The Lost
- Автор: Бекетт Саймон
- Серия: Jonah Colley #1
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Orion/Trapeze
- ISBN: 978-1-398-70690-3
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «The Lost». Краткое содержание книги:
Ten years ago, the disappearance of firearms police officer Jonah Colley’s young son almost destroyed him.
A GRUESOME DISCOVERY
A plea for help from an old friend leads Jonah to Slaughter Quay, and the discovery of four bodies. Brutally attacked and left for dead, he is the only survivor.
A SEARCH FOR THE TRUTH
Under suspicion himself, he uncovers a network of secrets and lies about the people he thought he knew — forcing him to question what really happened all those years ago...
In front of him, the heavy-set man from inside the church was speaking to Marie. Jonah couldn’t hear what was said, but then the man was moving away and it was his turn to pay his respects. Marie was wearing a black dress and heavy make-up that was losing its battle with the tears. From a distance she looked much the same as he remembered. A different hair style and perhaps a little heavier, but otherwise not much had changed. As Jonah stepped into range of her perfume, though, he saw the lines and puffiness that the make-up failed to disguise.
He took a deep breath. ‘Marie, I’m so sorry...’
He didn’t get any further. She stepped towards him, wrapping both arms around his neck so suddenly he tottered on his crutches.
‘Oh, Jonah...!’
He returned the hug as best he could. A cloying smell of perfume engulfed him, but it wasn’t strong enough to mask the stale alcohol on her breath. As she sobbed against him, he became aware of the stares he was receiving. He felt himself flush, imagining the whispers. That’s him. The one who found Gavin. Standing beside Marie was her teenage son. The boy held himself stiffly, clenched against whatever emotion he was trying to keep in check. The physical resemblance to his father was striking, although there was a sullen, resentful look that Gavin never had.
Marie straightened, stepping back without letting go as she took in Jonah’s crutches. ‘Oh, God! Look at the state of you...’
‘It’s not that bad.’
She wasn’t listening. ‘I still can’t believe he’s gone...’
She bowed her head as one of her sisters — an older, fleshier woman cast from the same mould — rubbed her shoulders. Jonah felt acutely self-conscious, but she was still holding on to him, preventing him from moving away.
She sniffed, ‘Dylan, do you remember Jonah? He’s a friend of your dad’s.’
The teenager raised his eyes long enough to glower at Jonah. ‘So what?’
‘Dylan!’ Marie’s face tightened. ‘What did I tell you? That’s no way to—’
‘I’m going to the car.’
Turning on his heel, the boy walked away. Marie glared after him before composing her face back into its tragic smile.
‘I’m sorry, Jonah. It’s been a difficult time for him...’
‘I know, it’s OK.’
‘You are coming to the reception, aren’t you? There’s a buffet and drinks, so... oh, Jesus...’
Her sister put her arm around her. ‘Shh, don’t, Marie. Of course he’s coming.’
She gave Jonah a look that dared him to refuse. He mustered a smile.
‘I’ll see you there.’
His crutches scraped on the stone flags as he limped away. Poor Marie, he thought, and poor Dylan. The memorial service had been a timely reminder that he wasn’t the only one wanting answers. Bad enough for Gavin’s wife and son to have to deal with the raw grief of Gavin’s death without the pain and confusion of not having a body to mourn. Jonah knew all too well how that felt.
What burned in him now was the possibility that the same man could be responsible.
The news about Owen Stokes had thrown him into a turmoil, but he was beginning to think more clearly again now. Enough to wonder what Fletcher had meant earlier, when he’d made the disparaging crack about Gavin’s track record, and said his judgement wasn’t ‘sound’. The DI had been flustered and irate, but Jonah thought he might have let slip more than he’d intended. By the sound of it there had been more going on with Gavin than Jonah was aware of.
He needed to find out what.
Following the path until he was a discreet distance from the huddle of mourners, he stopped underneath a large stained-glass window. It was protected by a scuffed plastic screen, and without the sun to give them life the colours were muted. Pasty-faced saints and angels stared out blankly onto a world they wouldn’t recognise. Jonah knew the feeling.
Opening the taxi app on his phone — it had eventually been returned without comment by Fletcher — he ordered a cab. The estimated arrival time was twenty minutes. He was still on his phone when someone spoke from behind him.
‘Jonah?’
The voice was female and familiar, though he couldn’t immediately place it. Not until he turned around and recognised the reporter from his hospital room. She was wearing black for the occasion, although the short black dress under the open jacket would have been more suited to a dinner party.
‘Hi, Corinne Daly. We spoke at—’
‘I know who you are,’ he told her, turning away.
She fell into step alongside him as he headed for a side gate. ‘I appreciate how hard this must be, but I’d just like a few words.’
‘I’ve got nothing say.’
‘Look, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot at the hospital—’
‘Wrong foot?’ Jonah stopped, partly from anger but also because there were steps down from the church path to the pavement. He wasn’t going to attempt them with the journalist there. ‘You sneaked into my room and pretended to be a therapist.’
‘I walked into an untended room, I didn’t sneak,’ she said, the smile vanishing. ‘And I didn’t pretend to be anything. It’s not my fault you jumped to the wrong conclusion.’
‘And what about the garbage you wrote? I saw your piece this morning. I didn’t say any of that.’
‘That wasn’t garbage,’ she snapped. ‘It was factually accurate and reflected the tone of our conversation. And it was actually very sympathetic. More sympathetic than I could have been.’
‘Meaning what?’
She smiled, friendly again. ‘Believe it or not, I’m not an enemy. I can understand why you don’t trust me, but I’m not some ogre. I know what it’s like to lose friends. And I’m a parent myself. My daughter Maddie’s six. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her.’
‘I’m sure she’d be proud of you.’
The barb had been thrown casually but he saw it had stung. ‘She is, actually,’ she said, colouring. ‘She knows her mother tries to expose bad people and liars.’
And sneaks into hospital rooms pretending to be a therapist. Jonah checked his phone, wishing the taxi would hurry up. The app told him it was delayed. Shit.
‘Then what are you doing here?’ He looked towards the road, as though that might make his cab materialise sooner.
‘I came to pay my respects. And I hoped I could have another word with you.’
‘I’ve already told you, I’ve nothing to say.’
‘You don’t know what I want to talk about yet.’ She gestured towards the church. ‘I’m sorry about Gavin McKinney, but he isn’t the only victim, is he? What about the other three? No one’s holding memorial services for any of them.’
‘They haven’t been identified yet.’
He was annoyed with himself straight away for responding. Daly cocked her head at him.
‘No? Supposing I told you I’d heard one of them has been? And that they weren’t an illegal migrant.’
He knew he shouldn’t take the bait, but he couldn’t help himself. ‘Was it the girl?’
Daly’s smile was engaging. ‘Why don’t we meet up somewhere we can discuss it properly? A pub or coffee bar, I don’t mind. Or we could talk over dinner, if you like.’
Is she serious? ‘Look—’
‘What’s going on?’
Jonah hadn’t heard Bennet approaching. From her startled expression neither had Daly. She took in the leather jacket and jeans. Her smile was politely disdainful as the policewoman came to stand by them.
‘We’re having a private conversation. And you are...?’