Free Black & Blue: Where it all began…… (D.S Hunter Kerr) by Michael Fowler Page A
Authors: Michael Fowler
on her knees. Scuffling broke out. Then, a desperate scream of “No” pierced the night air.
An overwhelming sense of fear and dread enveloped her as she desperately fought to make sense of what was happening outside. A split-second later she felt the ground reverberate - as if someone had fallen with a heavy bump nearby.
Helen’s chest tightened. Her heart contracted and a sharp pain made her flinch. Then, her stomach turned making her feel sick and faint. She gasped and froze. She took a hold of herself. Instinct was telling her something was wrong. Dead wrong! Especially that something bad had happened to James and yet she still whimpered his name.
For a few seconds there was complete silence. She pulled her legs even tighter. Braced herself so tight that pins and needles sparked through her lower limbs.
Soft spoken words broke the peace. It sounded like someone was whispering numbers. Counting down.
Then a high-pitched tone hissed. “Coming, ready or not!”
- ooOoo -
CHAPTER ONE
17 th March 2009.
Sheffield.
In The Frog and Parrot, on Division Street, Leonna Lewis’s ‘Bleeding Love’ boomed from a large set of speakers, piled high upon the staging area, reverberating into the room, tormenting Gemma Cooke’s hearing. Tormenting her, because picking her way through the song, some of the lyrics were so adversely poignant, given what she had recently gone through, and in another time and another place she might have shed a tear. But, not right now. Tonight she was going to celebrate with her friends. Added to that, the large amount of vodka and coke she had drunk over the last few hours had numbed any feelings of sorrow.
She felt her mobile vibrate in her pocket; the noise had stifled its ring-tone. She moved to retrieve it. For a few seconds she fumbled around, struggling to pull it out - the combination of the tightness of her jeans and her slouched position in her seat making it difficult. Finally she tugged it free. Flipping it open she saw that she had one new message, though it wasn’t from anyone on her contact list. In fact she didn’t recognise the number. She pressed the OK button and the text flashed onto her screen. It took her only a few seconds to read the three lines of text but in that short space of time the drunken happiness she had been experiencing abandoned her, as her stomach turned-turtle and the bile rose in her throat.
An anxious voice opposite broke her free from her trance-like state.
“Gemma, what’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Across the table, over a sea of alcoholic drinks, Gemma sought out her best friend
Lauren. Catching her concerned look, in a loud, vitriolic tone, she snapped, “Look what that bastard’s just sent.”
She picked out a space amongst all the glasses and bottles, and set down her phone in the centre of the table, enabling all her friends who were hunched around to catch a glimpse. Depressing the OK button again she activated the back-lit screen.
‘ I’m gonna slit ur throte an burn ur fuckin hous down bitch.’
- ooOoo -
CHAPTER TWO
DAY ONE OF THE INVESTIGATION:
18 th March 2009.
Barnwell.
The bedside phone rang, jerking Hunter Kerr out of a deep sleep. Beside him Beth moaned her disapproval and rolled over. It took him a couple of seconds to pull his thoughts together. The alarm hadn’t gone off. It was still dark outside. That phone call could only mean one thing. A job. Bad news for some poor sod. He grabbed the handset and hoisted himself up.
He said softly, “DS Kerr.”
He hung onto every soft Scottish syllable the woman uttered. Her voice was steady, almost soothing, despite the nature of the message she was relaying. He stored everything to memory and as she finished he let her know that he was on his way. Then he ended the call.
Fumbling around in the darkness he returned the handset, and as carefully as he could, so as not to disturb his
An overwhelming sense of fear and dread enveloped her as she desperately fought to make sense of what was happening outside. A split-second later she felt the ground reverberate - as if someone had fallen with a heavy bump nearby.
Helen’s chest tightened. Her heart contracted and a sharp pain made her flinch. Then, her stomach turned making her feel sick and faint. She gasped and froze. She took a hold of herself. Instinct was telling her something was wrong. Dead wrong! Especially that something bad had happened to James and yet she still whimpered his name.
For a few seconds there was complete silence. She pulled her legs even tighter. Braced herself so tight that pins and needles sparked through her lower limbs.
Soft spoken words broke the peace. It sounded like someone was whispering numbers. Counting down.
Then a high-pitched tone hissed. “Coming, ready or not!”
- ooOoo -
CHAPTER ONE
17 th March 2009.
Sheffield.
In The Frog and Parrot, on Division Street, Leonna Lewis’s ‘Bleeding Love’ boomed from a large set of speakers, piled high upon the staging area, reverberating into the room, tormenting Gemma Cooke’s hearing. Tormenting her, because picking her way through the song, some of the lyrics were so adversely poignant, given what she had recently gone through, and in another time and another place she might have shed a tear. But, not right now. Tonight she was going to celebrate with her friends. Added to that, the large amount of vodka and coke she had drunk over the last few hours had numbed any feelings of sorrow.
She felt her mobile vibrate in her pocket; the noise had stifled its ring-tone. She moved to retrieve it. For a few seconds she fumbled around, struggling to pull it out - the combination of the tightness of her jeans and her slouched position in her seat making it difficult. Finally she tugged it free. Flipping it open she saw that she had one new message, though it wasn’t from anyone on her contact list. In fact she didn’t recognise the number. She pressed the OK button and the text flashed onto her screen. It took her only a few seconds to read the three lines of text but in that short space of time the drunken happiness she had been experiencing abandoned her, as her stomach turned-turtle and the bile rose in her throat.
An anxious voice opposite broke her free from her trance-like state.
“Gemma, what’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Across the table, over a sea of alcoholic drinks, Gemma sought out her best friend
Lauren. Catching her concerned look, in a loud, vitriolic tone, she snapped, “Look what that bastard’s just sent.”
She picked out a space amongst all the glasses and bottles, and set down her phone in the centre of the table, enabling all her friends who were hunched around to catch a glimpse. Depressing the OK button again she activated the back-lit screen.
‘ I’m gonna slit ur throte an burn ur fuckin hous down bitch.’
- ooOoo -
CHAPTER TWO
DAY ONE OF THE INVESTIGATION:
18 th March 2009.
Barnwell.
The bedside phone rang, jerking Hunter Kerr out of a deep sleep. Beside him Beth moaned her disapproval and rolled over. It took him a couple of seconds to pull his thoughts together. The alarm hadn’t gone off. It was still dark outside. That phone call could only mean one thing. A job. Bad news for some poor sod. He grabbed the handset and hoisted himself up.
He said softly, “DS Kerr.”
He hung onto every soft Scottish syllable the woman uttered. Her voice was steady, almost soothing, despite the nature of the message she was relaying. He stored everything to memory and as she finished he let her know that he was on his way. Then he ended the call.
Fumbling around in the darkness he returned the handset, and as carefully as he could, so as not to disturb his
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