In Plain Sight: a hero series novel Read online

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  IN PLAIN SIGHT

  M. A. COMLEY

  Copyright © 2017 M.A. Comley

  The right of M.A. Comley to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2017 by Bloodhound Books

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

  PROLOGUE

  “We’re in pursuit of a dark blue Renault Laguna, heading west on the B5229. Looks like he’s trying to get to the M602. We need urgent assistance,” Constable Paul Wilmot shouted into his police radio above the roar of the patrol car’s engine. He glanced sideways at his partner, Chris Portman. “Stick with him, mate. I’m getting the impression he’s bloody guilty of something.”

  “Think you’re right there. Let’s hope one of our guys can cut him off before we reach the M602.”

  The chase went on for several miles. The Laguna almost hit a woman and her child as they crossed at a pedestrian crossing, as well as nearly knocking an elderly gentleman off his bike.

  “Wait… he’s slowing down. Maybe he’s realised we ain’t about to give up.” Portman went through the gears, slowing down at the same time as the Laguna, until both vehicles came to a halt in a nearby lay-by.

  “Damned considerate of him to pull up like this.” Wilmot smiled as he pulled the handle on his car door and got out.

  Portman applied the handbrake and switched off the engine but cursed when the car’s tyres squealed and the driver of the Laguna sped off. Wilmot ran back to the patrol car and threw himself into the passenger seat as his partner put his foot down and took up the pursuit once more. Again, the driver exceeded the speed limit and he tore the wing mirrors off several parked vehicles.

  “He’s a bloody madman. Where the fuck are the backup teams?” Wilmot cried in frustration. His partner replied by pressing down harder on the accelerator. The car lunged forward, and within seconds, they were a few yards behind the Laguna.

  “I’m going to ram the bugger.”

  Wilmot turned sharply, his eyes wide in fear. “Do you think that’s wise? Why don’t we just tail him until the other teams arrive?”

  “And when’s that likely to be?” Portman asked.

  The car jolted forward again, bumpers touched, and both sets of tyres squealed before the two vehicles pulled over once more.

  “Get out and grab him before he has a chance to take off again. I’ll block his path,” Portman ordered, slowing the car down enough for his partner to jump out.

  Wilmot pushed open the passenger door and ran towards the Laguna. He tapped on the car’s tinted window with his truncheon. “All right—enough is enough. Get out of the vehicle, buster,” he said as he glanced sideways to see his partner drive past to block the car.

  The driver inched down his window as Portman approached the vehicle to join his partner. Both police officers waited for the window to wind down fully, but the driver was toying with them. The window went up and down as the officers stared on, irritated by the driver.

  Wilmot tried to open the car door, but it was locked. “Come on, open up.”

  Still no response from the driver.

  When the window rose again, Portman tapped on it with his truncheon a second time. “Open up, or I’ll smash it in.”

  “Oh shit!” Wilmot shouted as the end of a sawn-off shotgun appeared at the top of the window.

  The gun went off. Wilmot’s face exploded under the force. He dropped to the ground. Portman looked on, stunned for a second or two, before he turned to run back towards the patrol car.

  He heard the Laguna’s car door open behind him, and the force of the bullet hitting his back propelled him forward onto the boot of his vehicle. He groaned and slid off the car onto the tarmac.

  ~ ~ ~

  Bob Myers stood over the first officer and pulled the trigger. The copper’s brains spilled onto the road. He walked towards the patrol car and turned over the second copper. He was still alive, writhing in agony as the blood seeped from the gaping wound in his lower back. “Please, help me,” the officer pleaded as he reached out a shaking hand.

  Myers laughed. “Why the fuck would I want to help you? Where’s the fun in that?” He aimed the shotgun at the copper’s head. The officer instinctively closed his eyes, accepting his fate as the gun went off. Bob watched the man’s skull shatter into tiny pieces before he cocked his head into the air, listening for the sound of approaching sirens. He ran back to his car, shunted the patrol car out of his way, and put his foot down. Looking in his rear-view mirror at the carnage he’d caused, he laughed. “That’ll teach you to try and mess with me, suckers. Maybe you tossers will start taking me seriously from now on.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Around three fifteen on a cold and wet March day, Detective Inspector Hero Nelson and his Major Incident Team received the call that every serving police officer dreaded hearing.

  Hero collected his jacket from the back of the chair. “Okay, team, we have two men down. Julie and I are going over to the scene now.” Shaking his head in despair, he went to join Julie, who was standing by the exit. “We’ll be in touch with the details as soon as we can. There’s no need to tell you that this case takes priority.”

  Julie followed Hero down the concrete stairs of the Manchester Police Station and out to the car. Her short legs had difficulty keeping up with his long strides, and by the time they reached Hero’s car, she was already slightly out of breath. He glanced over the roof of the vehicle, and with the straightest face he could muster, he said, “Been slacking at the gym lately, Shaw?”

