Down to Sleep

By Clare Revell

DC Zander Ellery isn't sure which he dislikes the most: New partners, rookie female officers, or cases he can't solve. Right now he has all three.


DC Isabel York is fresh out of uniform and out of the proverbial frying pan into the fire as her personal and professional lives clash with her first case—ten stolen works of art.


When a postcard arrives addressed to Isabel with a cryptic message on it, it's just the beginning. The mystery deepens as the first of the stolen paintings is found alongside a dead body—bound and gagged and left posed in prayer at the place depicted in the postcard.


Are nine more murders coming? Can Zander and Isabel find the missing paintings and solve the murder before another victim falls?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harbourlight Books
• Release date: May 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781522302773

Book preview

Down to Sleep

Say a Prayer #1

Clare Revell

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Down to Sleep

COPYRIGHT 2020 by Clare Revell

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Contact Information: [e-mail]

All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

Scripture quotations, marked KJV are taken from the King James translation, public domain. Scripture quotations marked DR, are taken from the Douay Rheims translation, public domain.

Scripture texts marked NAB are taken from the New American Bible, revised edition Copyright 2010, 1991, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Washington, D.C. and are used by permission of the copyright owner. All Rights Reserved. No part of the New American Bible may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Cover Art by Nicola Martinez

Harbourlight Books, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC

www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410

Harbourlight Books sail and mast logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC

Publishing History

First Harbourlight Edition, 2020

Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-5223-0277-3

Paperback Edition ISBN 978-1-5223-0278-0

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

For Lisa. This is all her fault. Seriously, she gave me random book titles and that was all the incentive I needed to let Zander and Isabel run amuck on the streets of Headley Cross. I couldn't ask for a better editor. She takes my work and makes it shine.

What People are Saying

Down in Yon Forest

[Clare Revell] writes books like Alfred Hitchcock and M Night Shyamalan direct and produce engrossing and captivating movies. A hint of an answer here, a red herring there, light here, dark there—Down in Yon Forest shines a bright light on her skills as a storyteller ~ Marianne Evans

Tuesday’s Child is full of grace... and so is its author, Clare Revell. She puts the EEP in creepy! Tuesday’s Child has it all deaf heroine, cop hero, orphaned child, and terrifying killer. This book kept me reading late into the night (with the doors locked and the brightest light on!). The characters are genuine in their faith, without being preachy, as the story addresses some extremely difficult situations. Favorite sentences: 'Do not be afraid’ appears in the Bible three hundred and sixty-six times. That's one for every day of the year."~Beasmom.

Now I lay me down to sleep.

I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

If I should die before I wake,

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

If I should live for other days,

I pray the Lord to guide my ways.

~ Traditional Child’s Prayer

1

When you lie down, you will not be afraid, when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet. ~ Proverbs 3:24

Detective Constable Zander Ellery tapped his fingers on the desk whilst he waited what seemed like a lifetime for the computer to deliver the test results. Had he passed or failed yet another mock sergeant exam? The real test was coming up way too fast, so his boss, Detective Inspector Nate Holmes, had suggested practice papers to hone his skills.

Now here he was, seven forty-five in the morning, doing exactly that, having been at his desk since six.

Finally, the annoying little rotating circle on the monitor vanished and the speakers chimed. Not sure if he actually wanted to know any more, Zander peeked at the screen. Then fist pumped the air. Yes!

Ninety-seven percent. What had he got wrong? He scrolled through the answers and raised an eyebrow. Hostage negotiation? Really? Why?

Leaning closer, he read the screen and frowned. He was supposed to just sit and wait for a negotiator to arrive, rather than deal with the situation himself? Seriously? By the time they, and the armed response unit finally turned up, the situation could have taken a turn for the worse. Hmmm…he’d have to check that one out at some point. Maybe see what the DI would do if it were him.

He raised his coffee cup and took a long swig, setting it down fast. Ugh, cold. He pushed the cup away in disgust. Coffee was one thing that should never be drunk cold, unless it was deliberately made that way with a load of ice cubes. Taking a deep breath, he shoved the chair away from the desk, strode to the windows, and flung open the left-hand one as far as it would go. Never far enough, in his opinion, to let in a decent breeze.

