Courage by James Hardy
Joanne Sinclair wants Leroy Martin's help to find a serial killer dubbed the Dorking Devil. The problem is, he's a criminal who spent two years in prison and she's the detective who helped put him there.
The unlikely duo team up to find the man and bring him down and, surprisingly, they make a good pair. But it isn't long before Leroy's past catches up with him, putting them both in grave danger.
About the author
James began writing COURAGE 40 years ago. He resurrected and rewrote the draft following a serious illness. His daughter, knowing he had the passion to write, dropped a notepad on his lap as he lay in a hospital bed and said, 'Now you have the time, write!'
CHAPTER ONE
‘What the hell!’ Shaw said, with a note of terror as he was forced awake by a sound he couldn’t articulate, eyes dazzled by the brightly lit bedside lamp someone had switched on. Which wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t live in the five-bed, Victorian, Richmond Street house, alone.
He was married to his political career. He had devoted his life to working his way up the ranks from Councillor to MP, before rising to prominence as a Minister.
‘Good evening,’ came a deep husky voice, lurking in the shadows. Shaw shrieked, ‘What do you want, money?’
His body quivered and a fresh wave of terror reared up as the
silhouette emerged from the shadows, then walked around his bed, cutting the air with a glimmer of silver.
He blinked. But it was still there. A monstrous looking, serrated blade.
As a high profile MP, hated by many, Shaw had lived with threats to his life on a daily basis. Threats that would trigger a fight or flight response. Now, in the vulnerability of his bed, his only response was feeling the blood in his veins freeze.
He forced his trembling legs over the side of the queen-size bed and attempted to sit up. The intruder stepped forward from the shadows and knocked Shaw back down with a punch to the side of the head. ‘You move when I tell you to move!’ His aura was as sinister as his voice.
Shaw yelped, holding the side of his pulsating temple. The intruder hadn’t expected such a response from a blow he considered just a tad over soft. It was intended to alert Shaw to his presence, not land him squirming in pain like a pussyclart. If he had wanted Shaw dead, then he could have charged that blow with the necessary clout to do the job.
Although Shaw had been told not to move, he was unaware that he had shrunk back with fear until he’d reversed himself to the headboard. Shaw cowered and shrieked as the intruder hit the light switch.
