On The Job E-Book

Sandi Wallace

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Peril, humour, heartbreak, justice...no two police shifts are the same.

The highs and lows of cops on the job. The cases that make them, break them, bring them laughs, maybe even love.

Police on the beat, working one-officer shops, and seasoned detectives pursuing a cunning home intruder, a full-moon prankster, false friends and vengeful partners. Adrenaline-charged car chases, unsanctioned surveillance, intense interrogation. The impact of a child's tragic death. The import of unearthing what happened to an infant and her mother. Lives saved and crooks captured.

This gripping collection of Sandi Wallace's award-winning short fiction-'Busted', 'Silk Versus Sierra' and 'Losing Heidi'-along with new and never-before released verse and stories, includes 'Impact', a finalist in the international Cutthroat Rick DeMarinis Short Story Contest.

Leseprobe

ON THE JOB

PERIL, HUMOUR, HEARTBREAK, JUSTICE…NO TWO POLICE SHIFTS ARE THE SAME.

SANDI WALLACE

Copyright (C) 2017 Sandi Wallace

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

Edited by Fading Street Services

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

CONTENTS

Praise for Sandi Wallace’s books

Also by Sandi Wallace

The Job I

Busted

The Job II

Impact

The Job III

Hot Patrol

The Job IV

Losing Heidi

The Job V

Silk Versus Sierra

The Job VI

Who Killed Carly Telford?

Preview of Tell Me Why

Acknowledgments

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About the Author

PRAISE FOR SANDI WALLACE’S BOOKS

‘A beautifully written police procedural, where the characters are every bit as important as the plot. Black Cloud brilliantly captures the impact of small-town tragedy, as investigators struggle to cope even as they work towards solving an horrendous crime.’

CHRIS HAMMER, WINNER OF THE UK CWA NEW BLOOD DAGGER AWARD FOR SCRUBLANDS

‘Aussie Noir at its best. Once again Wallace has tapped into the rural crime genre with an iconic sense of place beneath a black cloud of menace and intrigue. Her Georgie Harvey and John Franklin series just gets better and better.’

B. MICHAEL RADBURN, AUTHOR OF THE TAYLOR BRIDGES SERIES

‘Black Cloud is absorbing and suspenseful, a perfect weekend read for the rural crime fiction lover. Wallace has struck that elusive balance between relatable characters, disturbing crimes and an urgent plot that drives the reader forward.’

L.J.M. OWEN, AUTHOR OF THE DR PIMMS SERIES AND THE GREAT DIVIDE

‘Sandi Wallace’s best yet! Engaging, fast-paced, and full of suspense.’

KAREN M. DAVIS, FORMER NSW POLICE DETECTIVE AND AUTHOR OF THE LEXIE ROGERS SERIES

‘A gripping twist on the bushfire threat all Australians live with.’

JAYE FORD, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF DARKEST PLACE

‘Suspenseful, exciting, atmospheric rural crime; a riveting debut.’

MICHAELA LOBB, SISTERS IN CRIME AUSTRALIA

‘Worthy debut.’

HERALD SUN

‘The police aspect of this novel has depth and believability…this debut is a cracker.’

J.M. PEACE, SERVING QLD POLICE OFFICER AND AUTHOR OF AWARD-WINNING A TIME TO RUN

‘Sharply crafted and authentic… These are stories that linger, long after they are read.’

ISOBEL BLACKTHORN, REVIEWER, EDUCATOR, NOVELIST, POET

‘Sandi Wallace packs as much punch into her short crime stories as she does into her novels.’

ELAINE RAPHAEL, GOODREADS READER

ALSO BY SANDI WALLACE

Georgie Harvey and John Franklin series

Tell Me Why

Dead Again

Into the Fog

Black Cloud

Short story collections

On the Job

Murder in the Midst

Award-winning short stories

‘Sweet Baby Dies’ (Scarlet Stiletto: The Eleventh Cut – 2019)

‘Fire on the Hill’ (Scarlet Stiletto: The Tenth Cut – 2018)

‘Busted’(Scarlet Stiletto: The Eighth Cut – 2016)

‘Ball and Chain’(Scarlet Stiletto: The Sixth Cut – 2014)

‘Silk Versus Sierra’(Scarlet Stiletto: The Fifth Cut – 2013)

Non-fiction

Writing the Dream (contributing author)

To the authors who ignited my life-long love of mystery stories and my dream of being a crime writer.

And to the men and women in blue who are ordinary, yet also extraordinary, people.

THE JOB I

I do it for them…for you

because I can make a difference

keep the peace

make it safe

dig out the truth

put troublemakers away

I do it for me, too

because it could lead anywhere

uniform, plain clothes, the brass

on the beat, a squad, covert ops, training, leading

I put myself out there

first response

facing danger

might not make it home

because it’s more than just a job

BUSTED

Winner Scarlet Stiletto Awards 2016

Best Romantic Suspense Prize

First published in Scarlet Stiletto: The Eighth Cut – 2016

BUSTED

4.00am was Nessa Reid’s favourite time to exercise. But since detecting a pattern in people’s response to her sharing this—cringing before they inched away from her, their expressions saying she must be insane because nobody in their right mind chooses exercise over bed, especially when it was dark—she decided to keep it to herself.

