SENTINEL: an exciting British detective crime thriller Read Free Page A

sentence as the thought of his clergyman father sparked a familiar rage within Des Cranmer, a man whose sins were more legion than most. Suddenly, he saw not the Reverend Rowland but his father and the crimson mist descended and everything seemed to be happening far away with Cranmer looking down from above.
    ‘Please, no,’ exclaimed the vicar as Cranmer snarled his fury and raised his bat. ‘This is the Lord’s house…’
    It was over in a matter of seconds. Flashing lights. Heavy thuds. Agonised squeals which the vicar assumed were his own as he slipped to his knees under the hail of blows then collapsed across the floor. Then silence. The men looked down at the unconscious clergyman sprawled across the floor of his church in a spreading pool of his own blood.
    ‘Here endeth the first lesson,’ said Neil Garvin, grinning to reveal crooked, nicotine-stained teeth. He looked at Cranmer with an expression of satisfaction on his face. ‘Good work, I hardly touched the twat. So much for not wanting to kill him. Knew you would come through, you mad fucker.’
    ‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Cranmer, back in control again and looking down anxiously as the vicar emitted a strangled gurgling sound and his body twitched. ‘Do you think he’ll die? I can’t do a life stretch.’
    ‘He’ll live. His type always do. Come on.’
    As they reached the door, Des Cranmer crossed himself again and slipped his bat into the folds of his coat. The anger had gone. It always did afterwards. Sometimes it frightened him with its ferocity, how quickly it rose within him. He took a final glance back into the church and wondered if the rattling breathing emanating from the prostrate vicar meant that he had committed his first murder. His first. Cranmer had never asked Garvin if he had killed anyone before, scared of the reply as much as anything, he guessed.
    Looking across the church, Cranmer thought once more that he saw a figure standing over to his left, watching him silently. Cranmer gasped.
    ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Garvin.
    As Cranmer watched, the figure faded from view. If it was ever there.
    ‘Nothing,’ he muttered. ‘Imagination playing tricks. Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here before someone finds him.’
    When they had gone, the church was silent for a few moments then the man emerged from the shadows from where he had witnessed the assault with a rising tide of anger that threatened to overwhelm him as it seemed that the vicar would perish under the force of the assault. The man walked over to the clergyman and looked down. He gave a slight smile – they had not taken away his moment after all. The vicar was alive. Well, not for long.
    For a moment, Rowland’s eyes fluttered open. It seemed to the shocked man that the clergyman was beseeching him for help before his eyes closed again. Had he recognised him? No, surely not. They were the sightless eyes of the dying. But he could not take the risk. No, now had to be the time to finish off the job. Safer that way. The man, moving slowly and deliberately, raised his foot before repeatedly grinding the sole of his shoe into the clergyman’s face, smiling at the feeble groans of pain from his victim.
    Eventually, the man reached into his coat pocket and fished out a Bible. Flicking through the pages, he found what he was seeking and placed the opened book next to the vicar. Then he walked briskly from the building, leaving the clergyman to lie in the silence, nearer to his Lord than he had ever been.

Chapter three
    ‘What we got then?’ asked Detective Chief Inspector Danny Radford, having parked his car and walked up to the church, where his sergeant stood at the top of the steps, staring gloomily out at the rain being lashed almost horizontally across the darkening wasteland.
    ‘A Bible-basher lucky not to be standing in front of his boss,’ said Michael Gaines, turning and pushing his way through the large timber door leading into the building.