Judgement on the Peaks: DI Jessica Ryan Crime Thriller Series, #1

By J. F. Burgess

In the brooding alleys of Leek, Detective Jessica Ryan unearths the towns dark past when a homeless man is discovered brutally stoned to death in a ritualistic style murder; the crime scene adorned with biblical messages, thrusting Jess into a gritty investigation.

 

The echoes of his murder reverberate through the derelict St. John the Evangelist church, revealing a tapestry of revenge, betrayal, and fanaticism that transcends time.

 

As Jess delves into the shadows, she stumbles upon a relentless present-day killer with a chilling connection to an abandoned children's home.

 

Haunted by a Priests chilling confession diary, the uncooperative homeless community, and a drop-in centre run by the secretive Catholic Church, Jess races against time to uncover the truth about three decades of child abuse - can she find the killer before another victim is sacrificed in God's name.

 

Dive into the heart of darkness where ritualistic murders, biblical messages, and a relentless killer converge in a prequel with unexpected twists. Every revelation peels back layers, opening new chapters of suspense and danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gripping Crime
• Release date: Feb 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224785537

Book preview

Judgement

On the

Peaks

A DI JESSICA RYAN CRIME THRILLER PREQUEL

Also by J.F. BURGESS

Detective Jessica Ryan Series

Killer on the Peaks

Taken on the Peaks

Copyright © 2023 all rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without express permission of the publisher except for brief quotations in a book review.

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidence.

Printed by GRIPPING CRIME in the United Kingdom

First Printing 2024

Dedication

Dedicated to the wonderful memory of my dad, Francis Burgess, who we miss dearly. A great family man who loved to read thrillers.

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

EPILOGUE

COMING SOON

A LETTER FROM J.F.BURGESS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you for choosing this book. Please join the VIP mailing list here https://www.jfburgess.co.uk/ for exclusive discounts on my crime thriller and mystery books. And get two gripping DI Tom Blake short stories, Deadly Retribution and Disco Inferno FREE!

PROLOGUE

Greenall Court assisted housing, Stoke 1993.

Eighty-eight-year-old Father O’Malley inched off the edge of the electric hospital bed in the living room of his apartment at the assisted living accommodation, paid for by the Catholi­c Church since his angina and arthritis had ended his career. Apart from the African carers that came three times a day to give him breakfast, lunch, tea and those bed baths that stirred up ungodly sexual deviances in his mind, he never left the house. The doctor had warned him to give up smoking years ago, but apart from the good Lord, and a nightly tipple of Bushmills Whiskey it was his only pleasure, he thought glancing the picture of the twelve disciples sat at Jesus’s table, on the opposite wall.

Now in his wheelchair, he fished a tobacco tin from his dressing gown pocket; everything he needed for a smoke was in there. With the tin on his knee, he slowly wheeled across the carpet to the French doors; his stick-thin arms ached as he forced the wheels forward. Turning the key, he peered through rheumy eyes at the crisp snow blanketing the ground surrounded by seven-foot conifers on all four sides.

With some effort, he pulled the handle down and pushed the uPVC door open. A blast of freezing cold air blew in making him shiver, but it was the only way given that smoking was banned in all the apartments, and the smoke alarms installed in every room were connected to the twenty-four-hour warden’s office at the other end of the site. He was too frail and too old to move home so reluctantly adhered to their ridicu­lous rules.

A minute later, he was puffing away like an old soldier on a roll-up when movement in the trees startled him; maybe a squirrel or fox, he thought trying to suppress his anxiety.

Suddenly, the LED security light flickered, but failed to fully illuminate as if it had been tampered with. He glared in horror as four hooded figures approached with a sinister purpose. The biting wind howled through the darkened garden. The moon cast an eerie glow on the snow-covered ground as three hooded figures silently drew closer, their footsteps muffled by the blanket of snow.

‘Who's there?’ he said his eyes blinded by the sudden flash of light; one of the figures aimed a torch straight at his face. Fumbling in desperation, he tried to close the door, but he was too slow and weak. A boot blocked it.Swiftly, they invaded the priest's sanctuary, the French doors creaking open in protest against the intrusion.

‘We have waited a long time for this day of reckoning. The years have not been kind to you, but the Lord you dutifully worship has witnessed your evil sins. He giveth and taketh away,’ the deep male voice said, through the black scarf tied around his face, his warm breath rising like smoke in the freezing air.

The other three stood in silence flanking him as if w­aiting for orders on what to do next.

Petrified, Father O’Malley felt urine fill his pyjamas trousers and soak through his dressing gown. ‘I'm a Priest, you will rot in hell if anything happens to me, the Lord is my witness, his retribution will be swift,’ he retorted.

‘Shut the fuck up, you of all people should know what the bible says happens to child abusers and rapists,’ the man turned and solemnly nodded to the others.

