The GOD.docx File

By Katrina Deverill

THE GOD.docx File

There are 24 words between vicar and vigilante: with victim and victor betwixt the two.
The GOD.docx File follows the story of Jeremy John, a vicar grappling with his faith after the murder of his fiancée. Determined to bring her killer to justice, Jeremy uncovers a sinister killing business operating on the dark web. But as he delves deeper into this dangerous world, he realizes that to stop the killers, he may have to cross a line and break a promise if he turns vigilante. With the stakes getting higher, he discovers that the last two marks on the list are key figures that, if killed, will cause a diplomatic crisis and possibly war. Will Jeremy be able to stop the killings before it's too late? With a unique and compelling protagonist, a gripping plot, and a dark and gritty setting, The GOD.docx File is a must-read for fans of vigilante justice and crime thrillers. Don't miss out on this page-turner – with a twist you won't see coming - order your copy of The GOD.docx File today and join Jeremy John on his quest for justice and redemption.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katrina Deverill
• Release date: Feb 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215301760

Katrina Deverill

I live on the beautiful island of Cyprus where the sea is cobalt blue, and it rarely rains.  Because I believe some of the best books are the ones that have yet to be discovered, I read on average four novels a month, sometimes more, but I schedule my writing time into each day. It’s a full-time job. There’s something special about curling up with a book and being transported to another dimension. Although I write in several genres, they all have one thing in common: mystery. I’m a sucker for whodunits and whether there’s a ghost, some historical data, a smattering of magical realism or a full-blown serial killer, the characters guide me through all the way to the end. If you enjoyed this title, all my books are on my website in my portfolio, where you’ll find both my current titles and those soon to be released. You can also sign up for early-bird offers, news and giveaways, but if you're more interested in leaving a comment or asking about a particular character, I’d be happy to respond. I look forward to hearing from you when you visit my home from home https://katrinadeverill.com Katrina Deverill

Book preview

PART 1

PROLOGUE

Commercial Lawyer Madeline Anderson headed out on the last stretch of the open road, it was almost dusk, but the sky was clear, and the roads were dry. Thoughts were full of the conversation to come, her chance to say her piece before returning to Jeremy with the best of news. The radio played their favourite track. She ramped up the volume to listen to Stairway to Heaven as it blasted out in all its magnificence. Maddy sang along. As it finished, she stretched across to retrieve a rock CD and rifled around in the car’s glove box. Fumbling with the jewel case, she slipped the disc into the player. For a split second, Maddy lost concentration, taking her eyes off the road. When she looked up, it was there! The oncoming headlights a blinding white against the darkening sky...

Dazzled, her blood took on an icy chill, something felt wrong. Maddy’s pulse raced, the smell of fear, like no other, filled the air with its heady aroma. Stairway to Heaven reverberated, this time, a ring tone, but her phone lay on the passenger seat. She stretched across, it slipped from her grasp, but there were more immediate concerns...

The headlights gone, as she avoided the oncoming collision, Maddy recognised the driver, a familiar face, trusted; flustered and confused she swung into action. The car and driver bearing down on her again made little sense. Dark clouds continued to scud across the sky, but she saw the vehicle clearly. Time slowed as the panic raced through her mind; why? Why was this happening? She thought they were friends, nothing made any sense, only the cold chill of fear and the trickle of sweat she could feel as it ran down her back told her she wasn’t dreaming. This was for real!

Maddy cut wide, she slammed her foot hard on the accelerator, using kickdown to drive the car out of danger. The wheels spun. She gunned it, but her assailant turned and gave chase. She swerved again, to no avail. The other car followed hers, every change of direction, fast, slow, it made no difference, she was the prey and the hunter a strong opponent. As the car weaved and bobbed on its approach, the future looked certain. The driver of the vehicle in front was so close her breath hitched, her chest hurt, she tried to stay calm. Those eyes, the sneer, the sharp look of concentration as they timed their impact. It was too late.

