Bible John - Closure

D Malloy Andrew

Description

The illegitimate birth of twin boys in 1945: the infamous Bible John slayings: two present day murders.What is the terrifying link that connects all three? During the late 1960s, the actions of a vicious serial killer prophetically dubbed 'Bible John' caused mass hysteria among the young women of Glasgow, holding them in a chilling, vice-like grip of terror. Then, inexplicably, in late 1969, almost as quickly as they had begun, the killings stopped.It is 2010 and two teenage girls are dead, strangled. On the surface the authorities appear to treat the murders as unrelated but ambitious young policeman, DCI Mason Blackwell, has other ideas...and a vested interest. A personal link to the original murders compels him to delve deeply to try and establish a connection between generations. Blackwell, his good friend and colleague, DI Theresa Bremner, and ex-Special Forces agent, Tom Logan, now a top criminal psychologist, join forces to form a special unit designed to track down the killer.In an age of recession and budget cuts, an already depleted police force is then stretched almost to breaking point by the emergence of another killer - one who randomly executes wife beaters and child abusers.The scene is set for a nightmarish journey for Mason Blackwell and his team as the crime count threatens to spiral out of control. Expect the unexpected as the story dramatically twists and turns, sending all concerned towards a violent and terrifying conclusion...Book reviews online @ www.publishedbestsellers.com

Sujets

• Christianisme
• Bible
• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Pneuma Springs Publishing
• Date de parution: 16 juin 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781782281610
• Langue: English

Extrait

Bible John - Closure







Andrew D Malloy
Copyright
First Published in 2011 by: Pneuma Springs Publishing
Bible John – Closure Copyright © 2011 Andrew D Malloy
Pneuma Springs
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Malloy, Andrew D. Bible John - closure. 1. Serial murder investigation--Scotland--Glasgow-- Fiction. 2. Police--Scotland--Glasgow--Fiction. 3. Detective and mystery stories. I. Title 823.9'2-dc22

Kindle eISBN 9781907728983 ePub eISBN 9781782281610 PDF eBook eISBN 9781782280828 Paperback ISBN: 9781907728167
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, save those clearly in the public domain, is purely coincidental.
Pneuma Springs Publishing E: [e-mail] W: www.pneumasprings.co.uk
Published in the United Kingdom. All rights reserved under International Copyright Law. Contents and/or cover may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written consent of the publisher.
Quote




Difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. The human spirit is to grow strong by conflict.
William Ellery Channing
Dedication
For Sue, Dani and Stephen
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my family for their patience and support in putting up with me during the writing process.
To my big cousin and ex-copper, Gordon, for his invaluable advice.
And many thanks to Vivian and the good people at Pneuma Springs who believed in my work. It is much appreciated.
The Novel
29 th July 1945
Cliftonhill Maternity Home, Paisley, Scotland

‘Come in here and sit down, Pet. Oh my! How old are you, love?’ The lady seemed ancient to Annie. At Annie’s age, anybody would’ve seemed old.
‘Fourteen,’ Annie replied, bowing her head.
‘Poor darling. Just a wean. Terrible, just terrible.’ The kindly midwife shook her head as she prepared a fresh bed for her next customer. ‘How long’ve you been getting the pains?’
Alice Wainwright laid her bony hand on the youngster’s belly. Annie shifted uncomfortably as she was roughly prodded.
‘About half an hour,’ she whispered. ‘It’s really sore. Make it go away, please.’
Annie began to cry.
‘Don’t worry, Pet. It’ll all be over soon.’
Sensing the stirrings of the next contraction, Annie’s stomach retched. The midwife grabbed an old galvanised bucket from under the bed, caught the vomit like an expert fielder.
Annie fell to her knees, doubled up in agony. Her forehead thumped on the floor, the painful contraction crashing its way through her tiny frame. Alice soothed her, rubbed her back until the pains subsided.
‘S-sorry. I couldn’t help…’
‘Not another word, Pet. Now you just sit up here on the bed. Take off your pants and I’ll have a wee look at you.’
Annie did as she was told, shyly pulling the hem of her smock down to her knees before she climbed onto the bed.
‘All right. Now I’m just going to check you downstairs. I’ll be able to tell how far on you are.’
Alice encouraged the youngster to lift her behind off the bed. Dignity was at a premium as she heaved the smock up to Annie’s chest, bent and splayed her legs.
The fourteen year old - her innocence annihilated by a potent combination of her mother’s stockings and clothes, makeup, alcohol, and an over-zealous American airman - closed her eyes tightly, her nubile body again invaded. Tears squeezed their way down her face as she relived some of the nightmares of the past few months. Her mind drifted even further...
When she was about ten, Alice remembered constantly asking her mother about an older girl who lived just down the road from the family in the east end of Glasgow.
The reply was always the same: Jessie has to go away for a wee holiday. She’s not very well just now .
Jessie was about sixteen when she vanished for a number of months, suddenly re-appearing one day, looking strained and tearful. Around the same time, Jessie’s mother had come home from the shop with a baby – according to the gossip among the kids. The wee boy was lovely although the consensus was that his big sister did not seem to love him as much as the rest of the family.
Annie Lindsey, kind and caring by nature, had tried to help her friend through her obvious difficulties. Jessie warned the child to leave her alone and mind her own business. An outgoing, confident and amiable teenager became introverted and surly.
Why ? Annie had often pondered.
Now she knew the reason.

