COLD GROUND: A Gritty Crime Thriller by Liam Hanson

Author:Liam Hanson [Hanson, Liam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crime Prints
Published: 2021-11-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Jenkins had positioned a pair of uniforms in the field behind Mrs Gantry's house. The other side of the thick treeline. 'In case someone decides to make a run for it,' she'd said. With her in the unmarked car were Ginge, and two constables who looked like they'd rather be in bed at such an early hour. It was still a few minutes before six in the morning, the day after she'd embellished the shit out of her story at the local magistrate's court.

In the car behind them were four more uniforms; all wearing protective over-vests, and BWVs – body-worn video cameras.

The vehicles sped up the gravel drive on Jenkins's command, spewing chippings into the untended flower borders. When they slid to a halt outside the house, Jenkins was first to get out. She marched towards the front door, Ginge in close pursuit. This part of the job always gave her such a buzz. The uncertainty of what might happen next was exhilarating.

She banged on the front door and shouted, 'Police,' identifying them to potential occupants and threats alike. 'Open up.' Peering through a small panel of glass, she saw no movement. The door took another hammering. She shouted again. This time, louder. One of the waiting uniforms was summoned forward. 'Time for the Big Red Key,' Jenkins said, meaning the man was now authorised to smash through the door with the heavy length of steel he carried two-handed.

Metal struck against wood three times. Metal coming off victorious, as was always the case.

They were greeted in the cold hallway by air that carried an odd odour. At first, Jenkins didn't recognise it. She sniffed, trying to call on memory to help her out. It wasn't from cooking. Something else altogether. 'You take upstairs,' she told Ginge. 'I'll start down here.'

At the end of the hallway was a glass door that opened into a narrow living room, itself divided into two distinct areas. The bit near the front window was more formal. Contained a reading chair, lamp, and writing bureau. The opposite end of the room had a television, sofa, and a small dining table and chairs.

Jenkins pushed her hands into a pair of blue latex-free gloves and started her search over by the window. She checked behind the reading chair. Lifted its cushioned seat and found nothing. The front of the bureau came down like a medieval drawbridge to reveal a red-leather writing surface lined like a road map from years of use. Running a hand over it, she wondered what stories the indentations might share if able. She left the red leather to its secrets and moved to a neat letter-rack. She checked the address on each envelope before carefully removing the contents to skim read. They were bills, mostly. A television licence and an overdue reminder for an appointment with an optometrist.

On the wall above the bureau was a large print of a hunting scene. A man dressed in a green tunic with matching hat stood upright in the stirrups of his giant steed, blowing into a long and curved horn.

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