Deadly Shadows (A Dylan Scott Mystery) Read online

  Deadly Shadows

  By Shirley Wells

  Before his disgraceful dismissal from the police force, Dylan Scott worked undercover to get close to notorious drug dealer Joe Child. Now, Dylan works as a P.I.—and Child heads up a religious commune near Dawson’s Clough. But after two girls go missing from the refuge, the cops need Dylan’s help to find out if Child is saving souls as a cover for something more sinister.

  The investigation means going back undercover as a petty crook—a tough gig for a detective who has recently worked some high-profile cases in Lancashire. Even on a remote farm, Dylan’s in constant danger of being recognized. Not to mention the strain his long absences have put on his family life.

  Still, Dylan won’t rest until he finds the missing girls. But the longer he looks, the harder it is to tell the sinners from the saints. And the truth may be more than this bleak northern town can handle.

  A Dylan Scott Mystery

  94,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  It’s possible I say this every year, but I love October. To me, this is the month that signals the start of a season of hot apple cider, evenings by the fire, and curling up on the sofa with a good book, dressed warmly in sweatpants and a comfy shirt and snuggled under my favorite fuzzy blanket. We at Carina Press can’t provide most of those things, but we can provide the good books, and this month we have more than a few good books!

  In Running Back, the highly anticipated sequel to Allison Parr’s new-adult contemporary romance Rush Me, Natalie Sullivan is on the verge of a breakthrough most archaeology grad students only dream of: discovering a lost city. Her research points to a farm in Ireland, but to excavate she needs permission from the new owner: the Michael O’Connor, popular NFL running back.

  If you’re like me, there are certain tropes in romance that you fall for every time. One of mine is the main theme of Christi Barth’s newest book, Friends to Lovers. (Gee, can you guess what it is?) Daphne struggles with revealing her longtime lust for Gib, sparking it all off with a midnight kiss on New Year’s Eve—only Gib doesn’t know it’s Daphne he’s kissed! Also in the contemporary romance category is First and Again by Jana Richards, which has a special place in my heart because this emotional story takes place in my home state of North Dakota.

  For months, this Red Cross head nurse has been aiding Allied soldiers caught behind enemy lines, helping them flee into the neutral Netherlands. It’s only a matter of time until she’s caught in Aiding the Enemy, a historical romance by Julie Rowe. If you’re a fan of Downton Abbey, be sure to check out the rest of Julie’s historical romances.

  We have two mysteries for readers to solve this month. British crime author Shirley Wells returns to the sleepy northern town of Dawson’s Clough with her popular Dylan Scott Mystery series in the next book, Deadly Shadows. And in Julie Anne Lindsey’s Murder by the Seaside, counseling is murder, but it’s never been this much fun.

  Erotic romance author Christine d’Abo brings us the story of Alice’s obsession with a brooding lawyer at her firm, which takes Alice on a journey of self-discovery through the rabbit hole and into the world of BDSM in Club Wonderland. Also this month, the Love Letters ladies, Ginny Glass, Christina Thacher, Emily Cale and Maggie Wells, round up five sizzling-hot stories to finish off their sexy stampede through the alphabet with Love Letters Volume 6: Cowboy’s Command.

  Edgar Mason is losing Agamemnon Frost despite everything they’ve been through—the passion, the torture, the heat. Frost’s fiancée Theodora is back, and Mason can feel his lover gravitating toward her. Every day he sees them together, it tears at his heart. Don’t miss Agamemnon Frost and the Crown of Towers, the conclusion to Kim Knox’s male/male historical science fiction trilogy.

  Because October is the perfect month for the paranormal, we have a wide selection of fantasy, urban fantasy and paranormal to share with you. In Jeffe Kennedy’s fantasy romance, Rogue’s Possession, neuroscientist Gwynn’s adventures in Faerie continue in the long-awaited sequel to Rogue’s Pawn. And in the sequel to Soul Sucker, a powerful magic user is stealing people’s faces in San Francisco, and empath Ella Walsh and shifter Vadim Morosov have been called in to investigate in Death Bringer by Kate Pearce. Also returning with another book in her Blood of the Pride series is Sheryl Nantus, with her paranormal romance Battle Scars.

  Combining futuristic fiction, fantasy and urban fantasy, Trancehack by Sonya Clark is a compelling cross-genre romance. In a dystopian future where magic is out in the open and witches are segregated, a high-profile murder case brings together a police detective and a witch with unusual powers that combine magic and technology. But dangerous secrets, a political cover-up, and the law itself stand between them. Don’t miss this exciting new world of witchpunk!

