She's Not Coming Home (26 page)

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http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005FZ0RAI
   (US)

or

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005FZ0RAI
   UK)

DARK EYES OF LONDON

When Tom Raymond receives a call from his ex-wife asking to meet him, he is both surprised and intrigued – maybe she wants a reconciliation?

However, his world is turned upside down when she falls under a tube train on her way to meet him.

Refusing to accept that Lisa jumped, Tom sets out to investigate what happened to her that evening.

Soon, he finds he must get to the truth before some very dangerous people get to him…

Here’s a sneak preview…

Chapter One

It was a
few miles before the motorway services when Jimmy Khan first noticed the other vehicle.  Considering whether to take a break now or later, his eyes were momentarily drawn back to the rear view mirror by the frantic flashing of headlights and the loud blare of a horn.

Glancing into the mirror, he caught sight of the HGV in the centre lane still flashing angrily.  There were lamps on the roof of the cab as well as below the windscreen, so this flashing would be difficult to ignore. The reason for this protest was that another vehicle - a black Chrysler, Jimmy thought - had moved from the outside lane, across the centre lane and the path of the HGV, to the inside lane, and was now behind Jimmy’s Renault, although about fifty yards behind, having dropped its speed to around fifty, the same as Jimmy.

Jimmy sighed, shook his head, and decided he would stop off at the services after all.  By this time, he was much nearer and the next road sign showed the services were a mile off. Half a mile later, Jimmy began to indicate then took the slip road off the motorway and into the services.  He could not have failed to have noticed that the Chrysler was doing the same thing.

He found a parking space, stretched as he got out of the car, and then strolled over to the service building. Glancing over to his right, he noticed what he thought was the Chrysler parked a dozen or so vehicles from his. Strange, he thought, that nobody had got out yet.

In the services building, he visited the gents, bought a newspaper, and then visited the coffee shop for a latte and a Panini.  Once he had finished there, he walked back to the car. As he climbed back in, he checked his watch.  It was just after five-thirty; should be back home by eight.  He reversed out of the parking space, and made his way round the car park to the exit. As he did so, he had to pass the parked Chrysler.   He quickly glanced over to see if the driver was there, but the windows seemed heavily tinted, and so he could see nothing.  However, if his glance was a fraction of a second longer, he would have seen the Chrysler’s reversing lights illuminate.

Just before the motorway slip road, there was a petrol station.  Jimmy decided to pull in and top up. As he was filling up, he saw the Chrysler coming away from the car park and head to the motorway. As it passed the filling station, Jimmy noticed it slowed momentarily as its brake lights flashed for a second, then it continued round the bend towards the motorway.

Jimmy finished filling up, paid for the fuel, and then made his own way back to the motorway. The route back onto the carriageway comprised a forty-five degree bend to the left, and then it joined the hard shoulder.  By the time Jimmy had passed the bend, he was now doing fifty, and was indicating and looking over to his  right to make  sure the  inside lane was clear to join.   Being focused on what was on his right, he failed to notice the Chrysler on his left.  It must have pulled onto the shoulder, and reversed into a corner just as the shoulder began, and was clear from view and the main carriageway.

‘What the hell?’ Jimmy exclaimed as he looked into his mirror and saw the Chrysler join first the hard shoulder, then the main carriageway, returning to its place a few yards behind Jimmy’s car.

‘This is ridiculous! What are you playing at?’ said Jimmy, both annoyed and alarmed as the driver was obviously keen on stalking him.  He made a few attempts to lose the Chrysler, but was unsuccessful: whenever he sped up or slowed down, or changed lanes, the other car did the same thing.

He began to feel unnerved.  He looked out for a police vehicle parked on the side of the road, but in spite of passing several spots marked for patrol vehicles, he did not see one.

‘Typical,’ he muttered.  ‘Just when you need one!’

He was just at the slip road for the next exit, and without indicating, he swung the steering wheel to the left and sped up the slip road. Hoping the Chrysler was going too fast to react, he looked in his mirror, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach intensified when he saw the other vehicle had done the same thing.

At the top of the slip road, there was a large roundabout controlled by traffic lights. Glancing over to his right he saw two large goods vehicles approaching.  The traffic lights at the top of the slope were now amber, just turning red. Now was his chance.

