Takedown Heather Atkinson (rosie project txt) 📖

it’s hard to break the habit. After the whole Marlow thing it’s even harder.”

“Even though I helped you out with that?”

“Yes. Police have become the enemy even more since then. I don’t want to think that about you but I can’t help it.”

“Oh nice,” he huffed. “So I’m the enemy now.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did. I’m wasting my time here.”

“No, don’t,” she said, putting her hand on his arm when he moved to walk away. “I know you’re nothing like Marlow and his corrupt cops but it’s taking me some time to deal with what happened.”

His expression softened. “I thought so and I can certainly understand that but I am not your enemy.”

“I know that,” she said with a gentle smile. “All right Matthew, I did hear something else that might help you - Dillon did some work with Mickey Gunning.”

“The armed robber and burglar?”

She nodded. “I was going to see what I could find out about it before telling you but I want to prove to you that we’re friends.”

“I appreciate the tip and that is a good lead. I suspect Gunning’s murdered before but I’ve never been able to prove it.”

“If you do speak to him be careful, won’t you? He’s known to carry Stanley knives.”

“Don’t tell me you care?” he said playfully.

“Actually, I do. I don’t want you to get hurt,” she said, patting his arm.

His smile was tender. “I appreciate that Faith and I don’t want you to get hurt either, which is why we must cooperate with each other more.”

She released his arm when she realised she’d been holding onto him for a little too long and nodded. “I’ll try to be more open in the future. It’s just hard going against what I’ve had hammered into me since I was a small child.”

“How did you manage when Vance was a police officer?”

“That was different, I think because we grew up together. It didn’t affect our relationship.”

“So, if you can trust him you can trust me. I think I’ve proved where my loyalties lie.”

“Yes, you have.”

They smiled at each other.

“Right,” he said after a beat of silence. “I’d better get back to work.”

“You won’t speak to Gunning alone, will you?”

“No, I’m not thick. I’ll take a team with me.”

“Make sure you wear a stab vest.”

“I will. Believe it or not Faith, I do know what I’m doing,” he said with a wry smile.

“Sorry, I know but Gunning’s such a psycho.”

“It’s not the first time I’ll have dealt with a psycho and it certainly won’t be the last.”

“Will you let me know what you find out from Gunning?”

“That all depends on what I find out,” he said rather enigmatically. “See you around Faith.”

“Bye Matthew.”

She had to smile when he turned around and almost walked straight into a waxwork of Ken Barlow.

“Sorry,” he said before he realised it was a mannequin.

He left, head down, blushing, Faith watching him go with a grin.

Matthew strode up to the front door of the small red brick terraced house not far from the prom and banged on it. The sound of groaning drum and bass music rumbled inside, so he hammered louder.

“Police, open up,” he yelled.

The music continued to drone on and no one came to answer the door. He looked over his shoulder at the two officers he’d brought with him and nodded.

They both stepped forward and kicked the door in and the three of them poured inside, Matthew leading the way.

“Mr Gunning are you here?” he called. “We’re police officers.”

He entered cautiously, pausing to peer around the door jamb into the living room, the floor of which was bare. The only furniture was a stained beige two-seater couch, a huge flat screen television hanging from the wall, a set of shelves stuffed with DVD’s and the stereo still blaring its noise from the floor in the corner of the room.

As he stepped into the room there was a grunt to his right and he leapt backwards, avoiding being stabbed in the chest with a Stanley knife. Matthew grabbed his attacker’s wrist and wrenched it, so the blade was pointing away from him. Keeping hold of his attacker’s arm he dragged him to the floor, his men pinning him there and tearing the Stanley knife from his grip.

“Assaulting a police officer Mickey,” said Matthew as his struggling prisoner was cuffed. “Not a good start. We only wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“I didn’t do it,” he yelled.

“Do what?”

“Kill Dillon. I know that’s why you’re here.”

“Looks like he was going to do a flit Sir,” said one of Matthew’s officers, indicating the packed suitcase behind the front door.

“Interesting,” said Matthew. He looked back at Mickey. “Off on holiday, were you?”

“I’m not saying a word until I’ve spoken to my solicitor.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” he sighed.

CHAPTER 4

 

The panicked frenzy that had been in Mickey’s eyes back at his house had been replaced with an almost intolerable smugness once his solicitor had arrived, who was so slimy Matthew was amazed he didn’t leave a trail on the floor behind him.

“Detective Inspector Young,” said the solicitor in an incredibly supercilious tone. “I fail to understand why you went to such brutal lengths to arrest my client when you simply wanted to have a few words with him.”

“If you’ve forgotten,” he retorted. “Your client attempted to stab me with a Stanley knife. If it wasn’t for my training, I’d now be in hospital with an open chest wound.”

“Were you wearing a stab vest?”

“Yes.”

“Then I doubt you would have been seriously injured.”

“So you’re saying it’s all right for people to go around stabbing police officers as long as they’re wearing Kevlar?”

“No but you were