Cold Death (D.S.Hunter Kerr) by Michael Fowler Read Free Book Online Page A

father’s Scottish accent was brittle and more laboured than normal.
    He leaned forward and rested an elbow on the edge of the bed, cupped his chin in his hand and stroked growing bristles; he was in need of a shave.
    “Four broken ribs, more than a few cuts and bruises, and a couple of stitches above your right eye. You’ll live.”
    “How’s your Ma?”
    “She’s on Ward Two.” He saw his father’s face change. It was a look of anguish as well as concern. “Don’t worry she’s only there for observation. She’s had a nasty bang to her head. And she actually looks like she’s done ten rounds with Mohammed Ali.” He cracked a wry smile. “Beth and the boys are with her, keeping her company.”
    “I’m glad she’s okay son. I wouldn’t know what I’d do if anything happened to your ma.” He made an attempt to clear his throat and that sent him into a paroxysm of coughing. His chest shook fitfully and a rasping sound broke from his mouth.
    Hunter watched on helpless as tears welled up in his father’s eyes.
    “Bloody hell that hurt,” he cried out as he clutched his upper torso and pushed himself back into the bed. “What happened son?”
    Hunter recounted the incident, the silver BMW ramming the car and how they somersaulted across the moorland. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
    “Some accident, eh?”
    “That was no accident dad. The BMW deliberately rammed you.” Hunter pushed himself upright. “Was this to do with that guy you were arguing with this morning?”
    He saw his father tense. “I’ve already told you what that was about. Leave it,” he snapped.
    “Look you and mum were nearly killed today, if that guy was involved then I’ll find out.”
    “And I said just leave it. I’ll sort this once I get out of here.”
    “Dad you’re in no state to sort anything out. Leave me to deal with it. That’s what I get paid to do. That’s my job.”
    “Just leave it son.”
    “I can’t. Now why don’t you tell me what that was all about this morning?  It’s too much of a coincidence that what happened to you was only a couple of hours after you’ve dumped a guy on his backside. What are you hiding dad?”
    “Nothing,” he snapped again. “Just leave it I said.”
    Hunter saw his dad suddenly pale. He dropped back onto his pillow. His face glistened with sweat.
    Hunter raised himself from the chair. “Do you need me to get a nurse?”
    “I could do with a couple of painkillers. I hurt all over.” He closed his eyes.
    In that instance Hunter thought his father looked tired and drawn; there was almost a look of frailty about him.
    He left the room and made for the nurse’s station. As he was speaking with a staff nurse, asking for extra painkillers, his mobile rang. He’d switched it to silent because of the hospital rules and it was vibrating in his pocket.
    He quickly fished it out and viewed the screen; it was his work partner Grace Marshall calling. He’d been trying on and off for most of the afternoon to get hold of her. Slotting the mobile to his ear and opening up the call he used facial expressions and a hand signal to the nurse that he needed to take the call and he shot away from the nurse’s work station and bounded along the corridor.
    “Hi Grace,” he answered pushing through the double doors and exiting the ward. He came to a halt in the corridor. “I’ve been ringing you most of the day and all I’ve been getting is your voicemail.” He didn’t wait for her to reply. “Listen I need a favour.”
    Hunter narrated what had happened. How he had seen his father arguing with the bald headed man that morning and then the lunchtime incident when his parents car had been deliberately run off the road. “We only managed to get a part index and I’ve given that to North Yorks police, but I could do with someone following it up.” He paused for breath. “Grace, do you remember a few weeks ago when we dealt with Steve Paynton?”
    He was trying to visualise the