Hard Brakes (Paperback) (ISBN-13: 9798897785759)

Book 2 in the DI Brakes WWII Thriller Series

A killer in the clouds. A war on the home front. And a detective who won't let a cold case die.

1942, war-torn Britain. While the bombs fall on Norwich, Detective Inspector Brakes is haunted by a different kind of terror: a string of bizarre, unsolved deaths over three years, scattered across the English countryside. Five bodies found in military uniform, each with a parachute-unopened. The official verdict is accident, but Brakes, a charismatic, thrill-seeking detective with a knack for cold cases, is certain it's murder.

When a sixth victim surfaces in Suffolk under the same chilling circumstances, Brakes is finally given his chance to prove a killer is operating under the cover of war. Dragged to a pressurised Scotland Yard, he must lead a task force to solve a case the government fears will shatter public morale.

CHAPTER ONE - Extract

The year was 1942. England's rolling countryside, once a picturesque symbol of tranquillity, had become a landscape marred by war. Bomb craters pockmarked the earth, homes stood in ruin, and the nightly wail of air raid sirens was a constant reminder that death could come from the skies at any moment. Yet, amidst the terror brought by German bombers, there was another shadow creeping across the land, one more insidious and perplexing than any enemy aircraft.

It was a darkness that Detective Inspector Brakes had spent three long years chasing in-between other cases-five bodies, five deaths, each one more inexplicable than the last. His case load, although varied at this time, had nothing to offer him. Each case felt dull and boring, part of the everyday grind and crime that was now war-torn Britain.

And after the lacklustre end to his previous case some months ago, Brakes was simply itching for something to reignite his passion for the chase, and he was certain this case could do exactly that. So, for the first time in months, he unboxed his nemesis.

Brakes sat at his kitchen table in his modest cottage home, staring at the wall in front of him. Plastered across the cracked, faded wallpaper were newspaper clippings, police reports, and photographs, all detailing the five victims who had been found in various locations across the English countryside over the past three years. Each time, the bodies were discovered dressed in different military uniforms, parachutes attached but never deployed. There was something grotesque about the pattern, something that gnawed at the edges of Brakes' mind, refusing to let him rest.

"Five victims, five parachutes. The only links: parachutes, not deployed. Military dress," he muttered, rubbing his chin as he scanned the clippings for the hundredth time. His words bounced off the silent walls, offering no reply.

His home reflected the mind of a man consumed by his work. Every available surface was cluttered with papers, books, and remnants of his investigation. In the corner of the room lay his trusty, half re-assembled Triumph Speed Twin 5T, his beloved 500cc motorbike that Brakes had been restoring after his accident last year.

Initially, it was housed in tangled pieces in the garage, but recently Brakes had needed an easier direct approach, so he moved it into his living room. It had been his one retreat from the madness of war and crime-a place where his hands could focus on something tangible, something that made sense. But the Triumph had gone untouched for weeks now, unloved and gathering dust while the metal lay bare, as his mind remained locked in a different kind of conundrum.