Read Online Blood Reckoning: DI Jack Brady 4 by Danielle Ramsay - Free Book Online

left to bloat in the suffocating heat. The crime scene photographs had nearly made him sick.
    The tabloids had called the killer The Joker . That was the only detail about the case that had ever been released to the public. The genital mutilation – never. Too horrifying for the public. It had been the 1970s after all. The appetite for visceral details had not existed. Unlike now.
    Brady looked at Ainsworth. He had no choice. Fuck protocol.
    ‘We need to remove the tape.’
    Ainsworth’s eyes darted to the body.
    Brady could see that Ainsworth was equally familiar with the Seventies murders. He, like Brady, knew the reason the killer had bound the victim’s head in this manner. The final trademark of the Seventies killer – if it was him – would be under the duct tape.
    Brady watched as Ainsworth cut through the thick black tape. As did the four forensic officers, fascinated by the proceedings. One, already ahead of the game, was photographing each step. Another, filming.
    ‘You sure?’ Ainsworth asked, before he pulled the tape back.
    ‘Yes,’ Brady answered, despite himself. He didn’t want to look, but knew he had to. He had to see whether this was the same killer. He’d figure out how it was possiblelater.
    Paralysed, he watched as Ainsworth ripped off the layer of black shiny tape, exposing the victim’s swollen, bloated face.
    ‘Fuck! What’s that in his mouth?’ asked one of the SOCOs.
    Brady didn’t answer. Neither did Ainsworth.
    ‘Oh, Christ! Tell me he didn’t choke to death on his own . . .’ The last word was left unsaid. The reality too sickening.
    Brady’s stomach felt as if it had hit the ground.
    How? How, after thirty-seven years?

Chapter Nine
    Sunday: 3:13 p.m.
    ‘Sir . . .’ Brady began. He still wasn’t quite sure what he was going to tell his boss. He didn’t want to get this one wrong. Not on his first day back. Five months was a long time to be away. A lot of things could happen in that time. Brady was aware that he was not irreplaceable. His sick leave stint had shown him as much. The job had continued – his job . DI Adamson had stepped in and seen to that. He had proven to Gates and the team – his team  – that he could do his own job as well as bearing the brunt of Brady’s. Brady wasn’t sure where exactly that left him.
    ‘What’s so important that it can’t wait until I get back on Friday?’ Gates snapped.
    Brady found himself momentarily lost for words. If he had been expecting his boss to ask how his first day back at work was going after being nearly killed five months ago, he would have been bitterly disappointed. But Brady knew Gates well. Well enough to not expect his boss to give two fucks about his physical or mental state. He was back at work. That was enough. If he couldn’t cope, then he shouldn’t have turned up. Gates wasn’t known for niceties where Brady was concerned.
    ‘Well . . .’ Brady began, unsure of how to begin.
    ‘For Christ’s sake, Jack. Spit it out! I’ve been dragged out of a seminar for this call, so it better be important.’
    Brady knew he had no choice. He just had to say it. ‘Sir, a young white male was found murdered in the Royal Hotel early this afternoon,’ he began.
    ‘And?’ Gates asked. ‘Tell me that’s not the reason you’ve rung me?’
    This was familiar territory for Brady. Gates had never hidden the fact that he didn’t like him. Brady’s method of policing, of allowing his gut feeling to override protocol and yet somehow being proven right, often met with Gates’ disapproval. However, Brady always managed to hit those much-needed targets and that was what counted.
    ‘No, sir, but . . .’ Brady hesitated.
    He could hear Gates sighing on the other end of the phone. He then heard him muttering to someone. The irritation in his tone was evident. Brady assumed it was DI Adamson standing with him.
    Fuck it! What did he have to lose? His role as DI was already in question. DI Adamson