No Reprieve

No Reprieve Ravenswood Crime Series Tony Millington City Stone Publishing ISBN (paperback): 978-1-915399-19-9 ISBN (ePUB): 978-1-915399-20-5 Copyright 2018 © Tony Millington All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. All characters are fictional. Any similarity to any actual person is purely coincidental. The right of Tony Millington to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 and any subsequent amendments thereto. A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Tony Millington | www.facebook.com/TonyMillingtonAuthor City Stone Publishing | www.citystonepublishing.com First printed: May 2018Second edition: February 2022Third edition: June 2023 To Mum Joan Millington 1939-2023 CHAPTER ONE Tuesday Night 11.30 p.m.It was past kicking out time at The Dragon’s Den. Ronald Freeman downed the dregs of his last pint and said goodnight to the landlord of his local. He had been cheering on their pool team, who had beaten The King’s Head 7-2 in the local league. The last to leave, having consumed far too much alcohol, he staggered through the back door of the pub towards the car park. It had been raining most of the evening, so he zig-zagged across the tarmac, trying to avoid the rain-filled potholes.Freeman lit a cigarette, keeping it in his mouth as he reached for the car door and fumbled for the keys in his trousers pocket, dropping them on the ground, and swearing under his breath. Leaning over, he grabbed them before opening the door of the battered silver VW Passat, which he had abandoned haphazardly next to a wall at the back of the car park. With the cigarette still hanging from his mouth, Freeman slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, doing the seatbelt up. There was a knock on the window. Puzzled, he wound down the window and glared through the cigarette smoke and rain mist to see a human form standing by his car. ‘Mr Ronald Freeman?’ the stranger asked.‘Yes? Who the fuck wants to know?’ Freeman snarled.‘This is for Fredrick Mason,’ Colin Littlewood said calmly. He fired twice. The back of Freeman’s head exploded as the bullets entered through the forehead, showering the inside of the car with pieces of skull and brain matter. He slumped in the seat, held in place only by his seat belt.Colin Littlewood knew where Freeman would be that night. He had been following him for over a week, following at a safe distance to work out the best time and place to kill Freeman. Littlewood had surveyed the car park and noted the ill-lit corners at the back where the bins were. Would Freeman park there? Littlewood figured he would, as the car park usually was full by the time Freeman arrived at the pub. It had made it all too easy, he thought. It had been an excellent place to wait in the shadows, near the industrial bins. So, he'd waited in the perfect spot to put a bullet in Freeman’s head. Yes, it stank, but it would be worth it. If anyone saw him there and asked, he was just looking for his dog. As Littlewood slipped away unnoticed, he had mixed feelings about his now heavy and drenched donkey coat. But, he remembered, it had the perfect pockets to hide a gun. Now walking away nonchalantly past the pub, he couldn’t suppress his euphoria. ‘One down,’ he said and smiled. Revenge was sweet.It was nearly midnight. Terry Watson yawned. He turned off the bedside lights when the “War of the Worlds” theme music blared from his phone.His wife, Sally, sat up and scowled at him. ‘Who could ring at this time of night?’ she asked sarcastically.Terry thought about cracking a joke, but decided against it. He picked up the phone from the bedside table. ‘I’ll be outside in five,’ he heard, as expected, the voice of his friend and colleague, Detective Sergeant Keith Monteith. 'Are you in the car already?' Watson asked. 'Where's the fire?' ‘It’s a shooting, guv,’ Monteith responded.‘I’ll be waiting.’ Watson could hear the spinning of the car wheels. Watson quickly threw back on the day's clothes as Sally looked on. He checked he had everything, including his police ID, warrant card, and radio. ‘Is it really necessary?' Sally asked, Bugs Bunny grinning at him from her nightshirt. 'You know I hate it when you go off in the middle of the night.' Do you have to go?’ ‘After fifteen years of marriage, you still ask me that.’ Watson turned when he reached the top of the stairs and kissed her.‘Because I care, you silly sod,’ Sally sighed loudly, taking one last cuddle and kiss before he walked down the stairs.‘Love you, Sally,’ he called as he opened the front door.Outside, Monteith was already waiting in his BMW. Sally watched him go out of the door and heard him lock it from the front. She dreaded to think what kind of risk he was going to face. What if one day she got the call, or the visit, that every wife feared? The one that meant he wouldn’t be coming home? ‘Where’s daddy going?’ A sleepy voice called out from one bedroom.Sally opened the door. Six-year-old Rachael was sitting up in bed. ‘He has to go into work, little miss, and you should be asleep. Did we wake you?’ Sally entered the room and tucked her daughter back into bed.‘I heard Dad’s phone going off and both of you talking,’ Rachael said as she lay back down and rubbed her closing eyes.‘He will be back soon, darling. Now I think we should both try to get some sleep.’ She kissed her daughter on the forehead. ‘Goodnight sweetie.’The little girl, half asleep, cuddled up to