Where Secrets Lie

by D. S. Butler

  She wanted to high-five Karen and do a little victory dance, but she had a feeling Superintendent Murray would disapprove, so instead she settled for grinning at Rick.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Two days later, Karen, DI Morgan and Superintendent Murray stood in the viewing suite next to interview room three. None of the monitors were on yet, because Robert Fox was in there, conferring with his solicitor.

  Superintendent Murray pulled out a chair and sat behind the largest monitor. She didn’t often come down to observe interviews, and it seemed strange to see her in this setting.

  ‘I’ll be watching,’ she said, looking at DI Morgan and then Karen. ‘Robert Fox did not make my job easy during this case. Make sure you get him to talk.’

  ‘No pressure, then,’ Karen murmured as she followed DI Morgan out of the viewing suite and into the interview room. DI Morgan said nothing, but looked determined.

  Robert Fox sat at the table next to his solicitor. His shoulders were slumped. With dark circles under his eyes and hair hanging limply over his forehead, he didn’t look so suave and in control now.

  Since Robert Fox’s unwitting confession, a forensics team had been swarming over Greenhill Academy, focusing on the boys’ changing room. But, to their chagrin, the changing room had been remodelled ten years ago, and they’d found nothing to help their case against Robert Fox.

  A small amount of blood had been detected under the new flooring, but it had deteriorated to such an extent they couldn’t extract any DNA. Karen didn’t know whether it was cleaning fluids or sunlight that had destroyed the DNA over the years. All she knew was they’d reached a dead end.

  They needed him to confess. Without physical evidence, they had no chance of bringing a strong case against him.

  But Robert Fox didn’t know that. Karen slid into the seat opposite him. She intended to make the ex-detective superintendent believe they had stacks of evidence against him.

  When DI Morgan sat down, they ran through the formalities, then Karen said, ‘We’ve had some good news, Detective Superintendent Fox.’

  He blinked at her but said nothing.

  ‘The evidence is still being processed, but it’s amazing what can still be detected after thirty years. But then, you know how advanced DNA techniques are these days.’

  He frowned and licked his lips before shooting a nervous glance at his solicitor.

  His solicitor was a tall woman with dark curly hair and sharp green eyes. She didn’t look ruffled in the slightest.

  ‘We know you killed your brother, Robert. But what I’d like to know is, what was your motive? Did you get fed up covering for him? I can’t blame you for being sick of his disgusting transgressions. They must have been affecting your career. It can’t have been easy for you to constantly be expected to clean up after him, again and again. Did you just snap? Was it one time too many?’ Karen leaned forward, meeting his gaze. ‘Or did you drop by and see something that made you realise your brother was a monster and you were protecting him?’

  Robert Fox’s face crumpled, and he closed his eyes, scrunching them shut.

  ‘You don’t need to answer that, Robert,’ the solicitor said coolly.

  DI Morgan took over the questioning. ‘You’ve three other men’s deaths on your conscience, too. James Hunter, William Grant and Albert Johnson.’ Slowly, he laid out their photographs out on the table, facing Robert Fox.

  The detective superintendent’s gaze flickered over the photographs before looking away again.

  ‘Your nephew killed them because he believed they’d murdered his father. It wasn’t true, though, was it? The boys only found the body, and their teachers helped them cover it up, but they didn’t kill him. You did that.’

  ‘You have no evidence to support that claim. My client will not be making a comment at this time,’ the solicitor said, sounding bored.

  ‘And while we’re talking about your nephew, it’s your fault Stephen will be going away for a very long time. What sort of man are you, Detective Superintendent Fox? You held a position of trust. You were a police officer. Did that mean nothing to you? You had a responsibility to protect those boys. Or did you not care about the job? Was it all about power to you? Maybe you took the job for its perks, so you could cover up for your brother. You really are a disgrace to your profession.’

  Robert Fox buried his face in his hands and then shook his head. ‘I’m not a bad man. I made a mistake, but I didn’t mean to kill him.’

  The solicitor sat up sharply and put a hand on Robert’s forearm, saying, ‘I’d like to pause the interview so I can speak with my client.’

