The Hard Way Duncan Brockwell (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📖

Miller was thrown to the floor, his big frame on top of her for the second time. “No you don’t,” she hissed, grabbing his wrist, the tip of the blade pointing down at her.

While she was desperate to try to prevent him stabbing her in the face, the knife edging closer, Miller heard movement around her.

Miller felt relief at Hayes’ presence.

“Get your hands off her!”

With the blade centimetres from her face, she lay on the grass trying to keep the knife from sinking into her flesh, a crazed look in Helsey’s eyes, when Hayes hit him on the back of the head with her cosh.

He flew off Miller, taking the knife with him, and she stared up at her breathless partner. Miller tried to catch her own breath. “Thank… you!”

“Not bad for an old girl, hey! That’s two you owe me.” Hayes rolled Helsey on his front, grabbing both arms and cuffing him. Helsey groaned, barely conscious.

“Miller, are you all right?” Walker asked, his carbine trained on Helsey.

Walker and two of his team helped her to her feet. If Hayes hadn’t arrived when she had, she might be dead, or seriously injured.

Miller enjoyed the attention from Walker, who held her chin and checked her swollen cheek. “It’s nothing; he sucker punched me.” It was bravado, but she wanted him to think she was tough, or rather the toughest. “I’m fine; stop fussing.”

When Walker was handed a first aid kit, Miller had no choice but to accept the fuss, as he fixed her up. Miller didn’t realise she was bleeding from a cut on her forehead. There was no denying she felt like she had been in the ring.

Day 1

Tuesday, June 12th

4

Hayes stooped down and kissed Molly, the tabby cat, before heading out of her front door. After the previous night’s excitement she felt her age. Fifty-four. When did that happen?

The journey from her house to work took roughly forty-five minutes in rush-hour traffic. Hayes listened to the radio on her way there, tapping on the steering wheel as she went, hoping she would manage to get the paperwork finished today.

After driving Helsey to their station on Cobalt Square, she and Miller spent the best part of two hours grilling him on his involvement in the murder of the woman left by the side of the motorway. As expected, he feigned ignorance, not that it mattered; they had enough trace evidence supporting their suspicions to take to the Crown Prosecution Service. A confession would be the cherry on top of the delicious cake.

She arrived in the open-plan office to find Miller busy on her computer. “Oh! I thought you’d be in later? You can’t have had much sleep.” She took off her suit jacket and placed it on the back of her chair.

“I’m fine. I was jazzed all night, so I didn’t bother trying to catch any zees.” Miller stood and handed her some paperwork over the partition. “Here’s my version of events for you to sign off.”

“Thanks.” Hayes took the report and placed it on her desk. “Do we know how our guest is doing? Did he have a wonderful night in the cell?”

“I don’t know, shall we go check?” Her partner smirked.

“I was thinking that. Let’s go have a little chat with Mr Helsey.”

After keeping him waiting for forty-five minutes on purpose, Hayes let Miller into interview room two first. Eric Helsey sat cuffed behind the battered, graffiti-covered table, his face the picture of annoyance. “Here he is.”

“So I see.” Miller perched on a chair opposite, eyeballing him.

Hayes took the chair next to her partner, a smile forming. “You know we’ve got you, don’t you? We have enough trace to put you away for murder, plus eyewitness testimony placing you at the motorway at the time. That and CCTV footage of your car on the road is enough to place you there.”

“Killing your biggest rival’s girlfriend, I mean it sends a message all right, but it wasn’t the brightest thing to do, was it, Eric? What were you thinking? Did you think we’d ditch the investigation after a few days? Or did you think you would intimidate us?”

“Yeah, it was stupid.” Hayes looked at her partner. “It wasn’t as stupid as trying to murder a police officer, though, was it?”

“He couldn’t even do that properly.” Miller gripped the table, staring into Helsey’s eyes. “You see, I’m still here. It’s going to take more than you to get rid of me, you piece of–”

Joining her partner, Hayes jovially put herself between them. She laughed, pulled Miller back and made her sit.

“What the fuck do you two jokers want?” Helsey leaned forward, his hands cuffed behind his back. “Am I under arrest, or what? And where’s my fucking lawyer? You can’t question me without him, you bent pieces of shit.”

“He’s on his way.” Hayes loved the bravado. “And who’s questioning you? We haven’t asked you anything yet, have we? Ah, well, my partner here might have asked a rhetorical question, I guess, but it doesn’t count unless the audio recorder’s on.”

“But you’d better believe we’ll be charging you, with everything we can think of. Now let’s see, that’s murder, attempted murder – on me – assault, GBH, ABH, and resisting arrest, for starters.” Miller grinned at Helsey. “Yeah, where’s your lawyer? I want to get started.”

A knock on the door made Hayes walk over and open it. Greeted by Helsey’s sleazy barrister, Garrett Barlow, she didn’t like to even look at him. Unfortunately, he represented a few undesirables in her district, so she had to converse with him more often than she would like. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Hayes spent a couple of hours interviewing Helsey, in the presence of his sleazy lawyer, who it turned out was great at his job. She played a game of “tug of war” with Barlow, until their suspect stipulated that he wanted to make a deal. “What kind of deal do you think you