Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one)) by Tania Mel; Tirraoro Comley
Book: Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one)) by Tania Mel; Tirraoro Comley
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Authors: Tania Mel; Tirraoro Comley
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entail?"
"Each week a different specialist will be giving a talk. We'll be looking at ballistics, scene analysis, fingerprinting, toxicology, things like that."
Lorne could see the enthusiasm in her eyes and would've found it hard to deny Tracy the opportunity, even if she hadn't already given her the go ahead to attend the course.
"You could give me a few pointers on the poison front, it might come in handy for a couple of members of staff," she whispered straight-faced, but when the younger woman's mouth flew open and her eyes nearly burst free of their sockets, Lorne laughed. "It was a joke, Tracy. Guess you haven't been privy to my 'wicked' sense of humour yet. Mind you if you've been listening to Pete, he'll tell you I had a humour transplant years ago."
The pair laughed and the rest of the team looked their way.
"Keep them guessing," Lorne whispered behind her hand as she went on to the next member of her team.
A short time later, Lorne had jotted down all the relevant information they had gathered and transferred it to the notice board. Ten different vehicles, three men that no one could put a name to, clues were agonisingly thin on the ground.
Maybe Pete had a point about Oliver, after all?
Chapter Sixteen
The man burst through his front door and shut out the crazy world behind him. His clothes were spattered with blood and his neck covered in scratches. Leaning against the front door, he panted breathlessly as he waited for his heart rate to return to normal.
Banging noises and cries for help echoed through the house. He raised his eyes to the ceiling when he realised the soundproofing in the cellar would need his attention, sooner rather than later.
"Well, how did it go?" The woman rushed towards him.
"I got her, this time. She won't be hurting anyone else again."
"I've had a hell of a time with that one down there."
"I'll get rid of her after I've had some dinner, I promise." The man smiled down at the woman, hugged her lovingly then kissed her on the forehead.
"I've made your favourite, roast lamb — it'll be ready in ten minutes. Why don't you get cleaned up and we'll open a bottle of wine to celebrate?"
Incessant crying spoilt their meal.
"Damn it, I've had enough of her!"
While the woman took their dirty dishes to the kitchen, he tore back the rug and angrily ripped open the trap door. The girl stopped crying instantly. He climbed down the rickety ladder and watched her tremble as he approached.
"Please, please not again. I promise to be quiet. Please don't hurt me, I didn't mean to laugh at you."
"Ah, but you did, didn't you? You'll be free soon," he assured her.
The girl had been stuck in the hellhole for two solid days. Numerous creatures had scurried past her in the dark and she hadn't been given a drop of water or food since she'd been captured. Her strength was dwindling fast. Her skin crawled as his eyes surveyed her naked flesh. She wrapped her arms around her knees, hiding her nakedness from his intimidating gaze.
She sobbed again, and he towered over her like a vulture ready to swoop. He bent down beside her, stroked her hair as if she was his pet dog, then his hand began its vile journey. Starting on her cheek, his fingers outlined her lips, down past her throat, lingering torturously on her arm before finally caressing her shapely thigh. "Ssh there, there, it's all right."
As he reached to undo his belt she screamed…
Chapter Seventeen
Doreen Nicholls' post-mortem drew to a close at one in the morning.
"Therefore, I conclude that the cause of death was due to a fatal blow to the head," Arnaud said, before turning off his recorder.
"Poor Doreen." Lorne watched Bones stitch up the Y-section to the woman's lifeless body. It was hard to find a reason why someone would despise Doreen so much as to want her dead. As post-mortems went, this had been her toughest yet. But she'd insisted she needed to be involved, feeling she owed the dead woman that
"Each week a different specialist will be giving a talk. We'll be looking at ballistics, scene analysis, fingerprinting, toxicology, things like that."
Lorne could see the enthusiasm in her eyes and would've found it hard to deny Tracy the opportunity, even if she hadn't already given her the go ahead to attend the course.
"You could give me a few pointers on the poison front, it might come in handy for a couple of members of staff," she whispered straight-faced, but when the younger woman's mouth flew open and her eyes nearly burst free of their sockets, Lorne laughed. "It was a joke, Tracy. Guess you haven't been privy to my 'wicked' sense of humour yet. Mind you if you've been listening to Pete, he'll tell you I had a humour transplant years ago."
The pair laughed and the rest of the team looked their way.
"Keep them guessing," Lorne whispered behind her hand as she went on to the next member of her team.
A short time later, Lorne had jotted down all the relevant information they had gathered and transferred it to the notice board. Ten different vehicles, three men that no one could put a name to, clues were agonisingly thin on the ground.
Maybe Pete had a point about Oliver, after all?
Chapter Sixteen
The man burst through his front door and shut out the crazy world behind him. His clothes were spattered with blood and his neck covered in scratches. Leaning against the front door, he panted breathlessly as he waited for his heart rate to return to normal.
Banging noises and cries for help echoed through the house. He raised his eyes to the ceiling when he realised the soundproofing in the cellar would need his attention, sooner rather than later.
"Well, how did it go?" The woman rushed towards him.
"I got her, this time. She won't be hurting anyone else again."
"I've had a hell of a time with that one down there."
"I'll get rid of her after I've had some dinner, I promise." The man smiled down at the woman, hugged her lovingly then kissed her on the forehead.
"I've made your favourite, roast lamb — it'll be ready in ten minutes. Why don't you get cleaned up and we'll open a bottle of wine to celebrate?"
Incessant crying spoilt their meal.
"Damn it, I've had enough of her!"
While the woman took their dirty dishes to the kitchen, he tore back the rug and angrily ripped open the trap door. The girl stopped crying instantly. He climbed down the rickety ladder and watched her tremble as he approached.
"Please, please not again. I promise to be quiet. Please don't hurt me, I didn't mean to laugh at you."
"Ah, but you did, didn't you? You'll be free soon," he assured her.
The girl had been stuck in the hellhole for two solid days. Numerous creatures had scurried past her in the dark and she hadn't been given a drop of water or food since she'd been captured. Her strength was dwindling fast. Her skin crawled as his eyes surveyed her naked flesh. She wrapped her arms around her knees, hiding her nakedness from his intimidating gaze.
She sobbed again, and he towered over her like a vulture ready to swoop. He bent down beside her, stroked her hair as if she was his pet dog, then his hand began its vile journey. Starting on her cheek, his fingers outlined her lips, down past her throat, lingering torturously on her arm before finally caressing her shapely thigh. "Ssh there, there, it's all right."
As he reached to undo his belt she screamed…
Chapter Seventeen
Doreen Nicholls' post-mortem drew to a close at one in the morning.
"Therefore, I conclude that the cause of death was due to a fatal blow to the head," Arnaud said, before turning off his recorder.
"Poor Doreen." Lorne watched Bones stitch up the Y-section to the woman's lifeless body. It was hard to find a reason why someone would despise Doreen so much as to want her dead. As post-mortems went, this had been her toughest yet. But she'd insisted she needed to be involved, feeling she owed the dead woman that
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