  But Robert Fox sagged back in his chair. ‘There’s no need. The truth will come out. It always does eventually. I’ll tell you what you want to know.’

  Karen and DI Morgan stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

  Robert Fox picked up the glass of water in front of him and gulped it down. When he put the glass back down on the table, he met Karen’s eye. ‘We argued. He disgusted me. You have to believe that. When the allegations involving Mark Bell came out, I didn’t believe them. I thought the boy had to be lying. There was no way my brother could have done something like that, but then more stories started to surface and I couldn’t ignore it. I went to confront him, and we got into a fight. We struggled, and I threw a punch. Just one . . .’ He looked at Karen beseechingly. ‘I only hit him once, but he fell and hit his head on the bench. I didn’t think he was badly hurt and tried to rouse him, but there was a lot of blood coming from his head wound.’

  He broke off, reaching for his glass again and then realising it was empty. ‘I panicked and ran when I couldn’t feel a pulse.’

  Karen picked up the bottle of mineral water and refilled the glass.

  Robert Fox grabbed it with shaking hands and took another large gulp.

  ‘I waited for it to catch up with me, waited for the knock at the door, but it never came. Eventually I realised someone had covered it up and removed his body, but I didn’t know who. I did consider coming forward, but then I thought, why should I let him ruin my life? He betrayed me. I covered for him, I believed in him, but when the rumours started up again, and I confronted him, he laughed at me.’

  He drew in a long breath. ‘He was a stain on our family, an embarrassment. I couldn’t let it go on. I was planning on reporting him, doing it all officially, but I lost my temper.’

  Robert Fox looked down at the desk and began to sob.

  The solicitor insisted on a break to confer with her client, but Karen didn’t mind. They had him now, and there was no way he was going to get away with it.

  Karen drove along Station Road towards Heighington, heading to DI Morgan’s housewarming party. She was looking forward to it. An evening away from the job and her thoughts was just what she needed. She’d invited Christine along, and her neighbour sat in the passenger seat, trying to type out a text message.

  ‘This blasted thing!’ Christine exclaimed. She’d recently upgraded her mobile phone and was struggling to get to grips with the new model.

  With Christine occupied, muttering curses at her phone, Karen let her mind wander back to the case.

  Tying up loose ends had taken longer than expected. Robert Fox would be prosecuted for manslaughter, but it was hard to feel pleased with the outcome of the case after so many unnecessary deaths. In the end, Albert Johnson and William Grant had paid the ultimate price for covering up the death of Oliver Fox. They’d acted on the rumours concerning him and his sick predilection for young boys, and assumed the boys had killed their teacher after he’d abused them.

  The sad fact was the three boys had been telling the truth. They really did just stumble on the body after the altercation between the two Fox brothers.

  Karen sighed as she veered left after the railway bridge. If Oliver’s death had been reported to the police at the time, much of the tragedy that followed could have been averted.

  Stephen Fox was currently being assessed in
a mental hospital to see if he was fit to stand trial. His brother, Martin, had been discharged from inpatient care and was recovering at home with his mother.

  Elizabeth Fox was making it her life’s work to send letters complaining about the police to newspapers and journalists around the country. Karen dreaded to think how much the woman’s bill for printer ink had been this month. She’d been threatening to sue the officers involved in the case against her son, but so far it had come to nothing. She still refused to believe the allegations of abuse against her husband, and was adamant that her son had been used as a scapegoat. Sometimes, believing a lie was easier than accepting the truth.

  Karen slowed as she entered Heighington, keeping to the speed limit of twenty miles an hour as she passed the first set of houses.

  The case had involved so many deaths, but at least Michael and Stuart were now safe and could try to put this behind them and enjoy happy lives with their families. That was something to be thankful for, she supposed.

  She had to park around the corner from DI Morgan’s house as the driveway was full. She and Christine carried their housewarming gifts to the house. Karen had bought a bottle of red from the Co-op, and Christine’s gift was a homemade bottle of elderberry wine.

  The front door had been left open, and DI Morgan looked up and waved as he saw them enter. Rick and Sophie were already there, along with a few other faces from the station Karen recognised.

