Close to Home (A DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thriller Book 4)

by Oliver Davies

  Stephen carefully looked over the bathroom while I collected the possible bloodstain from the kitchen floor. There was very little there, and I hoped the sample size would be big enough for the lab to establish who it belonged to.

  “Anything?” I asked Stephen as I was stripping off my gloves, the sample container in hand. He shook his head in answer. “Well, we’re not coming away empty-handed, at least.” I took a final look around the living room.

  My gaze caught on the open bedroom door, and I patted my pocket, hoping for the telltale crinkle of a plastic evidence bag. I fished one out, holding out the possible blood sample to Stephen.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” I told him. “I’ll see you in the car?”

  He took the sample from me with a curious expression, clearly curious about what I was interested in, but he didn’t ask.

  “Don’t be too long,” he said instead, tapping his watch with his finger.

  I rolled my eyes. “Aye, aye, I won’t keep you from your tea.”

  He huffed, heading out. I made my way into the bedroom, pulling on a new plastic glove as I went. I’d already scrutinised this room, pulling out all the drawers and shifting through the innocuous contents. It was hairs on the pillow that made me come back for a second look, and I reached out with my gloved hand to pinch one.

  They were long and brown, looking much too long to belong to most men. I’d dismissed them as belonging to Maddie, but looking at them again now I revised that opinion. Maddie was a darker brown than this, I was almost certain. This brown was mousier and, unless Maddie had dyed her hair, I was guessing that Alec had had somebody else in his bed.

  It didn’t necessarily mean anything, perhaps Maddie and Alec had had an open relationship, but I stowed the hair and a couple of others I found clinging to the duvet and sheets in a bag, regardless. Alec was the most obvious guilty party, in my view, but I always endeavoured to be thorough, and if this could help us answer some of our questions, it would be worth it.

  That done, I checked my watch and winced when I saw how close it was to five. Stephen would be itching to be home, and I headed out of the flat, tugging the battered door firmly closed behind me. The lock was shattered, and the wood of the door was buckled and fractured where Stephen had hit it, but the damage wasn’t so glaringly obvious that anyone walking past might see it. People could be surprisingly unobservant when it came to seeing things that weren’t in their immediate line of sight when they were distracted.

  “Sorted?” Stephen asked as I climbed back into the car, the evidence bag in my pocket.

  “Aye,” I said, clipping myself in. Stephen had taken the driver’s seat, which meant I was in for a bumpy ride, since Stephen seemed to consider himself something of a rally driver.

  Holding onto the handle above the window as Stephen drove us back to the station, I explained the hairs I’d found and my theory about their origins.

  “Another element to add to this mess,” Stephen said.

  “Sure, but it might help,” I said. “More information is always helpful.”

  Stephen wrinkled his nose, taking a corner hard enough to press my shoulder against the car door. “Not always,” he argued. “Sometimes more information just muddies what’s already there, buries it under a whole lot of rubbish.”

  I frowned. “Alright, yeah, point taken. But this isn’t a random tip-off about what colour socks Alec likes to wear. It’s possible evidence that someone else was involved with Alec. Any more information on him would be ruddy useful, don’t you think?”

  Stephen sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m late for date night with Annie, it’s making me grouchy.”

  That explained his uncharacteristic grumpiness. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I said. “We could’ve hurried a bit more.” I wasn’t convinced by my own words, however, because rushing a search for evidence wasn’t how I liked to operate. And we couldn’t have easily left the search until tomorrow, with the lock broken and the flat left vulnerable to meddling by outside parties.

  Stephen crooked a doubtful eyebrow at me like he’d known what I was thinking. “No, we might’ve missed something, and it would’ve been my fault. It’s alright, I’ll just have to do a bit of grovelling to my patient wife.”

  “Are you going out for dinner?” I asked. Stephen launched into a detailed description of his signature meal and how his wife had practically married him because of it. I listened, amused and fond, and we settled into easy conversation as we approached the station.

