had been six years old when her mother died, and Dan had brought her up on his own. It hadn't been easy, and the truth was he'd had to call on the help of his sister to look after Rea while he went to work, but they had muddled through like all single parents do. Now grown up, he was proud of his daughter, even though her taste in men left a lot to be desired, she was always kind and caring and those who knew her loved her.

  Lifting the phone back out of his pocket, he checked it for any missed messages though deep down he knew there were none to be found.

  Checking the clock on the dashboard, he scrolled through the list of names until he came to Mark Draper's number. He had no doubt that Rea would complain when she found out he had tried to call the boyfriend but right now he didn't care.

  Tapping at the screen, he waited and immediately the automated voice told him that it had not been possible to connect his call.

  Taking a pull on the cigarette, he flicked ash through the window before slipping the phone back into his pocket and starting the van.

  If he got his skates on, he could make all the deliveries in the next couple of hours then he would track Draper down and find out what the hell was going on.

  Mind made up; he checked the mirrors before pulling onto the lane, going quickly through the gears, the strange sense of foreboding growing with every second that ticked into infinity.

  9

  Lasser was ten minutes away from the station when his phone chimed, keeping one eye in the road, he reached out and tapped at the screen.

  'What have you got?' he asked.

  'The name of the woman who put the call in about the hit and run,' Spenner replied.

  Lasser eased down on the brake, slowing for the red traffic lights.

  'Her name is Rea Lomax, address number five Balcarres Lane, Billinge.'

  Checking the mirrors, he brought the car to a halt. 'Right, I'll head over there now and see what she has to say for herself.'

  'I've tried ringing her several times, but it just goes straight through to voicemail.'

  The lights changed and Lasser indicated left and turned off the main road. 'Perhaps she's panicking and turned it off deliberately.'

  'Could be.'

  'Have you seen Bannister?'

  'He's in his office, but he's given me strict orders not to leave the building.'

  Lasser frowned in confusion. 'Did he say why?'

  'Not a clue, but I know he's looking into the Clifton Nash business.'

  Lasser winced as he pictured Nash, muscles bulging, his head resting on a bull-like neck. 'OK, if Bannister asks you to pay Nash a visit, then make sure you go mob-handed,' he warned.

  'Shaun Rourke says he's a bit of a handful.'

  'He's a bastard, I know that much,' Lasser replied with a scowl.

  The road began to twist and turn, and he slowed down to make way for the oncoming ASDA truck.

  'Right, I'll let you know how I get on with Rea Lomax.'

  'No problem, boss.'

  Ending the call, he eased back slightly in the seat and pictured Clifton Nash. The last time Lasser had seen him he had been huge, every part of his body seemed pumped to the max, trouble was one of the side effects of the drugs w
as the fact that it had made Nash impotent, and his wife had suffered the consequences as he lashed out – breaking three of her ribs in the process.

  Nash had been locked up for the assault and after years of abuse his wife had moved on and was now in a relationship with someone new, though she had called the police several times because as soon as her husband had been released the threats both to her and the new partner had started.

  Trouble was Nash had covered his tracks making it impossible to prove that he was the one making those threats. Bannister had been to see Erin Nash and her partner, and they were both terrified about the threats being made, one had been a letter pushed through the door with the words ''you are both dead'' scrawled on the sheet of A4 paper in big bold letters.

  There had been numerous threatening texts and emails, all abusive and each one becoming more graphic about what would be done to the pair of them.

  Lasser sighed as he approached the roundabout and dropped a couple of gears, that was the trouble with threatening behaviour, basically, they were unable to act until the threats became actual acts of violence. He thought of all the abuse that took place on social media and his mood darkened, the whole world was slowly going mad, even those in charge seemed to throw out the insults on Twitter and Facebook, nothing was private, and morals no longer existed as they accused others in power of lying or worse.

  His hands closed tighter on the wheel as he seethed, if he had his way, he would gladly knock the shit out of all those in charge, the politicians who didn't give a toss about anyone other than themselves and their bent cronies. People who expected to have a life of entitlement all because daddy had done well in business, or they had inherited a meaningless title that meant fuck-all.

  Turning left at the roundabout, he bumped over the sleeping policemen that lay across the road, his anger rumbling deep inside.

  'Utter wankers,' he complained as he made his way towards Billinge.

  10

  Slipping his head around the door, Bannister spotted Odette sat at the computer, her face thoughtful as she studied the screen.

  'I'm going to pay Nash a visit with Spenner, you fancy tagging along?' he asked, stepping into the room.

  Looking up, she nodded. 'Give me five, I'm emailing Roger.'

  'Why email him when you'll no doubt be seeing him later?' the DCI asked.

  Odette turned in her seat and fixed him with a chilly stare. 'This is work related not pleasure.'

  'If you say so,' Bannister replied with a sly smile as he rubbed his hands together.

  'For your information I'm trying to find out the identity of the hit-and-run victim.'

  The smile slipped from Bannister's face. 'She had no ID?'

  'Nothing, her pockets were empty, and we need to know who she was.'

  Bannister stepped towards her and then folded his arms. 'Well, surely someone will come forward, a husband, father or perhaps a close friend.'

  'No doubt they will, but we still need to get the ball rolling and we both know that Roger's the one for the job.'

  'Can't argue with you there,' he admitted with a nod.

  'We have managed to get identification on the woman who put the call in and Lasser's on his way over there now to have a word with her.'

  'It's about time he made himself useful,' Bannister paused, 'you nearly ready?'

  Odette nodded before hitting the send key and grabbing her coat from the back of the chair.

