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...
The broad forehead creased as Wilkes struggled to articulate his thoughts.
‘He seemed... I don’t know. Sort of hollow. Like he was pretending to be who everyone expected, but he didn’t give a fuck anymore. That’s when he started hitting the booze. I mean, he’d always liked a good time, that was just Gav. But not like this.’
‘Was that when he started taking bribes?’ Jonah asked.
Wilkes stopped mid-drink. ‘What sort of a fucking question’s that? I told you, Gav got things done, even if it meant bending a few rules.’
‘Like sending Eliana Salim back to be killed?’
‘I thought you were his fucking mate?’ Wilkes’s face was flushed and angry. ‘Is this about putting the boot in because he fucked your missus?’
Jonah stopped himself from responding. Take a breath.
‘There has to be a reason for what happened in that warehouse. Why he was there, why he called me. I just want to find out what it was. I think...’ He hesitated, unsure how much to say. ‘I think it could involve something that happened years ago. I — my son disappeared. The inquest said he’d drowned, but I think Gavin might have found out something. Something to make him think they’d got it wrong.’
He couldn’t tell Wilkes too much, certainly not about Owen Stokes, not when his identity hadn’t been made public. But the ex-detective was the only person who could tell him about Gavin. Jonah wanted to keep him onside if he could.
‘Yeah, I’d heard about your son. Sorry about that,’ Wilkes said, gruffly. ‘But I don’t see what that’s got to do with any of this.’
‘It might not. I just need to know for sure.’
The big man’s colour was returning to normal, but he still looked far from happy.
‘Yeah, well, I don’t see how I can help you. But if you want to know if I was surprised when he got suspended, no, I wasn’t. What happened to Gav was a crying fucking shame, but if you ask me, a big part of him died before then, when he saw what was in that flat. And that’s all you’re getting. End of fucking story.’
He tilted his head back and drained the can. Crumpling it in his fist, he dropped it on the floor next to the others and stood up.
‘You can see yourself out.’
Chapter 24
Jonah was hardly aware of the journey back to his flat. He drove without conscious thought, body and brain functioning automatically while his mind sifted through what he’d heard. Part of the picture, at least, was becoming clearer. What had happened with Eliana Salim must have affected Gavin deeply. It had been his decision, his actions, that had led to the young woman’s death, and the knowledge must have eaten away at him. And Jonah knew how poisonous the combination of loss and guilt could be. In the early days after Theo disappeared, it had been Gavin who’d counterbalanced those darker impulses in him, pulling him back from the brink. And later, after their fight, Miles had done the same. There had been no one to pull Gavin back, though.
And it had claimed him in the end.
Parking on the street near his flat, Jonah wondered if Fletcher was aware of the disastrous operation. Possibly not. Although it would be a matter of record, it had been years ago. It might not be thought relevant unless the enquiry team knew about Gavin’s emotional involvement with Eliana Salim. And who would have told them about that? According to Wilkes, not many people realised even at the time.
But Jonah didn’t think the impact of Salim’s murder on Gavin could be underestimated. If nothing else it provided a context for his later actions. Her death had been a turning point, setting him on a self-destructive path that ultimately ended at the warehouse. It was even possible there was a link between the organised crime gang who’d murdered Salim and the warehouse killings as well. That might be stretching things too far, since Fletcher had said Owen Stokes had no known OCG associations.
Even so, there was no knowing what had been going through Gavin’s mind at the time. Maybe he’d found out about the victims inside the warehouse and it had brought back what had happened to Eliana Salim. Maybe the memory of how he’d failed her had goaded him to act on his own, to go rushing in regardless of consequences.
Walking back to the flats, for the first time Jonah felt he was finally beginning to get a sense of what had gone on that night. Not all of it, not by a long shot. He was still no closer to fathoming Owen Stokes’s involvement, or his relationship with Gavin. Still, it felt good to have found out something. It might even be enough to convince Fletcher he actually was telling the truth.
Don’t get carried away. You shouldn’t expect miracles. But as he reached the flats he felt more positive than he had in weeks, and his good mood lasted the rest of the evening.
Until Stan phoned to say his garage had been broken into.
The row of garages was deserted when Jonah got there just after midnight, a low, featureless block in the darkness. There was no sign of Stan. The BMW’s cabin light wasn’t on, preventing Jonah from seeing if anyone was inside. Switching on the Maglite he’d taken with him, he went over and peered through the driver’s window.
‘You took your time.’
Jonah spun around, almost overbalancing as a figure emerged from the shadows behind him. Stan raised an arm, squinting against the dazzling beam.
‘Get that bloody light out of my eyes!’
Jonah lowered the torch. ‘Jesus, Stan...’
‘Can’t see a fucking thing,’ the old man grumbled, blinking. He held a heavy wrench in one hand.
‘I thought you were waiting in the car.’
‘You thought wrong.’ He set off past Jonah towards the darkened row of garages. ‘Come on, bring that searchlight over here.’
Jonah shone the torch around them as he followed Stan, driving back the shadows to reveal run-down brickwork and shuttered doors. He pointed to the bottom of the garage door.
‘I saw it when I was putting my own car away. Look what the bastards did!’
The padlock lay in pieces on the ground, its U-shaped locking bar smashed out with enough force to leave broken metal scattered all around. It looked like someone had taken a lump hammer to it, and the door was little better. Where it had been secured by the padlock, the sheet metal was buckled from repeated blows.
So much for this being a random break-in, Jonah thought. He turned to shine the torch behind them again, making sure no one was there. Some of the locks on the neighbouring garages were little more than window dressing, easily snapped off. Yet instead of going for one of them, someone had been to a lot of trouble to get into his. Remembering the bottle smashing at his feet the night before, and his feeling that the teenage thugs were building up to something, Jonah thought he could guess who. Either they’d seen him going to his garage or somehow they’d found out it was his.
Bastards.
‘You going to call your mates?’ Stan asked.
He meant the police. But the only thing of any real value Jonah kept in the garage was the Saab, and, fortunately, he’d parked that on the road. The damage was too minor to be an insurance claim, and there was no point wasting police time for a dented door and broken padlock.
‘Let’s take a look first,’ he said. ‘Give me a bit of room.’
He didn’t expect anyone would still be inside, but if his work had taught him one thing, it was not to take anything for granted. As the old man moved away, Jonah went to one side of the door and leaned both crutches against the brick column separating it from the next garage. Bracing himself on his good leg, he took hold of the door’s bottom edge and tried to lift it. The door resisted, warped from the hammering it had taken. Then, with a screech of twisted metal, it slid up.