Neil White
Cold Kill
Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
AVON
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
COLD KILL. Copyright © Neil White 2011. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks
Neil White asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication
Source ISBN: 9781847561299
Ebook Edition © MAY 2011 ISBN: 9780007435906
Version 2018-07-19
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
The evening was bright and warm, the sun dipping behind
Chapter Two
It was a few days later when Jack Garrett got
Chapter Three
It was just after nine-thirty as Laura McGanity looked around
Chapter Four
Jack put his camera away as he watched the activity
Chapter Five
Laura leaned against her car and peeled off her forensic
Chapter Six
Jack was smiling by the time he reached the court,
Chapter Seven
Laura chewed her lip as Carson approached the home of
Chapter Eight
Laura tapped her pen against her hand as she sat
Chapter Nine
Laura was in Carsons slipstream as he rushed into the
Chapter Ten
Jack strode into the offices of the Blackley Telegraph, a
Chapter Eleven
Jack had to park some distance from the police station
Chapter Twelve
Carson waited until they were clear of the journalists before
Chapter Thirteen
Jack was sitting in his car, writing the story on
Chapter Fourteen
Jack checked the clock. Just gone nine. Bobby was playing
Chapter Fifteen
He rewound the footage again, as he had done for
Chapter Sixteen
Jacks movements felt sluggish as he read the words on
Chapter Seventeen
Light streamed through the open curtain, making Jack groan. He
Chapter Eighteen
Jack threw his car keys onto the table. Bobby was
Chapter Nineteen
Carson was first into the mortuary, pushing the door open
Chapter Twenty
Jack went to the Blackley Telegraph office first. Dolby was
Chapter Twenty-One
Laura checked her notes, just to make sure that she
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jack was outside the court when he managed to speak
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jack had texted Laura to let her know that hed
Chapter Twenty-Four
Laura sat at the back of the Incident Room as
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Incident Room was still busy from the lecture Carson
Chapter Twenty-Six
Laura glanced out of the car window and felt a
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jack was at the table, hunched over his laptop, writing
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Laura was looking down as she started the jog up
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nothing was clear anymore. He drove quickly in the van,
Chapter Thirty
Jack had finished the article for Dolby and was drinking
Chapter Thirty-One
Jack looked out of the window. He was standing a
Chapter Thirty-Two
The morning arrived as a stream of sunlight through the
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jack had been distracted by the emails, because the first
Chapter Thirty-Four
Rupert glanced towards the building that had been his practice
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jack trotted across the road to the court building. He
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rupert checked his watch, nearly eleven-thirty, and looked up at
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Some kids looked at Jacks car as he drove onto
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The noise in his head was like a drum-roll as
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Laura checked her watch as Joe drove along the Cleveleys
Chapter Forty
As Jack arrived home, he saw that there was someone
Chapter Forty-One
Adam Carter glanced around the house when he went inside,
Chapter Forty-Two
Joe was on the phone to Carson, updating him, when
Chapter Forty-Three
As the sound of Adams car disappeared into the hills,
Chapter Forty-Four
The streets of Whitcroft seemed quiet as Jack drove onto
Chapter Forty-Five
Jack continued to drive around the estate, looking for something
Chapter Forty-Six
Jack drove around the estate, feeling better about his article.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Jack held up the wine bottle to the light. Probably
Chapter Forty-Eight
The morning had been a long time coming.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Jack woke up filled with determination, the emails fresh in
Chapter Fifty
Laura leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes.
Chapter Fifty-One
Jack paced up and down outside the entrance to the
Chapter Fifty-Two
Jack was still outside the police station, sitting in his
Chapter Fifty-Three
Emmas gate didnt offer much security, Jack thought. Old wood,
Chapter Fifty-Four
As Laura and Joe approached David Hoyles home, Laura shook
Chapter Fifty-Five
Jack was spotted as soon as he approached Mike Corleys
Chapter Fifty-Six
When they arrived at the police station, Laura didnt head
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Jack ran into the Blackley Telegraph office, setting off the
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Laura dropped Ida and her daughter at the rest home
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Laura lifted her head off the floor and tried to
Chapter Sixty
Jack was outside the bar that had once been called
Chapter Sixty-One
Jack went for a drive.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Emma was sitting on her doorstep when Jack got there,
Chapter Sixty-Three
Carson drove quickly away from the station.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Don Roberts has got him, Jack said, as he drove
Chapter Sixty-Five
It was dark, almost pitch black, as Jack approached the
Chapter Sixty-Six
Carson banged on Dons door.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Strong hands gripped Jacks shoulders and pushed him against the
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Carson waited outside Dons house, looking down the road. Laura
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Carson had called up more marked cars and they were
Chapter Seventy
Jack waited for the swing, for the drop, his nails
Chapter Seventy-One
Laura ran for the front door. Carson and a uniformed
Chapter Seventy-Two
The next few days seemed to pass in a blur
Read on for In Conversation with Neil White
Dead Silent
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by the Same Author
About the Publisher
Chapter One
The evening was bright and warm, the sun dipping behind the trees that lined the small copse between the houses, so that the light was filtered, the strips of brightness catching the loop and dance of midges that flitted between the leaves.
He looked at his watch. Nearly time. He knew her routine. Saturday night. A walk to the bus stop on the main road and then into town. She always passed the copse on her route, her head down, rushing to start her evening.
