Death's Cold Hand by J.E. Mayhew (good romance books to read txt) 📕

Vikki gave a tight smile. “It’s symbolic, I suppose, sir.”

“Symbolic? I wonder if half the people going today have just come for some aggro,” Blake snorted. “I’m sorry, Vikki. I don’t suppose everyone going there supports people like Lex Price or even shares his views. It just winds me up.”

“It’s been a tough case, sir,” Vikki said, keeping her eyes firmly on the road.

“Take a left here, we’ll take the back roads,” Blake said, pointing down a small street. They made progress, zigzagging through the smaller roads of Rock Ferry but as they approached Port Sunlight itself, the roads became busier again. Once or twice, Vikki had to flash the blue lights and give a blast of the siren to make the lines open up for them.

Blake’s phone buzzed. “Nicola’s not here, sir,” Kath said. “She handed in the keys to her office on Thursday, said she was going away for a while.”

“Jeez,” Blake hissed through gritted teeth. “This just gets better and better. Notify Border Force, see if we can stop her getting out of the country and put a call for any transport police to keep an eye out for her but in this mess, I can’t imagine that’ll be easy.”

They came to a dead stop. Vikki flashed her lights but the car in front had nowhere to go. The road was blocked with double-parked cars. “It’ll take ages to sort this out, sir.”

Blake opened his door. “It’ll be quicker on foot. You keep trying to get to Nicola’s, Kinnear, you’re with me. We’ll meet you there, Vikki.”

“I’ll notify any uniformed officers that you’re heading that way, sir, in case you need back-up. Be careful.”

Blake and Kinnear began running down the street. Praying that Nicola Norton hadn’t already got away.

Chapter 42

Nicola Norton had not expected this kind of reaction to Paul Travis’ murder. She watched the swarms of people meandering into Port Sunlight village as though heading for a picnic or open-air concert. They were a funny mix, too; some were the kinds of people she would expect to come to a rally like this, shaven-headed, with big boots and strange tattoos. Some even carried flags with symbols Nicola didn’t recognise. Others looked like average punters, young and old. There were little kids, old ladies and even a few war veterans with blazers and medals on their chest.

The war memorial had been just another distraction to make the police think there was some kind of military link to his death. She didn’t imagine for one second that it would spark so much outrage. It threw a spanner right in the works; she had to move fast. Not only did she have a flight to catch but she was worried about her call with Terry White. Somebody else had been with him and, by the sound of it, may have turned him against her. She didn’t want to be here when Terry arrived with his new friend.

The chatter of the crowd and the sound of distant sirens filled the air as Nicola heaved the last of her suitcases into the back of the car. Somewhere from the centre of the village, a speech was being given over a PA system but she couldn’t hear what was being said and, frankly, she couldn’t care less. She just had to get her shoulder bag with the passport and tickets in and she would be away. She slammed the boot down and looked up. A large figure loomed over the crowds, striding up the street. So fixed on Nicola’s house was he that Terry White had accidentally knocked a couple of people over. A couple of skinheads yelled abuse after him but thought better of having a go.

Nicola’s heart thumped and she made a grab for the car door, then remembered her bag. She couldn’t escape without the tickets and passport. She sprinted up to her front door, slamming it shut behind her. Where had she put her bag? She scanned the living room, searching for it. “No, no, no, no,” she hissed as she ran around the house searching frantically. Tears of fear and frustration stung her eyes. “Where the fuck is it?”

As she stumbled down the stairs two at a time, she spotted the bag hanging in the hall. At the same moment All of Terry’s massive bulk crashed against the front door, shattering the glass in the small window and splintering the frame. Nicola shrieked and grabbed the bag, dashing for the back door.

With a final crash, Terry flew into the hall, leaving the door hanging on one hinge. He tripped, and fell to the floor, cutting himself on the broken glass that lay there. “Endgame, Terry!” Nicola shouted.

“I know who you really are and what you’re playing at, Graves,” Terry panted, dragging himself to his feet. His eyes were wild and a manic grin cracked his face. “I’m going to finish you.”

Nicola dragged the back door open and ran out, bag still clutched in her hand. Without looking back, she hurried through the small backyard and out into the alley behind. If she could lose White in the crowd, then double back to the car, escape would still be possible. She dashed into the main street and headed into the village, glancing back every now and then and ignoring the odd looks she got from some as she barged past them.

Terry emerged from the alley behind Nicola’s house, she could see his bloody face as he craned his neck, searching through the crowd for her. She slowed to a brisk walk, trying her best to look normal. But when she looked back, she caught his eye and he stared right at her as though the crowd wasn’t even there. He started running towards her. Nicola bolted too, knocking people aside and ignoring the yells of annoyance. She ducked and twisted, pushing herself between the crowd, totally oblivious to their protests as blind panic took over.

For a moment, she was uncertain quite where