  She took the elderberry wine from Christine and headed to the kitchen, placing both bottles on the counter.

  ‘Thanks, you didn’t need to bring anything,’ DI Morgan said as he entered the kitchen behind her.

  ‘I couldn’t come empty-handed. Besides, Christine insisted on bringing you a bottle of her elderberry wine.’

  He frowned at the bottle. ‘I’ve never had it before. Is it nice?’

  Karen leaned forward, lowered her voice, and said with a wink, ‘It’s lethal.’

  DI Morgan grinned. ‘Thanks for the warning.’

  Someone called for him, and they walked out of the kitchen. Mary Dixon from across the street had arrived with a large tray piled high with freshly baked scones, and DI Morgan went over to thank her.

  Christine was talking to Marjorie Wentworth, who worked at the village shop.

  ‘Hi!’ Sophie appeared at Karen’s side holding a bottle of Prosecco. ‘Fancy a glass?’

  ‘Just a small one,’ Karen said. ‘I’m driving home.’

  Sophie grabbed a clean flute from the sideboard and poured Karen half a glass. ‘There you go, Sarge.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Sophie’s cheeks were flushed and dimpled as she chinked her glass against Karen’s and then pulled her in for a hug.

  ‘What was that for?’ Karen asked.

  ‘You helped me when I was feeling down, and it means a lot that you believe I’ll have a good career.’

  ‘Oh, I see. This isn’t your first glass of Prosecco?’ Karen teased.

  Sophie tottered and leaned against the wall. ‘I’ve had a few,’ she confided. ‘But I mean it. Thank you.’

  Karen raised her own glass. ‘Don’t mention it.’

  ‘Anyway, you never told me about that date you went on.’ Sophie leaned in, eager to get all the gossip.

  Karen pulled a face. ‘Let’s just say I’m not going to be going on any more dates for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘That bad?’

  Karen nodded. ‘That bad. How’s the house-hunting been going?’

  Sophie smiled. ‘I’m looking at some places this weekend that are a bit more realistic with my budget. Start small and build on a solid foundation, right?’

  ‘Exactly. I’ll drink to that.’

  ‘I keep thinking back to the look on Robert Fox’s face when he realised he’d given the game away,’ Sophie said with a grin. ‘It was priceless. Better than a swanky job in Monaco any day.’

  Karen frowned. ‘Monaco?’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing. A friend of mine from school has been living the high life, jetting off to Monaco to host parties, and I got a bit frustrated with myself and my prospects. I was comparing myself to her, I suppose.’

  ‘That’s never a good idea.’

  ‘I know,’ Sophie said. ‘Besides, no other job could beat the buzz of solving a case.’

  DI Morgan walked back into the living room, encouraging some of the guests to try the home-baked scones.

  Sophie tilted her head to whisper in Karen’s ear. ‘Sarge, have you found out why DI Morgan moved to Lincoln? I’ve always wanted to ask, but thought it seemed a bit nosy to bring it up.’

  Karen shrugged. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing interesting. Maybe property prices.’

  Sophie seemed content with that answer, and clinked her glass against Karen’s again.

  Karen took a sip of her Prosecco. Maybe DI Morgan would tell the rest of the team in time, but as far as she was concerned, it wasn’t her secret to tell.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am very grateful to all the people who have worked hard to produce the books in the DS Karen Hart series. Many thanks to Jack Butler and the team at APub. It’s been a pleasure to work with you.

  A huge thanks to my family and friends. I’m very lucky to have such a fabulous group of people around me who are my biggest supporters. They encourage me to follow my dreams, cheer me on and make life fun.

  And a special thanks to all the amazing readers who have shown me so much support over the past few years. The messages and emails I get from people who have enjoyed the stories mean the world to me – thank you all so very much!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born in Kent, D. S. Butler grew up as an avid reader, with a love for crime fiction and mysteries. She has worked as a scientific officer in a hospital pathology laboratory and as a research scientist.

  After obtaining a PhD in biochemistry, she worked at the University of Oxford for four years before moving to the Middle East. While living in Bahrain, she wrote her first novel and hasn’t stopped writing since.

  She now lives in Lincolnshire with her husband.