Their Fatal Secrets

by JANICE FROST

  THEIR FATAL

  SECRETS

  A gripping crime mystery full of stunning twists

  (Neal & Merry Book 4)

  JANICE FROST

  First published 2017

  Joffe Books, London

  www.joffebooks.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this.

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  ©Janice Frost

  THERE IS A GLOSSARY OF BRITISH TERMS IN THE BACK

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  Shocking family secrets come to light when a young woman is murdered

  Amy Hill, a nineteen-year-old student, is strangled and her body dumped on open ground in the city. New police partners, DI Jim Neal and DS Ava Merry are called in to investigate this brutal crime. The last person to see Amy alive was Simon, the son of a family friend, but before he can be properly questioned he disappears.

  Detectives Neal and Merry are led on a trail of shocking family secrets and crimes. Can this duo track down the murderer before anyone else dies? Stopping this tragic cycle of violence will put DS Merry’s life at risk in a thrilling and heart-stopping finale.

  If you like Angela Marsons, Rachel Abbott, Ruth Rendell, or Mark Billingham you will be gripped by this exciting new crime fiction writer.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

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  Glossary of English Slang for US readers

  Character list

  Prologue

  For the past three hours, Josh Connors and Logan Price had been in one of the bars down by the marina, playing drinking games with a bunch of their friends from uni. There had been two ‘boat races’ involving Josh downing two pints in record time accompanied by loud, raucous singing. Now, he and Logan were walking back to their accommodation, arguing about which of them was more wasted.

  At the bridge over the River Strom, Josh came to a swaying halt. “Oh, man, I really gotta puke.” He leaned over the wall and heaved. Numerous beers and Josh’s dinner splashed into the river below.

  “Oh, gross,” Logan slurred. “Hey, I need to take a piss.”

  Josh didn’t hear him.

  “Wassat?” His finger wavered in the direction of a dark shape bobbing in the water a couple of metres away.

  Logan squinted. “Dunno. Dead dog?”

  “Too big.”

  “Big dead dog?”

  Josh gripped his arm. “Shit, Logan. I think it’s a body.”

  Logan gave an edgy laugh. “Yeah, right. It’s a bloody dog or a shopping trolley or something that’s been dumped in the river.” While he spoke, a lorry lumbered over the bridge above them, and its lights briefly caught the floating shape. It was a sobering sight.

  “Josh! What the fuck?”

  Josh had clambered onto the wall. He sat with his legs dangling over the edge, arms raised in a diving position.

  “You’re too pissed to swim, mate!” cried Logan.

  There was a plop, and Josh entered the water.

  “Jeez!” Logan fumbled clumsily with his phone. It took three attempts to get it right, but somehow he got through to the emergency services and gabbled out a message. The woman on the other end was still talking when Logan lost the call.

  It was too dark to see much in the water. Remembering that there was a torch on his phone, Logan managed to activate it. He directed the beam at the spot where he could hear Josh splashing around.

  Josh had reached the inert, bobbing shape and was struggling to turn it over. Slowly the body rotated face up.

  A scream of pure horror pierced the night air, causing Logan to stagger backwards. Down in the river, Josh’s arms flailed wildly and his head disappeared under the water.

  “Josh! Mate! What’s going on?” Logan could see that his friend was struggling to keep afloat. Josh’s head went under again. He resurfaced, swearing.

  Josh trod water for a few moments, and then began swimming away from the body. After a few strokes he seemed to change his mind and swam back to embrace it in classic life-saving style.

  “Josh! Are you okay?”

  When he saw what Josh was dragging towards him, Logan’s phone fell from his hand and landed in the river. Everything went dark again, but Logan didn’t mind. He’d already seen too much. Dead eyes staring out of a pulped face, a tangled mass of hair trailing in the water. He would see that face in his nightmares for years to come.

  It seemed to take forever for Josh to reach the riverside with his ghoulish burden. Between the two of them they managed to haul her — for it was, or had once been, a woman — over the wall and onto the path. Immediately Josh covered her swollen mouth with his own in a heroic, if useless, gesture.

  “What are you doing, mate?” Logan stood by, shifting from foot to foot. “There’s nothing you can do for her.” After a while Josh stopped and rolled away from the woman, exhausted.

  “Close her eyes,” Logan said.

