Hand On Heart: An Unputdownable British Crime Thriller (DI Benjamin Kidd Crime Thrillers Book 5)

by GS Rhodes

  It had only been their last case. He didn’t imagine he’d hear the end of that any time soon. But Dennis had managed to get under his skin. That was what Weaver had warned him about all along. He didn’t want to be questioned about the case, so he turned it all around, and now Kidd was confused.

  “But maybe—”

  “You then ended up talking to other people and those other people had other ideas of how that case should have gone all those years ago,” she said. “Even Powell thought that when he was reading the case file. You were doing what you thought was the right thing to do.”

  “Maybe it was that old hero complex kicking in again.” Kidd groaned as they made their way back to the Incident Room.

  “You’re being stupid.”

  “Maybe,” Kidd replied. “I’m going to go and talk to Weaver.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think I need to make a move,” Kidd said. “If it’s not Michael, I need to get definitive proof that it isn’t him. We’re going to go get him, we’re going to search his house, and if it’s him then it’s over, if it’s not…”

  “Then what?” Zoe asked.

  Kidd allowed a smirk to tug at the corners of his mouth. “What’s another bit of hairdryer treatment from Weaver, huh? Just another day in my life.”

  ◆◆◆

  At this point in the investigation, with no real leads apart from Michael Earle’s past, Weaver agreed that the best course of action was to make a move. He didn’t like that there wasn’t a lot of evidence against Michael apart from his role in the previous case, but he was willing to look past that in favour of them moving forward, in favour of something happening. The Superintendent wasn’t happy, livid was the word that Weaver had used. He wanted action, and he wanted it fast.

  It didn’t take long for them to get ready. Kidd gathered the team, wanting them all to be there to look around the property. They had armed officers sent along with them, the team riding in one of the vans with a group of officers and way more guns than felt entirely necessary for just one guy.

  But Weaver was playing it cautious. He didn’t know what this guy was capable of. All he knew was that Michael had been convicted of murder almost two decades ago. Kidd couldn’t really imagine the guy that he had spoken to this morning making any sort of move to threaten any of these officers. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

  His heart practically pounded out of his chest as they drove out of Kingston and through Teddington to get to Twickenham Green. The vans could barely make it down the car-lined streets. There was nowhere for them to park, so their only option was to stop the vans in the middle of the road. If something were about to happen, it wouldn’t be wise to have members of the public anywhere near them.

  Kidd put a stab vest on over his shirt, just like the rest of his team—again it felt like too much caution for the man that he had spoken to just a few short hours ago—and took the first steps towards the house.

  He knocked on Michael’s door. He half expected to hear yelling again, his father back for round two, but there wasn’t a single sound coming from inside the house. He knocked again, still nothing.

  Kidd took a few steps to the side, moving out of the way of the armed officers as they barrelled towards the door. They shouted before they started hammering at the door with the battering ram. It barely took a couple of hits before the door splintered and they rushed inside, splitting off, and filling every room from the tiny kitchen to the tiny bathroom and beyond.

  Kidd waited with his team for Michael to be brought out. He waited to see the burly, ageing man with his hands in cuffs being dragged to the van and put into the back of it. He couldn’t picture him putting up a fight. He couldn’t see that from the Michael he’d spoken to this morning.

  Then why is it taking so long? Kidd thought.

  The sound from inside had died. The yelling had stopped. A couple of the officers made their way outside. One of them, the most senior of the bunch, stood in the doorway and beckoned them closer. Kidd knew that this wasn’t going to be good.

  But even with that knowledge in hand, nothing could have prepared Kidd for what he saw when he walked into the living room of Michael Earle’s flat.

  The man he had spoken to just a couple of hours previous was lying face down in a pool of his own blood, not moving, long since dead. And DI Kidd had no idea what he was going to do about it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  It was one of those crime scenes that would remain imprinted on Kidd’s brain for quite some time. He’d seen a lot of horrible things in his time as a police officer, even worse things since he’d become a DI, but nothing would ever really stop the shock of seeing a dead body on the floor.

  Kidd looked around while they waited for the forensic team to show up, careful not to touch anything, not to contaminate it. The place had been ransacked. When he’d looked into this room this morning it had been pristine. Books that had been on the shelves were now on the floor, artistically placed cushions on the sofa were now scattered, some of them soaking up Michael’s blood. And then, of course, there was Michael.

  They would need to wait for the autopsy to tell them the cause of death, but Kidd was putting his money on it being the massive cut running across his neck.

  That would probably do it, Kidd thought.

  Weaver signalled for the team to meet him outside, each of them following him in turn.

  Kidd took one last look at the room where Michael had been left face down. At least his gut about him had been right, it hadn’t been him. That was something. But he hadn’t been able to work quick enough to save him from whoever was really doing this. It was a mistake he would have to leave with, another dead body that he would take to his grave.

  “Ben,” Zoe said, appearing at his side. “You alright?”

  “Yeah, fine,” he said.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said, like she had read his mind while he’d been looking at Michael’s body. Either that, or it was just obvious what he was feeling just now.

