Vanishing Point Read Online Free PDF Page A

breaking loose here,’ Turner greeted as he raised his white spidery eyebrows. It made no difference; his small dark eyes were still hidden beneath his sagging, crumpled eyelids.
    ‘Tell me about it.’
    ‘So you heard about the stabbing then? Christ! How bad can things get, eh?’
    Brady frowned. Apart from Conrad, he hadn’t caught up with anyone yet.
    ‘What stabbing?’
    ‘You don’t know, do you?’ Turner replied worriedly. ‘It explains why the DCI has been desperate to talk to you. You do turn your phone on, don’t you, Jack? Because he’s been chasing my hide for the past hour wanting to know as soon as you turn up! And Conrad’s been hanging around waiting for you. I convinced him to get me a coffee just to get him out from under my feet.’
    Automatically Brady reached for his phone.
    He had forgotten to turn it off silent mode. He’d missed three calls; two from DCI Gates and one from Dr Amelia Jenkins.
    Jenkins was the police shrink who, a year ago, had spent the first six weeks after Brady had been shot in the thigh trying to sort his head out. He had insisted all he needed was a couple of bottles of Scotch and a divorce lawyer but she had wanted to try the more professional method. In the end she gave up. She was into the ‘talking cure’ – which had become a problem given Brady’s refusal to talk.
    But why she would be calling him at 7:30am was anyone’s guess. He hadn’t seen her since the last investigation they had worked on together, which was over six months ago. Amelia worked with the force as a forensic psychologist. But for some reason she opted out and had turned to practising clinical psychology instead. Brady presumed something had shaken her to her core. Which was why he was so surprised both that Gates had asked her to be part of the investigation and that Amelia had agreed. He knew that Gates had worked with Amelia when she had been a forensic psychologist, which meant he knew she was good. That, and he trusted her, which was why Brady presumed he had requested her assistance.
    ‘The DCI is out for blood given that one of our own was attacked early this morning in Madley’s nightclub,’ continued Turner.
    Brady realised now why Turner was so agitated.
    ‘Who?’ Brady asked, realising he had been sat behind his desk for too damned long. Once news this crucial would have reached him immediately. Now he was so out of the circuit that it took the watchdog Turner to fill him in on the night’s events.
    Then he remembered Conrad. This was obviously what he had wanted to tell him.
    ‘I’m sorry, Jack … I don’t know how to tell you this …’ Turner uncomfortably began.
    ‘Who, Charlie? Who was attacked?’ asked Brady, starting to feel uneasy.
    ‘Henderson,’ Turner quietly replied.
    Brady felt as if he had just been punched in the guts. He couldn’t breathe. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the reception desk to steady himself. His head was spinning. All he could think was that it couldn’t be her. She wasn’t the Henderson Turner was talking about. It had to be someone else. But he already knew it was. After all, he had seen her with his own eyes in Madley’s nightclub. And he had turned and left. Left her alone with two men who, for all he knew, were responsible for … He couldn’t bring himself to think about it.
    Brady raised his head and looked at Turner’s concerned face, searching for some sign that he had got it wrong.
    ‘Simone?’ Brady mumbled, his dark brown eyes begging Turner to tell him he was mistaken.
    Turner nodded sadly, unable to repeat her name.
    ‘What happened to her?’ Brady whispered hoarsely, trying with all his might to ignore the panic that had taken hold of him.
    ‘That’s it. We don’t know,’ Turner answered quietly. He dropped his gaze, unable to look Brady in the eye. ‘An anonymous emergency call came through shortly after 3am this morning locating an injured DC locked in the gents’ toilets in the Blue Lagoon