Deadly Fury (Detective Jane Phillips Book 12), page 1
DEADLY FURY
A DETECTIVE JANE PHILLIPS NOVEL
OMJ RYAN
Published by Inkubator Books
www.inkubatorbooks.com
Copyright © 2024 by OMJ Ryan
OMJ Ryan has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work.
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-83756-483-5
ISBN (Paperback): 978-1-83756-484-2
DEADLY FURY is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.
CONTENTS
Inkubator Books
Trigger Warning
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Free Crime Thriller
Acknowledgments
Also by OMJ Ryan
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TRIGGER WARNING
This book deals with themes of child abuse and domestic violence. If you’ve been affected by any of the issues raised in this story these organizations can offer advice and support.
UK Resources:
https://www.nationaldahelpline.org.uk/
https://247sexualabusesupport.org.uk/
https://rapecrisisscotland.org.uk/help-helpline/
US Resources:
https://www.thehotline.org/
https://rainn.org/resources
PROLOGUE
Her sister, Lesley, appeared almost childlike as she stood on the other side of the kitchen countertop, her eyes red and swollen from crying most of the afternoon. Despite being in her late thirties, you’d be forgiven for thinking she was the same frightened little girl whom she’d fought so hard to protect after their mum had died when they were just young kids.
‘How could this be allowed to happen?’ sobbed Lesley. ‘He was supposed have been sentenced to twenty years! How did he get out three years early?’
‘And you’re sure he’s out on licence?’ she asked.
‘That’s what Sergeant Price told me, yes.’
She could feel her brow furrowing as she continued to chop carrots for the pot that had begun to bubble on the stove to her left. ‘But I thought Price had retired years ago?’
Lesley nodded as she wiped her nose with a crumpled tissue. ‘He did, but he’s still got friends in the Sex Crimes team. One of them gave him the heads-up last night, and he came straight over to tell me today. He asked if I would let you know, seeing as you refuse to speak to him.’
‘And for good reason,’ she shot back. ‘Everything that happened is in the past, and as far as I’m concerned, it can stay that way.’
Lesley’s lip trembled. ‘I’m scared sis. Of what Albert might do now he’s out.’
Looking at the terrified woman standing in front of her, she really wished Sergeant Price had not been quite so diligent in his approach to supporting her sister. As the man responsible for catching and convicting their childhood abuser, she understood why he thought it would be in Lesley’s best interests to warn her, but the problem was, thanks to the horrific events of their childhood, Lesley had spent most of her life crippled with serious mental health issues. Tragically, this news would only serve to make her state of mind even more fragile.
‘Look,’ she said softly, as she placed the knife down on the chopping block. ‘If he’s out on licence, then there’s no way he’ll risk going back inside by making contact with you.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ asked Lesley.
‘Because Albert is the king of self-preservation, and he’ll know that contacting any of his victims could see him going straight back to prison. And having read about what happens to sex offenders in Hawk Green, I doubt he’ll ever want to go back in there.’
‘But what if you’re wrong? He knows where I live!’
‘And whose fault is that?’ The words escaped from her mouth before she could stop them.
‘I wrote to him once,’ Lesley spat back. ‘Once. And only because my therapist thought it might help give me closure.’
‘I get that, but why did you have to put your return address on the letter?’
‘Because I was out of my head on medication. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing half the time.’ The tears came again now.
‘Look, I’m sorry, Lesley. I shouldn’t have said that.’ She stepped around the counter and drew her little sister into a tight hug. ‘I’m just frustrated that they’ve actually let him out, that’s all. I had always hoped they’d keep him locked up in there forever. Or better still, that he’d die behind bars.’
Lesley gripped her tightly in return. ‘Me too,’ she whispered as the tears continued to flow.
A few moments later, her attention was drawn to the sound of a key in the lock of the front door. ‘Oh, God.’ She sighed. ‘Sounds like Des is home.’
Lesley released her grip and wiped her eyes. ‘I’d better be going.’
‘You don’t have to,’ she replied. ‘You can stay for dinner if you like?’
‘No, thanks.’ Lesley shook her head. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
The kitchen door opened now, and her husband, Des, stepped into the room. ‘What’s she doing here?’ he slurred as he swayed slightly left and right, the heavy stench of alcohol suddenly filling the air.
‘Lesley was just going, Des,’ she said softly so as not to agitate him any more than necessary. He could be a mean man at the best of times, but nothing compared to his mood when he’d been drinking.