  Her eyes narrowed, then she threw herself into the passenger seat and crossed her arms.

  Oops, looks like I’ve pissed her off yet again. He jumped behind the steering wheel and started the engine. “You do realise I was pulling your leg, Shaw?”

  “When you’ve battled your weight as much as I have over the years, any snipe at my fitness levels is bound to offend, sir… just saying.”

  Hero cringed. Consider yourself told, old boy. As was usual after one of their contretemps, they spent the journey in silence. Hero had no intention of apologising—if his partner couldn’t take a joke now and again, that was her fault, not his. Although, halfway through the journey, Hero felt a pang of guilt when he remembered that Shaw had been suffering from depression since her mother’s death from cancer a few years ago. However, he had no intention of pandering to any of his colleagues, least of all his partner, who rarely shared a smile with him anyway.

&
nbsp; The section of Regent Road had been cordoned off with blue-and-white police tape. The area was busy, far busier than a normal crime scene. No wonder the media and people in general were always up in arms about the extra effort police put forth when looking out for their own colleagues. Hero exited his vehicle with Shaw and nodded at the uniformed constable on watch before ducking under the tape.

  He whistled loudly and raised his hand. “Gather around, ladies and gents.” The crowd slowly moved towards him, and Shaw looked confused. “Right, I don’t know what’s going on, why you’re all here, but I’m ordering all those not directly involved in this investigation—i.e. those not part of my team—to skedaddle out of here.”

  A sea of angry faces stared back at him. Then, finally, the crowd began to disperse.

  “Shaw, make sure everyone leaves the scene in an orderly manner now they’ve bloody managed to contaminate my crime scene. Yes, folks, that’s what it amounts to—you’ve done your best to destroy any evidence open to us. Thanks for that.” Effing morons. He watched the ten uniformed police officers trudge back to their cars before he sought out the pathologist. “Afternoon, Gerrard. Sorry about the bloody circus. You should have told them all to sling their hook.”

  “Not my job, Hero. I was furious to see so many here. They’ve definitely hampered me and my team.”

  “If anything like that happens again on my patch, you have my permission to tell them to do one. Got that?”

  “Heard and understood. Sorry about the two officers concerned. Looks like they never stood a chance.”

  “Mind if I take a look?” Hero motioned to the covered bodies.

  “You’ll need to tog up first. Grab a set of overalls and shoes out the boot of my car before you go near them.”

  Hero rolled his eyes. “Teaching me how to suck eggs again? On it now.”

  After stepping into the set of white overalls, which made him look more like a painter and decorator than an experienced murder detective, he slipped on a set of blue covers for his shoes and left Shaw doing the same.

  Gerrard stood over the first body. “PC Paul Wilmot, according to his colleagues. I’m presuming he was the first to be killed.”

  Looking at the officer’s wounds, Hero almost gagged. “Jesus! That has to be some kind of shotgun, right?”

  “In my expert opinion, I believe this kind of damage can only be caused by a sawn-off shotgun. Maximum damage with little effort.”

  Hero shook his head as Julie joined them and coughed. “You all right, Shaw? Do you know the constable?”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, he’s one of Rob’s friends. Bloody hell, his wife is expecting their first kid.”

  “Step away if it’s too much for you.”

  “I’m fine,” she replied unconvincingly.

  “Let’s see the other one.” Hero followed the pathologist over to where the second body was lying covered beside his vehicle.

  Gerrard removed the white sheet, surprising Hero.

  He covered his eyes. “Damn, that’s Chris Portman. Shit, shit, shit! We’ve spent many weekends together in the Territorial Army on manoeuvres. Poor sod.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Hero. I gathered from their colleagues that both men were devoted to their jobs.”

  “Not sure about Wilmot, but Portman definitely was. It’s all he talked about on our weekends away with the TA. Good man. The unit will be crushed when I share the news with them. Have you managed to find any evidence yet?”

  “Not really, so far. Looks like the killer cleaned up after himself. I’m presuming the first man, Wilmot, was shot while the killer was still in his vehicle; we found no sign of any spent cartridges. Once you find the killer and we get our hands on his car, we’ll be able to corroborate that theory. Not until then, unfortunately.”

  “Do we know if there were any witnesses?” Hero looked over his shoulder at the small crowd of bystanders beyond the tape.

  “Yes, the younger male at the front,” Gerrard replied, pointing out the youth.

  “Okay, I better have a word with him, unless you have anything else to share?”

  “Nope, that’s it. I’ll have more for you after the PMs have been carried out. I’ll be doing those today; should have the results for you in a few days. Good luck with your investigation.”

  “Thanks, looks like we’ll be needing that luck,” Hero mumbled. He and Shaw went back to the pathologist’s car, disrobed again, ducked under the tape, and approached the red-haired youth. Hero produced his warrant card. “I’m DI Nelson, and this is my partner, DS Shaw. You witnessed what happened, I take it?”

