Out of Promises Read online

  OUT OF PROMISES

  By Simon Leigh

  Out of Promises

  Copyright © Simon Leigh 2012

  First published on Amazon Kindle: June 2012

  First Published through CreateSpace September 2014

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN – 13: 978 1499251654 (CreateSpace-Assigned)

  ISBN – 10: 1499251653

  This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the author

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters and places in this novel are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is completely coincidental.

  For my loving wife, Jun.

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO. YOUNG FREDDIE MASON

  i

  ii

  iii

  iv

  v

  vi

  vii

  viii

  ix

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  FOUR YEARS AGO. MICHAEL

  i

  ii

  iii

  iv

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SIX YEARS AGO. WONG

  i

  ii

  iii

  iv

  v

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  TWENTY FIVE YEARS AGO. VALERIE’S STORY

  i

  ii

  iii

  iv

  v

  vi

  vii

  viii

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO. WHEN THE FIRE STARTED

  i

  ii

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIXCHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  2 DAYS AGO

  i

  ii

  THE TRUTH

  iii

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  CHAPTER SIXTY ONE

  CHAPTER SIXTY TWO

  CHAPTER SIXTY THREE

  CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR

  CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE

  CHAPTER SIXTY SIX

  CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER SIXTY NINE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO

  CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX

  CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY

  CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE

  SIX DAYS LATER

  i

  ii

  TWO DAYS LATER

  i

  ii

  OUT OF PROMISES

  PROLOGUE

  1950s Southbrook. A city of a million stories. A city with what felt like a million problems. Crime organizations ruled the streets fighting over territory and control with gang wars overrunning the peace hungry communities. Anything from beatings in back alleys to full on gang warfare shattered the lives of anyone caught up in it. Officials were bent and money was power and the honest, hardworking cops were powerless to do anything. Crime was high, which was the life back then. The life of freeloading. The life of looking over your shoulder whenever you left your house. The life of always being afraid of what awaits you around the corner. Smart people moved away while other naive unsuspecting people replaced them in a never ending circle. The city was the food in which crime was free to feed and it spread to neighbouring cities like an uncontrollable rash in need of a cure.

  During the 60s and 70s, when the authorities finally realized things were out of hand, a major crackdown on crime was initiated. The plan was well-executed and would go down in Southbrook’s history as a turning point for peace. Many people died as protesters became violent, clashing with police in the streets. Some went as far as burning the American flag to show their disgust at being oppressed. These were not the organized crime members they thought they were; they wanted a completely free city with no rules, clueless of what would happen if their wish came true while anarchy smothered the city.

  Eventually, after much bloodshed, crime rates lowered and crime organizations were driven underground. The Southbrook Police Department was changed and restructured. Bent cops were put away with the cons and new officers were drafted in and recruited from nearby cities. Southbrook was to become the clean haven it was meant to be.

  Decades of low crime rates were a welcome break and people grew more confident to roam the streets, even at night.

  Crime still existed, but it was a happier time.

  Through the 80s and 90s, or the quiet period as it became known, there was time for crime organizations to grow again as people had become complacent, unaware of the gradual increase in crime creeping up from the depths they had been driven to. Many crimes went unreported allowing certain organizations to gain the upper hand. Extortion was the key. If the police didn’t know, how could they act? People went about their day blissfully unaware of their peace soon coming to an end with the authorities heading for an uphill struggle of which they could not anticipate.

  The city of Southbrook was fast becoming the nightmare it once was.

  TUESDAY, DECEMBER 7th, 22:00

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dishevelled and hunched over while kneeling on the cold and wet stony floor of Saint Patrick’s church on the edge of the city, a lone man wearing a rain spattered black suit stared at the ground, his arms limp by his side as if all blood had vanished from them.

  ‘Please forgive me,’ he whispered.

  The church was deprived, cold and hollow. Dull and pale stained glass windows high up on the walls kept the wind and rain at bay separating the wild outside world from this lonely one hiding away. Few remaining candles on the walls desperately clutched onto their lives with every draft caught.

  A tired man of twenty seven years, he remained slumped in his motionless state, asking
himself, ‘Shall I go after him?’

  Above him were two crosses. One, eight feet tall and made of oak hanging ten feet up the wall behind the altar. The second was smaller replica with a figure of Jesus still attached, lying on its back staring up into the heavens. To his left stood a pulpit, while in the far right corner were steps feeding down to the crypt below.

