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Relative Bonds
Relative Bonds
Relative Bonds
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Relative Bonds

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McNamara’s on the hunt again. An apparent suicide leads the detective to a terrorist plot. What will he do when his lady’s life is on the line?
McNamara, a Scottish D.C.I., fights crime in the streets of Edinburgh and in its suburbs. Diagnosed with mild Asperger as a child, the detective is meticulous, cold and dedicated. He is interested in doing his job and is a master in avoiding any kind of sentimental involvement. However, Bryony sneaks under his defence and claims his heart.
If you love a good traditional crime story, then this is the book to you. Buy it and spend a couple of nice afternoons with a thrilling story.
Join McNamara in his hunt and fall in love with the lass who stole his heart. Intrigue, suspense and cynical humor, together with unique characters, create a thrilling atmosphere.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherScarlet Leaf
Release dateJul 30, 2018
ISBN9780463425060
Relative Bonds
Author

Roxana Nastase

Roxana Nastase has been teaching English for over seventeen years, ranging in level from kindergarten to college. She specializes in English Grammar and has had several books issued throughout the years. Her books were used with much success in schools in Eastern Europe for teaching English as a second language.

Read more from Roxana Nastase

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    Relative Bonds - Roxana Nastase

    CHAPTER ONE

    THE RING OF A CELL phone filled the silence of the night and awoke a very pissed-off McNamara. He grunted his frustration and rubbed his eyes.

    That was the first time he had spent an entire night in Bryony’s bed, and he hadn’t counted on being disturbed, although he had welcomed such distractions before. He could rush out of a woman’s bed faster than a fox chased by hounds, but that wasn’t the case then, which surprised him.

    Things had changed, or maybe he had changed. He didn’t know for sure. However, he didn’t want to dwell on his strange behaviour. He was afraid to find out the truth.

    Bryony murmured something, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of her words. A grin fluttered on his lips, feeling her warm body flush against his, and he leaned down and kissed the top of her head on the spur of the moment.

    Bryony was sleeping half on top of him. She had thrown a leg over his. Yet, he didn’t feel trapped as when he had shared a bed with a woman over the night occasionally. McNamara felt contentment. He stroked the woman’s back with the tips of his fingers and kissed her again.

    Answer the damned phone, Artair, she ordered to him through her clenched teeth and reminded him why he was awake in the first place.

    The decisive impulse to say ‘Aye, ma’am’ almost pushed the words off his lips, but McNamara stopped himself just in time. A wider grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He suspected that she wouldn’t appreciate his levity. During the last few days, he had felt the brunt of Bryony’s temper whenever he provoked her.

    She always spoke her mind, unafraid of riling him, and he had learnt his lesson by then. Not even his famous glowers would intimidate her, and that did raise his eyebrows. He had always counted on a glower to chastise anyone into submission.

    He held her close to him with his left arm, and stretching, he turned on the light and picked up the cell phone he had left on the night table a few hours earlier. He answered in a harsh voice, good enough to chill his interlocutor to the bones.

    McNamara.

    A brief glance at his watch told him that he had slept only two hours, and his satisfied grin turned into a scowl. Now, he understood Bryony’s dismay better. He had already kept her awake half the night.

    Sorry, boss, Mike’s apologetic voice came over the line. We’ve got a bit of a problem here, sir, in Newington, on Salisbury Road. You know, close to The Salisbury Arms, he continued hesitantly.

    He never knew how McNamara would react when they called him at night. He would welcome their call most of the time, but lately, things seemed to have changed somewhat.

    Mike would have preferred that somebody else made that call. However, nobody else was available. He had asked Jo to do it, but she had refused him.

    What kind of a problem? McNamara asked in the same harsh voice.

    McNamara wasn’t the man to give anyone a leeway, and Mike wasn’t an exception. However, he rated him as one of the best detectives in the Specialist Crime Division. 

    Well, police were called to something that seemed like a textbook suicide.... Mike started explaining, but he stopped once more, reluctant to continue.

    And... McNamara nudged him to go on with his explanation, impatience rolling off his tongue.

    The uniforms thought it was a suicide, boss, and they didn’t treat the scene with too much care, Mike sighed deeply. In their defence, it does look like suicide, you know. Anyone would have been duped, I suppose... Not that suicide would have granted them any flexibility. They should have known better, after all... Anyway, sir, then, the forensics and the coroner came.... Mike said and stopped again.

    Do I need to beg for every single bloody sentence, Mike? McNamara snapped, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

    He was already sick of the detective’s hesitation. Besides, he also felt Bryony’s impatient fingers drumming on his chest. He just wanted to conclude the discussion.

    No, sir. Of course, not, sir, Mike rushed to reassure him.

    Immediately, he started speaking as fast as possible. When the coroner came, he stated that it wasn’t suicide. He seems one hundred per cent confident, and if he says so, it is so. You know David Stewart. When he stated that it was murder, you know what hit the fan, Mike said.

    McNamara sensed Mike’s dismay in his tone of voice.

    Why? McNamara inquired in a vexed tone of voice.