  “Not all of it.”

  “Care to tell us what you did see?”

  “I arrived just as the blue Laguna was leaving. Not long after that, a panda car turned up. Of course the idiots questioned me, rather than taking my word on the culprit and chasing after the car.” The youth shook his head.

  “I apologise for that. I will be speaking to the officers personally. Did you get a look at the number plate?”

  “Nope, it was caked in mud, even though the body of the vehicle was shiny, as though it had just been through a car wash.”

  Hero scratched his head. “Intentionally obscured… what else about this crime was intentional?” he said to Shaw as she jotted down the youth’s preliminary statement.

  “Guess we’ll find out soon enough, sir.”

  “Anything else you can give us, Mister…?”

  “Williamson, Sam. Nothing really, except that he drove at breakneck speed to get out of here. Perhaps he heard the sirens and put his foot down.”

  “You say a police car attended the scene within seconds of the other vehicle leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has someone taken down your statement?”

  “They did. Not that I could tell them any more than I’ve told you.”

  Hero nodded. “Every little helps. Thanks for your assistance; you’re free to go when you want.”

  “I know. That’s what the copper told me. I’d like to hang around, see how things work out with you guys. I’ve thought about signing up to get in the force.”

  Hero resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What is it with kids nowadays? They witness a gruesome scene and want to get in on a piece of the action right away? “Thanks for your help, and good luck with your application.”

  “Any chance you can put a good word in for me, guv?” the youth asked cheekily.

  “Unfortunately, they look down their noses at that sort of thing.” Hero smiled and turned to walk back to the car.

  Shaw jogged to catch up. “I didn’t realise that, sir.”

  “Realise what, Shaw?”

  “That you putting in a good word for someone would reflect badly on them during the interview process.”

  Hero looked over the roof of the car at his partner and tutted. “Get in the car, Shaw.”

  After getting in the car, Shaw asked, “Where do we go from here?”

  “I thought I’d whisk us away for a dirty weekend in Brighton. Any objections?”

  Shaw turned sharply to stare at him, her mouth open wide.

  “It was a joke, Shaw. You know, to lighten the mood.” He exhaled loudly. “I feel it’s our responsibility to let the families know. You up for that?”

  Julie’s shoulders slumped. “Not really. I suppose someone has to do it. Might as well be us.”

  “I’ll leave you to get the guys’ addresses.”

  Hero drove out to Pendlebury, where he knew Chris Portman lived. It was nearing five, so he hoped Chris’s fiancée would be home by the time they arrived. Scaffolding was erected outside the semi-detached house, and a roofing contractor’s sign was prominently fixed to one of the rails at the front of the house. “Crap, I forgot he was getting his roof replaced—more hassle for Fiona to contend with.” Hero knocked on the front door. A blonde woman in her early thirties wearing a black suit answered the door with a frown and then a smile.

  “Hello, can I help?”

/>   “Fiona, you don’t know me, but I’m a friend of Chris. DI Hero Nelson and my partner, DS Julie Shaw. Mind if we come in for a moment or two?”

  “Chris isn’t home yet. He should be back around six if no overtime crops up. You know how it is.”

  “We do. We won’t take up much of your time, but we have some news for you that we’d rather share inside.”

  The woman’s frown deepened, but she held open the door for them to enter then closed it behind them. “Let’s go into the lounge. I’ve only just got home myself, so excuse the mess.”

  “Take a seat,” Hero suggested once the three of them had entered the spacious, contemporary living room.

  “I don’t understand. Is there something wrong? It’s just that I don’t get to see many of Chris’s colleagues at the house.”

  Hero struggled to get the words out past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that Chris was killed in the line of duty today.”

  Fiona’s hand covered her gaping mouth, and silent tears began running down her cheeks. “No, not my Chris. Please tell me there’s been some kind of mistake?”

  “No mistake, we’ve just come from the scene. If I hadn’t seen him myself, I doubt I would have believed it, either. I’m deeply sorry. He was a good man, both on the force and in the TA.”

  “You’re part of the Territorial Army?”

  “Yes, we’ve spent many weekends together on special manoeuvres. He’ll be missed.”

  “How? How did it happen? Why did it happen? Chris has always gone out of his way to help people. He loved his job, or should I say ‘jobs’, for that very reason.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks with a tissue.

  “We don’t know the why yet, but it looked like he and his partner were in pursuit of a vehicle. They were both shot and died at the scene.”

  “No, not Paul, as well. Lyn and Paul were expecting a baby—she’s due soon.” Fresh tears tumbled from her eyes. “I can’t get my head around this. How could anyone gun them down like that? When was this?”

  “We’re searching for clues now. It occurred a few hours ago. I wanted to let you and Lyn know first before we begin the investigation.”