Zander shook his head. OK, this was health and safety taken to the extreme. Who’d want to jump out of one of these windows? Unless he was under arrest with no hope of proving the charges false, that is.

Gazing out over the streets of his adopted hometown of Headley Cross, Zander smiled. He loved those streets. Born and raised over a hundred miles west in Margate on the English coast, he’d moved inland for work eight years ago, and never looked back.

Zander eased his hands against his back, massaging gently. He really did need a new computer chair, but that wasn’t happening any time soon. Not unless he paid for it himself. Below him, Headley Cross was slowly waking, ready to start another day. The spring day promised to be another scorcher—topping thirty-degrees Celsius again. If it did, it would be the fifth day and a new record for early May. Not a big deal, except it brought all the crazies out of the woodwork.

Zander returned to his desk, still wishing the windows opened wider. He switched on his desk fan and began to catch up on his paperwork. He opened the first folder, and then let out a deep sigh. Tony’s signature was scrawled on the cover sheet.

Tony Joyce, who had been his partner for over six years, ever since he joined CID, had retired on Friday. Today, Zander would get a new partner. If there was one thing he hated, other than untidiness, it was change.

The door opened, sending a blast of hot air from the corridor gusting across the room. And this is the squad room.

Zander glanced up at the sound of the DI’s voice.

DI Holmes entered the room with a petite woman at his side. Her long, brunette hair fell most unprofessionally over her shoulders, while her dark eyes glanced around the room as if in an attempt to take in everything. She wore a thin white shirt, with a navy-blue skirt and high heeled shoes. Even with the heels, she barely looked regulation height.

Zander mentally shook his head and turned back to his papers. She wouldn’t last five minutes in his job. Maybe she was the DI’s new personal assistant or something.

Your desk is over here, the DI continued. His footsteps crossed the room, high heels tapping after him.

Zander’s heart fell. Surely not? He had nothing against women. After all, he’d been dating a primary school teacher for a while, and things were kind of serious between him and Rosa. He also had several good female colleagues but being partnered with one was a totally different kettle of fish. Especially a pretty one. Would Rosa be jealous? He hoped not. His heart sank into the soles of his black lace-up shoes as the DI stopped by his desk.

This is DC Zander Ellery, your new partner. Zander, this is DC Isabel York.

Making an effort to be polite, Zander looked up and plastered a smile on his lips. He held out his hand. Hi.

Her grip was looser than he’d have liked, her hand cool, and her gaze overeager. Hello, DC Ellery.

"Zander. With a Z," he added for clarification. It irritated him no end when people spelled his name Xander. Almost as much as when his full name was spelled Alexander. Both were wrong. He had a Z and would be proud of it, as his name was part of him, but pride was a sin. Never mind the fact that he actually wished it was spelled properly so he didn’t have to keep explaining.

Isabel.

DI Holmes nodded to the desk opposite Zander’s. This is yours. Zander will show you where everything is. There’s a whole squad briefing at eight-thirty. I’ll see you then.

Zander watched the DI walk away, and then turned his attention to the woman. How long have you been a DC?

First day. She beamed him a too-bright smile and placed her bag on his desk.

He pointed. That’s yours. Over there.

Sorry. We had to share desks in my last posting. She snatched the bag and moved it. He seems nice.

Zander assumed she meant the DI. He is, but you don’t want to get on his wrong side. Firm, but fair, but a temper to be avoided when annoyed. Kettle’s over there. It’s not long boiled.

Hmmm? Oh, right, yeah. I think coffee’s a good idea. Could I get you a cup?

Sure. I drink mine white with one. He held out his cup.

Isabel took it with too bright a smile and headed across the room.

Zander let out a deep, slow breath and this time massaged the back of his neck. A newbie. He’d been saddled with a newbie fresh out of uniform. Someone who knew nothing, well, next to nothing, about detective policing. What had he done to deserve this?

Someone plunked into the chair next to him, and he glanced up. Hey, Sarge. How’s the wife?

