Rogue Justice

Ben Nicholls

Description

Someone disillusioned with the criminal justice system has decided that there is only one option available to prevent the scales of justice from tilting in favour of those that carry out heinous crimes. Believing the system broken, he ruthlessly dispenses his own brand of retribution. Cutting a swathe through a rural community, he subjects his hapless preys to unimaginable cruelty in twisted games of cat and mouse before executing them in escalating brutality. Detectives Englund and Hicks are tasked with tracking down a killer amidst their close-knit community, seemingly without motive. When a young girl is kidnapped, coinciding with the release of a notorious paedophile, Englund is forced to evaluate his own position and question what justice really means. Will Englund and the enigmatic Hicks catch the killer before the town implodes and takes justice into its own hands? Or will they become another statistic in an ever-increasing body count?

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 mai 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528992268
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

R ogue J ustice
Ben Nicholls
Austin Macauley Publishers
2021-05-28
Rogue Justice About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgement Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 Chapter 73 Chapter 74 Chapter 75 Chapter 76 Chapter 77 Chapter 78 Chapter 79 Chapter 80 Chapter 81 Chapter 82 Chapter 83 Chapter 84 Chapter 85 Chapter 86 Chapter 87 Chapter 88 Chapter 89 Chapter 90 Chapter 91 Chapter 92 Chapter 93 Chapter 94 Chapter 95 Chapter 96 Epilogue
About the Author
Born in 1973, Ben grew up a keen sportsman. As a youngster, the lights and colour of World Series Cricket set him on a path that ended in Ben becoming an umpire at representative level on retirement as a player. Tennis gave Ben another competitive edge including a stint with American students. Helping to bring up two active boys left him to wonder what might have been. That sporting void was filled with the need to write which Ben managed to satisfy in the late hours of the evening. Ben and wife Rachel and their two children live in the Northern Suburbs of Sydney. Rogue Justice is his debut novel.
Dedication
For Mum,
Deeply saddened this was the last book you got to read.
Copyright Information ©
Ben Nicholls (2021)
The right of Ben Nicholls to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528992251 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528992268 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2021)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgement
Anyone with small children will know time is something that doesn’t stand still. As much as you’d lay down your life for them, to get a moment’s peace to yourself is a special commodity to be cherished. If I could sit down and contemplate what was to go on the blank pages by 9.30 p.m., it was a bonus; my gorgeous boys are not sleepers. I’m pleased I got there in the end. By reading this, I hope you made the journey all the way and it wasn’t an arduous task to get there.
To my wife Rachel, your love and support is amazing. I’m lucky to have you. And to our two little men, Jonathan and James.
To Mum, I’m thrilled you got to read this before that wicked cancer took you. Even more thrilled you enjoyed it. You will always mean the world to me.
To Dad, you’re bloody awesome. To have you both offering encouragement to do whatever I pleased in life so long I was happy, is a magic ingredient. Better parents don’t exist.
My sisters: Meredith and Bec, any luck you’ll get to star in the screen adaptation. It was great to have spent time with you at Poplar farm, despite the circumstances that brought us all together.
To Erin, fellow founding member of the world’s most exclusive book club, I hope this novel sits nicely amongst our macabre favourites.
For my Oz Rock mates in The Angels and the Screaming Jets. To have your music in my life, along with your friendship, is very special and in many ways has inspired me to do something like this outside of my day job.
And for Toby Greener, a young life taken by someone who never faced justice for their heinous actions.
Chapter 1
Thomas Lakefield gripped the steering wheel of the Honda SUV tighter than what he felt comfortable. But then there wasn’t a lot that was comfortable this evening. As if it weren’t bad enough having to dress up in a tuxedo on loan, his own much too loose with the weight he’d lost during the nineteen months he’d been away, Thomas was prohibited to drink alcohol because of what had happened nineteen months ago.
