Read Online Buried Slaughter by Ryan Casey - Free Book Online Page B
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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group to do a dig for them. And I swear he’s got something to do with a rival firm in town. I swear there’s something not right about them.”
Hannah still wasn’t speaking, but her stare was faltering. She blinked rapidly, as if she was considering Brian’s words; weighing them up inside her head.
“I just wanted to be a detective again, Hannah. That’s all it was. But I know I can’t be now. I know I can’t be.”
Hannah raised her head. She half-smiled at Brian, like she was relatively satisfied with his response. “Thank you for being honest with me,” she said, breaking her self-imposed silence.
Then, she lowered her head and walked past Brian, out of the room, into the kitchen/dining area.
For a few moments, Brian just stood completely still in the lounge and stared out of the window. It was getting dark outside. The Halloween lights of the house down the road were flickering in, sporadically filling their lounge with an amber glow.
Brian let the tension seep out of his body and pulled the curtains together.
He walked out of the room and into the kitchen/dining area.
“In case you were wondering,” Hannah said, as she leaned over the worktop preparing to pierce the film of a ready-made meal. “You’ve got a two week suspension. Consider yourself very lucky.”
She rammed the knife into the lid of the ready meal and sent a loud popping noise through the kitchen.
Brian and Hannah didn’t talk about any of the last two days’ events for the rest of the evening. But even so, there was an aura of discomfort around the house. A sense that always prevailed in the aftermath of an altercation or disagreement, like the radiation left over after a nuclear explosion. It would take time to clear. It might never truly clear. But the explosion was done with. The hardest times were through with.
Staring up at the white ceiling of his bedroom, Brian considered the day’s events. At least the police hadn’t pursued him for questioning Mr. Davidson. That could have caused problems. Knowing the department as well as he did, he figured they’d have been in touch by now if Mr. Davidson had given anything too big away about Brian’s line of questioning.
Then again, anything was possible with Stephen-fucking-Molfer on the investigation.
“What’s on your mind, honey?”
Hannah’s voice made Brian jump out of his fixated trance. He turned to look at her. She leaned back against the wooden headrest of the bed, Stephen King’s The Shining in hand, reading in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. She had a reassuring smile on her face. A smile of acknowledgement and understanding.
“It’s just…” Brian rubbed the top of his head. “Just the case. Just thinking about how weird it all is. About how close I got. Because I swear there’s something wrong with this Brabiner’s Archeology place, from what I’ve been told. I just hope the police—”
“They’ll do their job,” Hannah interrupted. She snapped her book shut. “But you’ve got to do yours. You’ve got to remember who you are now. You’ve got to keep on being the better man than the man you were. Your son—you see him tomorrow. You’ve got to be that good father.”
Brian gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to admit it, but Hannah was right. He had been a miserable dick when he was a detective. The self-harming and the eventual descent into alcoholism proved that. But he had something now. His career might not be quite as glamorous, but he had a lovely girlfriend. He had a son whom he saw every week. He had something to live for.
Brian leaned over and kissed Hannah on her cheek. She moved away, but eventually let him just about brush her skin with his lips. “I’m sorry for not being honest.” He grabbed Hannah’s hand. Rubbed his fingertips along her palms. “It’s just our lives now. I promise to God it’s our great lives. It’s my son. It’s my silly little PCSO job. That’s what I want now. I
Hannah still wasn’t speaking, but her stare was faltering. She blinked rapidly, as if she was considering Brian’s words; weighing them up inside her head.
“I just wanted to be a detective again, Hannah. That’s all it was. But I know I can’t be now. I know I can’t be.”
Hannah raised her head. She half-smiled at Brian, like she was relatively satisfied with his response. “Thank you for being honest with me,” she said, breaking her self-imposed silence.
Then, she lowered her head and walked past Brian, out of the room, into the kitchen/dining area.
For a few moments, Brian just stood completely still in the lounge and stared out of the window. It was getting dark outside. The Halloween lights of the house down the road were flickering in, sporadically filling their lounge with an amber glow.
Brian let the tension seep out of his body and pulled the curtains together.
He walked out of the room and into the kitchen/dining area.
“In case you were wondering,” Hannah said, as she leaned over the worktop preparing to pierce the film of a ready-made meal. “You’ve got a two week suspension. Consider yourself very lucky.”
She rammed the knife into the lid of the ready meal and sent a loud popping noise through the kitchen.
Brian and Hannah didn’t talk about any of the last two days’ events for the rest of the evening. But even so, there was an aura of discomfort around the house. A sense that always prevailed in the aftermath of an altercation or disagreement, like the radiation left over after a nuclear explosion. It would take time to clear. It might never truly clear. But the explosion was done with. The hardest times were through with.
Staring up at the white ceiling of his bedroom, Brian considered the day’s events. At least the police hadn’t pursued him for questioning Mr. Davidson. That could have caused problems. Knowing the department as well as he did, he figured they’d have been in touch by now if Mr. Davidson had given anything too big away about Brian’s line of questioning.
Then again, anything was possible with Stephen-fucking-Molfer on the investigation.
“What’s on your mind, honey?”
Hannah’s voice made Brian jump out of his fixated trance. He turned to look at her. She leaned back against the wooden headrest of the bed, Stephen King’s The Shining in hand, reading in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. She had a reassuring smile on her face. A smile of acknowledgement and understanding.
“It’s just…” Brian rubbed the top of his head. “Just the case. Just thinking about how weird it all is. About how close I got. Because I swear there’s something wrong with this Brabiner’s Archeology place, from what I’ve been told. I just hope the police—”
“They’ll do their job,” Hannah interrupted. She snapped her book shut. “But you’ve got to do yours. You’ve got to remember who you are now. You’ve got to keep on being the better man than the man you were. Your son—you see him tomorrow. You’ve got to be that good father.”
Brian gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to admit it, but Hannah was right. He had been a miserable dick when he was a detective. The self-harming and the eventual descent into alcoholism proved that. But he had something now. His career might not be quite as glamorous, but he had a lovely girlfriend. He had a son whom he saw every week. He had something to live for.
Brian leaned over and kissed Hannah on her cheek. She moved away, but eventually let him just about brush her skin with his lips. “I’m sorry for not being honest.” He grabbed Hannah’s hand. Rubbed his fingertips along her palms. “It’s just our lives now. I promise to God it’s our great lives. It’s my son. It’s my silly little PCSO job. That’s what I want now. I
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