Des held her gaze for a few uncomfortable seconds, then turned his attention to Lesley. ‘Off you go then,’ he slurred once more as he made a walking motion with his fingers in front of Lesley’s face.
Lesley didn’t need telling twice, and a second later, she sidled past him and set off for the front door.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow, sis,’ she shouted before the door slammed shut.
‘What’s wrong with her this time?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. She just had some bad news, that’s all.’
Squinting hard, Des stared at his watch for a moment before glancing around the kitchen. ‘And is that why my dinner’s not on the table?’
‘It won’t be long,’ she replied coldly. ‘I’m just waiting on the carrots.’
Des sniffed loudly, then took a couple of shaky steps forward. ‘I might as well have a beer, then.’
‘Don’t you think perhaps you’ve had enough?’ She regretted saying those words as soon as they’d left her mouth.
‘Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?’ he growled. ‘I’ll decide when I’ve had enough. Me. Not you.’ After yanking open the fridge door, he pulled out a can of his usual high-strength lager, opening it with a noisy crack of the ring pull before taking a couple of slugs of the cold beer.
She dropped her chin to her chest and continued about her business in the vain hope he would leave her be.
Sadly he was in no mood to let it go. ‘So what’s this bad news, then?’ he slurred again.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Little Miss Crybaby.’ He took another slug of beer. ‘What’s wrong with her now?’
‘It’s not important, Des.’
‘Oh really?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Then how come I’m still waiting on my dinner?’
‘Honestly, Des, it’s nothing,’ she said, stirring the now boiling carrots on the hob, doing her best to avoid his gaze.
He slammed the can down on the countertop, causing her to jump with fright. ‘I asked you a question, and I expect an answer, damn it!’
She swallowed hard before replying, knowing only too well what she was about to tell him would not be well received. ‘She found out today that Albert got out of prison a few weeks ago and she came round here to tell me. Naturally she’s upset.’
A snarl formed on his lips. ‘I’ve told you before, you’re never to speak of that man in this house. Never!’ He threw the can across the room, and it landed with a loud crack as it smashe
‘It wasn’t a “sordid little affair”,’ she yelled back. ‘He raped me!’
Des’s eyes bulged as he glared back at her. ‘Who the hell do you think you are, raising your voice at me?’
She took a step backwards. ’I’m sorry, Des.’ Her voice was laced with panic now.
‘You will be,’ he replied as he began to undo his belt. ‘I think it’s time I reminded you who’s in charge in this house.’
‘Please, Des. I said I’m sorry.’
He yanked at his belt before eventually pulling it free from his jeans. ‘After everything I’ve done for you.’
‘Des, please,’ she begged. ‘You don’t need to do this.’
‘Oh yes I do.’ Wrapping the strap of the belt around his right hand so the buckle hung freely, he took another step forward, raising his arm in the air. ‘I need to teach you some manners.’
In that split second and without knowing how, she stepped forward, grabbed the pan of boiling carrots and, in one fluid movement, threw the scalding contents directly into his face.
Screaming in agony, Des doubled over in pain, his hands clawing at his scorched skin.
Acting on instinct, she lifted the now empty pan high into the air before bringing it down on the back of his head shouting, ‘I’ll teach you some manners, you bastard!’
He went down heavily, hitting the ground face first, and a second later as he lay there groaning, she lifted the pan once more, smashing it down on his head a second time. Then a third, a fourth and for a fifth and final time.
Her heart raced, and adrenaline threatened to overwhelm her as she stared down at his now prostrate body. His battered and already swollen face was turned to the side – the eyes closed as dark red blood spread across the white kitchen tiles.
Suddenly, as if every sense in her body had been switched back on and in ultra-high definition, she was acutely aware of what had just happened. ‘Oh my God,’ she managed to whisper as she released her grip, and the pan dropped to the floor with a loud bang. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’
Grabbing her phone, she dialled 999.
‘What’s your emergency?’ the operator asked on the other end of the line.
‘I need an ambulance…’ She paused before continuing, ‘I think I might have just killed my husband.’
1
Phillips knocked on the open door to Chief Superintendent Carter’s office, located on the fifth floor of Ashton House, which served as the headquarters of the Greater Manchester Police. Her boss was sitting at his desk, his eyes locked on a raft of files in his hands. ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’
Carter glanced up. ‘Ah, Jane. Morning. Please have a seat.’
Phillips did as she was asked and sat patiently for the few moments it took for him to square away his paperwork.
‘Thanks for coming in early. I wanted to talk to you about something of a slightly delicate nature before you heard it from anyone else.’
