Read Online Buried Slaughter by Ryan Casey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ryan Casey
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, thriller, Suspense, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Crime, Mystery, Private Investigators, series, British, Police Procedural, private investigator, brian mcdone
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approached the front door, away from the red Fiesta, away from all hope of heading to Brabiner’s Archeological Group this afternoon. Away from all hope of ever carrying out his mission for David Wallson. Away from the detective life again.
“Hello, honey,” Brian called as he entered the door. She didn’t call back to him. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to play this. In his mind, he wanted to walk right up to her and apologise for failing to tell her about his suspension. But he wanted her to understand his motives. He wanted her to understand that he simply didn’t want to worry her.
He popped his head around the door of the living room. Hannah was sat on her own. She stared up at the television, which wasn’t even switched on. Her jaw was tensed. Another telltale sign that she was royally pissed off.
“Han, let me explain.”
“Explain what?” Hannah asked. Her head spun around and her eyes glared at him. They were bloodshot. Red underneath. “Explain why you were suspended from your job? Explain why you didn’t tell me? Explain where the hell you’ve been today if you haven’t been at work?”
Brian gulped. He knew what Hannah was getting at; what she was implying. “I know what you think, and you’re wrong. Just let me—”
“The day after our fucking anniversary,” Hannah said. She stomped to her feet and looked out of the window, her back to Brian. “How could you?”
“Hannah,” Brian said. He approached her and reached a hand out to rest on her shoulder, but thought better of it. “If you know why I was…why I was suspended. If you know that, then you’ll know where I was today.”
It was a few moments before Hannah turned around. When she did, she barely made eye contact with Brian. “I saw it. The police rang and they told me, and then I saw it on the Internet anyway. Storming into a crime scene. And then turning up with that journalist yesterday. I’m a freelance writer, for fuck’s sake. Don’t think I didn’t recognise that slimeball’s car. What’s going on, Brian? What’s going on?”
Brian gulped. The thoughts of David Wallson’s offer spun around his head. “I wanted to tell you. I swear I wanted to tell you. But I…It’s complicated. I can’t go into it.”
“Oh, you will,” Hannah said. “If you want me to trust you, you’ll explain it all to me, right here, right now.”
This was it. He’d have to open up. There was no escape, not if he wanted to keep Hannah on side. Brian took a shaky breath in. The words were waiting at the bottom of his throat, dying to escape. “I…I got an offer. From that journalist. I got an offer to go see the Pendle Hill crime scene while I was at work. I didn’t think much at it at first, but…yeah. The detective in me.”
“The detective in you that you swore was finished. That almost ruined your life once.”
“I can’t run away from what I am, Hannah. But anyway, one thing led to another. I…I went into that pit because I could see that something was off. The bones, Han. The bones were much older than the heads. They were too discoloured. Worn away slightly. Which led me to believe that the bones were what Davidson Archeological Contractors were looking for after all. Anyway, one thing led to another and the journalist—David Wallson—he ended up making me an offer.”
Hannah narrowed her watery eyes. She didn’t speak. She just waited. Waited for Brian to continue.
“He had…he had evidence. Evidence that…” The following words were more of a struggle to get out. “Evidence that Robert Luther killed Nicola Watson. Evidence that—that Cassy didn’t die pointlessly. Evidence that I was right. All along, I was right. And I agreed. Because of that information, I agreed to speak to Darren Anderson, the witness in the Pendle Hill case. And that led me to Davidson’s today. I found something, Han. There’s a guy called Harold Harvey. A guy that begged this
“Hello, honey,” Brian called as he entered the door. She didn’t call back to him. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to play this. In his mind, he wanted to walk right up to her and apologise for failing to tell her about his suspension. But he wanted her to understand his motives. He wanted her to understand that he simply didn’t want to worry her.
He popped his head around the door of the living room. Hannah was sat on her own. She stared up at the television, which wasn’t even switched on. Her jaw was tensed. Another telltale sign that she was royally pissed off.
“Han, let me explain.”
“Explain what?” Hannah asked. Her head spun around and her eyes glared at him. They were bloodshot. Red underneath. “Explain why you were suspended from your job? Explain why you didn’t tell me? Explain where the hell you’ve been today if you haven’t been at work?”
Brian gulped. He knew what Hannah was getting at; what she was implying. “I know what you think, and you’re wrong. Just let me—”
“The day after our fucking anniversary,” Hannah said. She stomped to her feet and looked out of the window, her back to Brian. “How could you?”
“Hannah,” Brian said. He approached her and reached a hand out to rest on her shoulder, but thought better of it. “If you know why I was…why I was suspended. If you know that, then you’ll know where I was today.”
It was a few moments before Hannah turned around. When she did, she barely made eye contact with Brian. “I saw it. The police rang and they told me, and then I saw it on the Internet anyway. Storming into a crime scene. And then turning up with that journalist yesterday. I’m a freelance writer, for fuck’s sake. Don’t think I didn’t recognise that slimeball’s car. What’s going on, Brian? What’s going on?”
Brian gulped. The thoughts of David Wallson’s offer spun around his head. “I wanted to tell you. I swear I wanted to tell you. But I…It’s complicated. I can’t go into it.”
“Oh, you will,” Hannah said. “If you want me to trust you, you’ll explain it all to me, right here, right now.”
This was it. He’d have to open up. There was no escape, not if he wanted to keep Hannah on side. Brian took a shaky breath in. The words were waiting at the bottom of his throat, dying to escape. “I…I got an offer. From that journalist. I got an offer to go see the Pendle Hill crime scene while I was at work. I didn’t think much at it at first, but…yeah. The detective in me.”
“The detective in you that you swore was finished. That almost ruined your life once.”
“I can’t run away from what I am, Hannah. But anyway, one thing led to another. I…I went into that pit because I could see that something was off. The bones, Han. The bones were much older than the heads. They were too discoloured. Worn away slightly. Which led me to believe that the bones were what Davidson Archeological Contractors were looking for after all. Anyway, one thing led to another and the journalist—David Wallson—he ended up making me an offer.”
Hannah narrowed her watery eyes. She didn’t speak. She just waited. Waited for Brian to continue.
“He had…he had evidence. Evidence that…” The following words were more of a struggle to get out. “Evidence that Robert Luther killed Nicola Watson. Evidence that—that Cassy didn’t die pointlessly. Evidence that I was right. All along, I was right. And I agreed. Because of that information, I agreed to speak to Darren Anderson, the witness in the Pendle Hill case. And that led me to Davidson’s today. I found something, Han. There’s a guy called Harold Harvey. A guy that begged this
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