  “I appreciate that,” he replied. “I have a feeling that Michael wouldn’t see it that way. Or his parents.” He took one last moment before turning back to her. “Let’s go, before Weaver starts to wonder where we are.”

  Kidd followed Zoe out of the door and back towards the police van where Weaver was standing. They watched him as he walked, and he could see even from this distance that Weaver’s eyes were burning into him. Either he was pissed off or he was trying to read Kidd from a distance. There was a sit-down conversation in Kidd’s future, he could feel it.

  Can’t wait, he thought.

  “I think it’s pretty fair to say that this wasn’t how we were expecting this to go,” Weaver said. “What did you get out of DI Wool?” he asked.

  “He thought I was out of my mind trying to prove Michael Earle was innocent,” Kidd said. “He was pretty affronted that I was questioning his case.”

  “Told you he was an asshole.”

  “You downplayed it if anything, boss,” Zoe added.

  “That’s why I wanted to come out here,” Kidd said. “He thought I was looking for something that wasn’t there, and I let it get in my head. Though, if we’d have brought Michael in sooner, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “And we would have arrested the wrong guy,” Weaver said. “This is tragic, of course, it is, I wouldn’t wish it on anybody, but this isn’t your fault. Get that out of your head, get it out now.”

  Kidd knew it would be a little more complicated than that, but he appreciated the sentiment. He had a case to focus on, after all, and he was no use to the rest of the team if he wasn’t working at a hundred percent.

  “What’s the next move?” Campbell asked, looking back at the house. The forensic team had arrived and were heading in now. If there were any prints in there, they would find them, if there was anything that would be able to help them, it would be with them within the next twenty-four hours. It was a small comfort.

 
“We need to figure out exactly what happened here,” Weaver said. “If we can get a picture of who it was that did it and a timeline, that would help.”

  “Can we rule out suicide?” Campbell asked.

  “It was a mess in there,” Ravel said. “I don’t think it could have been, could it?”

  “Wracked with guilt, if he was the one who did it, then it could have been,” Campbell replied. “Just keeping options open here.”

  “A good thought, Campbell,” Kidd said. “But I’m standing firm on it not being Michael. And if we find out who did this to him, we find out who sent the severed body parts in the first place. No question about it. It’s all connected. It has to be.”

  Kidd was saying it with a certainty he didn’t quite feel. So much hadn’t gone their way in this investigation, they needed something to come through for them, and they needed it to come through soon.

  “We need to get Phil Jackson to the station,” Kidd said. “I’ve got a hunch that he has a part to play in this.”

  “You think?” Campbell said.

  “After everything he said about Michael?” Powell replied. “He said he’d kill him, used those exact words.”

  “Hardly a motive, but a little too coincidental for my liking,” Kidd said. “We’ll get him in to talk about it. See what we can find. And the Grants.”

  “The Grants?” Weaver didn’t like the sound of that. “Why do you want to talk to them again?”

  “I want to check in,” Kidd said.

  “Why?”

  Kidd sighed. “I feel like I need to retrace my steps here,” he replied. “I’ll be gentle, I promise I’ll be gentle, I know they’re fragile, but I just… something is missing. I can’t figure out what it is.”

  Weaver nodded at him, clapping a hand heavily onto his shoulder. “Alright, tomorrow,” he said. “No more for today. We start fresh in the morning. Get a good night’s rest in.”

  He watched his team climb back into the police van to be taken back to the station. They needed to catch a break. Somewhere in all of this, there had to be something that they were missing. But all Kidd could see was a giant brick wall, a dead end. And he had no idea what to do next.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Everyone in the van was silent on the way back to the station, no one seemed to want to say a word. Campbell tried to strike up whatever debate it had been that he’d been having with DC Ravel the day before, but she didn’t want to engage. They all seemed to be in deep thought about what they had seen, about all the work that still needed to be done.

  There wasn’t even the suggestion of a drink. Everybody just wanted to get home. So Kidd grabbed his jacket and did just that.

  He walked along the riverside, trying not to overthink everything that had happened to him today, from finding out about Craig to finding Michael’s body. Had it really only been that morning he had spoken to Michael Earle? No wonder he was bone-tired, no wonder he just wanted this whole day to be over.

  But it wasn’t just yet.

  As he rounded the corner and continued towards his house there was a familiar face waiting for him.

  Andrea Peyton.

  She was dressed in a business suit, and her blonde hair tied back into such a severe ponytail it seemed to pull her entire face with it. When she caught sight of Kidd, the corners of her mouth lifted into the ghost of a smile, but it was clear she wasn’t here for pleasantries. She was here for Craig. And that was enough to set him on edge.

  “Evening,” he said, fishing in his rucksack for his keys. “Everything okay? We didn’t make any plans for tonight, did we?”

  “No,” Andrea said. “And hello to you too. Sorry to drop in like this. I… I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “I take it you couldn’t get a hold of Craig then,” Kidd said, walking past her. He put the key in, taking a steadying breath. He didn’t want to give anything away. He certainly didn’t want to piss her off. If Craig was afraid of her, maybe he should be too. Maybe he didn’t know her quite as well as he thought he did. “He might just be asleep. He’s been keeping odd hours since he got back.”