He paced, just out of view, his breaths fast, his chest tight with excitement. Thoughts of her came to him like whispers, so quiet that he could hardly hear them, but with each night they got stronger, so that the whispers became louder, like white noise, a rush, pressing him on.
He fought the urges sometimes, when his drive was low, but those moments were rare, and it was the images of her that drove him. Her hair, blonde and over her shoulders, gleaming against her pale skin. Her small upturned nose. Teeth bright and straight. He smiled to himself when he thought of her skin. Soft skin. Taut. Now that it was time, the noises pulled back, as if they were watching from the wings, breaths held in anticipation.
He knew this one would be different. It would be the strongest buzz of all. No buried body. No burnt out car. No trips to the lake, bound up in chains. This was going to be the best, because he knew it had always been leading to this.
He could almost hear her. The flick of her hair in the breeze, the rustle of her clothes as she walked. Then he realised that the tap-taps he could hear were not the fast drums of his heartbeat or the hum of his pulse. They were the click of her heels, fast steps that seemed to echo along the quiet suburban street. His breaths became deeper through his nose, his chest rising and falling, and he felt himself grow hard. He checked his gloves. No rips. No tears. Nowhere for any trace evidence to escape. He thought about his movements one last time. He had thought of little else all week.
It was time.
He started walking as the clicks got louder, so that he would be on the same side of the street as her when she appeared. As she came into view, she gave him a nervous look, but then she noticed the polo shirt, the police crest on his breast, and the black-and-white ribbon around his cap, a black soft-top.
He smiled, a quick flash of his teeth, and stepped on to the road, so that she stayed on the pavement, the copse to her side. Evening, he said, as she got closer. His words almost caught in his throat as her perfume drifted towards him. The scent of flowers, light on the breeze. He had to stop himself from reaching out to run a finger along her neck. Dont go too soon.
She flickered a smile at him but then looked down again. He followed her gaze. Short black skirt. Legs shaved smooth, tapered into silver heels. He had to swallow, his heartbeat fast, his mouth dry.
His hands were on his belt, fingering for the release of his cuffs. He had practised the move until it was perfect. Speed was key. He had to cut down on the noise.
She was alongside him now. He looked quickly along the street. There was no one around. There were houses, but why would anyone be looking out? If he was quick, they wouldnt suspect anything.
He ran at her, his shoulder ramming into hers, knocking her off balance. His hand clamped around her mouth and he kept his legs moving, pushing her along the path that ran between the trees, her feet pedalling in the air. He pulled his cuffs free and clicked one loop onto her left wrist, loving the click as it went tight around the bone. She was starting to fight now, her head thrashing against his glove. He couldnt release his hand, she would scream, and so all he could do was keep his legs pumping, lifting her along, waiting until the path disappeared into the shadows, where the trees grew thicker.
One of her shoes came off. He would have to get it afterwards.
He was in the trees now. There was a small stream that ran at the bottom of a slope, and he knew that he was well hidden down here. He was close to the path, but he would be quick, he knew that.
The thump of his boots on the path changed into the soft sweep of his feet as he made his way further through the undergrowth. When he got far enough away from the path, he threw her onto the floor, his gloved hand still over her mouth.
She started to fight, flailing with the cuff, the loose metal nearly catching him in the face. He pushed her face down and gripped the cuff, yanking both her arms behind her back. A quick throw of the metal and he heard the clicks again as it locked.
He pushed her onto her back, her arms cuffed beneath her, and his free hand began to scrabble around for dirt and leaves. She had her teeth clenched, but he pulled down on her jaw and pushed some in, before reaching down for more, jamming it in as far as it would go, her eyes getting wider, her chest bucking as she coughed and choked.
His hand did the same between her legs, pushing in dirt, stones, pieces of shrubbery.
Then he started to pull at his belt, his other hand still over her mouth. He groaned as he gripped himself.
He moved his other hand from her mouth to her neck and began to press. As tears rolled down her cheeks, as her legs kicked, as he pressed down harder, his moans became louder.
Chapter Two
It was a few days later when Jack Garrett got the call.
He was on the Whitcroft estate, for an assignment for the local papers newest editor, Dolby Wilkins, who had been brought in to cut costs and increase circulation. Dolby was all shiny good looks and old money confidence, always in jeans and a casual linen jacket, and his mantra was that two types of stories sold newspapers: sex and prejudice. The local paper left the sex to the red top nationals, so all Dolby had left was prejudice. So he went for the social divide, the quick fix, shock stories over good copy. Immigrants breaking laws, or people on benefits making a decent life for themselves. The first thing he did was to have his business cards printed. That told Jack all he needed to know.
Jack had been staring through his windscreen, uncomfortable with the assignment. He knew that repackaging poverty as idleness got the tills ticking, but Dolby was new to Blackley and he didnt understand the place. He hadnt seen how a tough old cotton town had been stripped of its industry, with nothing to replace it, just traces of its past lying around the town, dismembered, like body parts; huge brick mill buildings, some converted into retail units that held craft fairs on summer weekends, while others had been left to crumble, stripped of their lead, the wire and cables ripped out of the walls, cashed in for cigarette money, the light spilling in through partial roof collapses. The stories were more about no prospects in hard times, but sympathy for the unlucky didnt sell as many papers.