  Still, even as we were talking, I was thinking about the flat and what we’d found. While I’d been living in that building, there’d been a dangerous man living in the flat below, and I’d never realised it. I’d probably passed by him on the stairs before and never properly noticed him. It made it slightly better somehow than I’d not been in my own apartment, oblivious, when Maddie had been hurt. Still, I felt a responsibility to her, not only because she’d been harmed within the building where I lived, but also because I’d been the one to find her.

  I tried not to think of the fact that she may not ever wake up and instead dedicated myself to catching the perpetrator before she opened her eyes.

  Five

  I took a steadying breath as we stood outside the Packhams’ front door.

  “Ready?” I asked Stephen.

  “As I’ll ever be,” he muttered before reaching forwards to rap sharply on the door.

  We could hear a voice inside calling for someone to get the door, and when it opened, we were met with the shocked expression of a young teenager.

  The girl stared at us for a long second. I opened my mouth to say something, but she beat me to it.

  “Mum!” she yelled over his shoulder.

  Her mum came into the hall, still wearing her dressing gown and with a mug held in her hands. She saw us and her eyes went wide, the blood drained away. I hated this moment, when you could see someone’s worst fears cross their face right before you.

  “It’s Maddie, isn’t it?” she said, her voice a dry rasp.

  I glanced down at the kid who’d opened the door. She’d seen her mother’s obvious distress and now looked close to tears herself.

  “My name is DCI Mitchell, and this is DI Huxley. Are you Ms Packham?” I asked, just to make sure. She jerked a nod. “Perhaps we could step in and speak to you?”

  “Yes,” she said weakly. “Yes, of course. Lindsey, go upstairs, honey.”

  “Mum-” the teenager protested.

  “Go and get your dad,” Ms Packham said firmly. She held her mug in both hands, her knuckles white with how hard she was holding it, but speaking with her younger daughter seemed to help her pull herself together.

  She directed us into a modest but tidy living room. She turned off the TV and collapsed into an armchair, placed opposite the sofa where Stephen and I took our seats.

  By silent agreement, we waited for Ms Packham’s partner to come down, his heavy footsteps descending the stairs, making her straighten up. I knew from our research that Maddie’s mother’s name was Annabel, but I hadn’t been certain about her partner, who was frequently pictured with her but not named.

  Stephen and I stayed quiet as the man came in, visibly doing a double-take when he saw us sitting there.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice thick.

  “Come sit down, Dan,” Annabel Packham said softly.

  With clear reluctance, he drew up a seat close to Annabel and pinned his attention on Stephen and me. With my chest tight, I thought of all the times I’d done this before, breaking unwelcome news to families, and how it never got any easier.

  “We’ve got some news for you regarding your daughter, Maddie,” I said, making my voice as clear but gentle as I could.

  Annabel’s mug of tea trembled in her hand, but she didn’t so much as look down at it.

  “I’m sorry to tell you that she’s been seriously injured,” I continued, deliberately avoiding the word ‘accident’ because we weren’t much con
vinced it had been an accident at all.

  Annabel pressed her fingers to her mouth. “She’ll be alright?” she asked desperately.

  “Where is she?” Dan asked at the same time.

  “She’s at York hospital,” I told him evenly, before turning to Annabel. “The doctors will talk you through her injuries there.”

  “What happened?” Annabel asked desperately.

  Dan noticed the shaking cup of tea in Annabel’s hand and gently took it from her, setting it down on the side before he took her hand in his instead. She sent him a soft, appreciative look.

  “Maddie fell down a staircase,” I said. “We’re looking into the details of the incident-”

  Annabel startled me by standing up, and I broke off. “We need to go to her. Right now.”

  “We will, love.” Dan got to his feet with a nod. “And Linsey?”

  Annabel chewed her lip. “We’ll leave her with Gerry and Claire next door.”

