Jamaica Plain (9780738736396) Read Online Free PDF Page B

be ready in the morning.”
    The two big guys glared at each other like bulls preparing to charge. The pissing contest was suddenly back full force. Kincaid was staking out his territory. Grant was the intruder. He could understand that. He respected Kincaid’s position but wasn’t going down without letting the detective know he knew what was going on too.
    â€œPrison soap. Happens a lot, does it?”
    â€œNot a lot. But when they get desperate, anything goes.”
    â€œWhy’s he so desperate?”
    â€œAsk him tomorrow. Miller will drop you at your hotel.”
    Miller grabbed the car keys from the desk and shrugged into his jacket. The smile was ear to ear. He came around the desk and held out a hand. “Tyson Miller.”
    Grant shook it. “I know.”
    Miller looked confused.
    Grant pointed at the name badge pinned to Miller’s jacket. Enthusiasm became embarrassment, but the young detective smiled through it. He waved towards the door and took the lead. Grant picked up his bag and followed, part of his mind wondering what Freddy Sullivan was afraid of that made him so desperate to get out of jail. Another part of his mind was thinking something else.
    Snake Pass isn’t restricted, though. That was some serious ass you kicked.
    Snake Pass might not have been restricted, but the official report only covered the numbers. One building demolished. Three vehicles burnt out. Eight dead, including six bad guys and two innocent bystanders, one of them an off-duty cop. All because Grant wanted a quiet drink after being dismissed from duty early. That and the fact that his words always came back to haunt him. The words this time were his warning to probationary constable Jamie Hope about not getting involved when you were off-duty.
    â€œCase in point: young copper I knew goes for a Chinese down at Mean Wood junction. Pubs are shutting. Lot of drunks ordering a takeaway. Trouble brews. A fight ensues. Young copper whips out his warrant card and orders them all to cease and desist. What do you think happened?”
    Hope tried to keep the hero worship off his face. Having a legend of the West Yorkshire Police as your training officer was like manna from heaven for a young probationary constable. He answered with a question. “They didn’t cease and desist?”
    â€œThey did not. He got the shit kicked out of him and spent three days in hospital. The riot he provoked wrecked the Chinese and two shops either side of it and put everybody on double shifts for a week. Point is: drunks fighting each other are par for the course. Serves ’em right if they’ve got sore heads and a few bruises the following morning. It’s no big deal.”
    Three hours later his words proved to be almost prophetic. Only it wasn’t a few drunks fighting each other, it was a bunch of Ukrainian drug manufacturers and the Dominguez cartel fighting a turf war in the Yorkshire hills. Blood, snot, and the last big snowfall of winter made it a long, dark night.
    You can’t make an omelette without breaking some eggs.
    That might well be true, but Grant hadn’t started the omelette. He couldn’t deny breaking a few eggs, but it was the Ukrainians that broke the first one when they slapped the waitress across the face. Grant had been pulling out of the car park at Woodlands Truck Stop and Diner when that had happened. The slap had triggered one of Grant’s reflex actions—protecting the weak. Only now he had developed a calm-in-the-face-of-danger technique that had served him well in the army and was a godsend in the police. He turned the engine off and got out of the car. Crossing the car park, he stepped out of the cold night air and into hot water, because this turned out to be more than a boarding-school bully picking on an easy target.
    The snow got heavier. Snake Pass was closed to traffic. And the opposition grew in numbers as the true nature of the house behind the