Detective Sergeant Dane Philips smiled. Complaining she’s the size of an elephant or a beached whale or something. The heat isn’t helping either. Of course, it’s all my fault.

Zander chuckled. How much longer has she got to go?

Four very long weeks. DS Philips glanced over at Isabel.

Zander grimaced as Isabel knocked over the cup, spilling the coffee.

She shot him a sheepish smile, mouthing. Sorry, and started again.

He turned back to the sergeant and lowered his voice. What was the Guv thinking, partnering me with her?

He was thinking you’d be good for her. It wasn’t that long ago you were wet behind the ears, and Tony was right where you are complaining about having to chaperone the new kid on the block.

Zander raised an eyebrow. Tony had never once complained to him or seemed in any way concerned. Really?

DS Philips nodded. Really. Give Isabel a chance. She has a good record. Came top of her class in training and was highly recommended by uniform division. It’s why the DI wanted her here.

Isabel ambled back over to the desk and held out Zander’s cup. Here you are.

Zander took hold of it, trying not to let his displeasure at the weakness of the coffee show. His father would say, If I looked that colour my mother would sit up with me all night. To him it looked like half a spoon of coffee and three pints of milk—way too weak for his liking. He preferred his coffee hot and strong. Isabel, this is DS Philips. Sarge, Isabel York, fresh out of uniform and in at the deep end.

~*~

Isabel looked at the brown-haired cop seated next to Zander. She cautiously held out a hand. Sergeant.

His grip was firm. Welcome to the squad.

Thank you. Do you want coffee as well?

The sergeant shook his head. I’m good, thanks.

Zander sipped his coffee and coughed hard, spilling the hot liquid over his hand. He dropped the cup to the desk, spilling more and still coughing.

DS Philips thumped him on the back. Has it got bones in it?

May as well have. He glanced up. The sugar is the round glass container—the salt is square.

Face flaming, Isabel grabbed a box of tissues to clean up the mess. Oh. I’m sorry…

DS Philips grinned. Easy mistake to make. He looked at the clock and rose. OK. Briefing room.

Zander finished blotting his desk, shook the coffee from his suit, and stood.

Sorry, Isabel repeated.

It’s fine. He dropped the tissues into the waste basket beside his desk. I’ve been meaning to get this dry cleaned for a while, and now I have a good excuse to do so. He spoke dismissively.

Isabel followed the two men slowly. Great first impression she’d made on her new partner and sergeant. Could the day possibly get any worse? But really who put sugar and salt in glass dispensers and didn’t label either? And why was there salt on the tea tray in the first place?

To the side of the squad room, was a large room with rows of chairs. A desk and large whiteboard stood at the front. A flipchart leaned against the edge of the desk. The seats were filled, bar two. Zander slid into one and indicated that she should take the remaining chair. It reminded her of the classrooms at police training school.

DI Holmes strode in and everyone jumped to their feet. He nodded. Morning.

Morning Guv, everyone chorused.

He smiled. Sit down. Chairs clattered in response.

Just like school. Isabel shook her head. Should she have brought a notepad with her? A swift glance around the room showed no one else had, so maybe not.

The DI turned over the first page on the flip chart. It contained a list of names, including hers and Zander’s, and she assumed it was everyone in the squad. First off, we are joined this morning by DC Isabel York. Isabel hails from the Fleet Street nick on the other side of town, where she’s been working as a uniformed officer the past two years. She’s partnering with Zander. Isabel, this is Mark, Robert, Tony, Frank, Austin, and Steve. You’ve already met Zander, the Sarge, and me.

Isabel’s cheeks burned once again as everyone turned to look at her. She managed a small wave and an even smaller Hi.

The DI smiled. We’re fairly friendly here. If you need anything all you have to do is ask. Right, it looks like it’ll be another hot one today, so remember sunscreen and hats. I don’t want anyone off tomorrow because they went swimming in a volcano and were burnt to a crisp.

Isabel leaned over to Zander. Is he for real? she whispered as no one chuckled.

Deadly serious, came the hissed reply.

Her mind whirled as the DI allocated tasks for the day and asked for an update from one of the detectives on the robbery case he was working on. She jumped as the DI then mentioned her name. How had she zoned out like that?