Clare Lakefield was propped up in the backseat. Thomas felt the gaze from her turquoise eyes boring into the back of his head, albeit somewhat blurry. It wasn’t just the protracted judgement seemingly emanating from every pore of Clare’s lily-white body, anaemic to the trained eye; it was her biting commentary that had dogged him throughout the night.
‘Don’t even think about having a drink tonight. It’s one thing to sneak it at home. But here you don’t. Not while I’m around,’ Clare had said, no less than five minutes before they had even left the car to go into the function centre.
Thomas had thought of a drink; why wouldn’t he? However, he knew he wouldn’t actually act on it, not because his wife had sown the seed and took every available opportunity to remind him, but because of what had happened almost two years ago.
Tonight, the roads were greasy with a recent drizzle, another trigger from that fateful time Thomas couldn’t shake from his mind, not that this was ever an option, not just because of where he’d been, but, well, there was Clare. Faultless Clare.
Even if he managed to numb the memories of where he’d spent the last nineteen months, Clare was there to provide a constant reminder.
Victoria dozed next to her mother, her mouth slightly agape, wisps of long mousy hair draped over rosy cheeks. Thomas snuck a stealth-like glance in the rear-view mirror and took in the adorable sight of their daughter, the one saving grace of his union with Clare. Thomas was sure, if she was honest, Clare would state the same.
Clare stirred, and Thomas felt for sure that a barb would follow for a perceived loss of concentration on the road. He wasn’t wrong. Clare chipped, ‘Watch your speed; you know the roads are wet. Do I have to remind you what happened last time?’
‘I’ve had two years to think about what I did. I don’t need any reminders, not from you not from anyone.’
‘Wasn’t two years,’ Claire corrected, with an attempt at further baiting.
‘Would you have preferred it was longer? Is that it? You were happier not having me around?’
‘Don’t deflect your stupidity. You know how upset I was with what happened.’
Thomas, knowing where this was going, couldn’t help himself. ‘You mean upset with my loss of income. The travel I did with work weeks on end never fazed you. Of course, back then you still had the money coming through, to hose against the wall at your heart’s content.’
Before the argument could gain further momentum, Victoria awoke with an announcement made by way of a discreet cough. She knew not to weigh in with any commentary of her own. After all, this tit-for-tat was nothing new.
Her parents didn’t argue any more than her friends. The big difference was she was pretty much given whatever she wanted. Figuring one, if not the other, didn’t matter which would attempt to buy her loyalty after said arguments.
Thomas manoeuvred the 4WD through the city streets, sitting atop higher than most other motorists. The vehicle did not make much sense in such narrow thoroughfares but came in handy for those pesky sand dunes that littered the city streetscape. Once out of the view from the monolithic high-rises, it did the job its inflated price tag commanded. The vehicle made more sense with Thomas and his clan, calling home in the countryside, devoid of transport that constituted the standard calling card of the high-flyers and wannabes of urban existence.
Country living had its many plusses: a sanctuary away from the hustle and self-important people who made up the vast majority, shoehorned inside institutions, reaching ever higher into the sky.
Thomas could also think of a downside: everyone knew each other’s personal affairs, the good, bad and, in some cases, tragic.
Thomas adjusted the radio controls on the steering block. Not just to find a decent song, which would be an unexpected bonus, considering what passed as popular music these days, but to fiddle with one of the few gadgets that this luxury behemoth possessed. He figured he’d paid a premium for what the vehicle provided, other than its engine and four wheels, so he should at least sample a few of the functions he felt confident operating. Avoiding randomly pushing buttons monkey-style, he found a station. Better still, a song he knew. Even better, one he liked.
The volume went up and so did the groans from the backseat, also in stereo. There were a few buttons outside the vehicle he was adept at pushing. His singing pushed one of them. Thomas chortled along to a retro dance floor filler.
He knew it wasn’t just the singing that drove his two women up the wall; it was his propensity to make up lyrics for the ones he’d forgotten. What did they say? If you remember the eighties, it meant you weren’t there. Or was it the seventies? Probably the sixties. Thomas couldn’t remember.
Unperturbed by the less-than-enthusiastic reaction from his