‘Here goes!’ he called out, and pressed his right foot hard on the pedal. The Renault shot over the now red light, and onto the lanes of the roundabout.  By now the HGVs had started to move, and looking over, Jimmy could see that the Chrysler had no choice but to stop at the red light.

‘Now it’s time to properly shake you off, you weirdo,’ said Jimmy.  He decided not to return to the motorway, where the Chrysler could easily catch him up if the driver wanted, but to take an A or B road where there would be signals and plenty of other slow moving traffic.  The third exit was such a road, and so without indicating, Jimmy turned down this road, which immediately forked to the right.  Ideal.

After the fork, there were a couple of turns, and then the road was relatively straight.  Driving along this straight section, Jimmy started working out where he was.  He had a rough idea where this road went, and worked out a route home from there.

‘What an arsehole!’ he shouted out loud.  ‘But you couldn’t keep track of good old Jimmy Khan!’  Raising his left fist in the air as a gesture of triumph, he glanced in the rear view mirror to check the road was clear.

Then his heart sank.  In the distance, rapidly gaining on him, was the Chrysler.

Chapter Two

This stretch of
road was about half a mile in length. A couple of cars travelled in the opposite direction, but Jimmy’s lane was clear.  He could see the Chrysler pick up speed and rapidly catch up with him.  Now it was ten, twelve feet behind, maintaining the same speed as Jimmy.   The road was not so straight now: Jimmy picked up speed on the bends; now the speedo showed sixty-five, but the Chrysler stayed ten, twelve feet away.  Jimmy frantically looked for side roads: there were some now and then, but he was travelling too fast to safely make a turn.

His palms were sweating as he gripped the steering wheel tighter, taking the bends at now well over seventy. There was a straight section ahead, some relief from taking the bends so fast.   Feeling a bit more confident now the road was straight, Jimmy pushed his foot down harder, in the vain hope that by doing almost eighty, he would shake off his pursuer.

For a moment, he thought he had succeeded, as the Chrysler dropped back. A single deck bus passed him in the other direction, and as soon as it had gone, the Chrysler accelerated rapidly, took the other lane, overtook him, and swung to the left, now travelling twenty feet or so
ahead
of Jimmy.

Now its speed dropped, forcing Jimmy to do the same.  Sixty.  Fifty. Forty. Thirty.  At twenty-five, Jimmy contemplated copying their overtaking manoeuvre, but decided it would be a waste of time: they would easily catch up.

Fifteen.  Ten.  The Chrysler was stopping. 
Maybe it’s time to have it out with you, you bastard
, thought Jimmy
.

Both cars stopped.  There was a short pause while two other cars overtook them, then both doors of the Chrysler opened. Both figures climbing out appeared to be dressed in black suits.

Jimmy had a bad feeling about this.  In a panic, he looked around to see if any other vehicles were coming: they might be able to assist him.  There were none, but he did notice on the other side of the road, twenty feet or so back, there was a roadway, a dirt track, really.  It was narrow - his Renault should fit through, but surely a vehicle the size of the Chrysler would not fit through the bushes and trees which lined that road.

Thank God he hadn’t switched off the engine. He slammed the car into reverse and shot back so he was level with the roadway. Then into first, swung the steering wheel to the right, across the road into the dirt track. As he did this, he could see the two figures climb back into the Chrysler.

He had no idea where he was headed, but as the bushes scraped the side of his car, which was bouncing along the dirt track, he was confident the Chrysler could not follow.

After a hundred yards or so, the roadway opened up into a clearing.  He drove into the clearing and then around, looking for a way to get out.  He was still anxious: although he appeared to have shaken off the Chrysler - although the occupants could still follow him on foot - he still needed to get home, and it was beginning to get dark.

No sign of any other route out of the clearing. He waited a few moments, and then decided to venture on foot back to the main road to check that the coast was clear.  He switched off the engine, and slowly opened the car door. He cautiously climbed out and closed the door.

Looking around, he began to walk back to the main road.  Perhaps he would make his way back there through the bushes, for camouflage in case the Chrysler was still there.

It was then that he heard an engine noise and the sound of bushes scraping the side of a vehicle.  Surely the Chrysler couldn’t -?  As he turned to run back to his car, the Chrysler burst into the clearing. It stopped for a moment as if the driver was looking around. As Jimmy ran back to his Renault, he could hear the sound of the other vehicle behind him.  He got in, slammed the door.  His trembling fingers took three attempts to get ignition key into the slot.  Just as he turned the key, impact came. The Chrysler hit his door. 

