In Too Deep Read online

  In Too Deep

  Copyright © Bradd Chambers 2019

  Published in 2019 by Bradd Chambers

  All rights reserved to the author. Strictly no distribution or reproduction of any of the content without written permission from the author.

  All events and characters in this book are entirely fictional. Any correlation with real people, dead or alive, except for those in the public domain, is purely coincidental.

  Front and back cover slightly altercated. Original © Copyright Alexander Mazilkin / Creative Commons / Flickr: https://www.flickr.com/photos/135299911@N04/21925767475/

  Other publications from Bradd Chambers:

  ‘Someone Else’s Life’

  Released June 2017

  Available now on Amazon

  ‘Our Jilly’

  Released November 2017

  Available now on Amazon

  Praise for ‘Someone Else’s Life:’

  “With this dark, gritty debut, Bradd Chambers marks himself out as one to watch in crime writing.” - Brian McGilloway, author of the DS Lucy Black series.

  'Enthralling,' 'Awesome' and 'Would make a great movie.' 'A book for every thriller novel lover.' – MCXV reviewer.

  Praise for ‘Our Jilly:’

  ‘Brilliant book. I was hooked from the first page, truly would be a fantastic gift for the Sherlock in your life.’ – Amazon Reviewer.

  ‘This is the second book I have read by this author and was not disappointed! Could not put the book down and read it all in a day, [I’m] looking forward to reading more from this author and would 100% recommend this book to anyone looking for [a] great read!’ – Amazon Reviewer.

  Prologue:

  Chapter One:

  Chapter Two:

  Chapter Three:

  Chapter Four:

  Chapter Five:

  Chapter Six:

  ****

  Chapter Seven:

  Chapter Eight:

  Chapter Nine:

  Chapter Ten:

  ****

  Chapter Eleven:

  Chapter Twelve:

  Chapter Thirteen:

  Chapter Fourteen:

  Chapter Fifteen:

  ****

  Chapter Sixteen:

  Chapter Seventeen:

  Chapter Eighteen:

  Chapter Nineteen:

  ****

  Chapter Twenty:

  Chapter Twenty-One:

  Chapter Twenty-Two:

  Chapter Twenty-Three:

  Chapter Twenty-Four:

  ****

  Chapter Twenty-Five:

  Chapter Twenty-Six:

  Chapter Twenty-Seven:

  Chapter Twenty-Eight:

  Chapter Twenty-Nine:

  ****

  Chapter Thirty:

  Chapter Thirty-One:

  Chapter Thirty-Two:

  Chapter Thirty-Three:

  Chapter Thirty-Four:

  ****

  Chapter Thirty-Five:

  Chapter Thirty-Six:

  Chapter Thirty-Seven:

  Chapter Thirty-Eight:

  Chapter Thirty-Nine:

  ****

  Chapter Forty:

  Chapter Forty-One:

  Chapter Forty-Two:

  Chapter Forty-Three:

  Chapter Forty-Four:

  Chapter Forty-Five:

  ****

  Chapter Forty-Six:

  Chapter Forty-Seven:

  Chapter Forty-Eight:

  Chapter Forty-Nine:

  ****

  Chapter Fifty:

  Chapter Fifty-One:

  Chapter Fifty-Two:

  Chapter Fifty-Three:

  Chapter Fifty-Four:

  ****

  Chapter Fifty-Five:

  Chapter Fifty-Six:

  Chapter Fifty-Seven:

  Chapter Fifty-Eight:

  ****

  Chapter Fifty-Nine:

  Chapter Sixty:

  Chapter Sixty-One:

  ****

  Chapter Sixty-Two:

  Chapter Sixty-Three:

  ****

  Chapter Sixty-Four:

  Chapter Sixty-Five:

  Chapter Sixty-Six:

  ****

  Chapter Sixty-Seven:

  Chapter Sixty-Eight:

  Chapter Sixty-Nine:

  ****

  Chapter Seventy:

  Chapter Seventy-One:

  ****

  Chapter Seventy-Two:

  Chapter Seventy-Three:

  Chapter Seventy-Four:

  ****

  Chapter Seventy-Five:

  Chapter Seventy-Six:

  ****

  Chapter Seventy-Seven:

  ****

  Chapter Seventy-Eight:

  Chapter Seventy-Nine:

  Chapter Eighty:

  ****

  A Note From The Author:

  For anyone who has ever lost

  someone to the River Foyle.