  He came alive, lifting his tear filled eyes and tired arms to the smaller cross on the altar. Trembling all over, he lifted it and gazed into the face of Jesus.

  ‘What shall I do? Where shall I go?’ he begged. ‘Give me an idea. Please.’ The words coming as nothing but a tense and needy whisper.

  Not being a religious man, he was way out of his comfort zone. He felt that there was nothing to gain from religion, that all it brought was war and death. He used to say: What had religion done for him?

  Well now he needed it.

  The howling on the windows made him nervous. It made him think of cheap movies made for TV. His imagination had always been a vivid one. He recalled how, as a child lying in bed after being tucked in at night, the howls of the wind would keep him awake with the images of sickening creatures creeping towards his bed, inching ever closer until he dared to turn on the light.

  Still clenching the figure, he looked around at the empty church hall seeing nothing out of the ordinary; dancing candles, some old pews, and a door to another room, left of the main ones. Rain dripped from the ceiling and splashed into the overflowing font at the entrance.

  He felt a shiver.

  Burying his head in his hands, he started to think of how things came to be, thinking of how he had endangered his loved ones with the realization that he may never see his daughter’s smiling face again.

  In a car across the street, was Valerie Lambert. With a long black coat, blue jeans, and a dark blue scarf around her aching neck, she sat in the driver’s side of a well-used sedan from the late 90s watching an SUV parked askew outside the church through a waterfall of battering rain cascading down the windshield.

  Of all the cars we have, why did I get this piece of shit?

  Unlike the man in the church, Valerie didn’t disagree with religion; she kept an open mind. But that’s not to say she agreed with it either. She respected it. She’d never hurt anyone in a church and wasn’t about to start now. The possibility that someone or something was out there was enough for her.

  For warmth on this cold December evening, she turned on the car’s heater and gazed into the rear view mirror. Looking back at her was a pale skinned thirty four year old. Far from unattractive, she still held a youthful face and body that many men had drooled over in the past, but right now, she felt old. Maybe it was the cold, or maybe the fact she had nothing to show a meaningful life.

  What have I done with my life? Where have all the years gone?

  A long time ago, she was a strong woman. Nothing could affect her. But after everything she’d been through, she’d found it increasingly difficult to rely on anyone, leaving her isolated and lonely with only a few select people she trusted. With no family and no friends outside of the business – something she desperately wanted before her time ran out – she knew for certain she wouldn’t find what she was looking for while in this line of work.

  So she wanted out, and she wasn’t alone.

  The main problem was: once you’re in, you’re in.

  It had been a long evening and she hadn’t slept for a very long time, so fighting her heavy eyes to stay awake was one of the hardest things for her to do right now. For comfort, she removed her scarf, using it as a makeshift pillow while the warm air from the vents filled the car. She didn’t know how long she could wait like this, and with the rain blurring her view to the church doors, she felt the weight of her eyes pulling closer until her world went black.

  She never saw the dark figure enter the church. She should have seen it. It was her job to keep track of her target currently kneeling at the altar.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The heavy rain masked the creak as the church door gently caressed the stony ground. A small gust of air brushed passed the newcomer sending the candlelight dancing in the dark.

  He entered without a sound and checked around before limping his way gradually to the altar with his weapon cocked and ready, heavy in his gloved hand. The weapon was a revolver, a twenty year old Colt Python .357 Magnum with a six inch barrel and six round capacity. The grip was engraved with a picture of an open winged eagle, worn away slightly through overuse.

  The man at the altar had his eyes closed, unaware of his new company. His mind was set on his daughter’s giggling face. She looked happy, running around a park near where they used to live, begging for him to chase her. But he couldn’t move; he could only watch, like he was frozen in time. He was afraid. The mother of his daughter walked into his field of vision and looked him in the eye, her long brown hair blowing in the breeze. At first she sent out a beaming smile. The same smile that made him fall in love with her, the smile to melt any man. The smile that faded as she looked down into her arms. She began to cry. ‘Look,’ she said, tearfully. He lowered his eyes to a bundle of cloth nestled in her arms. ‘Look what you did!’ She moved closer to him. He tried to back away.

  Then he felt the hard barrel of a gun jammed into the back of his head, returning him to the church.

