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

bar for originality so high as well. Come on, Hayes, let’s take these two geniuses back to base.” She bent over and helped Bound Guy up. With cuffs around his ankles, he walked slowly, which gave her partner time to get her assailant to his feet. “Easily the dumbest suspects we’ve ever seen.”

“I sure can’t think of any dumber,” Hayes agreed behind her.

“Why do you keep calling us dumb anyway?” Ankle Cuffs asked.

Miller pushed him towards the upcoming road, keeping his gun trained on him. “It’s like this: if you’re trying to off people, making it look like they’ve disappeared, don’t leave their mobile phone, wallets and bags lying around the house.”

“And remember to lock the door,” Hayes added.

Miller stepped sideways when Ankle Cuffs turned around. “I told you to lock that fucking door, you idiot!” He tried to hurl himself at his partner in crime.

Whipping out her cosh, Miller swung the metal bar at his shins, putting him on the earth. “Don’t try any tricks. There’s nothing you’ve got we haven’t seen before.”

Hayes’ captive stared down at his partner. “I did lock that fucking door.”

“No, you didn’t.” Miller bent down and helped Ankle Cuffs to his feet again. “Oh, and another thing: don’t stick your gun in the backs of victims’ heads either. It leaves a mark, one that pathologists can identify as gun muzzles.”

Hayes’ assailant regarded her, then his partner. “Hang on. I didn’t put my gun to the back of anyone’s head.”

“No, but your partner did. When you murdered Henry Curtis, you left an imprint of your muzzle. Our pathologist noticed the circular mark in his hair. I mean, considering he was supposed to be committing suicide, that was a big clue for us. That and the wobbly handwritten suicide note.”

“And don’t forget the cuts,” Hayes chirped.

Miller reached their car, opened the rear door, and helped Ankle Cuffs inside. Once he was secured, she went round and helped Hayes seat her assailant. “Seat belts, boys. The next stop’s a cell for you two.”

Taking the keys from her partner, Miller started the engine, reversed out of the woods their attackers forced them into, and accelerated onto the country road. The hitmen in the rear seats were secure behind a metal grid partition. In the mirror, all she could see were two dark blobs, with mesh in front of them. “That was a sloppy job.”

“You were saying, about the cuts?” Ankle Cuffs asked.

“They were too deep, too clean,” Hayes stated, turning in her seat. “The pathologist knew almost immediately Henry Curtis didn’t kill himself, like you wanted us to believe. She said slicers never cut that deep. You cut him to the bone.”

Breaking her concentration, Miller swerved when Ankle Cuffs launched himself at his partner in the back of their car. He kept saying how he told him not to cut so deep. Ankle Cuffs’ partner retaliated, saying at least he didn’t stick his gun in the back of Curtis’ head. She smiled at their argument, enjoying it. The more they argued, the easier it would be to get a confession out of one of them, officially, not in the back of their car.

“Will you two please shut up!” Hayes turned to face the windscreen. “I’ve only known you five minutes, and already you’re grating on my last nerve. Stop talking!”

To Miller’s surprise, they followed orders. Ankle Cuffs went back to his place.

“You don’t know why we’re here, do you?” he asked finally. “All this superiority you think you have over us, and yet you don’t know why we’re here. Calling us idiots, yet we know what you’re after.”

“We know enough,” Miller retorted, focusing on the road ahead.

“If you knew what it was, you wouldn’t be bothering with us. You’d be going after the real villains.” He leaned in closer to the security grate.

“We’re investigating the murders of two radio presenters and their producer,” she said into the rear-view mirror. “We have you both in cuffs. Tomorrow morning ballistics will test your guns, and when they prove to be the weapons used to shoot Colin Fisher, Brandy Reid and Kurt Austin, you’ll be going to prison for a very long time.”

“Yeah, and who paid us to kill them? But more importantly, why? I can’t wait for you to find out why we’re doing this, because then you’ll have to alter your perception, believe me. This is so fucking huge, no one will believe it.”

“I wish you’d shut up.” Miller glared at him in the mirror. “In fact, get back! I’d advise you to shut up now, before you incriminate yourself any further. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss all of this tomorrow. Right now, we have our suspects in custody. That’s enough for one night.”

It was getting late. All Miller wanted to do was get to the station, process these two morons, go home, and wait for Luke, who was due to stay over again. A good night’s sleep would do wonders. Tired, she pulled into the police station car park.

Day 8

Tuesday, June 19th

57

Walker opened Miller’s front door quietly. As he closed it, he thought maybe he should have gone straight home. He couldn’t get the images of the Inans being shot out of his mind, or the look of shock in Melodi Demirci’s dead eyes. He wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.

Having dug a hole deep enough and wide enough to bury their three victims, Zuccari and Sarge filled it in, forever covering their murderous secret. The Sarge told everyone to relax, that it wouldn’t come back on them, it couldn’t. At least he had some help digging from the farmer, while the rest of the squad chatted amongst themselves.

The scariest thing about the whole experience was Vodicka’s change of personality. In one night she went from being a jovial, fun member of the team to his least favourite. He didn’t need to be psychic to know she wanted him to join the Inans and Demirci. Her evil eyes haunted him more than anything else.

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