She saw the crash coming before she felt it. There was no time to think. The drop was infamous the barrier flattened by an earlier accident a few weeks ago. On a collision course, she pictured the notorious black spot. There were limited options, just certain death, helpless to change the inevitable she still gave it her all, she wanted to live, above all else she had unfinished business and an apology to make, a family to make, a life worth fighting for.

As the car continued to give chase it gained on Maddy, clipped the wing of her car, knocking her sideways. Again, she tried to accelerate, each turn mirrored by her assailant with precision, but there seemed no escaping her rabid foe. The other car’s wheels screeched on the dry road as the driver made a handbrake turn. Now it sped towards her from the rear. Too late, the car shuddered, petrified as the other car careened back towards her, her body thrown forward rag doll style, as it hit again. This time the impact sent her on a course with the flattened barrier. Her attempt to swing wide failed as the impact shunted her again, sending her at speed towards the edge, it was over, the battle lost as she felt the terror of inevitability, knowing her fate helped no one, her eyes filled spilling her final tears as her heart ached the realisation of what she would lose, and what she could never have.

There was a crunch as she felt the rear-end crumple, and still her car hurtled off course, the barrier ever closer as her killer proved hell bent on pushing her towards the edge. Her wheels spun one last time; a final determined nudge, that’s all it took.

As the car scraped over the broken barrier with a crunch, realisation hit her although she recognised the driver, no one else would ever know.

Madeline’s head bounced off the side window. The airbag exploded, deafness reigned, ears ringing in the aftermath. Her vehicle balanced on the edge; she couldn’t move. Pinned to the seat, she heard her ring tone fire up again, but the phone had slid further out of reach. Maddy understood defeat. An ominous creaking reached her conscious mind as the momentary calm broke. Blood, warm and wet blurred her sight and mixed with her salty tears as it seeped from a head wound. She felt the car slipping. She prayed as it creaked again, a fleeting moment of silence, as she traced her figure across the only available surface, next came the sensation of flying, tumbling over and over, as if in agonising slow motion. Maddy’s car landed loudly, a plume of dust and debris flew into the atmosphere, but the only witness was long gone: the deed was done. Her last thoughts were of Jeremy and the children they would never have...

CHAPTER 1

YEARS LATER

Let me tell you about my path. There are 24 words between vicar and vigilante, and victim is somewhere in between.

We had the whole enchilada. But nine years later, what’s left are my memories and the perpetual pain. Nothing more. Because you cannot vanquish vitriolic words or their exchange. Our argument was based on a temporary illusion of fear; my anxiety and an unwillingness to believe anyone could truly love me. The opportunity to right my wrong disintegrated with her demise, and for me, the regret is eternal...

AS I ENTER THE DIOCESE office, a chilly blast of wind brushes my face. Nerves I rarely show, my preferred outward persona, one of resilience, even though inside, I feel as if my lifeblood oozes. Where integrity and reality meet, a hotchpotch of perversion resides, a no-man’s-land. It’s a place called Grief, where the inhabitants share in a mix of self-loathing, guilt, and broken hearts. Somewhere alien, as if life ceased there long ago. My head’s a mess, and since I lost Maddy, nothing makes any sense.

I made a vow, in an act of desperation and possibly it’s what kept me going, like a rabbit in the headlights, I have no control over my destiny. But I’m searching for that glimmer of light that leads to justice, retribution and the divine. Truth, justice, the right to exist. I want to live again, loneliness eats at me, but until I have the answers and keep my solemn promise, love and companionship is for others.

Today I’m looking for solace from someone I’ve long admired, a beacon of good, a libertarian, measured and compassionate. Bishop Hardy had taken me under his wing when I joined the diocese, sending me to the parish of Slimhollow, not as a consolation prize, but more of a wedding present. Then, when my life changed in one dramatic event, his support helped me on an alternative path. His guidance, it’s what I need, a flicker of light as my mind returns to a darker place and time.

