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

But there had to be something that he could do.

His phone beeped, a call coming in from the front desk who, unable to gain him on his office land line, would have passed the call over to his mobile phone. Which meant this was important.

‘Freeman,’ he answered. His face paled as he listened to the call, before disconnecting without another word down the line.

‘De’Geer!’ he shouted out. After a moment, the officer leaned back around the doorframe.

‘Sir?’

‘Where is Declan Walsh right now?’

‘I don’t know,’ De’Geer answered honestly. ‘He left under a bit of a cloud, and Doctor Marcos mentioned a little while back he hasn’t answered his phone since he left.’

Freeman nodded. ‘Then get your team together,’ he replied, rising. ‘We’ve got a problem. Declan and his daughter are missing, and it looks like there was a fight in his house.’

Jess had a killer headache when she woke up, staring around the darkened room in confusion until her vision cleared into focus. She was in what looked like a garage space, a workshop; to the side was a full length cabinet with tools scattered across its surface, and on the floor were discarded pieces of cars and bikes. It was most likely the garage where Karl Schnitter had been found hanging from a ramp, although she couldn’t turn to see if the ramp was behind her.

‘You’re awake,’ Ilse Müller smiled as she walked into view, and Jess realised for the first time that she wasn’t able to move; her hands and legs were cable tied to a wooden chair placed in the middle of the workshop, a portable arc lamp the only source of light. And she wasn’t able to shout either, as Ilse had forced a foul smelling rag into her mouth, and gaffa tape wrapped around her head held it in place. It smelt and tasted faintly of oil, and Jess had to force herself not to puke. At the same time, she had to convince herself not to panic, as this was definitely the scariest situation that she’d ever been in.

Ilse stood silently, her hands in her jeans pockets, relaxed, and completely in control. As if coming to a decision, she walked over to Jess, pulling out a vicious looking folding blade which she locked open. Jess struggled, pulling back as the blade moved towards her face, but Ilse simply cut the tape, pulling the foul tasting rag out of the mouth.

‘You scream, shout, try anything? I slit your throat to stop you, understand?’

Jess nodded.

‘I worried I had used too much,’ Ilse explained softly. ‘And I wanted you to be awake.’

‘Why?’ Jess tried to keep her voice calm. ‘If you’re going to kill me, I’d rather I was unconscious.’

‘Why would I kill you?’ Ilse asked, surprised. ‘I’ve killed no one.’

‘Nathanial Wing?’

‘He killed himself.’

‘After you contacted him,’ Jess corrected. ‘I know you were the voice he spoke to, not your brother.’

‘Half brother.’

‘Whatever.’ Jess shifted in the seat, trying to feel out how much give the cable ties had. It wasn’t much. ‘And you were out the night Nathanial died.’

‘I walk at night,’ Ilse admitted. ‘That doesn’t mean that I was at the Golf Club.’

‘Doesn’t mean that you weren’t, either,’ Jess snapped back. ‘Did you kill granddad?’

If Ilse was blindsided by the question, she didn’t respond to it. ‘All we’re doing is waiting,’ she said. ‘When I get a call, I will leave. You will unfortunately stay here until you’re found in the morning, but you will be alive.’

‘What’s the call?’

‘To tell me that everything is over.’

‘Where’s my dad?’

‘I don’t know, child,’ Ilse said soothingly, stroking Jess’ face as the teenager tried to pull away. ‘All I know is where he will be at midnight.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Flipping a coin for his life.’

Jess shrugged in the chair, rocking it as she angrily spat out at Ilse. ‘You bitch!’

The backhanded slap was expected, but Jess was unable to lean back from it, and so the impact caught her square on the cheek, knocking both Jess and the chair over. Ilse walked to it, pulling the chair back upright as she glared at the fifteen-year-old girl tied to it.

‘One more,’ she said. ‘One more. Say it. I will end you.’

‘No, you won’t,’ Jess fought back the tears of pain as she replied. ‘You need me alive. If I’m dead, my dad won’t come.’

Her jaw tightened into a line.

‘Now, did you kill my granddad?’

Ilse laughed. ‘You are a firebrand!’ she exclaimed. ‘Tied up and in fear for your life, yet you still possess such anger, such passion.’ She walked away, but stopped and turned back.

‘I do not know if I killed your grandfather,’ she replied. ‘I doctored his drink that night, I will admit, but whether that was what killed him, or whether it was the impact of his car striking the tree and rolling into a ditch…’ she shrugged. ‘It’s far easier when they kill themselves.’

‘But you screwed up,’ Jess mocked. ‘You allowed Nathanial to leave a note. You didn’t clean up as well as your daddy did.’

‘And you’ve not examined the case as thoroughly as your daddy did,’ Ilse snapped. ‘I didn’t see the note because it was covered in blood! I trusted him to do the right thing! He knew what would…’

She stopped.

‘Oh, you’re very good,’ she nodded. ‘It will be a shame to kill you.’

‘Wait!’ Jess said as Ilse forced the gag back into her mouth. ‘You said I would be—‘

‘You know too much,’ Ilse replied sadly, stepping back from the now re-gagged Jess. ‘No coin for you, I’m afraid. No card, either. Just a girl, in too deep, and grieving her father’s death.’

As Jess screamed muffled, silenced yells of anger through her gag, Ilse turned and walked away.

‘Everything ends at midnight,’ she said.

Monroe and Bullman had taken the first flight back to London, and once through customs had called in a couple of favours from the local police; within half an hour of exiting the terminal, a police squad car