Read Online A Family Divided (Dividing Line #3) by Heather Atkinson - Free Book Online
Authors: Heather Atkinson
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a back street and simply evaporated. After assuring her he and Leo were fine, only disappointed that they hadn’t caught the bastard, she asked him to disperse his team around her other clubs in case The Slasher struck again, to which he eagerly agreed, wanting a second chance at nabbing him.
Her duties done, Rachel snuggled into Ryan ’s chest while he read, Leah curled up on her lap and the two boys played with their toys in the corner. The horror of last night suddenly seemed so distant and she felt warm with happiness and love. Could she be any more content? She didn’t think it possible.
However the peace was destroyed by the phone constantly ringing. First it was Martina, then Mikey, next Jez followed by Beth, all of whom wanted to visit but she told them she was resting and would see them soon. These calls were interspersed by more calls from journalists. Then the electric gate started buzzing.
Ryan sighed and threw his book aside. He’d got through Nietzsche and was now on Sartre’s The Age of Reason, working his way through the philosophers.
“ I’ll get rid of them,” he said, padding to the control panel by the front door. “What?” he snapped.
“ It’s Zoe Westerly, Manchester Evening News. I’d like to speak to your wife about what happened last night at Martina’s Bar. May I come in?”
“ No you can’t. Go away.”
“ Mr Law…”
But he cut her off and returned to the living room.
“Who was it?” said Rachel.
“ A journalist wanting to talk about last night, Gayle Westerly and you know what they say about her; blown her way right through Manchester to get where she is,” he said with a suggestive raise of an eyebrow.
“ What does that mean Daddy?”
Ryan coloured slightly, making Rachel smile. “Nothing Cupcake, just a joke.” To his relief Leah was distracted by something on television. “Anyway, I told them to go away. Thank God I locked the gate last night.”
But Gayle Westerly was by no means the last of their visitors, the buzzer on the gate sounding every few minutes. Eventually Ryan ’s temper snapped. He shot up off the couch, strode into the hallway, closing the door behind him so the kids wouldn’t overhear, then unleashed a torrent of abuse down the intercom. His tirade was greeted by a stony silence followed by, “Mr Law, it’s Detective Chief Inspector Taylor.”
“ You could be press. Hold your warrant card up to the screen please.”
The black and white figure on the small panel held up his card, the details perfectly clear.
But Ryan was never one to be intimidated by the Police. “What do you want?”
“ We need to speak to Mrs Law about last night.”
“ Fine, come on up. Just make sure you don’t let any of those vultures in at the same time.”
He buzzed the gate open and waited on the doorstep for the DCI ’s arrival. From his position at the door he could see the crowd gathered at the bottom of the drive. He had to give the coppers their due, they ensured none of the sneaky bastards got through the gates as they swung shut, although one or two did try. When they saw him standing in the doorway they started snapping photos through the railings while he stared back at them casually, arms folded across his chest and leaning against the doorjamb in his t-shirt and black jogging bottoms.
Two men trudged up the drive, both tall and broad, the elder one the DCI. Ryan was glad they were both plain clothes so they wouldn ’t scare the kids.
“ Mr Law, DCI Taylor,” he said, extending his hand, which Ryan reluctantly shook. It always went against his nature to be pleasant with police officers. Taylor was a powerful-looking man with a commanding presence, dark brown hair flecked with grey swept back from a large forehead. His eyes were hazel but filled with intelligence, which, in Ryan’s opinion, was a rare quality in a police officer. “This is DS Swift,” he said, indicating the younger man beside him. “Is Mrs Law available to talk
Her duties done, Rachel snuggled into Ryan ’s chest while he read, Leah curled up on her lap and the two boys played with their toys in the corner. The horror of last night suddenly seemed so distant and she felt warm with happiness and love. Could she be any more content? She didn’t think it possible.
However the peace was destroyed by the phone constantly ringing. First it was Martina, then Mikey, next Jez followed by Beth, all of whom wanted to visit but she told them she was resting and would see them soon. These calls were interspersed by more calls from journalists. Then the electric gate started buzzing.
Ryan sighed and threw his book aside. He’d got through Nietzsche and was now on Sartre’s The Age of Reason, working his way through the philosophers.
“ I’ll get rid of them,” he said, padding to the control panel by the front door. “What?” he snapped.
“ It’s Zoe Westerly, Manchester Evening News. I’d like to speak to your wife about what happened last night at Martina’s Bar. May I come in?”
“ No you can’t. Go away.”
“ Mr Law…”
But he cut her off and returned to the living room.
“Who was it?” said Rachel.
“ A journalist wanting to talk about last night, Gayle Westerly and you know what they say about her; blown her way right through Manchester to get where she is,” he said with a suggestive raise of an eyebrow.
“ What does that mean Daddy?”
Ryan coloured slightly, making Rachel smile. “Nothing Cupcake, just a joke.” To his relief Leah was distracted by something on television. “Anyway, I told them to go away. Thank God I locked the gate last night.”
But Gayle Westerly was by no means the last of their visitors, the buzzer on the gate sounding every few minutes. Eventually Ryan ’s temper snapped. He shot up off the couch, strode into the hallway, closing the door behind him so the kids wouldn’t overhear, then unleashed a torrent of abuse down the intercom. His tirade was greeted by a stony silence followed by, “Mr Law, it’s Detective Chief Inspector Taylor.”
“ You could be press. Hold your warrant card up to the screen please.”
The black and white figure on the small panel held up his card, the details perfectly clear.
But Ryan was never one to be intimidated by the Police. “What do you want?”
“ We need to speak to Mrs Law about last night.”
“ Fine, come on up. Just make sure you don’t let any of those vultures in at the same time.”
He buzzed the gate open and waited on the doorstep for the DCI ’s arrival. From his position at the door he could see the crowd gathered at the bottom of the drive. He had to give the coppers their due, they ensured none of the sneaky bastards got through the gates as they swung shut, although one or two did try. When they saw him standing in the doorway they started snapping photos through the railings while he stared back at them casually, arms folded across his chest and leaning against the doorjamb in his t-shirt and black jogging bottoms.
Two men trudged up the drive, both tall and broad, the elder one the DCI. Ryan was glad they were both plain clothes so they wouldn ’t scare the kids.
“ Mr Law, DCI Taylor,” he said, extending his hand, which Ryan reluctantly shook. It always went against his nature to be pleasant with police officers. Taylor was a powerful-looking man with a commanding presence, dark brown hair flecked with grey swept back from a large forehead. His eyes were hazel but filled with intelligence, which, in Ryan’s opinion, was a rare quality in a police officer. “This is DS Swift,” he said, indicating the younger man beside him. “Is Mrs Law available to talk
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