He smiles. Is it me or is there no warmth? My paranoia extends its tentacles wide, swallowing all rational thought and I remind myself; this is a man I trust. A murmur of classical music plays in a distant room a reminder of calm and relaxation; it helps little.

‘Please, sit.’ And I do, while he stares right through me. My paranoia is as infectious and pervasive as ever; I’m here for advice, and some resolution and I really do try to relax in his company but achieving my goal proves difficult.

‘I’ve considered the facts and I’m disappointed, Jeremy.’ His fingers move rhythmically as he taps the desk with an irritating cadence. But his comment puts me at ease, while I think about putting my words together with care, my eyes dart back and fore nervously. ‘As am I. Her words, misconstrued and twisted, turned into idol gossip, I’d expected better of them.’ The quiet atmosphere and the distant music feel soothing now. Relief surges through me. I breathe out, a sigh long and calming.

‘You misunderstand me. My disappointment lays with you dear boy.’ My breath hitches as a sneer, faint but discernible, appears on his wrinkled face as the words leave cracked lips. His bald pate, a greying comb-over, a threadbare attempt at style. ‘You’re mistaken. It’s there in black and white.’ I push her statement across his desk. My pulse quickens, my hard-earned ease fleeting, it’s gone, and the tentacles return. His eyes follow, the report but he does not pick it up or read the words, indelible in their recognition of my innocence.

The room spins, my head full of nonsensical whooshing noises as white spots appear before my eyes. My palms, sweaty now, as an icy chill pervades, I move to correct my sagging posture, but his attack is curt and direct. ‘Clear as mud....’ But it wasn’t. This was a sentencing, no trial, no reviewing of evidence. ‘So, you’re saying I’m sacked at the behest of a few cheap words; gossip?’ ‘Goodness no... it’s far too serious for that. Let’s just say there’s, um... no smoke without fire.’ As soon as his words are out, my chill turns to a burning ire: The thoughts in my head swirl with inky slime... And then I sink into the black hole of fear; why do I never fight back? More mouse than man, I wait for his next damning sentence.

There’s a lull, as if time itself has stalled. My body language is so off kilter, I feel anger at the betrayal, but there’s no backbone here, just a soft glow, a canary yellow bloom running down my back with the sweat of fear.

Bishop Hardy coughs, and I’m back in the room. ‘So, we’re agreed?’ and I see the web of deceit spun for the listener, my life smashed into a distant alternative reality. I’m looking at him, seeing him clearly, for the first time, and I understood, not how but why. He no doubt has a new student to take my place, a vibrant younger prospect, one unsullied by grief or gossip.

‘So, this is a go quietly chat? A walk-away, admit defeat and resign situation. Is that what you’re telling me?’ I can feel myself sinking lower, shoulders slumped and if I’m not careful I might end up under it rather than on it. ‘Precisely.’ I see his lips move, but the sound leaches out like an alien mix of babble and guff, and I felt sucker punched. ‘Of course, there’ll be no more work within the parish, but the vicarage, you’ll have three months’ grace to find alternative accommodations and a job. Just don’t expect a reference.’ ‘Fine, whatever. You can have my resignation,’ but the words in my head don’t correspond with what I’m saying as I add mentally, just not my respect.

I don’t know what he expected, but I feel lost, let down, cast adrift. The chair topples as I stand, a rush of anguish and my eagerness to retreat. Just my normal reaction, today it doesn’t feel right. I’m thinking: That’s it, I resign. The forgiveness for idle gossip I give freely. However, you! You are a nonentity, a bigot, and as they say, you reap what you sow. But the sound, a pathetic bleat, says simply. ‘Good day, Bishop Hardy.’

When the cold air hits me, I feel the magnitude seven shivers of an earthquake run through my body. With hands on my knees, I gasp for air before I’m aware of the silence breaking. The sound is surely not mine. How could I own something so destructive? It resounded a loud, guttural moan. The bellow followed me back to my car. My grief, enough to wake the dead, maniacal, twisted, sickening. The wind drove it back towards his office; I prayed it hit him, one small poke in the eye with a sharp stick. I prayed his shame would drown him, Gods way of informing him he is a bigot; the words I was unable to release from my lips delivered from above.

