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Back The Ringmaster
Chapters (73)
  1. Cover
  2. The Ringmaster
  3. Contents
  4. Prologue
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. Epilogue
  72. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  73. Copyright

‘Why didn’t they ring me here? They’ve got this as my contact number.’ If ever there was a time I wished she’d just shut the fuck up and do as she was told, this was it. It was all I could do not to scream at her down the phone.

‘I don’t know, Ma. Maybe they dialled the wrong number. It happens.’

‘You sound a bit shaky. Is everything alright?’

She chose now to show a smidgeon of concern?

‘I’m fine. Work hassles. Look, you’d better hurry. This sounded like a good opportunity for some information.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Can you ring me on my cellphone as soon as you get there? And I’ll try and get along for the specialist too.’

‘Why would you want to be there, Sam? You haven’t shown that much interest in your father’s medical situation up until now?’

Jesus Christ, Mother.

‘Mum, please.’

‘Okay, fine. I’ll call you. Bye.’

The click echoed through my head, and I sat a moment, paralysed by indecision. Could I trust that she’d get out straight away? Could I trust that he hadn’t listened in to our conversation and wasn’t convinced by my less-than-stellar performance? It was a big fat negative to both. Should I go home? Make sure Mum was okay and get her the hell out of there? Last time I did something alone like that I got into serious trouble. Team player, Sam, you’re a team player now. But what if I was wrong about all this? What if I brought down the full might of the police force upon Uncle Phil and I was wrong? They’d fry me, for sure. But one image replayed in my mind. My mother with a psychopathic killer.

I galvanised into action and sprinted down the hallway to DI Johns’ office. Shit, empty. Of course he wasn’t there. Where was everyone when you needed them? I grabbed his office phone and hit the Watch House hot key.

Busy signal.

Shit, shit, shit.

Okay, okay, who next? Duty CIB squad? I looked at the roster on the wall and dialled the number. Straight to voicemail. Bloody hell. Had the whole police force left town for the day?

In case of dire emergency. This categorised as an emergency in my book. Desperation overrode any thoughts of sounding stupid. I rang 111.

‘111 Emergency, what service do you require?’

‘Police.’

‘One moment, please.’ One agonising moment.

‘Police, how can I help?’