Whisper For The Reaper by Jack Gatland (best book series to read TXT) 📕

Temple Golf Club passing on the right as they carried on north. Declan wondered whether it was worth stopping now, having a look at the murder scene while there was still light, but there was a voice at the back of his head that suggested that this wasn’t a good idea. He knew how pissed he’d be if a rival detective encroached on his patch. No, he’d contact DCI Freeman in the morning, see what he could find out. Tonight would be an early night. What with the funeral, the confrontation with Peter Taylor at Kendis’ graveside, the abduction and consequent return from London, he was wiped out. All he wanted was a takeout and his bed.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen.

As the car pulled off the High Street into the small housing estate where Patrick Walsh, and now Declan lived, he saw that his living room light was on. It hadn’t been when he left for the funeral earlier that day.

Marlowe had also seen this as he pulled up across the road.

‘Problem?’ he asked, nodding towards the window. ‘You expecting guests?’

‘I wasn’t,’ Declan unclipped the seatbelt. ‘But to be honest, only a couple of people have a key.’

‘Just because the light’s on, doesn’t mean they came in through the front door.’ Marlowe was already shifting, and Declan knew that somewhere on his person was a gun, likely a Glock 17 or similar.

Bloody spies and their toys.

‘I’ll be fine,’ Declan opened the door, exiting the car. ‘If there’s a problem, you’ll know soon enough.’

He was about to continue when the door to his house opened, and a woman emerged.

No, not a woman. A girl, on the cusp of becoming a woman. Fifteen years, coming on sixteen, and as far as Declan was concerned ten years older than she should be. Her hair was jet black; last time he’d seen her, it had been blue. Or red, he couldn’t keep track now.

‘Dad!’ She exclaimed, coming out to meet Declan, grabbing him in a wide embrace, but peering into the car as she did so. ‘Who’s that? He’s cute. Is he coming in?’

‘He’s leaving,’ Declan nodded to Marlowe and closed the car door. Before they’d even stepped away, the BMW i8 had already accelerated off, Marlowe on his way back to London. Watching the car retreat into the distance, Declan looked back to his daughter.

‘What are you doing here, Jess?’ he asked. ‘Last I heard, you weren’t happy with me.’

‘Yeah,’ Jess replied as they walked back to the house. ‘It annoyed me that we had to go into hiding because of you. But then I realised I was being petty, and that you’d had a way worse time than me, and I should give you the benefit of the doubt.’

Declan stopped in the driveway, staring at his daughter for a moment.

‘Your mum sent you here, didn’t she?’

Jessica Walsh grinned widely. ‘She wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, now you’re, like, suspended all over again,’ she walked into the house now, Declan following. ‘And between us, I think she wanted some alone time, you know?’

Declan went to ask what Jess meant by that, but then remembered that only a week ago, Lizzie had mentioned to Declan that she was looking to date again. Considering what had happened between Declan and Kendis, he couldn’t really be angry at this development.

‘How long do I have you for?’ he asked as he pulled off his jacket, tossing it on a chair as he walked into the kitchen. ‘Tea? Coffee?’

‘I brought my own,’ Jess followed him in. ‘Matcha green with oat milk.’

Declan shuddered, and Jess smiled. ‘Wait until you try my bulletproof coffee.’

‘I don’t know what that means, and have no intention of learning,’ Declan solemnly informed. ‘Again, how long are you here for?’

‘A week if you’ll have me?’ Jess filled the kettle. ‘We can work on granddad’s crime board. Oh, and Mister Schnitter came by to make sure you were okay after the funeral? I didn’t even realise it was today.’

Declan stopped at the fridge.

‘Did he say anything else?’

Jess shrugged as she took a half teaspoon of green tea, placing it into a metal bottle with a whisk on the end of the cap. ‘Not really, just that he’d catch you later. Why, is there a problem?’

Declan looked back to Jess. ‘Do me a favour,’ he replied, his face calm, but his voice obviously forced. ‘If you see him, keep away. Just for the moment. I need to speak to someone tomorrow, and then we’ll discuss that.’

Jess stopped now, watching her father.

‘What aren’t you telling me?’ she asked. ‘And is it something to do with the cute guy in the cool car?’

‘I’m your father, kiddo,’ Declan forced a smile now. ‘There’s a ton of stuff I’m not telling you. But first I need to check granddad’s study for some files. And after I make a call tomorrow, I’ll tell you everything.’ He looked to the sideboard as a realisation struck him. ‘I almost forgot,’ he continued. ‘I was going to give it to you when I saw you next, but I got your phone back. The one Frost stole.’

‘That’s okay, dad,’ Jess replied. ‘I have a new one now.’

‘I know,’ Declan walked over to the sideboard. ‘It’s just that you might have some photos on here that—‘

‘I said that’s okay!’ Jess shouted. Declan turned to his daughter, seeing her visibly shaken.

‘It’s…’ Jess couldn’t find the words. ‘It’s just that he stole my bag, dad. I didn’t even realise he was there. He… he could have taken me. I could have been killed.’

Declan nodded. He knew what Jess was feeling; a form of survivors’ guilt.

‘I thought you’d died,’ he whispered. ‘Your mum didn’t call, and then Frost phoned me from the number. I couldn’t breathe. The world was ending. It was only your mum phoning later that saved me from doing something rash.’

He walked over to Jess, holding her tight.

‘He took out both me and Monroe when we weren’t expecting it,’ he admitted. ‘But he’s dead