…I want you to go over witness statements today, the DI continued. Miss O’Brien is coming in at twelve to go over hers, and Mr. Fredrickson is coming in at two in order to give his. Uniform left the original reports for you. He picked up a couple of folders and waved them. Make sure you familiarize yourselves with the cases first.

Zander frowned. Neither of them was down to be mine. He nodded to the flip chart.

They are now. The DI crossed the room and dropped the files into his lap. Oh, and I need a volunteer to head over to Hydrangea Court and talk to Francis McNally.

One of the officers groaned. Now what? He turned to Isabel. This bloke complains about something almost once a week—sometimes twice. It’s like he has nothing better to do.

He’s a concerned citizen with an issue that needs to be addressed by us, the DI said firmly. You can guarantee the one time we ignore him and don’t turn up will be the time something is really wrong.

Can’t uniform go? someone asked. It’s social care. Send a couple of female officers.

No. DI Holmes scowled.

In that case, send Zander and the new girl. The same cop laughed. I had him last week. He’d found a hamster in his kitchen drawer and wanted me to re-home it as it wasn’t his hamster. As I said, a job for the women.

Zander rolled his eyes. I was going to volunteer anyway, Robert. And for your information, women can do this job just as well as us blokes can.

Now we’ve settled that important issue, you can all go about your duties. The DI raised his voice over the scraping of chairs. Just remember your paperwork is due. I don’t want to have to go around reminding people this time, Robert.

OK, Guv.

Isabel scurried back to her desk and reached for her bag. She pulled out the small tube of sunscreen. She had no idea why she kept it in there, but she was glad she did. Neither did she know why the DI insisted on them wearing it. Spreading some on her arms, she ignored the snorts of laughter from across the room.

Zander dropped the files into the in-tray on his desk and raised an eyebrow. What are you doing?

The DI said to wear sunscreen… She broke off, seeing the laughter in his eyes and the smirk on his lips. The rest of the office descended into howls of laughter.

Her face burned, and she was glad she hadn’t got as far as the sunhat she also had in her bag.

DI Holmes crossed the room, making no attempt to hide his smile.

Oh, I see… She pulled out her hat and stuck it on her head. Too much?

Zander grinned. Suits you. He plucked it off her head and stuck it on his own. But I think I’d suit it better. As the laughter increased, he winked at her. Let’s go. You can drive.

I’d rather not if you don’t mind.

He handed the hat back to her. I don’t mind in the slightest. I love driving. Let’s log out my service car and introduce you to the delights of Hydrangea Court.

~*~

The roads were almost as quiet as his new partner. Zander glanced at her. Why was she squashed on the edge of the seat next to the door, as far away from him as she could get? Surely his driving wasn’t that scary. What’s up? Not upset over the sunscreen thing, are you? It’s just banter, you’ll get used to it.

She shook her head. It’s fine. We did the same thing over at Fleet Street. I was wondering why you don’t use your own car.

He snorted. That’s a great idea. Let the bad guys do a PNC check and find out where I live. Besides, the insurance on it would be astronomical if I used the car for work purposes. Especially with all the high-speed chases we do.

Her eyes lit up. Really?

He shook his head, trying not to grin. I wish. Traffic handles those. And before you ask, no we don’t have blue flashing lights either, or the ones that you stick on the roof. They are just on unmarked traffic cars. But using a service vehicle means we won’t get pulled over or fined if we do break the speed limit. Just get yelled at by the DI for all the paperwork we’ll make him. How long were you at Fleet Street?

Two years, since I finished training.

I know a DS from there—David Painter. We go to the same church. He caught the sideways look she gave him. What? Cops can’t go to church?

I never said that. She shifted the seatbelt, rearranging it against her neck. I go myself sometimes.

Zander parked outside a block of flats. Francis McNally lives on the seventh floor.

I just hope the lifts are working this morning. Isabel got out of the car and looked up at the tall building. Have they done a fire safety check on this place?

It’s got a sprinkler system installed. Zander headed up the steps, wrinkling his nose at the stench. "Mind you, it could probably do with