The larger vehicle was not travelling particularly fast - twenty maximum - but the force of the impact was enough to rock Jimmy’s car severely. A large indentation appeared on the inside of the door, and his car spun around ninety degrees to the left.

It looked as if the Chrysler was slowly backing away for another blow.  Jimmy whispered a little prayer as the engine started first time, then attempted to drive away.   Now he could see he was in the middle of the clearing: on his right was the expanse of bushes the other side of the Chrysler; on his left as well as behind and in front were the edges of what in the dusk appeared to be a quarry.

Really panicking now, Jimmy swung his steering wheel in an attempt to get back to the roadway.  The Chrysler would have to turn round, so he might yet get away.  He sped around the edge of the clearing, but just as he was almost back level with the bushes, his nearside dropped.  It felt as if the ground beneath his left wheels had subsided.  Going at the speed he was, Jimmy was unable to correct things, overcompensated, and came to rest, some stones acting as chocks, right on the edge of the quarry.  Jimmy tried to look over down into the quarry but the light was bad and his angle was wrong.  He tried the door: the impact with the Chrysler must have damaged the door mechanism as he could not move the lever.   He lifted himself off the seat in attempt to reach the passenger seat, but was interrupted by a second blow from the Chrysler.

Jimmy screamed as his car was knocked right over the edge, and rolled down an embankment into the quarry.  Not being fastened into his seat, he was knocked about like a pinball as the Renault tumbled down the slope.  So much so, that he was already unconscious when the car hit the water below.

The Chrysler pulled up six feet or so from the edge and the two figures got out.  Both were wearing black suits and ties with a white shirt. The driver was tall and extremely thin.   His hair was a shock of white. He removed his sunglasses to reveal red eyes.  His passenger was shorter and rounder, and was chewing gum. He was balding and had a heavy black moustache.  Both peered over the edge to watch the Renault sink. They waited a minute or so; there were a few bubbles, then nothing.

The shorter man looked up at the other. ‘I thought you said we were going to scare him?’

The albino looked down at him, then back at the water below.  He spat on the ground. 

‘Seemed scared enough to me,’ he muttered, and walked back to the Chrysler.

To read more, go to

www.amazon.com/dp/B007JMWBM2

www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007JMWBM2

A SECRET TO DIE FOR

Los Angeles, late September, and the hot Santa Ana winds are blowing, covering the city with a thin layer of dust from the Mojave and Sonoran deserts.

That night, there are three mysterious, unexplained deaths.             

The official view is that they are all unrelated. The deceaseds had no connection, and all died in different parts of the city.

However, Police Detective Sam Leroy has other ideas, and begins to widen the investigation.

But he meets resistance from the most unexpected quarter, and when his life and that of his loved ones are threatened, he faces a choice: back off, or do what he knows he must do…

Here’s a sneak preview…

                            ONE                           

The Santa Ana
winds are dry and warm - sometimes hot – winds that affect coastal Southern California and northern Baja California from September to March. In fact, they range from hot to cold, depending on the temperatures in the region of origin, namely the Great Basin, which stretches from the Sierra Nevada range in the west to the Wasatch Range in Utah, and Northern Mexico up to Oregon, and the upper Mojave Desert.

The air from the Mojave Desert is relatively dense owing to its coolness and aridity, and tends to channel down the valleys and canyons in gusts which can attain hurricane force at times. As the air descends, it not only becomes drier, but warmer. The southern California coastal region gets some of its hottest weather of the year when the Santa Anas are blowing. At these times it is more often than not hotter along the coast than in the deserts.

Tonight was no exception.  A warm and dry blast of air blew down the mountain passes. Warm and dry, and easily exceeding 40 mph, they brought with them a thin layer of reddish dust. They were hot too: the Santa Monica weather station’s instruments were recording 98 degrees.

The man staggered along the empty road. Dressed only in torn white shorts, he weaved back and forth across the yellow centre line. He could make out some kind of reflection on the wet road below. He felt down and rubbed his leg. There were scratch marks down to his ankle from the tumble he had taken down the hillside from above. He stopped and looked round, disorientated, blinking.

Where was he?

Somewhere high up, he was sure; he could hear, or thought he could hear, the muffled rumbling of traffic below.

But where exactly?