  “Right,” she said. “Do you mind if I… Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” Kidd said, leaving the door open for her to walk through. She shut it behind her, a heavy slam echoing throughout the house. “Well, if he wasn’t awake already…” Kidd said with a laugh. “Craig?” he called out. “Craig?”

  Nothing came back. Kidd knew it wouldn’t, of course, but he waited as if it would, playing the part of someone who had no idea where Craig had gotten to. It was pretty easy to slip back into the role, he’d been living it ever since Craig had left the first time around.

  “Let me go and check the spare room,” Kidd said, taking the stairs two at a time and heading straight for the guest bedroom. It was empty, thank goodness. At least Craig had listened to him and stayed put. There had been a part of Kidd that thought he would simply ignore him.

  He made his way back downstairs. Andrea was waiting at the foot of the stairs.

  “He’s not here,” he replied. “He must be out.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Kidd raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a big bedroom, Andrea. I really don’t think he’s here,” he said.

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” he replied. “Like I said, he’s been keeping odd hours. I saw him quite a bit when he first arrived, but… it’s been a little more erratic since then.”

  Andrea nodded. Kidd couldn’t tell whether or not she believed him. She would have to. There was no way he was about to sell Craig down the river, not after everything that he’d told him. But he was curious…

  “I’m sorry he never reached out to you,” Kidd said. “I honestly thought that was where he’d been going all this time.”

  “Then why did you call me?” she asked.

  “Because that was more of a hope than anything else,” he replied. “He told me that’s where he was and…” Kidd trailed off.

  “You didn’t believe him,” she finished off for him. “I can hardly blame you. When someone disappears out of your life for two years and won’t tell you why it can be hard to trust them again.”

  “Yeah,” Kidd said. “When someone lies to you like that it’s hard to know if you can ever trust them again, you know?”

  Andrea looked at him carefully. Perhaps he was laying it on a little thick. Andrea had lied to him too, after all. All the time that the two of them had spent talking about Craig’s disappearance, about where he could have gotten to, she’d known exactly why he’d run.

  Up until that moment, Kidd hadn’t quite put that together before. If it weren’t for Andrea, maybe he and Craig would still be together, maybe everything would have been alright. He shook the thought from his head. It would be too easy to blame her for all of it, too easy to absolve himself of everything that he did wrong in their relationship. But it certainly didn’t make him warm to her either.

  “Ben, I have something that I need to tell you,” she said. “Do you mind if we sit down?”

  “Is it that serious?” he asked.

  She let out a little bit of air, almost a laugh but not quite. “I’m afraid so,” she replied.

  He took her through to the living room. She took a seat on the sofa; Kidd took a seat in the armchair. He felt suddenly vulnerable sitting in front of her like this.

  “I don’t want you to be upset with me,” she started. “And, the way I see it, you kept something from me and…and I’ve kept something from you, so I think we might be even.”

  Kidd blinked. He didn’t agree that they were even, not by a long shot, but he wasn’t about to give away that he already knew that. “Oh?”

  Andrea took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something about Craig,” she said. “And I don’t want you to be upset with him when you next see him. It’s probably best that he doesn’t know that you know what I’m about to tell you.”

  “Okay,
” Kidd said.

  Andrea cleared her throat.

  Here we go, Kidd thought.

  “Craig got into a little bit of trouble shortly before he left,” she said. “Debt. He was in heaps of debt and he turned to me. Samuel and I agreed to help him in exchange for… services.”

  Kidd widened his eyes. “Services?”

  “Deliveries,” she said. “He took flyers, alcohol, party favours to the bars that Samuel owns in the area. Nothing too serious, all aboveboard.”

  Kidd didn’t buy that, he didn’t buy it for a second, but he wasn’t going to let on. He needed to keep his cards close to his chest. And if he was going to help Craig, he certainly needed to keep Andrea on-side for as long as possible.

  “So he was working off the debt?” Kidd asked. “Then, why did he run off?”

  “That’s the part I’m coming to,” she said. “I think he got himself into more debt and needed more money, and Samuel and I couldn’t bail him out again. Craig made himself some enemies. You know what he can be like, he can be combative, a bit of a loudmouth sometimes, and he got into an altercation with one of the managers of a club just outside of town.”

  Kidd practically held his breath.

  “Now, it might have been an accident,” Andrea said, holding her hands up. “But it turns out that Craig was delivering more than just flyers to this particular place. There were… drugs.” She appeared scandalised at the very mention of it, but Kidd was sceptical. “And Craig was trying to take more money than he was supposed to from the wrong kind of man. They got into a fight, this manager and Craig, and some of the men that worked for him.” She took a deep breath and pulled her gaze away from Kidd. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Kidd, not without sullying your opinion of Craig.”

  “Tell me,” he said bluntly. “I need to know, don’t I? You said it yourself, it’s only right, only fair.”

  She let out a heavy breath and locked eyes with him. She had the same eyes as Craig. He’d never really noticed it before. Her eyes were watery, practically brimming with tears.