The Iron Water by Chris Nickson

Author:Chris Nickson [Nickson, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2016-06-12T04:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

‘Billy?’

He stirred, half-hearing her, not opening his eyes. He was comfortable in the bed, the pillow soft under his head. It had been a long day, investigating a fire in a yard that had killed a child and left three others in hospital.

‘Billy Reed,’ Elizabeth hissed and he turned slowly.

‘What is it?’ His voice was a mumble smothered by the sheets.

‘I’m going to do it.’ She sounded wide awake. ‘I’m going to buy them.’

‘Are you sure?’ He turned, blinking in the darkness, pushing himself up on one elbow.

‘I’m positive. We’re never going to have a chance like this again, are we?’

No, he knew they wouldn’t. Owning the shops could be the making of them. It would change everything in their lives. But it would be her name on the signs, she’d be the one running them; it had to be her decision. He wanted her to do it but he dared not come out and say so. Elizabeth had to be the one to make the choice.

‘I’ll tell Annabelle on Monday,’ she continued, rolling on to her back and staring up at the ceiling. ‘Billy, am I doing the right thing?’

‘You’ll be wonderful at it,’ he said, pressing his hand over hers. ‘It’ll be fine.’

She fell asleep, soft snores coming from her mouth. He lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. Life took strange turns. Five years before he could never have imagined being here. Being happy. For so long after fighting in Afghanistan, he’d pushed away his devils with evenings of drinking. Now he didn’t care if he touched another drop. Elizabeth had changed him and she hadn’t even needed to try. This business of the shops scared him; they could lose all they had. But after what she’d given him, he wanted everything for her. That wasn’t a debt. It was love.

Harper left his wife and daughter asleep in the bedroom, dressing silently then closing the door with a quiet click. In the afternoon the three of them would go up to Roundhay Park. Before that, though, he needed to work.

No tram on a Sunday morning and only the sound of his own boots for company as he walked into town. It was so early that dawn was still dull, just the promise of sun and more heat out on the horizon, close enough to leave him sweating by the time he reached Millgarth.

The city seemed eerily silent. No smoke rose from the chimneys. No rumble of carts and omnibuses on the streets. Good men and bad would still be in their beds. The day of rest, he thought wryly. For some, perhaps.

A pile of reports sat on his desk. Even as he began to leaf through them the inspector knew they’d contain nothing. Charlie Gilmore’s money and men had silenced everyone. If not that, Declan’s killer was clever enough to be invisible.

Was it linked to the murders of Tench and Bradley? He didn’t know how but something told him that was right. Trying to connect them had

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