Jaw Breaker: A Terrifying British Crime Thriller (DCI Kett Crime Thrillers Book 9) by Alex Smith

Author:Alex Smith [Smith, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Relentless Media
Published: 2022-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

The universe churned, as fast as a washing machine in full spin, and Kett rose from his dream like a man who had been hurled from a clifftop.

He sat up, pain flooding his leg and his head. Something tugged against the hairs on his chest and in his confusion he thought it was the steering wheel of the car. He grabbed it, twisting, his other arm flailing so hard that he heard something shatter.

“Easy,” said a voice.

Kett tore himself from the last grip of sleep, opening his eyes to see that he wasn’t in the car. He wasn’t rolling down the hill, the Skoda crushing him like a metal fist.

He was in a hospital room, the lights dimmed, the door closed.

“Shit,” he said, lying back down, feeling the pulse monitor on his chest. He ran his hands up his arms but there was nothing else there. No IV, no morphine. His ears were still ringing like he had microphone feedback blaring into his skull. Past that he could hear the sounds of a hospital at night, dormant bleeps and quiet voices.

And the rattle of somebody breathing.

He angled his head, pain sloshing from back to front like his skull had been filled with acid. It was too dark in the room to make out the person who sat in the corner.

“Pete?” Kett asked, his voice like gravel.

“No.”

There was no kindness in the voice at all. It was as blunt as a hammer. Kett felt too vulnerable lying there so he pushed himself up as far as he could, half sitting. The pain in his right leg was localised around his knee. He felt like the cap had been scooped off, the tender flesh beneath throbbing. The man in the chair leaned forward, sniffing. There was still no light on his face but Kett recognised the sheer bulk of him.

“Wallace Marshall,” he said.

“In the flesh,” Marshall replied. “It’s good to see you awake, son. I’ve been sitting here for far too long.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Where are we?”

His memories were like shattered glass. He could see fragments of the last few hours—the interview with Catherine Cavaney, following the Mercedes, then being shunted off the hill by the tractor. What followed was less clear, the fragments harder to piece together, but he knew one thing: Porter had saved his life, and more than once.

“We’re in the James Paget,” said Marshall, sinking back into the shadows. “Your friend brought you here after your… adventure last night. Apparently, you passed out in the car on the drive over.”

Kett touched his temple, wincing as the pain in his head grew worse.

“It looks bad, but it’s nothing to worry about. Or so I’m told. You were lucky. Some folk slip on their bathroom floor and knock the life right out of themselves. I saw the car. The pretty pink one, although it’s not pink no more, more barbeque black. I don’t know how anyone climbed out of that alive.”

Kett rested his head against the bed, closing his eyes for a moment.

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