The House Always Wins (DCI Cooper Book 7) by B Baskerville

Author:B Baskerville [Baskerville, B]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hyem Books
Published: 2023-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

- Chapter 35 -

The car tore through the gloomy countryside, patches of weak sunlight breaking through the clouds. Cooper gripped the wheel tightly as the car bumped along a road pockmarked with potholes. Singh sat beside her, jaw clenched and face pale.

“What the hell happened?” Cooper asked, frustration evident in her voice. Her focus was entirely on getting to Keaton and Martin, but the situation appeared to be spiralling out of control.

Singh swallowed. “Chardonnay Long made good on her promise to inform on her husband. He turned up at their home this morning. It was the first time she’d seen him since he fled Bamboo Grove. Long grabbed some of his clothes, told Chardonnay he loved her and left. She overheard a phone call where he said he needed to check on production at the house up the coast. She guessed it was an address in Blyth where she’d been once before.”

“Cooper flicked him a look.”

“She told Keaton she’d waited in the car while Long spoke to a business associate. That was about six months ago.”

Cooper scoffed at the words business associate. “A cuckoo’s nest?”

“I imagine so. The house is owned by Mr Miles Lowestoft, fifty-three, no criminal record. Rented to Miss Fiona Peters, twenty-three, also no criminal record. Lowestoft described Peters as – and I quote...” Singh checked his notes. “...Thick as sugar, but pays her rent on time.”

“He didn’t say sugar, did he?”

“No. But I don’t wish to swear.”

“Well, he sounds like a delight.” Cooper took a left at Old Hartley. To her right, the sea looked rough and grey, smashing off the rocks at Collywell Bay.

“I take it Long’s using a burner phone?” she asked.

“That’s right. Nothing’s pinged on his business mobile, the one he uses for Longevity Building Solutions. My guess is he ditched that after he fled Stowell Street.”

Entering Blyth, they passed through a series of modern, new-build suburbs, the streets named after birds: Kingfisher Way, Sandpiper Close, and Osprey Driver.

Five minutes and a few turns later, they were on an entirely different side of town. Empty crisp packets and soda cans rolled along the curb. Cigarette ends and the occasional needle littered the depressing-looking streets. What few shops there were had long since boarded up their windows to prevent yet another smash-and-grab.

The car came to a halt outside the cordoned-off area. Cooper and Singh exited the vehicle and were met by the sight of a group of uniformed police officers looking anxious and fidgety. She could see Keaton, pale and tense, her lips sucked into her mouth, her eyes red.

No sign of Martin.

“Boss, thank God you’re here. Where the fuck are armed response?”

Cooper surveyed the house, seeing movement behind a net curtain on the first floor. “It all kicked off in town. It’s Hope East’s funeral tomorrow, and things are getting heated.”

“We’ve got a hostage situation. Long’s got Martin. Put a machete to his throat and locked themselves inside. He’s got a gun too. Might be imitation, but I wouldn’t risk it.”

“Me neither,” Cooper said, feeling the chill of dread cloak her body like an icy blanket.

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