  Five minutes later they were in Bannister's car, Spenner in the back, his arms folded.

  'Remind me again why we are going to see Nash?' Odette asked, tilting her head slightly enjoying the sun that beamed through the windscreen.

  'I want the bastard to know that we're keeping an eye on him,' Bannister explained as he slapped the visor down against the glare.

  'You think he's going to make good on his promises, don't you?'

  The DCI didn't take his eyes off the road as he nodded. 'This whole thing stinks, we know he's the one responsible for all the threats and yet there's sod all we can do about it, and I refuse to wait until he turns up at the wife's house with claw hammer in hand.'

  In the back, Spenner grimaced at the image of Nash going ballistic with a hammer.

  'I mean, when that happens – and believe me it will – then we will be the ones who have to live with his actions, and I'm not having it.'

  Odette could hear the suppressed anger in the DCI's voice, see it in the way his brow was furrowed.

  'It's about time they changed the law,' she said in agreement.

  'That will never happen, we know that social media is a sea of shit with hateful morons spouting their bile on subjects they know nothing about.'

  'It's not all bad, boss,' Spenner piped up from the back.

  Bannister glanced at him in the mirror, his scowl deepening. 'I know it's a useful tool but there are too many tools using it to compensate for their own inadequacies.'

  Spenner found himself nodding as the DCI turned his gaze back to the road ahead.

  'Nash's wife suffered at his hands for over ten years, beatings, abuse, and all because he pumps himself full of steroids and can't get it up.'

  This time Odette was the one who grimaced at Bannister's choice of words.

  'But you know we can't watch the man twenty-four seven,' she said.

  Bannister shifted in the seat as he changed gear. 'I'm well aware of that, but he needs to see the error of his ways before he blows his stack and goes on the rampage, and I will not sit back and do sod all. I'm sick and tired of trying to do this job with our hands tied behind our backs.'

  Odette felt the sense of unease start to rise as she thought about what he was saying though she kept her mouth closed, the warm sun coming into the car suddenly felt laser-beam hot and she flicked the visor down before sliding open a gap in the window.

  In the back, Spenner looked equally concerned as Bannister increased his speed, his face set in stark lines of determination.

  11

  Draper grimaced as his boss pointed at him, hooking his finger in a come-hither gesture before vanishing back into his office.

  He looked around the open-plan area, one or two people glanced at him with sympathetic eyes, though he noticed something that resembled glee in the gaze of one or two others.

  Rising to his feet, he tried his best to appear unconcerned as he weaved his way around the desks.

  Reaching the door, he knocked before entering, Carl Liptrot was sitting behind his desk, and he nodded towards the chair opposite before easing back and threading his hands around the back of his head, waiting for Draper to take the 'hot seat'.

  'Look, Mark, I'll get straight to the point, your work here has been satisfactory but I'm afraid we've reached the end of the road.'

  Draper's hands were clamped onto his knees, the sunlight filling the room felt heavy and oppressive.

  'Please, Mr Liptrot, I know I was a few minutes late this morning and I realise that it's happened once or twice lately, but I swear…'

  'You've already had two written warnings in the last month for your lack of punctuality and each time you swore it wouldn't happen again, and yet nothing has changed. You start at nine o'clock; I mean, that's hardly the middle of the night, is it?' Liptrot asked.

  'No, I realise that,' Draper paused as he desperately tried to conjure a plausible excuse, 'It's just that the car wouldn't start, so I had to get a jump off the neighbour, and then the traffic was bad on the way here and…'

  Draper closed his mouth as Liptrot raised a hand.

  'Listen to me, Mark, I like to give people a second chance but everyone else who works here manages to arrive on time, some come via public transport and we both know how unreliable that can be, and yet they still manage to get here for nine o'clock. You, on the other hand, live less than five miles from the office and you are always late.'

  'I've just had a run of bad luck,' Draper said, well aware at the whining tone of his voice.

  Liptrot raised a disbelievin
g eyebrow. 'I've been watching you, and in the last month you have arrived between nine-ten and nine-twenty on more than eight occasions, and if you add that up then it means you are being paid for over an hour when you are not at your desk, now is that fair to me, is that fair to the others?'

  All Draper could do was shake his head as the sense of impending disaster crawled through his gut.

  'You also go for at least three smoke breaks a day, and again that is eating into the time you should be at your desk getting on with the job.'

  Draper could feel the blade slowly descending, his head on the block waiting for the sharp pain to bite.

  'I'll stay late tonight to make the time up,' he offered in desperation, but as Liptrot shook his head he knew he was screwed.

  'I'm sorry, Mark, this really isn't going to work, now you can work your two weeks' notice, or you can leave at the end of the day, it's up to you.'

  For once, Mark Draper was lost for words and then the image of the woman tumbling through the air reared into his brain and with it came the panic, this was karma, this was God paying him back for hitting the woman and driving away.

  'Listen, I'll pay you for the rest of the week and you can use that time to try and find another job, how does that sound?' Liptrot suggested.

  Despite the devastation at what he was hearing, Draper found himself nodding, the truth was the fact that he was losing his job suddenly seemed low on his list of concerns as he continued to think about the dead woman and what would happen if the police tracked him down.

  'Are you listening?'

  Draper blinked and nodded. 'Er, yeah, yeah that would be great,' he mumbled in reply.

  Liptrot frowned for a couple of seconds before smiling in relief. 'Good, now, clear your desk and head home and I really am sorry, Mark, this wasn't an easy decision, but I have to safeguard the business and those who work here.'