And how did he get here?

He stopped and looked around. He could make out lights above and below, but the road he was on was devoid of any buildings. It was only the light from the moon which gave him any form of illumination.

There was mist around: as the road disappeared round a bend ahead, and behind as it receded into the dark.

He felt cold, even though the strong winds blowing down the hillside were hot. He wiped the dust from his eyes, and continued along the road.

He needed to find shelter, some help.

After a few more yards’ shuffling, he stopped again. A dog was barking. He looked around, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. A dog would mean someone’s house.

The barking seemed to be coming from below. Maybe the lights below were from a house. That meant a phone.

A phone. He could remember using a cell phone earlier that evening. Could remember putting the phone back onto the belt clip he used. Involuntarily, he felt down to his waist. All he could feel was the elastic of his torn, dirty shorts.

Where were his clothes? How did he end up here?

He started to walk again, this time towards where he thought the barking, which had now stopped, came from. He rubbed the side of his leg and looked at his hand. Blood. Then looked at his leg. The scratches were bleeding more; not profusely, but they would need attention.

He veered over to the right hand side of the road, so now he was walking partly on the road, partly on the bumpy verge.

He paused as he could make out a new source of light. They got closer. Two small separate lights, slightly diffused in the mist. Then the sound of a car engine.

By now he could make out the vehicle as it came round the bend. It was not coming at him very fast, no doubt because of the mist, which seemed to thicken as the road went downhill. He staggered over to the centre of the road as the car came round the bend. Feebly, he waved his arms in the air.  The driver braked, and the car skidded slightly as it came to a halt around ten feet past the man. He ran up to the driver’s door. A grey haired man was driving, with a woman of similar age sitting in front with him. The driver wound down his window.

‘What in hell’s going on?’ the driver asked. ‘I could have…’ He stopped as he noticed the figure was wearing only shorts. ‘Jesus H!’ he exclaimed.

‘Please, I need help…’ The man rested his hand on the car roof and leaned over.

‘Look, I’m sorry, I….’

‘Can I borrow your cell phone? I need to make a call.’

The woman leaned forward and saw him. ‘Tell him to go away, Gus.’

Gus looked over at her and back at the man. ‘I – I, er…’

‘Please, mister. Go away. You’re scaring us,’ the woman said.

‘I just need a cell phone for a minute…’

‘Sorry, pal,’ said Gus as he wound up the window. ‘We don’t want any trouble.’

‘But I just…’

Gus wound up the window and the car sped away into the darkness and into the mist.

He watched as the red tail lights faded away into the mist. After a few moments’ pause, he continued to shuffle on. He cried out as he stepped on something sharp. He lifted up his leg and pulled out a sharp stone which had gotten embedded in the sole of his bare foot. Then moved on again.

Looking down, he could make out some lights. Maybe that was where the barking was coming from. This was the direction from which he could still hear the rumble of traffic.

He slowly stepped off the road and began to climb down the slope. It was steep in places but he was able to grab onto some bushes for support. As he climbed further down, the undergrowth became thicker. He tried to make out what the vegetation was. The smell seemed familiar: maybe buckbush. As he got further down, he realised he had lost sight of the lights.  He panicked slightly as he lost his bearings. Looked around again. No sign of any lights now, but the ambient sound of the traffic below was still there.

He moved on again.

After twenty yards or so, the traffic noise was getting louder. Perhaps he should head for there; on a busy road he would stand a better chance of flagging someone down.

Then he missed his footing. Tried to grab a bush for support, but missed. Landing on his back, he slid down the slope. He cried out as his back was lacerated by the shrubs and rocks as he skimmed over them. He hit an obstruction, a tree stump maybe; rather than stopping his descent, it served to knock him sideways so now he was rolling down. He tried to put his hands in front of him to protect his face, but his momentum was too great. As he rolled down, one side of his head hit some hard ground.  Just then, his fall stopped.

He lay there, dazed. He thought he had reached the end of the drop as he was now lying on level ground. He felt up to his temple: it was wet and sticky. His vision was blurred. He stood up and moved on. Suddenly under his feet he could feel not ground and brush, but a smooth surface. Not unlike the road above. Still disorientated he staggered forward.

His last sensations were a blinding white light, a loud, deep blare. Then, a microsecond of intense pain as something weighing 35000 lbs slammed into him.

Then nothing.