Hit and Run by Maria Frankland (best book recommendations txt) 📗

to see what all the commotion is about. “Where’s your wife anyway? Does she know how you have been making your money lately?”

“She’s not here.”

“Well I’d like to see her. I’d want to know if I was married to someone like you.”

“I’m warning you love. You stay away from me and my wife. You can’t prove nothing.”

“Do you know Rob was coming after you? I saw his note to you.”

“Yeah, on my car windscreen. Not to mention all the threatening messages. He got a bit worked up, your husband.” His face breaks into a grin. “In fact, he was an accident waiting to happen.”

“You what? What are you saying?” The mist of fury descends on me again. He’s lucky I’ve hung onto my temper so far.

“Right, I’ve said all I’ve got to say to you. Get off my property.”

“Your property! I’m going nowhere without my money.”

“Good luck with that one. Go on, piss off and don’t come here again. You can either walk away, or…”

“Are you threatening me?”

“We’ve said all there is to say here. Business is business. Sometimes you’ve got to learn the hard way.”

“But you’ve admitted taking our money to invest, and then not investing it. I’m sure the police will be interested in knowing about it.”

“Perhaps they would be, if you could prove it.” He laughs. “You’ve got no proof that I haven’t invested your money.”

“Gotcha!” I back away from him toward my car, waving my phone in the air. What he didn’t know is that I had hit the voice record button on my walk from the path to the front door. I’ve now got everything I need to nail him for all of it.

Quick as a flash, he’s after me. Shit – what did I show him the phone for? I break into a run, yanking my keys from my pocket. I’ll be in the Jeep before he gets anywhere near me. He’s that fat, he won’t be able to run. I’m wrong. He slams me against the car. “Give me the phone.”

“No chance.”

He tries to yank my bag from my shoulder. “I said give me the fucking phone, you little bitch.”

“Get the fuck off me!” We’re both gripping my bag handle for dear life. His hand tightens around the one I’m holding my keys in. I feel one of them gouging into my palm. “Get away from me,” I shriek, hoping one of his neighbours will hear. He’s not getting my phone. It might be the one thing that saves me from everything. Me and my big mouth. But I had wanted to wipe the pathetic smirk off his face.

He moves the hand that’s gripping my shoulder across my throat. “Help!” I yell as he rams my head against the top edge of the car, his grasp on my throat tightening. I’ve got both hands free. I’m gasping for breath but find the strength to reach between his legs, ready to twist whatever I can get hold of like they once taught me in a self-defence class, but he’s too quick for me and jumps backwards.

“Get your bloody hands off her.” A well-built man comes out of nowhere. “Let her go.” He lurches towards us. “You arsehole. I saw all that.”

I turn towards the voice. Turner takes full advantage of my being suddenly off guard and yanks the bag from my hand. With a sneer on his face, he holds my phone aloft, before bringing it crashing to the ground.

“No.” I shout, watching it bounce.

He stamps on it again, and again. Pieces of glass and plastic splinter off in all directions. “Prove it now, bitch.” He strides back towards his house.

“I’ll be back,” I shout after him. “I’ll be making sure your wife knows what you are.”

“Are you OK?” The man who came to my aid gathers up what is left of my phone.

“Thank God you came along when you did.” I feel certain that Turner might have choked me to death if he hadn’t.

He hands the bits of my phone to me. “Shall I call the police for you? You can wait at my house if you need to. My wife’s there.”

“Thanks, but no. I’m going to see them in person now. This is all part of an ongoing investigation.”

“Are you sure you’re OK to drive after that?”

I look at him. He can’t be older than his mid-twenties. If he hadn’t interrupted, Turner seemed set to throttle me. “I’ll be fine. Thanks so much for helping me.”

“Make sure you report him. It’s blokes like that who give the rest of us a bad name. Here’s my card, get the police to call me if you need a witness.”

* * *

With still no firm evidence,

I’m nearly home and dry.

Chapter 37

The woman behind the desk looks bored. “Name please?”

“Fiona Matherson. I’m here to see DI Green about the case involving my husband, Robert Matherson.”

“Do you have an appointment?” She runs her pen down a list.

“No, but it’s urgent.”

“I’ll see if she’s free. Really, you should have made an appointment.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve had my phone smashed so I couldn’t ring.” I slide the remains of my phone from my pocket to show her.

Her gaze flits to my throat. “Are you OK? Your neck?”

My hand automatically flies to it. “That’s partly what I’m here about.”

“Take a seat. I’ll find her.”

“PC Robinson has also been dealing with my case, if DI Green isn’t available,” I call after her.

I sink onto the metal bench, grateful there is no one else in the waiting room to stare at me. I guess a Monday afternoon will never be the busiest day in a police station. It’s nearly two o’clock. I must get this over with so I can collect Jack at three. I feel lost without my phone. Dad may have already planned to collect him, but without being able to speak to him, I can’t bank on that. We’ll probably both turn up. Dad will go mad when he sees the state of my neck.

I can’t believe