  ‘Don't turn around,’ said the stranger, his voice smoky and full of phlegm.

  ‘I know your voice,’ replied the man on his knees.

  ‘I’d be surprised if you didn’t, Freddie.’

  ‘How do you know my name?’

  No answer from the stranger.

  ‘Whatever you want, just take it,’ Freddie said, turning his head to look at the man.

  A broad smile appeared. The stranger yelled: ‘I told you not to turn around!’ He swung the revolver hard into the side of Freddie’s head, sending him spinning to the cold stone floor.

  On the ground, Freddie felt the warm ooze of blood trickle from his head as he focussed on the face of his attacker. It was only then that he knew that his life was just about over. ‘You!’ he said. ‘What do you want?’

  The stranger stood over him, looked down into his eyes and raised the revolver. ‘Goodbye, Freddie.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  Valerie didn’t hear the shot; she’d fallen asleep, waking only to the dull sound of a truck’s horn and water spraying across the car’s hood.

  She looked at the clock.

  Shit.

  She’d been asleep for well over two hours. During that time, the rain had subsided to a light pour with the moonlight reflecting each droplet as it fell onto the pale illuminated road.

  Looking out at the deadly quiet church and gazing up at the silhouette of the spire standing out against the vacant sky, she wondered if Freddie was still inside. After all, his SUV was still there.

  She had to find out.

  The icy night air skated across her skin as she stepped out. Other than the patter of raindrops, the place was silent.

  Houses sat opposite the church with the city lights blinking beyond. Right now, she wished she was back there, back to normality, whatever that was. The area around the church reminded her of English country villages she’d seen on TV, the kind of places the elderly came to retire. She didn’t like it. It was all too foreign from the security and comfort of the city.

  Heaving a sigh, she walked passed Freddie’s silver SUV, and on to the ten feet tall decaying oak doors. Gently pushing them, the wind smothered her like a vacuum, pushing her inside.

  She stood in the darkness waiting for her eyes to focus. The few candles that were still burning didn’t help at all.

  Everything was silent apart from water splashing from the dripping roof into the font beside her.

  As she readied herself to venture farther into the gloomy church, she was startled by the slam of a door shutting from the room to her left.

  What the hell was that?

  At the door, she pressed her ear
to the cold wood hearing nothing but the persistent howling wind clawing the church walls.

  God dammit.

  For a better look, she pulled the door a few inches to reveal a dim light, like a lighter or a match, accompanied by a shadow.

  ‘Freddie?’ she asked.

  A grunt came from the shadow before it lunged for the door. She didn’t know what to do, and seconds later, the shadowy figure barged into the door, sending her to the ground with a yelp.

  The stranger stood before her, roaming his menacing eyes across her body with a broad grin on his face showing rank yellow teeth in a rough, scarred face.

  With his perverted gaze, he limped towards her.

  She kicked away, desperately searching for grip with her feet sliding on the rain damped ground. She reached for her gun, which was in the car.

  Stupid mistake.

  Her heart beat faster the closer he got. Frozen with fear and absolutely terrified, she couldn’t pick herself up from the ground no matter how hard she tried. She closed her eyes, hoping he would just go away. But he didn’t go away, not right away. Instead, he bent down to her with his rancid breath touching her skin and entering her body, forcing its way into her lungs. With a searching hand, he firmly grabbed her right breast. Normally, she’d hit it away, but he wasn’t some frisky clubber trying it on; he was a creature from another world slowly stroking her breast in a clockwise motion. Taking great pleasure from her humiliation, he squeezed hard, hurting her. She cried out for him to leave her alone, fearful of him pinning her down and violating her in ways she had never been. But he didn’t do any of that. He just let out another grunt, released her breast and walked past her to the exit and out of the church leaving her breathless and alone.

  At first, she didn’t move, opting to stay on the cold floor to catch her breath for a few minutes. She wanted to run, but her boss wouldn’t accept that; his rage was far more terrifying than anything she’d known before. She had to find Freddie and that was all he would care about.

  When she finally stood up, she composed herself and entered the room the stranger had come from. It turned out that the room was used for storage and contained a spiral staircase leading up to the bell tower. There was another locked door inside that she figured must be a cupboard. Not wanting to brave the spiral staircase just yet, she turned and moved back into the hall.