Speed

By D C Grant

Jason Shaw, the fourteen year old son of a Seattle police detective, struggles to understand the mystery of the high speed car crash that killed his mother and left his father in a coma. With just his best friend Ben to help him Jason tries to make sense of the clues his father left behind but they make no sense and he’s not sure who he can trust within the police department. As he gets closer to solving the mystery and identifying those involved, he puts himself and those close to him in danger. Can Jason act quickly enough to save not only himself, but also his father and his best friend from those that want them dead?

• Language: English
• Publisher: D C Grant
• Release date: Jul 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311385208

D C Grant

D C Grant was born in Manchester, England but she didn’t stay there for long as the family moved to Lowestoft, Suffolk when she was four. She didn’t stay here for long either, moving to South Africa with her family when she was thirteen. This is where she found that she liked words to string words together and create a story out of thin air. Just when she thought her inter-continental moving days were over, she moved to New Zealand with husband and two daughters. Here she was first published by Scholastic NZ Ltd.Since then she has proceeded to write and publish books, expanding into digital ebooks as the format became more popular. While her first few books are set in New Zealand, later books expand into other parts of the world, drawing on her experiences whilst living in other countries.Her favorite authors are Lee Child and Bernard Cornwell and, while she reads diversely, she leans towards the mystery/thriller and historical fiction. So it is only right that she writes in these genres for children and young adults.D C Grant lives in a New York loft style apartment in Auckland, New Zealand with a slightly psychotic cat called Candy and drinks lots of coffee to power her through the late night writing sessions – because she’s a night owl!Find D C Grant at:www.dcgrant.co.nzhttps://www.facebook.com/dcgrantwriterhttps://www.goodreads.com/D_C_Granthttps://dcgrantwriter.wordpress.com/

Book preview

Speed

D C Grant

Book 1

Jason Shaw Mystery Series

Speed

By

D C Grant

Published by Standfast Publications Ltd

Smashwords Edition

Copyright D C Grant 2015

http://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

The Accident

Break-in

Salvage

Airport

Computer Bits

Back to School

Intruder

Funeral

Drug Bust

Questions

Hotel

Paralyzed

Confession

Sandman

A Million Dollars

Hole in the Floor

Caught

Stunned and confused

Death by Car

No escape

Fire

Hospital Room

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 all 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, son?

Fourteen.

"We should really have someone over the