Admittedly, she had to force the habit for the first few months. After that, it grew on her to the point that now if anything prevented her donning the sneakers and hitting the pavement at that time, she morphed into Nessa-Crankypants-Reid. She got over it if she fitted in an alternative workout, although it never quite measured up. Pre-dawn was the only time she was guaranteed not to have to mediate, pacify, restrain, or sympathise with anyone. For a fleeting while, all she had to listen to were her breaths, foot strikes, and, if she felt inclined, music.

There was a bite to the air today and her breath spiralled in soft clouds as she jogged onto the oval and dropped into push-ups.

She chuckled, thinking gone was the girl who never asked Does my bum look big? in her navy work pants because the honest answer used to be No, it looks huge. These days, she knew her bum drew its share of admiration in her male-dominated workplace or when out with friends. Not that she was in the market for a man. She’d quit them prior to launching her fitness kick.

‘Whiff of winter this morning, isn’t there?’

Nessa nodded to the speaker, moving into an isometric lunge.

‘Bit harder to work out in winter, isn’t it?’

She hadn’t faced it yet but figured it’d be doable in a beanie and gloves. Nessa swapped legs, sank into a lunge and held it, saying, ‘A bit.’

She smiled reflexively, then cursed herself. If she encouraged the guy, he’d break her solitude every time. As it was, she suspected she’d need to change her routine to avoid him. By coincidence or not, he’d jogged up on three out of her last five sessions.

‘Great time of day though, isn’t it?’

The single floodlight washing over the oval shone on his face as it split into a beam. He scratched his chin. Maybe sweat made his beard itch.

‘Yeah, it’s great.’

Nessa did a set of squat kicks. The best part of this routine was next on the agenda. She needed to lose the guy.

‘Look, er–?’

‘Jake.’ He grinned and fluttered a wave.

‘Nessa.’

‘Short for Vanessa?’

Her nose scrunched. She wasn’t here for conversation and had always wondered what her otherwise-sane parents had thought naming her Lanessa. ‘Nope. Anyway, I’m up to my sprint starts. You don’t mind?’ She gave an apologetic shrug.

‘Course not. Happy to join you!’

And bugger it, he did, while Nessa feigned a happy face.

A few hours later, she clocked on for her shift, still bothered by the interrupted workout. She pictured the guy—Jake—and wished she could run a check on him. She’d met plenty of dubious characters hiding behind beards and she wondered if Jake belonged to that club.

‘Nessa!’

She swivelled from her computer to face the senior sarge. ‘Yes, boss?’

‘Burg.’ Sally McCain handed her a note. ‘Take Dilly and check it out.’

Nessa’s skin tingled. There were burgs and burgs, but coming from Sarge Sally this might be a good one. She’d noticed that the senior sergeant intermittently jumped in over Mac, the desk sergeant, to toss her juicy jobs. She’d never complain about reverse-discrimination, and anyway, Mac himself had given her a wink after she’d closed a tricky case last week and said, ‘I can’t see you driving the van for too much longer, Reid.’

Was it time to put up her hand for detective training?

Nessa daydreamed about trading the uniform for plain clothes, as she weaved the divvy van through traffic on the highway and turned into a side street. A minute later, she nosed the blue-and-white into a cul-de-sac—if this outer ’burb could claim to have anything that posh—and parked in front of a rendered single-storey home. The property wasn’t far from where Nessa lived in a similar-styled house. There was nothing glamorous about the neighbourhood or her place, but it was home and affordable, even after she’d kicked out Mr Wrong. And what wasn’t to love about a seven-minute commute to work?

As she and her younger offsider, Nick Dill, started for the front door, a short and stout woman in her sixties ran down the front yard, which was a dense vegie patch split by the driveway and concrete paths.

‘At last, you come.’

‘Mrs Luisa Occhipinti?’

‘Sì, of course.’

While Nessa introduced herself and Dilly, she picked up the aromas of garlic and onion, subtle but mouth-watering, that she guessed seeped into the woman’s fingers during early lunch preparations. Her stomach growled.

‘You hungry.’ Mrs Occhipinti smiled and beckoned. ‘Come. I have fresh biscotti.’

Nessa knew better than to blunder in and disturb the evidence but couldn’t stop another embarrassing growl from her gut. She ignored it. ‘Could you please give us a little background first, Mrs Occhipinti?’

The woman said, ‘No Mrs Occhipinti…Luisa. Sì, of course, yes.’

Nessa started with, ‘Can you tell me about the break-in last night?’

Luisa nodded.

After thirty seconds, Nessa realised she’d have to narrow her questions to get the conversation going. ‘How did the offender get in?’

‘The back door.’

‘Did they force the lock?’

The little Italian woman’s face turned into a tomato. ‘No, it wasn’t locked. I leave it open for my Renatie, cos he’s on night shift and that way I don’t have to worry about him waking up the whole-a-neighbourhood if he can’t find his keys.’

‘You were home when the break-in happened?’

Luisa bobbed her head.

Nessa hid her surprise. Home intrusions were rare this side of the city and usually motivated by drugs or personal vendettas, rather than opportunistic theft. She was also stunned by Luisa’s calmness – was that because she had nothing or everything to hide?

The older woman cupped her hands together against her cheek. ‘Asleep.’

She looked so darned cute that Nessa believed her. ‘You’ll keep your doors and windows locked from now on, right?’

‘Sì, of course.’

That, she didn’t believe. Luisa sounded just like Nessa’s mum when she agreed to do something, then immediately did the opposite. She smiled wryly and asked, ‘What time did you discover the theft?’