Cold Blood by Jane Heafield (great books to read txt) 📕

‘To find my son’s murderer. I asked you to promise, and you never did.’

‘I do everything I can. Saying that word, it doesn’t really make anything different.’

‘To me it does, and things are different now. So, do you know where that monster lives?’

Bennet realised his error. Sophie hadn’t left the house to allow her husband to act on his anger. She had come out here, away from him, to act on hers. He nodded.

‘Then hurt him for me. Tonight. Hurt him bad. Tell him it’s from my son. I want you to swear you’ll do it.’

For the second time, Bennet made a promise he shouldn’t have.

52

Sat in his car outside a chemist’s, with a packet of painkillers and bandages, Bennet wondered what the hell he was doing. His boss, Superintendent Hunter, called with a warning. ‘SIO Sutton is about to call you. Be honest with him, okay? I don’t know what it’s about.’

He looked at the painkillers and bandages he’d bought. So, Don The Man thought he was funny for buying Liam sleeping medicine? Well, the idiot was going to need what Liam had bought for him. ‘It’s about the theory that I entered that motorhome and dragged my son’s mother’s body out. I did, David. That’s exactly what I did. I messed with a crime scene. I couldn’t leave her in there. I’m sorry I lied.’

‘I know. I’m just glad you admitted it. We’ll deal with that. I got your message about wanting to be on adjusted duty. Let’s leave it as compassionate leave, and maybe that will help with how this whole thing plays out for you. I’ll say no more about it here, on the phone. Tell Sutton the truth when he calls.’

‘Thank you.’

Bennet was driving to Don The Man’s flat when Sutton’s call came. He pulled in to take it.

Sutton immediately said, ‘I’ve reviewed that garden centre CCTV you told us about. That engine noise we can hear from Tuesday evening? I think you’re wrong about it being a motorhome engine. Far too aggressive.’

‘The CaraHome’s exhaust had been repaired. If it wasn’t done correctly, a damaged silencer would make the noise louder.’

‘Well, we have doubts.’

‘I recently heard the autopsy results. The pathologist said there was trauma she thought might have been from a fall. Francis Overeem was planning to do something called the Arrow Climb. You know what that is?’

‘Oh, yes. You’re wondering if our victims were pushed or fell off the cliff, up at the hotel? Forget that. We looked at that scene and there’s no evidence anyone fell. And CCTV of the Arrow car park at no point shows that motorhome, so it wasn’t there. It was a nice theory, given the proximity of the lake and the cliff – you know, the victims take the tumble, and then our perp brings the motorhome down from the Arrow to the lake, drags the bodies and puts them inside, and dumps the vehicle in the water. But we ruled it out. Besides, the pathologist came up with the big fall notion because, well, this is the Peak District. Lots of rocky hills. Since then she’s reassessed. Nothing definitive, but she would say the injuries are more likely from a high-speed car crash than a tumble down a mountain.’

‘Okay. I just thought I’d mention it. I should also mention that it’s time I told the truth. You were right, superintendent. I did go in that motorhome. I broke a window and went inside.’

Bennet repeated his reasons, as given to Joe, but without emotion: a straight blast of facts. He didn’t really care to get the DCS to forgive him. He just wanted no more part of lying to people.

‘I knew it all along. Thank you for telling me the truth. We’ll deal with that another time. Now, do you recall the woman I was with when I arrived at the scene? She’s a principal consultant for the Forensic Collision Investigation and Reconstruction group. I was at a seminar with her when I got the call, so I brought her along because a vehicle was involved.’

Bennet recalled a snooty lady with the superintendent, and that she’d looked disgusted seeing Bennet soaking wet, knelt by Lorraine’s body at the shore of Lake Stanton. ‘What about her?’

‘She had something intriguing to say about the scene. The undergrowth, the tree branches overlapping the slipway. All thick enough that quite some speed and momentum would be needed to punch that motorhome through. It was scratched to hell by branches and broke some big ones.’

‘I saw the slip road. I figured as much.’

Sutton continued: ‘Tight space to enter through that brick archway at speed. Very thin service road. Thirty miles an hour, minimum, she says. That’s how fast the motorhome would have had to enter that slipway, to force itself through. Any slower and it would have jammed up with the mud and the branches and undergrowth. And she doesn’t believe the motorhome could have made the turn at that speed.’

Bennet’s heart started to thump. ‘Pushed? By another vehicle?’

‘Yes. Something big enough to–’

‘I know what,’ Bennet cut in. ‘I need to come down there, DCS Sutton.’

‘What do you mean, you know what? You know which vehicle did this? Tell me.’

Of course, Bennet should have told him. Sutton was leading the murder investigation, and Bennet had no authority to be part of it, even if he hadn’t been barred by his relationship to one of the deceased.

‘No. I want in. I want the arrest, DCS Sutton.’

‘Bennet, don’t piss about with me. If you have information that–’

Bennet hung up. He stared at his phone as if it were a weapon he’d just attacked the DCS with. Of course, he should have called back. He’d just refused to divulge important information to a superior investigating the most high-profile crime of the last few years. On top of his contamination of the crime scene, this would destroy his career, might even result in criminal charges. He could have made that return call, apologised for the