  Carina Press is pleased to introduce three debut authors this October. Science fiction erotic romance author Renae Jones gives us a Taste of Passion when lust strikes hard for Fedni, an empath who can taste emotion, but her off-worlder neighbor is horrified by the caste system that the former courtesan holds dear.

  Two urban fantasy authors debut with us this month. In Kathleen Collins’s Realm Walker, a realm walker hunts a demon intent on destroying both her and the mate who left her seven years ago. Also debuting in urban fantasy is Joshua Roots with his book Undead Chaos. When warlock Marcus Shifter performs a simple zombie beheading, he soon finds that the accidental framing of an innocent necromancer, falling in lust, and burning down a bar are just the beginning of his troubles.

  Regardless of whether you’re discovering these books in October or in the middle of summer, any time is the perfect time for reading, and I hope you enjoy all these titles as much as we’ve enjoyed working on them.

  We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Executive Editor, Carina Press

  www.carinapress.com

  www.twitter.com/carinapress

  www.facebook.com/carinapress

  Dedication

  For my big sister, Linda

  Acknowledgments

  As always, I’m indebted to my amazing editor, Deb Nemeth, who made this story so much stronger with her insight, expertise and sound advice. Thank you, Deb. And thank you for being such a joy to work with.

  I’m also truly grateful to everyone else at Carina Press for their hard work, dedication and professionalism.

  And to Nick, who keeps the faith. Thank you.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty
-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  “What the—? What are you doing?”

  “What do you think?” He smacked the heavy chunk of wood across his hand. “No one, especially a little shit like you, goes asking questions about me. You shouldn’t have poked your nose into matters that don’t concern you. Your brothers told you, I told you, but no, you wouldn’t listen, would you?”

  “And what are you going to do about it? Kill me too?”

  His answer was to bring the wood down hard. Blood fountained into the cold night air. Bone cracked against the stone wall.

  Droplets of warm, sticky blood landed on his face, but that was okay. He’d soon wash it off.

  He clenched the wood tighter in his hand and brought it down again. There was more blood and another satisfying crack as the skull splintered. Blood oozed from a motionless mouth. He was probably dead, but there was no point taking chances.

  He used the wood and his boots to great advantage for a full five minutes. When he finally stopped, he was pleased to note that he hadn’t even broken into a sweat.

  He stood for a moment, drawing in deep calming breaths. Then, after one final kick at the lifeless body, he took a couple of handkerchiefs from his pocket and wiped his boots clean. Confident he wouldn’t leave bloody footprints, he turned and walked briskly down the dark alley until he emerged onto Cromwell Street. It was dimly lit, which suited him perfectly.

  He walked on to the railway bridge that spanned the narrow river. Underneath that bridge, he paused long enough to take off his gloves and his long black overcoat and wrap them around the murder weapon. With his bundle under his arm, he walked on until he came to the gated entrance of Meredith’s Joinery Business. In the yard, a couple of skips overflowed with scrap wood waiting to be hauled away.

  He squeezed through the gap between gate and hedge, and tossed his unwanted clothes and his trusty weapon into the nearest skip. The photos went in too. There was plenty of litter blowing in the wind and he grabbed a handful of flyers, mostly for local fast-food outlets, and threw those in the skip. He took his Zippo lighter from his pocket, lit the paper and moved back to the shadows of the building.

  The smile of a job well done curved his lips as he watched the wood catch.

  He let himself out of the yard by the same way he’d entered and walked casually along the street, turning only once to see flames reaching up to the sky.

  Meredith’s wouldn’t be too worried. They’d put it down to an act of vandalism by bored kids and would be secretly pleased they didn’t have to pay to have the wood taken away. The police were so used to such incidents that they wouldn’t even bother to investigate.

  The evening’s work was done.

  He walked on to the brightly lit town centre. Youngsters with hoods pulled over their heads to ward off the cold January frost ambled around, looking for mischief. Half a dozen young men came out of a pub and stopped to light up cigarettes. Two girls emerged giggling from the Chinese takeaway. One clutched a white bag heavy with food and the other girl was in charge of a bottle of wine.

  It was a normal Thursday night in the northern town of Dawson’s Clough.

  Chapter Two

  Joe thought there was something familiar about the man sitting on the barstool next to him. Something unusual too. Instead of eyeing up the tempting array of flesh on display, this man chose to stare morosely at the drinks.

  Saluka, a tall Moroccan girl, walked onto the stage and was soon wooing the men in the crowded room. All she wore was a white G-string that existed merely to hold crisp notes close to her body. Dark skin gleamed beneath the pulsating lights as she gyrated to the thumping music. Her eyes, as black as the devil’s soul, missed nothing.