  They glanced over at Stephen and me as we got to our feet. I’d ideally wanted to ask the Packhams some questions, but I knew that this wasn’t the time to do it. They needed to be with Maddie, and I couldn’t be anything but pleased that Maddie had people who cared deeply about her and would be by her bedside when… if she woke up.

  “Thank you for coming, officers,” Annabel said tightly, “but we need to go.”

  “We understand.” I pulled one of my cards from my pocket and held it out to her. “We do have some questions that need to answering, so please contact us as soon as you can. It’s important.”

  Lips parted, Annabel looked down at the card I’d just put into her hand. Dan looked baffled but understanding flickered across Annabel’s face.

  “Was it… not an accident?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  “That’s what we’re trying to establish,” I said carefully, my stomach tight with feeling as I saw the pain on Annabel’s face.

  After a second of shock, she shook her head. “We- we need to go,” she repeated. She pushed my card into her pocket, and I nodded to her.

  “We wish Maddie a quick recovery,” I said before we took our leave. Stephen and I walked back to the car in silence, both of us burdened by the news we’d had to deliver.

  “Christ,” Stephen muttered, rubbing a hand over his short, bristly hair. “I hate that.”

  “Aye, me too,” I said. A headache was gathering behind my eyes, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. I sighed. “Onto the next thing, then. Let’s see what we can get done before the Packhams get in touch.”

  “They might not manage it today.”

  I nodded, starting up the car. “I know. But I want to have something to show them when we do talk to them.”

  I’d made it a priority to contact the Packhams first thing this morning, but after that, since we would already be in the area, I’d planned to go straight onto the apartment building to speak with the residents about Alec Banks.

  “You’ve got the pictures?” I asked.

  “Of course.” Stephen pulled out the photographs of both Alec and Maddie we’d taken from their social media accounts. I’d have preferred to have asked the permission of Maddie’s family to use the photo of her, but we didn’t have the time to wait for them to be ready to speak to us. People’s memories deteriorated exponentially as time passed, and it had already been three days since Maddie had been hurt.

  The wind had picked up as we stepped out of the car, blowing hard enough to tug the car door out of my hands as I opened it. I didn’t much mind running in the wind, it was invigorating, and I could always wear an extra layer to keep the cold out, but the gusts often signalled a change in the weather, and I looked sceptically up at the slate-grey sky.

  “It’s not due to rain ‘til midnight or so,” Stephen said.

  I sent him a grin. “You checked the weather?”

  “You’re always glaring at it, thinking about your running,” he said, pretending annoyance but clearly amused, “so I thought I’d have a look.”

  I chuckled. “Well, thanks, I think. I didn’t realise I was so predictable.”

  “Just a tad,” Stephen said, shaking his head.

  I shoved the car door closed behind me. “Come on, you annoying lug,” I said, leading the way towards the block of flats.

  It was late morning, so I was fully expecting that several of the residents would be out at work. I was pleasantly surprised to find that at least half were in, owing to home working, unemployment, or their unsociable working hours.

  “Does this man look familiar?” I asked, gesturing to the picture Stephen was holding up. I had my notebook in hand, pen poised as we talked to a woman who lived in one of the second-floor flats.

  She frowned, taking a long look at the picture. I saw the moment when she placed his face, and she gave a pleased nod.

  “I’ve seen him out by the bins,” she said firmly. “He lives downstairs, I think.”

  I nodded. “Okay, thanks. Did you ever speak to him?”

  She tucked a wayward curl of hair behind her ear. “I don’t believe so.”

  “And this woman?” Stephen held up Maddie’s photo, blown up large enough to be easily seen, though it was a touch blurry.

  But the resident just shook her head and, though I asked a few more questions, we soon moved on to the next one. It turned out to be third time lucky, as an older woman living on the top floor was the first to give an affirmative answer when we showed her Maddie’s picture. Stephen and I straightened up slightly.

  “Aye?” I said hopefully. “Where have you seen her?”