Phillips could feel her brow furrow. ‘Oh. Really?’
Carter cleared his throat. ‘Look, there’s no easy way to say this, but last night I was informed by the new chief constable that Major Crimes is due to be investigated by Professional Standards.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me? What the hell for?’
‘I’m afraid I had the same reaction.’ Carter paused as he opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a folded-up newspaper. ‘This is what it’s all about,’ he said flatly as he passed it across.
Phillips glanced at the copy of the Manchester Evening News in her hands. Her stomach turned instantly at seeing the story that had run just a few months ago, written by her one-time adversary and senior journalist at the MEN, Don Townsend. The front-page headline read TOP COP RETIRES TO AVOID ARREST. She swallowed hard as she turned her gaze back to Carter, trying her best to appear stoic. ‘But this is old news, sir.’
‘Indeed it is, but sadly the new boss fears that what happened to former Chief Constable Fox has tarnished the force as a whole. It seems he’s adamant that whoever leaked this story to Townsend should be brought to heal.’
‘And hung out to dry, no doubt.’
‘I would think that’s on the cards, yes,’ said Carter.
‘But everything Don wrote is true. Fox tampered with evidence to secure false convictions that aided her rise through the ranks, and when she was finally caught out, she retired rather than face the consequences.’
‘That may be the case, Jane, but as the chief constable pointed out to me in no uncertain terms last night, the information contained in that story – as well as the other six he wrote in the week it broke – was confidential police business. And that means whoever gave it to Townsend broke ranks.’
Phillips’s mind flashed back to her meeting with Don just a few months ago. During that brief liaison, she’d handed over every police file she could find that would implicate the former chief constable in a series of heinous miscarriages of justice: criminal activity that should have led to Fox spending several years in custody. Instead, under the orders of a Home Secretary keen to protect the reputation of the Greater Manchester Police, she had been pensioned off with her misdemeanours swiftly brushed under the carpet – meaning Fox had gotten away scot-free. Something Phillips simply could not countenance. Now, it appeared that her actions were potentially coming back to haunt her.
‘Professional Standards will need to meet with everyone in the team within the next week,’ Carter continued.
‘Seriously?’ Phillips protested, finding her voice once again. ‘The former leader of the Greater Manchester Police, who was found to have planted evidence that led to a host of wrongful convictions gets off with just a slap on the wrist – and my team get a full-on internal investigation. Just because Don Townsend got his hands on some compromising files. For all we know, he could have found them on the bus – or in a taxi for that matter. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time confidential documents have been misplaced.’
Carter looked her dead in the eye now. ‘I think we both know that’s not how he came by those documents, Jane.’
Phillips opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed stuck in her throat.
‘And besides,’ Carter continued, ‘as I understand it, Fox hasn’t quite gotten away with it. From what I hear, she’s been ostracised from her precious Cheshire-set glitterati whose approval she so desperately craved. There’s also zero chance of her getting any of the lucrative non-exec roles she was banking on to boost her pension – and she lost out on her CBE in the New Year Honours List.’
‘As I’ve always said, sir, if that’s all that happened to her, she got off lightly.’
‘I guess it depends on your point of view. If it were me or you in her position, I’m sure we’d be more than happy to keep a low profile and enjoy a peaceful retirement, but for someone like Fox, status means absolutely everything. So with her now being – for all intents and purposes – a complete nobody, well, that’s got to hurt. And it’ll smart even more knowing that everybody is fully aware of what she did. She’s persona non grata, and there’s absolutely nothing she can do to change that. She’s out in the cold for the rest of her days.’
Phillips took a moment to process what he was saying, and she had to admit, he had a point.
Just then, Carter’s PA, Diane, knocked on the door. ‘Sorry to interrupt, but Viv from the chief constable’s office has just been on the phone. He would like to speak to you as a matter of urgency.’
Carter nodded. ‘Thank you, Di,’ he replied, standing. ‘I’ll head straight along now.’
Phillips matched him. ‘And I need to be getting back to my paperwork.’
‘Actually, Jane,’ Diane cut in, ‘he’d like to speak to you both.’
Phillips recoiled slightly. ‘He wants to speak to me?’ She turned to Carter. ‘But it’s his first day in the job. Why would he want to talk to me?’
‘I’ll give you one guess,’ he replied.
‘What? Professional Standards?’
‘Most likely, yes.’
Phillips felt her heart sink. ‘Seriously. That’s all I need.’