Back in my car, I sat behind the wheel, and I got it. Even after Maddy, rebuilding a life, making new friends and yet still year upon year of pain, despite all my efforts, now it lay in an unholy heap, all wasted. Rubbished by a narrow-minded clown, someone who may not himself withstand scrutiny.

Once the initial pain dawned and the moment of anger quelled, I realised I’d lost it all, my friends, my home, and my job all in one go. In quiet contemplation, things may take on a different perspective; but I feel no such emotion - SHIT!

It broke my heart. I knew I was losing Slimhollow, and I rocked back and fore, as if possessed. Then with determination I repeatedly slam my hands into the steering wheel, once, twice, three times. At least I still feel something. A lessor man might have returned to the village pond with a weight around his neck and jumped in, but not me, even if all I see is my future disintegrate into the abyss of wasted chances. I have my faith, my calling, and the need to keep my promise.

I get a mix of selfish indignation, fear and a trickle of regret forming; the regret that I hadn’t apologised to Maddy and that I didn’t say how I felt just now. I’m left with a deep resentment for the injustice, a deeper well of loathing at my continued failure. If I could wish for one thing, apart from Maddy back, I would ask for a backbone, no heroics, just the ability to stand up to bullies, liars, and frauds.

I’m nursing my bruised ego with my head in my hands as I reflect past injustices and on how I got here. Why I never feel the strength to say and do what comes naturally to others, and I remember the first time I felt the pain of hopelessness, of cowardice taking hold, but I was just a lad: A kid, on an important mission to spend pocket money. Full of joy, worry-free. The money was warm in my pocket, I remember how I checked frequently, just in case the coins evaporated. It’s a strange phenomenon we’ve all experienced, but it’s all part of the rush, the excitement, and predictably; I was itching to squander my haul. 

With my mind on how many sugary treats it would buy, its power distracted me. It was a big deal back then. The residual cash from a recent birthday.

Walking down the litter-strewn street, the dream was of BlackJacks, with their yummy aniseed flavouring which always turned my tongue black, and the flying saucers, discs of sweet rice paper. Filled with the most satisfying fizzy sherbet, in hues of pale blue, pink, and yellow, you could even get white ones if there were any left.

I was so engrossed. If only I’d known what would happen next. I was on a high when it all transpired, as I witnessed an old lady leaving the local shop. Although it didn’t immediately register, something was about to occur that would ruin all my plans. An incident that would shape my future.

A woman, with overladen bags in hand, put her foot onto the narrow step. Her long beige raincoat fluttered in the soft breeze, liver-spotted hands and gnarled knuckles turning white against the weight of her burden. As she limped down the steps, wheezing, her face was pinched and rosy in the cool air; she hitched her bags up, already feeling their weight. That’s when everything changed, and losing her footing, she slipped and fell.

BANG! She hit the ground. It happened so quickly, in my periphery. It must have been the thud heard, and the movement seen from the corner of my eye. My head snapped up; all reverie was gone. The old lady I had seen at a distance sprawled out; was she dead!

Tumbling onto her side, she lay there, stockings laddered, her headscarf slipped to one side. As the carrier bags fell from her grasp with a mighty crash, they split open, her groceries spilling out around her. A brown paper bag plopped out of one of the ruined bags, as if in slow motion. Potatoes were sent bouncing down the remaining two steps into my path.

It was a shocking sight, so much so my hand shot to my open mouth, as it formed a perfect O. With eyes bulging at the sight of the woman, and without hesitation, I rushed to her aid and appeared first on the scene. As I approached, she looked up at me. A rush of relief filled my soul. She was alive.

