My Kind of Justice: How Far Would You Go For Justice (D.I. Jack Striker Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

these pricks needed to show more respect. Despite his fourteen years’ service in the Job – a perpetually expanding client base, a booming business even the credit crunch couldn’t wane – some things never changed: the cocksure arrogance of the budding criminal.
    “Where have your mates gone?”
    “Dunno. They just ran off,” mumbled Mozo.
    “Where and why?”
    “Dunno and dunno.”
    After an exaggerated sigh, mindful of other crucial avenues to explore, Striker said, “You’ve not heard the last from me.” Turning to Davison and lowering his voice, he said, “PNC them both and verify their current details. Don’t let them go anywhere until you’ve got signed first accounts. And if they don’t assist you, threaten to lock them up for obstruct.”
    “Will do, Boss,” said the young constable, a flicker of insecurity in his expression.
    Striker thought for a moment, realising the officer’s inexperience. “Give me a minute and I’ll get you some help, Ben.” Striker gave the boys a parting shot. “Tell this officer what you know or you’ll be arrested.”
    He retraced his steps back through the outer scene, scanning the floor for anything eye-catching as five more uniformed officers tumbled out of a divisional van outside the main cordon. He was pleased to see DC Lauren Collinge with them, her friendly, pretty face and sweeping auburn locks lifting his spirits somewhat.
    He smiled at Collinge, who reciprocated; the slight gap between her central incisors her only blemish, present perhaps because God thought she was too beautiful.
    “Hi, Boss. Been a while.”
    “Lauren. Good to have you back.”
    “It’s nice to be back.”
    “How was the course?”
    “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
    “Apparently so. Believe you passed with flying colours. Congratulations.”
    “Yep. I’m a fully-fledged detective now, Boss.” She flicked her hair confidently, her captivating smile enhanced by a subtle tan.
    Realising the lull created by her arrival, Striker promptly refocused. “We’ll catch up later, Lauren, but for now go and assist that constable over there” – he gestured at Davison and the hoodies – “and see what you can get from those two…” He refrained from calling them ‘scrotes’.
    “Sure. Whatever I can do to help,” she said, giving him the smile again.
    Striker watched her go. “And Lauren…”
    Collinge stopped, looked round.
    “Call me Jack. You’re part of the team now.”
    She nodded and winked at him.
    Striker smiled inwardly, pleased to have her on board. She’d been helping out on attachment from CID, having expressed her interest in MIT to Striker a few months earlier. Admittedly, he’d pulled a few strings, but he knew she was a willing worker and quick learner. Striker was aware of the occasional raised eyebrow from other female detectives who’d wrongly assumed something to be going on between Collinge and himself, but the rumours were unfounded. There was no way Collinge would go for a man ten years her senior, especially one with Striker’s baggage. It was simply his prerogative to build a team he could trust implicitly.
    He swiftly instructed the newly arrived officers to their assigned duties. He tasked two of them to conduct house-to-house, one to make CCTV enquiries at the petrol station, another to liaise with the response sergeant to help with the scene log, if necessary, and also to assist in preserving the scene from the ever-growing crowd. All the while Striker kept glancing over at Lauren Collinge.
    The officers eagerly starburst to their various tasks as Striker weighed up the evidence so far, or lack of it. The sound of an approaching vehicle caught his attention. He fought off a feeling of deflation while watching the DCI’s shiny, silver Mondeo park up.
    Now, here was a woman he wasn’t so happy to see.
    Typical.

Chapter Two
     
    Chisel weaved through the dark, dank Manchester alleyways like a sewer rat. He looked repeatedly over his shoulder