Speed



  Speed

  D C Grant

  Book 1

  Jason Shaw Mystery Series

  Speed

  By

  D C Grant

  Published by Standfast Publications Ltd

  Copyright D C Grant 2015

  https://www.dcgrant.co.nz

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or means, electronic, mechanical or digital, including photocopying, recording, storage in any information retrieval system or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author

  All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

  For Jill, you know why

  Table of Contents

  1.The Accident

  2.Break-in

  3.Salvage

  4.Airport

  5.Computer Bits

  6.Back to School

  7.Intruder

  8.Funeral

  9.Drug Bust

  10.Questions

  11.Hotel

  12.Paralyzed

  13.Confession

  14.Sandman

  15.A Million Dollars

  16.Hole in the Floor

  17.Caught

  18.Stunned and confused

  19.Death by Car

  20.No escape

  21.Fire

  22.Hospital Room

  23.Graveyard

  The Accident

  I’m not sure what disturbs my sleep, but I wake with a start. A fleeting dream fades as I open my eyes and I cannot recall it, although it has left me panting and sweaty – a nightmare? Through the thump of blood in my ears, I listen for the sound of my parents’ car in the drive. Is it this that has woken me? But it is quiet. Perhaps they are already home.

  I pick up my cellphone and read the time off the screen: 1.30am. They should be home by now; they were only going to a dinner party at a friend’s house and said they would be back before midnight.

  Someone is moving around downstairs, and from the pattern of the footsteps I know that it’s Gran, who has come over for the night. I didn’t want her to babysit me – I turned fourteen last month and thought I could be left on my own – but no, my parents said, Gran will come over.

  She is probably getting ready for bed and her movements woke me. I roll over, pulling the duvet up in defense against the cool winter night, and close my eyes. But I cannot settle. Something is wrong, but I don’t know what.

  A car pulls up in the drive. I slip out of bed, shivering in my pajamas, and creep to my window which overlooks the driveway.

  I don’t know the car. Two men get out and I can tell that they’re both police officers; in plain clothes, but police officers all the same. I think I recognize the one on the left, but it’s hard to tell in the dark. They approach the front door and hesitate a second before ringing the doorbell. The chime echoes through the house while I leave my bedroom and walk to the top of the stairs. Gran opens the door and looks out at the two men. The fact that my parents aren’t there to answer the door chills me.

  “Mrs Shaw?” They both hold out identification but I can’t see the details from the landing.

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry to disturb you. May we come in?”

  She doesn’t say anything, just stands to one side so that they can cross the threshold. They look uncomfortable, unsure. I start to come down the stairs and they all look up at me. That’s when I notice that my palms are clammy, and I wipe them on my pajamas.

  “Jason,” one of the men says. I recognize him now: Mike Parsons. “Perhaps you should both come and sit down?” I know that they are about to deliver bad news. I feel numb as I reach the bottom of the stairs and follow Gran into the lounge where I sit beside her on the couch. She takes my hand and it trembles in mine. “It’s about your son, Thomas … and Mary, his wife … I’m sorry, there’s been an accident.”

  “Are they all right?” she asks, her other hand going to her chest.

  “We’re not quite sure what happened,” Mike continues, ignoring her question like he has a prepared script and he’s sticking to it. “But we think a tire blew out while the car was traveling at speed on the freeway and the driver lost control of the vehicle. It rolled multiple times, before ending up on its roof. The Jaws of Life were used to get them out and they’ve been taken to Harborview Hospital in a serious condition. I haven’t heard any more, I’m sorry.”

  This doesn’t seem real; I can’t believe it and I won’t believe it until I see them, touch them, and know the truth of it for myself.

  “Why did my dad lose control?” I ask. Dad has trained in defensive driving and knows how to handle a skid.

  “We’re waiting on the results of the blood alcohol tests.”

  “Dad wouldn’t drink and drive!”

  “Your mother was driving.”

  I know that Mum wouldn’t drink and drive, either, but right now I’ve lost the ability to speak.