  Tempo was proud of its reputation for being the loudest nightclub in the northwest of England. It wasn’t the noise that had brought in the customers though. It was a combination of the floor show and the promise of cheap drinks until ten o’clock.

  Joe knew better than to mess with the dancers and he could take or leave the cheap drinks, but he presumed the latter had brought this man to the club. As he was balanced on a barstool it was difficult to tell, but Joe would put him at five-ten or maybe six feet tall. He looked to be in fairly good shape too. He was about forty, his blond hair was in need of a cut, and a few weeks’ worth of untrimmed beard hugged his face. He wore round glasses that looked a little ridiculous. But perhaps he’d been a fan of John Lennon. His leather jacket had been quality but was battered through years of wear. An equally well-worn pair of denims plus grubby running shoes completed the outfit.

  “Whisky, please.” The man banged down his glass on the bar. “You’d better make it a double.”

  The barman considered this. “One more,” he said, “and then you’re on your way, mate. Okay? You’ve had more than enough already.”

  “Sure.”

  Joe watched him pay for his drink, paying particular attention to where he put his wallet. The idiot put it in the back pocket of his jeans, the easiest place in the world to lose it.

  Joe had picked pockets since he was ten years old, and almost forty years later he was still an expert. He soon had the leather wallet, worn thin from years of use, in his hand. Its owner was too busy staring into the bottom of his glass to notice.

  He held it out of sight, behind the man’s back, to open it. Inside he found a train ticket stub, a betting slip, a driver’s license and a tatty five-pound note. Regardless of the barman’s views, this man was too short of cash to get any more drunk than he already was.

  Joe checked out the driver’s license. Well, well, well.

  He closed the wallet and tapped its owner on the shoulder. “You dropped this.” He had to shout to make himself heard above the booming dance music. “Hey, I’m sure I know you.”

  “I shouldn’t think so. I’m not from these parts.” The man took his wallet from him and shoved it in the same pocket, ready for a less honest pickpocket to come along. “Thanks.”

  “Me neither,” Joe said, “but I never forget a face. Here, let me get you another drink. The prices will double in a couple of minutes.”

  “I can’t afford to be proud so I’ll take a drink from anyone, but you’re confusing me with someone else. I guarantee we’ve never met.”

  Joe won the barman’s attention. “One more for us both. They’re on me. Oh, and don’t worry about my friend here. He won’t cause trouble. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “This is definitely his last,” the barman warned, but he filled two clean glasses with whisky and put them on the bar. Profit came a long way above the law in this place.

  “Well, I never.” Joe tapped his new friend on the shoulder. “I’ve got you now. I told you I never forget a face.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He lifted his glass. “Cheers.”

  “You’re welcome, my friend. So what brings you north, Dave?”

  “Eh? How do you know my name?” He leaned so far back on his barstool, he was in danger of falling off.
>
  “Down in the Smoke. We’re going back about five years. No, it’s closer to eight. It’s Joe. Joe Child. You must remember me. We met when we were both working for McCoy. You can’t have forgotten.”

  Dave Young narrowed bloodshot eyes to peer more closely at him. “I remember McCoy.”

  “Then you must remember me.” Joe laughed. “How many whiskies have you had?”

  “Joe. Joe Child. I vaguely remember—oh, yeah. Bloody hell. It’s Joey. Right?”

  “That’s it.” Joe slapped him on the back. “We had some times, didn’t we?”

  “I remember. You fleeced me for a load of cash at poker. Christ, that’s going back a bit. You were McCoy’s right-hand man.”

  Child shrugged. “We got along okay.”

  “I was only doing some driving for him.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “I remember.”

  “McCoy’s dead, you know. A couple of months ago. Well, you’ll know that. Can’t say I’m too upset about it. It’s thanks to that bastard I got sent down.”

  “Oh? I didn’t hear about that.” Joe had made a run for it before the shit hit the fan. He’d been too busy waiting for someone to grass him up to worry about Young.

  “Remember the night he got busted?” Young said. “I was doing a delivery for him. One fucking delivery and I ended up doing eight months.” He took a big swallow of his drink. “You were on holiday in Ireland, I remember. Convenient, that. Still, it’s forgotten. We’re best out of it. The money was good, but I can do without getting banged up again.” He swayed on his barstool and leaned in close. “So what brings you up here, Joey?”

  “Me and the wife felt like—you remember Doll, don’t you?”

  “Doll? ’’Course I do. You’re still together then?”

  “Till death do us part, Davey boy. Well, we felt like getting away from London. I’ve changed, you see. I’ve put those dark days behind me. Look—” He took a card from his shirt pocket and handed it over. “You can find me here now. There will always be a welcome for you.”