Without warning, they lunged at the old priest. The meagre glow of his living room lamp barely illuminated the scene as they seized the elderly priest, mercilessly dragging him from his wheelchair.

Father O’Malley's frail form convulsed as he was unceremoniously thrown onto the unforgiving ground. The frozen concrete slabs leached the warmth from his feeble body. Through hooded masks, the figures remained shrouded in anonymity.

With gloved hands that betrayed neither warmth nor compassion, one of the figures retrieved a crumpled page from a pocket: an insidious scripture casting shadows over the elderly priest. The inked accusations spoke of his sins, a damning narrative woven by hands unseen. The page was slipped into the folds of the old man's dressing gown, a dark parody of a sacrament.

As Father O’Malley lay in agony, he pleaded for his angina tablets. Anguish etched lines on his weathered face, and his breath crystallized in the frozen air. The four, were unsympathetic to his suffering. Their silence echoed with a malicious intent.

‘Please... my tablets,’ he rasped again, his voice a frail whisper carried away by the wind. But the hooded figures that surrounded him paid no heed.

As they retreated into the shadows, leaving Father O'Malley to the mercy of the unforgiving night, the priest's anguished cries resonated, unheard, lost amidst the whispers of the wind: a cruel requiem for a soul left to freeze in the cold embrace of the night.

O’Malley felt a sudden stabbing pain in his chest. Peering through blurry eyes at the moon, he begged God for forgiveness with his last breath.

CHAPTER 1

Staffordshire Moorlands 2018

Glaring winter sun streamed through the large rear windows of the eco-Scandinavian style barn house that Jessica, and her husband, Darren, had built with the guidance of her skilled father. It was one of those rare occasions when they’d both managed to get the day off together. With the children safely at school, they managed to get quite a bit of DIY done.

Darren, dressed in a paint-splattered t-shirt and jeans, stood on a ladder, carefully hanging a framed picture on the living room wall. Jessica, wearing an old pair of jeans and a faded flannel shirt, stood back sighting the alignment.

‘A tad to the left,’ she instructed.

Lowering the frame slightly, Darren asked, ‘Like this?’

A smile playing on Jess’s lips. ‘Perfect.’

As they worked together on the finishing touches, their laughter filled the room. Despite the occasional bickering over the kids and DIY projects, moments like these were what made their life together special.

Once the picture was securely in place, they stepped back to admire a photograph taken during a family camping trip from 2016: a reminder of the moments they cherished most.

‘That was such a great trip. Benjie must have been seven?’

‘He was six,’ Jess replied.

‘They’re growing up so fast,’ Darren said, his arm slipping around her waist.

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘I know, but they’re still young. I love how easy it is to fix stuff to wooden walls; we can fill this house with memories.’

Darren pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his warm breath tickling her hair.

‘Me too.’

Their playful side took over, and soon they were messing around like teenagers, tossing cushions at each other.

‘Come on, detective,’ Darren teased, ‘Show me what you’re made of!’

Jess giggled as she dodged a well-aimed cushion. ‘You asked for it!’

They exchanged frisky blows, until they collapsed on the sofa, breathless and laughing. Darren's eyes met hers, and a shared moment of intimacy passed between them.

In the comfortable silence, Darren gently brushed a strand of hair from Jessica's face and cupped her cheek. Their laughter faded as they drew closer, and their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss; a kiss that spoke of years of unwavering love.

When they finally pulled away, Jessica smiled up at him. ‘We should do this more often.’

Darren nodded, his eyes filled with affection. ‘Definitely, I just wish we’d get more time like this together.’

As they settled back into the warmth of their home, Jessica couldn't help but feel grateful for the life they had created; a life filled with love, laughter, and the comfort of being each other's best friend and partner.

CHAPTER 2

The decline of St John the Evangelist Church on Ball Haye Road, Leek had taken years. Diminishing congregations and the financial challenges of maintaining the crumbling two-hundred-year-old architecture led it to fall into disrepair and finally sealed its fate in 1985.

Fibreglass panels boarded over the stained-glass windows stopped even the brightest sun from fully illuminating the aisles. Inside, the forgotten sanctuary with dusty pews, loomed in silence. Shadows danced across the walls, where the only remaining semblance of reverence was a six-foot Christ effigy carved in hard wood. Its outstretched arms seemed to cast judgment over the once hallowed space.

In the dim glow of a flickering candle, a hooded figure stood before the wooden Christ. Clutched in gloved hands were ancient pages, worn by time and whispered prayers. Verses 35:16-17 from the King James Version and Deuteronomy 22:25-27 from the New International Version of the holy book resonated through the empty nave.

The figure's eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity as they read aloud the verses, their voice echoing in the hollow chamber. "And if he smite him with an instrument of iron, so that he die, he is a murderer: the murderer shall surely be put to death. And if he smite him with throwing a stone, wherewith he may die, and he die, he is a murderer: the murderer shall surely be