  Prologue:

  I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. The wind howls in my ears and whips my hair across my face. My hand battling to steady the strands and pull them back behind my ears. Pulling the hood over my head further. My scarf tied around my face, muffling my sobs. Blinking away tears, I stagger forward, embracing the cold sharp slaps of air hitting my exposed skin.

  Leaving the vegetation in my wake, my right side is greeted by the grandeur of the houses shadowed by the bridge, the Gleneagles Estate leaking from the main Culmore Road. The houses I always dreamed of living in when I was little. I bet they’re happy, the odd pungent scent of the river the only thing to disrupt their lives.

  As I continue the incline, I’m surrounded on both sides by railings. Railings to my left stopping me from barrelling into oncoming traffic, something easily done in conditions like these. Railings on my right protecting me from a deadly fall into the infamous River Foyle. Not that they’ll be much help when I climb over them.

  You see, in this city especially, the river is a solution to the people’s problems. An easy way out of a bad situation. Suicide rates are the highest in Northern Ireland than the rest of the UK, with around 300 every year. That’s three times as many people as road accidents, and they’ve doubled within the past 20 years. Many of which are through drowning. In Derry, the vast majority from jumping the Foyle Bridge.

  Is it too cliché to say I can feel my heart in my throat as I steal glances between the metal railings? Down into the bleak black water crashing along beneath me. People say they don’t know how anyone could have the balls to do something like this. Some don’t, of course. They come here for a cry for help, making sure someone’s there to talk them down or hold their hand as they ship them off to Altnagelvin Hospital afterwards.

  Whether they were ever going to jump or not relies solely within the person’s frame of mind. You hear about it all the time. People saying that so-and-so would’ve been so scared they definitely would’ve had a heart attack before they hit the water. Or they would’ve changed their mind half way through and would’ve wanted to wade themselves back up in the air to land safely on their feet on the right side of the railings. But no one will ever know, will they? Will I?

  I’ve reached the halfway point of the bridge now, where it’s at its highest. Luckily, at this time of night, and with the weather, not many are brave enough to face the elements. Hopefully a lone taxi driver or night shift worker won’t be here to stop me. Change my mind. Bring unwanted attention. After all, I’ve said my goodbyes. It’s just the way it has to be.

  Gripping the freezing metal with both of my ungloved hands, the vertiginous drop is shielded momentarily as, once again, the south-easterly wind throws my hair into my face, obstructing my view. Rain water spitting at me from the Watersid
e of the city. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I step forward to hoist myself up, memories of better times playing in my head to mask the pain.

  Chapter One:

  She almost trips over it in her rush to get through the door. Odd, she hadn’t ordered anything online in a while. Swooping down and sliding it up her leg and torso until it’s rested under her arm, she twists the key in the lock and topples into the house. Throwing it and her keys onto the hall table, she hobbles out of her heels and up the stairs.

  It had been a hard day at work, politicians making her job even harder as they headlined the conference, and Mark had promised her a nice dinner in the city centre. Her stomach groans for some nice salmon from one of her favourite restaurants. It doesn’t matter which one, they all seem to be owned by the same people if the rumours are true.

  When she’s had a whore’s bath, changed into the sparkly dress and added some of the expensive perfume her mum used to wear, she rings the taxi. A 20 minute wait? Taxis are a joke in this town. Padding down the stairs and lifting her discarded heels, she boils the kettle whilst she fights herself back into them. Despite her feet being blistered and bruised from the long day cramped in them, she knows they’re the only ones that match this dress.

