Forced to Kill by Emmy Ellis

Author:Emmy Ellis [Ellis, Emmy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: British Suspense, suspense, Paranormal Suspense, Britain, UK, England, Spirits, Psychic Powers, Murder, Murder Investigation, Police, Police Procedural
Goodreads: 48221806
Published: 2019-09-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Langham wedged his car behind some high-as-a-house bushes, one of the backup vehicles beside them. As they sat observing a large house situated in expansive grounds down a lane just off the motorway, awaiting further backup, Oliver took a moment to calm down. News had come via one of the officers in the next car that Alex Reynolds had been apprehended, a clawing, insane mass of anger that had taken six officers to subdue.

He took the binoculars Langham handed to him.

“You have a turn. My eyes are crossing.”

Oliver peered through them. The truck was parked directly outside the house, a sprawling monstrosity that spoke of high maintenance and a shedload of cash. The men weren’t about, no doubt inside, secreting the drugs and whatever else they’d removed from Privo. The coppers en route were trained to get inside and round the inhabitants up, secure the truck and its contents, and Oliver thanked fuck for that.

Langham’s mobile rang, startling Oliver so the binoculars banged his brow bone. He lowered them and glanced at the caller display. Shields. Langham jabbed the speakerphone button.

“Yep?” Langham closed his eyes for a second, probably steeling himself for whatever the other detective had to say.

“Langham?”

“Who else?”

“Wasn’t sure if your friend there would be answering. You still outside the house?”

“Yep.”

“The team not arrived yet?”

“Obviously not, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“As soon as they do, I need you back here.”

“What for? Can’t you cope with Ronan Dougherty’s flat and Mark Reynolds’ site by yourself?” Langham smirked.

“Not amusing. That’s sorted. Dougherty’s dead, as you suspected. Arms hacked off, face slashed. Mark Reynolds. Dead. In the field like your weirdo said. Officers are dealing with it all now.”

“So? What do you want?”

“Like I said. You. Back here.”

Oliver experienced all kinds of irritation, so God knew what Langham felt—he was the DI, for fuck’s sake. Langham clenched his teeth and drummed his fingers on his thigh.

“Paperwork?” Langham asked.

“You wish,” Shields said, his oily tone grating yet slick at the same time. “No, we’ve got another couple of bodies. Different to the others.”

“So there’s someone else out there. Unless Alex offed them before he followed us, changed the way he does things to throw us off.”

“He’s too up himself to do that,” Shields said. “He’d have wanted us to know it was him, that he was one step ahead. In control. No, this is an amateur. A bloody messy one at that. And I know who the hell we’re looking for, too.”

Oliver suspected Shields wanted Langham to beg for the answer. Wanted them both to know he was in the lead now, the one dishing out orders.

“Right,” Langham said. “Won’t be long. The team will be here in a minute. It’ll take us about twenty to get back. Where do you need us?”

“Us? No, I need you.”

Langham sighed. “Oliver comes with me.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Very funny, Shields, but that’s your filthy mind talking. You know what I meant.”

“Right. I need you at fifty-four Bridgewater Road, back in the city. Soon as you can. You have to see this scene to believe it.

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