    As I’ve already said, people didn’t pay too much attention to the scene before the doctor ruled the suicide out. Now, everybody is shouting at everybody... It’s a hell of a fight, back there, sir, Mike explained. I tried to calm the waters, but... I had to come outside to call. I couldn’t hear my own thoughts inside, he confessed sourly. A phone call would have been impossible.

    I see, McNamara concluded and closed his eyes in resignation. I’ll have to come to the crime scene, I understand. Send me the coordinates, he ordered, and then, he hung up rudely, without waiting for Mike’s reply.

    McNamara didn’t feel the same impatience he used to when called to a crime scene. He would have preferred to remain and share the bed and warmth with Bryony, yet that wasn’t a valid option for him at that moment.

    His train of thought surprised and astonished him, but McNamara didn’t waste any time to ponder his unusual reaction. He preferred not to know some things. He didn’t want to dig too deep into it and see what was there, even though the answer was right under his nose.

    His callous palm stroked Bryony’s strawberry-blond hair with tenderness, and Bryony lifted her head off his chest and looked straight into his eyes with understanding. However, he also noticed a twinge of regret swimming in her dark blue eyes. 

    She murmured to him, Don’t worry about me, Artair. I know you have to go.

    When she chose to get involved in a relationship with him, she had made that choice with her eyes wide open. She had known that he was a detective and didn’t have a nine-to-five run of the mill job. Therefore, right from the beginning, she had promised herself not to interfere or become a nuisance for him. He had enough on his mind and didn’t need a girlfriend who would constantly nag him about his leaving or absences and complain about his work.

    Her fingers brushed over his chest gently, and he immediately stopped the movement of her wandering hand. He knew he had to get dressed and leave her house, and her fingers made that difficult for him. They put absurd ideas into his mind.

    He looked back at her and replied, Yes, I do. But I’d have liked not to.

    His eyes told her that he had just stated the truth, but she already knew that. McNamara wasn’t the man to sugar-coat things, and he always said what he thought. He was anything else but tactful. 

    With a tender kiss on her lips, he got out of bed, gathered the things he had left on the nightstand in the evening, and then he picked up all his clothes. After he put out the light, he headed to the bathroom to take a shower before leaving.

    He didn’t want to disturb her sleep on his way out. He had kept her awake long after the hour she used to go to bed, and he knew she also had to go to work in the morning.

    Go back to sleep, he ordered very matter-of-factly, turning his head to her briefly before getting into the bathroom. The moonlight coming through the slightly parted curtains defined her silhouette lying in bed. I’ll see you later in the afternoon, he promised, and then, he closed the bathroom door behind him.

    ‘Huh! I don’t think so,’ Bryony glowered in the dark, staring at the door he had just closed behind him. Even though she was still half asleep, she got out of bed, as well.

    She didn’t bother to turn on the light. She remembered that she had left an oversized t-shirt on the armchair the day before.

    She stumbled and stubbed her toes in the armchair, which was in the shadow. However, she found the t-shirt and pulled it over her head with quick moves.

    As a rule, she didn’t take orders very well, especially when those orders went against the grain. ‘Artair should have known me better by now,’ she mumbled with annoyance. 

    Then, she moseyed downstairs towards the kitchen, barefoot, leaning heavily on the handrail. She yawned and rubbed her face vigorously to wake up. However, the stubborn drowsiness didn’t give any sign that it wanted to leave her brain. She usually needed a little more than only two hours of sleep to feel human again.

    However, she intended to make some coffee and a sandwich for him. If the man thought she would let him go to work without having a bite for breakfast, he would soon find out how wrong his assumptions were. She was made of a sterner cloth than that.

    MCNAMARA DIDN’T NOTICE Bryony wasn’t in bed when he came out of the bathroom. Fully dressed and ready to leave, he hesitated in front of the door for a few moments. Still, the desire to touch her once more overrode any consideration.

    He knew he should have let her sleep, but he couldn’t just leave. He promised himself he would only kiss the top of her head and wouldn’t disturb her at all. He quietly strode to the bed and leaned down, only to find out that she wasn’t there.

    Now, that surprised him. He straightened and braced his hands on his hips. He scowled and shook his head. Bryony seemed to be much more obstinate than he had thought. He shrugged and left the room, climbing down the stairs with noisy steps.

    As he expected, he found her in the kitchen. She busied herself, setting the table with coffee cups and a plate filled with grilled sandwiches. He shook his head again, yet warmth spread inside his chest when he thought of her efforts.

    Bryony turned to him when his steps warned her that he had come into the room. They measured each other quietly for a few seconds. However, Bryony expected to hear him protest against her actions any moment now.

    Artair looked at her with unreadable eyes, unsure of what he should say. It wasn’t every day a woman went out of her way to make him breakfast, especially when she didn’t get enough sleep.

    He thought to thank her, yet that didn’t seem to cover what he thought and felt, so he kept his silence.

    The silence stretched until Bryony decided she had had enough. She quietly waved towards the table to invite him to have his breakfast, and Artair just accepted her invitation wordlessly.