  Battle over, she exhales and lays back, sweat already glistening on her forehead. That’s when she remembers the package. Filling her cup and leaving the teabag in for more strength, she grabs it and dumps herself on the sofa. Thoughts of a wrong delivery dispersed as she checks the name and address before tearing off the packaging.

  It’s a plain white box. Opening the lid, her mouth forms an ‘o’ shape as she examines the designer shoes. Merlot red with a seven-inch stiletto heel wrapped in gold tissue paper with the designer brand etched onto it. It takes her a few moments, after gawping at the shoes, to notice the note. Unfolding it, it simply says:

  ‘Ava, I love you, M x.’

  A smile engulfs her face. It isn’t even her birthday or anything. And these will go perfectly with this dress. She glides her feet into them. They’re surprisingly comfortable as she struts up and down her hall, flourishing them in front of the long mirror. She has the most thoughtful boyfriend ever.

  Chapter Two:

  Mark’s by the bar checking his phone when she creeps up behind him, grabbing his waist and jerking him with a light ‘boo.’ He turns and smiles at her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

  “Alright, gorgeous?”

  “Exhausted and starving, but happy,” Ava smiles, scrunching her shoulders up in the cute way that sends Mark’s heart racing.

  She kicks her heel out slightly, rubbing his shin with it. Mark smirks from the corner of his mouth.

  “That happy, eh?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Bit of a public place, keep it until we get home,” he blushes, pressing himself against her.

  She sniggers and wraps an arm around him, resting her head on his chest. After everything she’s been through, he’s always been there. She doesn’t know what she’d do without him.

  The waiter comes down the stairs and signals to Mark to follow them. Mark nods at him with a wink and turns to Ava, holding his arm out for her to link onto him. That’s when Ava realises. The new shoes. The fancy restaurant. The cheeky wink to the waiter. This is it. He’s going to propose.

  As they climb the stairs to the seating area above, her heart beats aggressively through her chest. Of course, she’ll say yes. But with everything in work and her being so much younger than him, would it be a good idea to get engaged right now? She always imagined being financially stable, living with her boyfriend and planning the wedding within nine or ten months. She never wanted a drawn-out engagement where the spark fizzles out and everyone contemplates whether you ever actually will get married.

  But then again, Mark makes a good lot of cash. Just because all her money is tied up in her charity work, it doesn’t mean that they couldn’t organise a modest wedding with the little money they both have saved up. And Mark’s parents wouldn’t see them stuck. With Mark their only child, they’ve got loads in the bank. After all, they did pay for all his tuition fees through university, gave him a considerable amount to start up his own business and helped with the deposit on his house. And after a while, what’s mine is yours and all that.

  Ava gets a stab of guilt at thinking such a thing as Mark pulls back her chair for her, giving a dramatic impression of a butler that makes the little girl at the table beside them giggle. He smiles over at her as he takes his seat opposite Ava.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind a bottle of bubbly. We’re celebrating after all,” his eyes light up as he wiggles his eyebrows at Ava, the butterflies in her stomach feeling like they’re trying to escape up her throat and out of her mouth.

  “I’ll have a strawberry daquiri, please,” Ava smiles sweetly at the waiter.

  Does he know?

  As he nods politely at them both, he skirts off down the stairs to the bar they just recently vacated, seen perfectly from the bannister beside them. Ava watches him meticulously. Craning her neck to see if he’s adding anything to her champagne flute, then she sees Mark watching her and smiles. She doesn’t think he’d be that corny anyway.

  “What’re you staring at?” she blushes.

  “Just so lucky to have you,” he turns his head to the side. “How was work?”

  “Oh,” she waves the topic away, “we don’t have to talk about that.”

  “I want to.”

  He does. He always does. He shows such an interest in her life.

  “Just the same old shit,” her lips purse.