  “We’ll take you to the hospital,” Mike says. “We’ll wait for you to get ready.”

  I rush upstairs and dress in whatever is on hand in my bedroom, then meet Gran and the two police officers at the door. Together we drive to Harborview through streets that are dark and quiet with little traffic. We had snow a few weeks back, but now the streets are just wet and shiny from the heavy rain that fell in the night. Is it this that made my mum lose control? It’s a Sunday night and most people are asleep, and I wish that I was too. Perhaps I am and this is all a bad dream. I had been about to go back to sleep, after all.

  At the hospital, Mike goes straight to the desk and shows his ID, which gets us in with no trouble. He must have asked at the desk where my father is, as he heads toward the elevator and presses the button that takes us to the Intensive Care Unit. My heart sinks when I see the sign.

  The doctor meets us in a small room off to the side, called a “family room”. I feel that both good and bad news has been received in this room. I wait to receive mine. I’m still numb. Mike remains with us and places a hand on my shoulder as the doctor talks about my father, but I hardly hear anything he says until the last few sentences.

  “There’s head trauma, broken back, shattered ribs and a fractured shoulder. It’s up to him now. We’ve done all we can. The next twenty-four hours will tell.”

  “And my mum?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I haven’t heard. I think she’s still in ED. I’ll find out while you visit your father.”

  I’m not sure now that I want to see my father, and Gran senses my hesitation. She smiles at me but there are tears in her eyes. Mine are dry. I keep thinking, any moment now I’m going to wake up and my parents will be home, in bed, safe, and this will all be a dream. Or a nightmare.

  “Come on,” Gran says as she takes my hand. “My legs aren’t so good. You’ll have to help me.”

  We walk down the passage to the nurses’ desk. The doctor is still on the phone, but a nurse comes toward us and says: “Hi, I’m Vanessa, I’m looking after Mr Shaw tonight. Before you go through I just want to warn you there’s a lot of equipment around him – there are IV lines for fluids and medication, and there’s a tube in his mouth for the respirator. It’s all going to look strange, but it’s what he needs at the moment. He’s unconscious, but not in any pain. You can talk to him if you want, he may be able to hear you. Do you have any questions before you see him?”

  “Is he going to be all right?” I ask.

  She frowns. “He’s stable for the moment. I expect the doctor will tell you more.”

  Gran says impatiently, “Can we see him now?”

  “Yes, of course, this way.”

  She leads us to a private room. There’s a police officer at the door. I wonder why, but then al
l the thoughts are wiped from my head when I see Dad. At least, I think it’s Dad, but the person in the bed cannot be my father. My dad is a big person, strong and always with a smile on his face. This man is still and small and quiet and is surrounded by so much equipment that I can hardly see him. The machine beside him hisses as it pumps air into his lungs in a regular rhythm. There’s dried blood on his pale face. I step closer and can see that this man is definitely my dad, in spite of my first impressions. I want to reach out and touch him but there are too many tubes and wires in the way.

  Suddenly I need to get away. I turn quickly and head toward the nurses’ desk. Wake up, I tell myself, wake up, this is a bad dream.

  I feel Gran’s hand on my shoulder, and I look at her and she’s crying. I’m not; I want to but I can’t. I put my arms around her and she clings to me, but I still can’t cry.

  The doctor comes over and stands beside us with a solemn expression on his face.

  “Erm … I’ve heard back from ED … about Mrs Shaw,” he says.

  Gran turns to him and I stand next to her, trembling and feeling cold inside.

  “Is she okay?” I ask.

  “I’m sorry, they did all they could, but her injuries were extensive,” he says. Beside me, Gran sobs louder. “She died soon after she arrived,” the doctor finishes.

  “What time did she die?” I ask, the question coming from nowhere. I’m as surprised as the doctor.

  “She died about 1.30am, so they tell me.”

  For a moment I am unable to breathe. When I can, I say, “Where is she?”

  “She’s still in the ED until a formal identification can be made,” he says.

  The words leave my lips though I can’t believe that I speak them. “I’ll do it.”

  “How old are you,