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Back The Last Guests
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART ONE
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. DEADLY SAS RAID IN AFGHANISTAN UNDER SCRUTINY
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. PART TWO
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. DANIEL MOORE: ‘A SINGLE BLOKE, HAPPY-GO-LUCKY, A BIT OF A DUNCE BUT WITH A GOOD HEART,’ BEST FRIEND SAYS.
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. THIRTY-TWO
  41. THIRTY-THREE
  42. THIRTY-FOUR
  43. THIRTY-FIVE
  44. BREAKING: POLICE CONFIRM DANIEL MOORE ACTED ALONE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. SECOND ARREST MADE IN WESTAY HIDDEN CAMERAS CASE
  50. EPILOGUE
  51. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  52. Discover More
  53. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  54. Also by J. P. Pomare

His eyes narrow just a touch. ‘I could have sworn I recognise you from somewhere. Maybe not.’ He stands uncomfortably close, hands on hips, forcing his suit jacket open. ‘No, I have seen you somewhere. It’ll come to me. Or maybe you’ve just got one of those faces.’ Then he lets out a laugh and slaps Scotty’s shoulder, before retreating to the house. I radio for the police and we stick around outside the property until they arrive and I explain what I saw. Then, Scotty insists we clear off. He doesn’t want to see his friend’s face when the officers knock on the door.

I back out of the driveway, look once more at those vehicles, that house, then ease my foot down on the accelerator and head towards the station. Scotty is quiet, unreadable. He’s playing on his phone and barely speaks for the rest of the shift. I’ve ruined his little catch-up with an old school friend who appears to be doing well for himself. Maybe Scotty could see a friendship re-forming before I snuffed it out. At six-thirty when we get back to the station, he simply says, ‘See you next shift,’ signs out and takes his bag to his car without another word.

•

‘How was work?’ Cain asks. He’s got his tattered light boxing gloves on and has been hitting the bag in the yard.

‘It was okay, had an odd call this afternoon. Have you heard of Rick Reynolds?’

A spark of recognition. ‘Yeah, I have actually. I think I’ve seen him at Axel’s gym. Tallish, Pākehā fellow? Pretty lean.’

Everyone in Auckland is connected somehow. ‘That’s him. He’s running for prime minister with about zero point one percent of the population behind him.’

‘Careful, there is plenty of looneys that will probably vote for him in the next election.’

‘We got called to his house. His wife had bruises.’

I see a vein near his temple. This is one of Cain’s rules: men should never hurt women or children. They shouldn’t hurt other people at all unless it is completely necessary.

‘You sure?’ he says.

‘No, but my intuition with this stuff is normally pretty good.’

‘So what happened?’

I pinch the bridge of my nose, massage my eyelids. ‘I called the cops, Scotty wasn’t too pleased about it.’

‘You called the cops on him?’

‘Of course.’

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