The Devil's Due: A Cooper and McCall Scottish Crime Thriller by Ramsay Sinclair (nonfiction book recommendations TXT) 📕

My heartbeat drummed, cursing throughout my eardrums and specks of purple began to show up in my irises. I couldn’t let any of it stop my pursuit. As I rounded a corner, up a small incline, a now altered concrete path speared off into a row of residential houses. Each one appeared the same, yet still had a standout element to make them their own. The neighbourhood spiralled off into roads upon roads, full of more houses. Then more after that.

Taking the logical approach, I stalked up the main path and inspected each avenue with a quick head turn and scour to see any movement. Paul couldn’t have escaped my grips already, not unless he crossed back on himself, a near-impossible task, as most avenues and roads leading off finalised into cul-de-sacs.

As a stroke of pure luck occurred, on the fourth cul-de-sac and I spotted a shadowy figure marching through a series of cars parked for the night. Paul, from what I could tell. His hoodie was up, a strange choice of attire for not the youngest of men. His head was bowed, and he had thrust his hands into his pockets.

I stayed behind. So long as I had Paul in my sights, he could lead me to his home without realising. At least, I hoped he was heading home. Paul must’ve heard my footsteps, for they seemed to get louder whenever I tried to be inconspicuous.

He turned around for a split second, paranoia written all over his cast features. The only source of illumination on the newest cul-de-sac was yellow-tinged street lamps, giving Paul an insecure expression. I had to pretend to tie my shoe, ducking down behind a tiny car. My coat was black, and I hoped I blended into the late night well.

Paul seemed satisfied enough to continue walking, and I too hung back, gradually inching bit by bit. To disguise myself, I rifled in every pocket to find a cigarette. It lit up, sending subdued billows of ash high into our sky.

Diverting my attention onto Paul, he’d entirely faded from sight. I paused, spinning to check behind. Nothing. The street didn’t unfold anywhere else. The only viable option was for Paul to have resided inside a house. The problem was, which one?

I swivelled on my heel, with the full intention of traipsing every lawn to find him.

I didn’t need to. An unexpected blow smacked me straight in the face, knocking me to the floor.

26

My nose gushed pure blood, dripping onto my leather gloves as my eye already started to swell. Paul didn’t punch lightly, credit where credit’s due. I too, could hold my own, had his attack been honourable and not surprised me from behind.

Wincing, I tried to get up fast, for Paul was already on his feet and running.

“Paul Roberts?” My voice spread through the darkness faster than wildfire, and the man crooked around. A deer in the headlights. My ID badge rested waiting in my hand, and I fiddled with the wallet. I undid the wallet and began to hold It up, inhaling readily whilst attempting to stench the blood flowing freely.

“DI Cooper.” I suspected he already knew, otherwise my face would not have gotten an almighty beating. “Shit.”

I leant over, my head gradually getting dizzier. He’d sucker-punched my wits out of me. Paul Roberts didn’t hang around for long and raced up a garden path, fumbling with a set of keys. They jangled uncharacteristically compared to the peaceful street where only Paul’s laboured breath and my pained groans could be heard.

He dealt with his own situation, getting what could only be his own house unlocked and scrambled indoors. I watched through slitted eyes as I staggered to my feet, having bruised the entirety of my leg from the sudden fall. I couldn’t let Paul get away. Regardless of anything else, he had assaulted an inspector in the line of duty.

I copied his exact route but stayed at the end of his own pathway. I didn’t dare knock on the actual door, in fear he’d open it with a different kind of weapon, something more weighty than his bare hands.

“Paul, we need to talk!” I shouted loudly, well aware of his neighbours twitching curtains. If they didn’t know who I was, they’d probably call the police on me, for harassment. “I don’t want any trouble!”

What I meant was I didn’t want to be injured again, but I’d be ready for him this time. My voice sounded nasally, because I couldn’t let go of my nose.

“Why are you scared, Paul?” I shouted, knowing he could hear me as he switched off the inside lights to hide away. All of his curtains were already shut, keeping his life private, shielded away.

I waited for twenty minutes, attempting to make conversation with Paul Roberts or even get him to pay attention to what I had to say. He was dangerous, that much was evident. Nothing worked, Paul Roberts refused to bow down to my clear instructions.

I gave in, phoning the one person who would sort this mess out immediately in a no-frills approach.

“What?” McCall replied, in a massive hump. “I’m not interested in--”

“McCall, I need help,” I moaned at the pain it took to talk properly. “Real help.”

McCall didn’t reply for a moment, shocked into stunned silence at my openness. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you properly. Dodgy reception here.”

“I can’t do this alone,” I revealed, whispering so nobody could ever hear me admit that weak statement freely.

“And what would this be?” she asked, wondering if I was genuine.

“I can’t explain over the phone, but it’s serious. This could be our guy, McCall. I’m outside his house, but he’s refusing to open the door. He’s dangerous, and I can’t go in without backup. He attacked me once already.”

“What do you want me to do?” McCall was keen to help.

“I want you to call for backup whilst I wait here. You have to come too. I’ll explain when I