‘There’s another one coming. Oh, no! Please!’ Annie screamed. ‘Ahhh! What’s that?’
A sharp pain jolted through her body. She felt a rush between her legs. ‘Is that it? Is the baby here?’
‘I just broke your waters, Pet. It’ll help things along. Don’t worry, love. I’m here with you.’ Alice was acutely aware of the disappointment etched on the youngster’s face. ‘Lean forward, chin on your chest. Quick breaths. Come on.’ She helped Annie through the next contraction. At the end of it, the exhausted girl lay back, her shoulders rising and falling with slow, laboured breaths. Her eyes wide in shock, she didn’t know what to expect next – hadn’t a clue.
Alice dampened a flannel, gently stroked Annie’s face. The youngster grimaced as the spiky material scratched her porcelain features.
‘Poor mite. Don’t be afraid.’ Alice said. Feeling the early tremors of the next contraction shudder through the girl’s body, she glanced at her pocket watch. ‘A minute since the last one. He’s close. Very close.’
‘How d’you know it’s a boy?’ Annie asked. She gritted her teeth, panted loudly, her body tightening against the incredible pain.
‘I’m never wrong, Pet. I just know.’ Alice smiled. ‘Now come on, let’s get this wee man out of there. I’m sure he needs a cuddle from his mam.’
Annie started to giggle like the child she undoubtedly was as the older woman wiped away a tear.
Alice had seen it all during her many years as a midwife. This case – this poor, vulnerable child - was one of her most difficult, and harrowing.
Alice Wainwright had more of a connection with her latest customer than anyone could know. Thirty five years ago, Alice was fifteen, and pregnant by her abusive father. Too ashamed to tell anyone and cruelly shunned by her put upon mother, she fled from home to come close to losing her life giving birth in a Glasgow ghetto. Her baby – a healthy boy – was spirited away in the ensuing mayhem. The years since had softened the pain but Alice could still remember the time when every waking moment was spent either loving or hating the innocent party in all of this - the child. The last she heard, her doctor son was happily married with three strong children – two boys and a girl – and completely unaware of the finer details of his unsavoury entrance into this world.

‘Here it comes again! Please, help me, Missus!’ Annie cried.
‘It’s Alice, Pet. Call me Alice. What’s your name?’
‘Annie. After my nana. Please, help me, Alice!’ The youngster doubled up, held her aching belly.
The midwife again helped her through the contraction before moving back to the business end. She peered between Annie’s legs.
‘Nearly there, Annie. I can see the baby’s head. Now just hold it until you feel the next contraction coming. Then I want you to push with all your might. I’ll tell you when. All right?’
Annie nodded, smiling bravely. Alice wiped the sweat away from the child’s brow.
‘Alice?’
‘Aye, love.’
‘Can I keep the baby? I want to keep him.’
‘Annie, I can’t say-’
‘You’ll help me, won’t you? I know you will.’
‘Let’s just get him safely out and then we’ll see.’
Annie leant back, contented. She was convinced that everything was going to end happily ever after. Alice Wainwright felt her heart heavy as a stone.
‘It’s coming again, Alice.’
‘All right. Take some quick breaths. Like this.’ She gave Annie a brief lesson in short panting. ‘Then, remember what I said?’
‘Push like buggery!’ A huge smile lit up the child’s face. Alice detected in her the hint of a magical time before all of this. A time before innocence was lost forever.
‘Aye, that’s right. You push like buggery when I tell you.’ Alice laughed. ‘Hold it! Hold it!’
‘Now, Alice?’ Annie asked, panting as per Alice’s instructions. Her face contorted with pain.
‘Hold it, Annie. A few seconds longer.’
‘Now! Can I? Alice, please?’ The girl’s voice wavered. She moaned. ‘Alice?’
‘Now, doll! You push! All the way! Push that wee boy out of there!’ Alice grabbed a clean linen blanket, laid it down between Annie’s legs. Annie dug her chin into her chest and pushed with all her might. She felt her face flush and tingle, her ears pop with the intensity of her efforts. ‘Again! Come on! Push! All the way!’
‘Aaaahhhhhh!!’ One final, uncontrollable urge to push just as the pains were subsiding, and...
‘The head’s out, Annie. I can see your baby’s face. Aw, he looks just like his mam.’ She tried to stop the words before they came out, failed miserably.
‘What do I do now, Alice?’ Annie asked. She sounded shrill with panic.
‘The next contraction’ll be here before you know it. I want you to do the same again. Hold it until I tell you. Then push as hard as you can. You’re doing brilliant, love. Nearly there.’
‘I’m so glad you’re here with me, Alice.’ Annie held out her hand. The midwife reached out, squeezed it. She just about managed to suppress the tears. ‘Here they come again! Aaaaaaaahh!!’
Annie so wanted to push but held it as she’d been told.
‘Hold it, Annie! Just a couple of seconds...Now! Push! Push! Push! That’s it, Annie! He’s here! He’s here! Look, Annie! Look how beautiful he is!’
She held up a little slippery body covered in a mixture of white matter, blood and greasy hair, its face contorted with both fear and rage.
Annie’s horrified look said it all.
Alice expertly snipped the umbilical cord and took the baby over to a small sink, started t