The unfamiliar noise aroused the people from within the shop. They must have heard her ungainly fall, the crash, bang, thump, as she and her shopping hit the ground. Maybe even her muffled moans as she lay there, her shopping trip ruined. Whatever brought them running, they didn’t all have the best of intentions. As they flooded out from the busy shop, it soon became clear. Some stood rubbernecking, while the others, with genuine concern, took control, pushing me aside to help her. 

Once her audience arrived, she turned to them, a red sheen of embarrassment coloured her face as she looked up from her prone position. ‘Did you see what he done? The little Git hit me right over!’ Her gnarled finger pointed towards me, as a sea of faces turned, my feet rooted to the ground, a tsunami of expressions; stony faces, austere, all eyes fell my way, cold and judgmental. And suddenly all concern for the old lady evaporated as I realised, they believed her, and to them, they were looking at a thug, a criminal not just a bad boy. But I wasn’t bad, I had done nothing wrong, the woman lied and I was left helpless, unable to prove my innocence and open to their condemnation; it hurt.

I tried to deny the words ringing in my ears; they weren’t true! But the words of denial stuck in my throat; and anyway, no one was listening to me. Their minds were already set in stone.

I could feel the tears well before they sprung, bubbling up, choking me, but I tried again. Then, trying to be brave, I wiped the snot on the sleeve of my jacket and struggled to hold back the tears. I felt the raw anger flooding off the adults as they glared at me, my terror rising as I trembled. What would they do next?

My face reddened. The tears appeared unbidden in a moment of utter disbelief, before turning ashen, as the fear roiled through me. Under their unjust scrutiny, it was too late. They had already passed judgement and decided on my guilt.

Without hesitation, I’d turned tail. Shame and fear coalesced as I ran full pelt all the way home, my shoulders rising and falling as my heart broke at the unfairness of it all. The humiliation cutting deep, the injustice a painful ache inside; that sometimes people believed the lies others told, and there’s little you can do. It has haunted me for years as I tried to grapple with life’s vagaries. I still do. But I told no one, harbouring the memory, with all the shame of the guilty.

I felt devastated to receive their condemnation, but even now an allegation or the hint of blame sent my way, sends the old heart hammering, because I know nothing’s changed. A lie, well told, sets in cold hard stone for eternity; I’ve learnt, denial is no defence. In the middle of the word belief, the lie remains hidden, and there it stays.

One incident, the strength of which can mould a future, changes perspectives, and expectations. I could still feel the pain of unbridled injustice. With Maddy gone, the World appeared bleaker, and I realised nothing had changed. Life was just rubbish... again, I allowed myself to drown in a pool of my own making; self-pity.

A rush of emotion filled me, my selfishness. There were far worse atrocities happening to people far more worthy than me; in admonishment, I told myself - pull yourself together, man. There are other jobs, new friends to make, and a home to find. Because life moves on and so must Jeremy John, if you want a proper life.

The car’s engine fired without fault and as I headed back to where another chapter would likely end, I felt a visceral pain. A longing for the past, simpler days, the joy Maddy brought, but it was too late for that. Nor could the splendour of my home for the past nine years detract from the dingy reminder of what was to come.

For me, the way forward remained hooded, clandestine, dark, and foreboding. I’d never been a risk-taker, now doubt flooded every sinew. Wasn’t Jeremy John always the conventional, clear-thinking vicar? It appeared not, I was adrift again, my grief, shame and lack of resolve a weighty anchor of my own making. What had changed? Nothing. There were two reasons to move forward, one was my vow to Maddy,  the other my faith and for them I felt a responsibility greater than myself, that alone was why I stilled breathed, and why I had to move ever forward, taking my fear with me.

I had to Find Maddy’s killer, so far, I had drawn a blank, but something told me like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, finding the impossible required more than faith.

A change of perspective, a solid lead and time, that’s what was needed. Time, no longer a problem I reaffirmed my vow and made plans.

CHAPTER 2

One thing I’d planned for, was retirement and I owned a house that I’d let out for years. Now it lay empty, the previous tenants have long gone and me too busy, wrapped in my own bubble of despair to replace them. Some things are meant to be, I’d move