In The Shadows

‘With DCI Helen Lavery facing her most serious crime to date, Jane Isaac has, once more, delivered an authentic, powerful and gripping police procedural. I loved it!’ — Joy Kluver‘Isaac twists terror with fear and confusion and I couldn’t put it down!’ — Rebecca Bradley, former detective and bestselling crime writer‘Taut and gripping with a heart-stopping finale. Jane Isaac’s finest novel yet; an addictive page-turner. DCI Lavery is an outstanding creation.’ — Michael Wood, author of the DCI Matilda Darke Thriller series‘A cleverly crafted police procedural brimming with tension, suspense and colourful characters, its compelling beautifully written storyline kept me gripped and guessing right up to the nail-biting conclusion. Jane Isaac is one hell of a writer who never disappoints! Brilliant stuff, highly recommended!’ — A A Chaudhuri‘DCI Helen Lavery’s personal and professional problems are beautifully balanced in this perfectly plotted thriller. Jane Isaac at her best.’ — Anne Coates JANE ISAAC In theShadows Legend Press Ltd, 51 Gower Street, London, WC1E [email protected] | www.legendpress.co.ukContents © Jane Isaac 2023The right of the above author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data available.Set in Times.Print ISBN 978-1-91564-389-6Ebook ISBN 978-1-91564-390-2Cover Design by Rose Cooper | www.rosecooper.comAll characters, other than those clearly in the public domain, and place names, other than those well-established such as towns and cities, are fictitious and any resemblance is purely coincidental.All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. Jane Isaac studied creative writing with the Writers Bureau and the London School of Journalism. Jane’s short stories have appeared in several crime fiction anthologies. Her debut novel, An Unfamiliar Murder, was published in the US in 2012, and was followed by six novels with Legend Press: The Truth Will Out in 2014, Before It’s Too Late in 2015, Beneath the Ashes in 2016, The Lies Within in 2017, A Deathly Silence in 2019, and Evil Intent in 2022.Jane lives in rural Northamptonshire with her husband, daughter and dog, Bollo.Visit Jane atjaneisaac.co.ukor on Twitter@JaneIsaacAuthor To NabMy best friend, first reader and greatest champion, who retired from the police in 2022 after 25 years’ service.This one is for you x CHAPTER 1 The barrel of the rifle pressed against his thigh as he clutched the holdall close. He surveyed the ivy snaking up the concrete floors of Victoria Car Park. It was 10.51 pm.An hour earlier, this area would have been clogged with people spilling out from the nearby theatre. The thick scent of exhaust fumes filling the air as vehicles revved and reversed. Horns blasting at drivers rudely pushing their way into the queues waiting to exit and head home after a long performance. Now it was quiet. Tranquil. The night was overcast: a dull moon covered by a film of cloud, not a star in sight. Moths fluttered around the light bulb as he entered the stairwell and began his ascent, pausing to glance in at each floor as he passed. A handful of vehicles on the second. A motorbike on the third. Not a pedestrian in sight. The top floor was empty, the stillness only broken by a swooping bat overhead. He checked the stairwells located beside the lifts at either end of the floor, the only areas illuminated, the rest in darkness. Examining the two cameras, he was relieved to find the lenses still broken. The likelihood of anyone venturing up here at this time of night was remote, but still, he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt further down his forehead until it peeked across his brow before walking across to the barrier, lowering the bag to the floor, and peering down at Swan Street below. A woman scurried across the road and disappeared around the corner, leaving the cobbled street empty in her wake. The dull thud of club music drifted upwards. He scanned the low line of buildings opposite: the boutique with its illuminated front, showcasing this summer’s trendy new outfits. The shoe museum encased in darkness. The café on the corner, a roller shutter pulled down over its door. The silhouettes dancing in the latticed windows of O’Malley’s bar, the source of the pulsating beat. This was Hampton’s cultural quarter, mostly housing a mixture of cafés, shops, and museums. The theatre at the top of the hill, the cinema around the corner. Generally quiet by 10.30 on a Friday night – the hardy taking the short walk to the bars in the town centre that stayed open until the early hours. But a small contingent chose to stay and finish their evening in O’Malley’s, an old-fashioned bar that had attracted a cult following due to its weekend DJ nights. He could imagine the scene inside the pub now. Wet bar cloths. Dirty stools. The jazzy carpet filled with the stench of stale beer, barely visible under the weight of young bodies jigging to the music. Underclad women with sweat trickling down exposed cleavages. Drunken guys ogling them. He tore his gaze away, lay the bag on its side and slid out the rifle, cradling the weapon like a new baby. There was something special about an AK-47. The smell of the gun oil, the ridges of the magazine, the cordite aroma that hung in the air after firing. He pulled out a bean bag, placed it on the concrete ledge, rested the barrel on top and took his time to line his sights up with the chipped black doors of O’Malley’s. A taxi cruised down Swan Street and pulled up at the corner. He watched it hover, the engine turning over, the ‘for hire’ sign unlit,