  She picks up her daiquiri, smiling at the waiter as he brings out the expensive-looking bottle from the ice bucket and swerves its label in Mark’s direction for approval. Not that it’s any use anyway, the two glasses are already steaming with fizz. She doesn’t like discussing work in company. He knows that. She gazes into her champagne glass. No ring? No problem. She returns her attention to Mark’s face as the waiter leaves. The lines on his face are getting deeper. He’s not even 30 yet.

  “Politicians still against everything?” he puts down the menu he only examined for seconds.

  “Oh, aye. The norm. Saying we’re doing a good thing, but our interests are in the wrong place. The money will be better spent increasing the height of the railings or having a net. They’re too blind to see that that isn’t the solution to the problem.”

  She realises her voice is getting more and more raised and her hand hurts from gripping her drink tightly. She exhales and puts her glass down, tucking her hair behind her ears. He’s heard all of this before. Hundreds of times. There’s no use getting annoyed about it, especially in public. He’s on her side. He grabs her hand from across the table and leans forward, their eyes meeting.

  “She’d be so proud of you. You know that.”

  She smiles back tears and grips his hand tighter.

  “Anyway,” she coughs, reaching for her drink. “What are we celebrating?” she raises her eyebrows and her glass.

  “Well, I was going to wait until after dinner because it’s a long sort of story that I didn’t want to coincide with the delicious food for my starving other half,” he winks.

  She laughs nervously. What’s he getting at? This isn’t making sense. She lowers her glass with a puzzled look.

  “I’ve just bought the place on Carlisle Road.”

  Her mouth falls open and she half nods. Oh, this is what it was? The business he’s been itching to get at for a few weeks now. How could she have been so stupid? He cocks his head to the side in confusion before she jerks into action.

  “Oh, oh. Babe, well done. That’s great. I’m so happy for you.”

  She raises her glass and clinks it against his, downing the champagne in one whilst he continues to give her a muddled look. Wiping her mouth with her napkin, she goes to stand.

  “Ava…”

  “I’m just
nipping to the loo. If the waiter comes, tell him I want the salmon. And a side salad. And fill my glass for me,” she laughs too loudly, pointing at her empty flute.

  Turning, she jostles clumsily past waiters taking orders and customers sidestepping one another to get back to their seats. She hides her face from the tables as she descends the stairs, rushing to get to the toilets before the tears come.

  Chapter Three:

  He stands as he looks up to her returning.

  “Ava, what’s wrong?”

  She waves away his concerns as she sits down and pulls her chair in tight against the table.

  “Nothing, nothing. It’s stupid.”

  “It isn’t stupid. Please, talk to me.”

  She looks at him from across her glass, drinking as much as she can before the silence becomes awkward. She burps silently as she puts down her drink. She only had half a sandwich for lunch and nothing else but a few cups of tea all day. The bubbles are starting to go to her head.

  “It’s seriously nothing. I didn’t sleep well last night worrying about the meeting. Then it went atrocious as expected. Then I was rushing to get home to get here and there was the new shoes you got me and the champagne and the celebrations and the confusion and I was just being stupid. I thought…” She wrinkles her nose.

  “You thought I was going to ask you to move in with me?”

  Ava blinks stupidly.

  “Aye, aye... That’s it.”

  “Ave, we’ve had this discussion before. You said you’re perfectly happy on your own.”

  “And I am. I’m just being oversensitive, ignore me. I’m being stupid. Just stupid…” She laughs, covering her eyes with her hands.

  “Nothing about you is stupid,” Mark wraps his hand around her arm, pulling her hand away softly. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like that. I promise it wasn’t intentional.”

  Ava smiles back, feeling a little better. She shakes her head and goes back to her daiquiri. She was jumping to conclusions. It had been a hard day. She should just relax and enjoy the meal.

  After the waiter takes their orders, she listens attentively to Mark’s story about how he jostled with the business owner on Carlisle Road. How he had told Mark the hairdressers would never be able to pass as an accountants. There was too much work to be done. Mark even managed to haggle the price down by £1,500 because he explained to the owner how much he had in place already. Who he knew and who he was already speaking to about the renovations.