    Anyway, it wasn’t as if he knew what to say to her. He didn’t have any similar experience to draw information from, and it wasn’t bloody likely he would dig something helpful from his mind at that moment. His mind was blank, overwhelmed with awe.

    She joined him at the table, and they sipped their coffee in companionable silence. However, he didn’t understand why she drank the coffee. He knew she would go back to bed in a short while. He refrained from asking her any questions, though.

    He bit into one of the hot sandwiches, looking at her sideways, amazed she had gone to so much trouble for him.    

    CHAPTER TWO

    THE SHOUTS REACHED McNamara’s ears as soon as he got out of his car. His eyes swept over the lit windows of the surrounding buildings and then over the people gathered in front of the building where they had told him that the crime scene was. Those people looked far too animated for that hour at night, and they were chatting among themselves. They looked at the DCI sideways when he stepped onto the pavement, but no one dared to approach him. His forbidding stance didn’t invite anyone to greetings or questions.

    He was about to step into the stairway when a louder angry shout pierced the night. His eyes narrowed to slits, and his hands, which he had burrowed into his pockets earlier because of the icy wind swirling around him, clenched into fists.

    He couldn’t wait to reach the floor upstairs and give a piece of his mind to that bunch of hens. They were shrieking at the top of their lungs with no care in the world that someone might hear them, and their behaviour might raise questions.

    Now, he understood why so many people had gathered downstairs, even though it was very early in the morning. He doubted someone could have slept with all that commotion.

    When he stepped onto the landing, his eyes fell on Jo and Mike, leaning on the wall with resignation, their heads close one to the other. The inspectors whispered something among themselves. However, the sound of their voices drowned in the yelling, which was pouring out of the flat.

    What’s going on in there? the DCI asked the detectives harshly, pointing his chin to the flat where all that shouting took place.

    Both detectives winced at his words and straightened immediately. Jo stepped bravely forward and explained to him, The forensic guys have a shouting match with the constables, sir.

    The frown on McNamara’s face deepened. He had hoped they had finished by then because he didn’t feel like playing the referee. Not that he had the necessary skills for that.

    He bowed his head in irritation and shook it. Afterwards, he went past the two apprehensive detectives, without another word for them, and entered the flat. His jaw was set, and his eyes were blazing. He intended to blister the ears of the people inside, who behaved so unprofessionally.

    Jo and Mike followed at a short distance behind him. They didn’t want to get too close to the blast and get burnt in the process. 

    The people gathered in the small flat were so focused on fighting each other that they didn’t even notice the DCI’s arrival. His eyes swept over them. A hard glint appeared in his eyes, and his lips pursed.

    He was on the verge of joining the fray when he laid his eyes on David Stewart, the coroner. He seemed to have completed the examination of the body and had just finished packing his things.

    Stewart had left his medical case on the floor and just put his coat on. After he grabbed his bag, he straightened and started discussing the body’s transport to the morgue with the two morgue technicians.

    When the medical examiner chanced to glance over their heads, he noticed McNamara. The DCI was watching him outwardly, without paying attention to the argument that was still going on. 

    Nonetheless, the doctor knew him better, and he felt a slight twinge of compassion for the other people in the room. He knew that their ears would be burning by the end of their encounter with McNamara. Still, after all, they had brought everything upon themselves. No one had forced their hand.

    He waved at the DCI, motioning to him to come forward and talk to him. For one more second, the DCI’s glowering eyes swept over the group of people who were arguing noisily. Then, with a negligent shrug of his shoulders, he headed towards the coroner.

    He thought he had enough time to intervene in the boisterous discussion afterwards. The ruckus had already woken the entire street, and he knew that it wouldn’t make much of a difference if it had continued for another minute or two.

    However, his determined steps and purposeful stride across the room finally caught the other people’s eyes. Then, one by one, they stopped shouting and began watching him with apprehension. It was evident they hadn’t counted on his appearance at the scene, or they would have behaved differently.

    Hey, David, what’s the verdict? he asked the coroner, satisfied that silence had claimed the room. Now, he could finally hear his own thoughts and voice. 

    McNamara, David Stewart acknowledged him with a nod and shook his hand. It’s a murder, all right, he said, pointing his chin towards the bathroom. The lad was held down until they slashed his wrists. You can see the telling bruises on his arms and torso. Initially, they subdued him with a blow in the jaw, from what I could see. You can see for yourself, now, that you’re here. I didn’t think you’d be called, the man admitted, leading him into the bathroom. ‘And neither have they or they had stopped the mayhem sooner,’ he mused.

    More than one murderer? inquired McNamara, glossing over the doctor’s last words and looking at the body in the bathtub.

    The medical examiner shrugged. I can’t really say right now. Not even after the autopsy, I might not be able to determine that. And any other clues you might have found..., he stopped mid-sentence, turning his palms upwards in dismay.

    I see, McNamara nodded. When do you think you will finish with the autopsy? he inquired, unbuttoning his coat. The flat felt like a furnace, and he couldn’t breathe at ease.

    I have the graveyard shift today, so I will start on it once I get the body back to the morgue. Luckily for you, I don’t have any other autopsies on my list at the moment, the doctor grinned at him. Then he signalled the techs to do their job

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