  She pulled her cardigan tighter around herself, her eyes distant as she thought. I’d seen her name down on the records as Penelope Martin, but she’d told us to call her Peggy when I’d tried to address her as Ms Martin.

  “I saw them both together, I did,” she said. “Wrapped right round each other.” She seemed more amused than disapproving as she spoke, and her lips were crooked up on one side.

  I raised my eyebrows. “When was this?”

  She gave a small shrug. “I haven’t a clue, I’m afraid. It could’ve been a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Okay, thank you,” I said as I made a note. “You haven’t seen her more recently, have you?”

  “I thought she was too good for him, you know,” she continued, ignoring my question. “She’s a pretty thing, and he’s a good bit older. Grumpy as a wet cat, too.”

  “Yeah?” That interested me. “Did you have a chat with him?”

  Peggy made a scoffing noise in her throat. “I gave it a try, I did, when he moved in, but no. He thought himself too good to have a natter with the likes of me.”

  I frowned. “Nice guy,” I couldn’t help but say, and she huffed a laugh.

  “You know,” she said after a moment, tapping her chin in thought, “now I think about it, I did see the girl not so long ago.” I made an encouraging expression and gestured for her to go, and she nodded. “It was the late afternoon, I remember, and I was on my way down to the basement to fetch up my washing.” She gestured to it as she spoke and pulled a frustrated face. “The ruddy thing’s always in use, but I did manage to get mine in that time.”

  “And you saw the woman? Maddie?” I prompted, since we’d gotten off track.

  “I did. I saw her come up the stairs when I was taking my basket down to get my washing. She’s a nice girl, said hello to me as she passed. Such a nice smile.” She nodded to herself.

  “When was this, can you remember?” I asked.

  “Oh, it was- it…” Peggy started, before faltering, her warm expression fading into a frown. “Well, it was the day when you lot came by asking questions about that girl that fell down the stairs.”

  Stephen and I shared a look. She clearly hadn’t realised that Maddie was the woman who’d been so badly injured.

  “Did you see her again, that day?” I asked.

  Peggy looked between us, her brow furrowed. “No, I don’t think I did. Mind you, I did hear someone com
ing up behind me on the stairs. I didn’t turn and see who it was, though. I was right keen to put my washing down, you know?” She gave a quiet chuckle, but it faded when she saw how serious Stephen and I were.

  “What time was that?” I asked, trying to keep the urgency from my voice.

  “Early evening, it must have been,” she said, but she looked uncertain.

  “Was it before or after Maddie had come in?” I pressed, wanting to be clear. The CCTV hadn’t shown anyone else entering the building after Maddie, and yet Peggy had given the impression that she’d heard someone come in after she’d seen Maddie.

  “After I saw the girl, Maddie,” she confirmed definitively. She glanced between us. “Why do you two look so serious? Did the girl who fell down the stairs not make it?”

  “I’m sorry to tell you,” I hid a wince, “but Maddie is that woman. That’s why we need to know about when you might have seen her.”

  Peggy looked badly startled. “Oh goodness,” she murmured. “Will she be alright?”

  “We’re not sure yet,” I said gently. “She is stable.”

  “I thought it was an accident, I did,” she said, her eyes wide. “Do you not think it is?”

  “We’re exploring all possibilities right now,” I said, my standard answer when I was asked something about a case that I couldn’t talk about.

  Stephen and I asked Peggy several more questions, but she didn’t seem to know much else, and the news that the injured woman was Maddie Packham seemed to have shaken her.

  “A nice girl,” she repeated as Stephen and I began to wrap it up.

  “Aye, I’m sure.” I looked at her sympathetically. “Thank you for your time. Make yourself a cup of tea, okay? I’m sorry to have brought bad news.”

  To my surprise, she reached forwards and patted my cheek gently. “You’re a good lad. A cuppa is just what I need. Will you boys come in for one?”

  “Oh no, we can’t, but thank you,” I said, taken back by her offer. I smiled at her.

  “We appreciate it though,” Stephen assured her.