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Back The Ringmaster Save as PDF
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

I could think of quite a substantial list of things to lose, but bugger it, Maggie was right. If I didn’t stand up for myself, no one was going to do it for me, and that arsehole would continue to think it was acceptable to treat people like shit. Although it could end in disaster, and scared the bejesus out of me, it was time I put my big girl pants on and called him out.

29

The unexpected assault of the cellphone going off next to my head wrenched me violently into the here and now. I’d been in the middle of a rather unpleasant dream involving me, the police-squad room and the sudden realisation I wasn’t wearing any pants. This would be bad at the best of times, but in this dream, I was addressing my colleagues about the Bateman case. They hadn’t noticed yet, and my mind had been going rapid-fire, trying to think of a way to get out of the predicament before I made a total fool of myself. My panic was reflected in the twisted mangle of sheets I found myself entwined in on waking. It was dark, my heart rate was through the roof and my hands shook like a druggie on a severe downer. Despite this, the cellphone’s intrusion had done me a favour.

The time on the display screen glared 5.14 a.m. Who the hell rang anyone at this time of the morning? Good news never came at this hour. My mind leaped immediately to Dad.

‘Hello?’ I said, my voice foreign and raspy.

‘DC Shephard?’ Oh God, that sounded formal.

‘Yes.’

‘Dunedin Watch House.’ The chest tightness eased a fraction, but the other ill effects of the adrenaline rush remained. ‘Look, there’s been a bit of a development at the circus.’

‘What’s happened?’ It must have been bad for them to be calling in off-duty officers at this time of day.

‘A fire, someone’s torched the place. It’s pandemonium, you need to get there straight away. The owner specifically requested you.’

Shit.

‘I’m on my way.’

It was quite possibly the strangest and most surreal sight I’d ever witnessed. It would have been oddly beautiful if the ramifications weren’t so hideous.

The orange and red hues of the still-leaping flames shimmered through a billowing pall of black smoke and cast the pre-dawn sky aglow in a Dante-esque vision. The now-exposed poles of the big top, jutting up like bones amid the still-burning carcass of the tent, reflected the staccato flashes of red and blue made by the fire units and police cars crowding the scene. The flames hadn’t restricted themselves to the main attraction and I could make out two trailer homes and the ticket office alight as I pulled up to the scene.