  “You close them.” Josh’s teeth chattered and he was shivering in great spasms. His hair was plastered to his head, and speckled with vomit. He heaved and spat onto the grass verge. “You called 999, right?”

  Before Logan could answer, a police car pulled up near the bridge and a couple of uniformed officers hurried towards them. A moment later, an ambulance arrived and disgorged two green-suited paramedics. “Your services won’t be needed, I’m afraid” one of the policemen said quietly.

  One of the paramedics bent over the dead woman and confirmed what everyone already knew. Finally someone closed her eyes.

  Chapter One

  When Ava walked into the office, a helium birthday balloon weighted down with a giant envelope, was waiting on her desk.

  DC Polly ‘PJ’ Jenkins rushed over and hugged Ava. “Happy Birthday!”

  She held out a beautifully wrapped gift.

  “Thanks, Peej. Hey! Where is everyone?” The room was eerily empty.

  “Surprise!” Suddenly they jumped out from under desks and behind filing cabinets. Her colleagues blew whistles and cheered, and belted out an out of tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’ Ava was touched.

  “Thanks, guys. Cake’s on me.” She flourished a
cake tin and pointed to the kitchen. They all trooped in after her. Within a couple of minutes, very little remained on the plate.

  “Oops. Inspector Neal said if there was cake to save a piece for him.” PJ looked at her own half-eaten slice. Ava wrapped what was left in a napkin and set it aside, wondering where Neal was. She opened PJ’s gift. It was a pretty silk scarf in shades of pink and pale green.

  “Wow! That’s gorgeous. Thanks, Peej.”

  “We had a whip round and got you this.” It was Dan from forensics. Ava eyed the package with suspicion. “It’s not something disgusting from the lab, is it?” She remembered her first birthday on the force, when she’d peeled away multiple layers of wrapping paper to discover a jelly eyeball.

  This gave rise to howls of affront.

  “Okay! Okay!” Ava laughed. Moments later she was looking at a pretty silver necklace. She gasped with pleasure and held it up, twined around her fingers.

  “Hey, you guys! I love it! I’ll wear it this evening. First round’s on me. Eight thirty at the Duke.”

  Noisy cheers greeted her offer, and fell away. A sudden hush descended on the room.

  DI Jim Neal hovered in the doorway. “Many happy returns, Ava.”

  “We saved you a piece of cake, sir,” PJ said. Ava held it out. The others quietly dispersed and returned to work.

  “DC Jenkins, DS Merry, briefing room in five,” Neal said, and retreated.

  Ava and PJ gathered up their things.

  “What’s going on?” Ava asked.

  “We’ve got a Jane Doe. A couple of students found her at two this morning. She was floating in the Strom under the bridge out past the marina. Chief’s been up all night. Briefing’s at nine thirty.”

  Ava had taken the previous day off, treating herself to an indulgent pre-birthday spa treat. She couldn’t help a feeling of slight disappointment that she’d not been called out to attend the scene.

  “I only just heard this morning,” PJ said. “The DI was called out because he was the only senior officer available, given our current vacancy.” PJ was referring to the DI post vacated by their former colleague, DI Reg Saunders. Saunders was currently experiencing the criminal justice system from the other side of the fence, having been charged with murder.

  “DI Neal probably didn’t want to spoil your birthday by calling you out in the middle of the night.”

  “Who accompanied him to the scene?” Ava asked.

  “DS Knight.”

  Ava nodded. Tom Knight was an acting DS who’d transferred recently from Hertfordshire. He had previously worked with Reg Saunders, and she hoped the experience hadn’t done him any harm.

  Neal appeared and stood looking from PJ to Ava. “You’ve heard about our Jane Doe, then?”

  Ava nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Neal beckoned to them, and strode away along the corridor towards the briefing room. For a man who’s been up all night, he looks remarkably fresh, Ava thought. Five o’clock shadow excepted, he might have come straight from a good night’s sleep and a hot shower.

  There was a lively atmosphere in the briefing room. Murder investigations typically started with a buzz that soon flat-lined in the daily grind of procedure. DSI George Lowe was present, but gave Neal centre stage. Around him the officers sat on chairs, perched on desks or simply stood, expectant.

  Neal cleared his throat. “First off, we now know the identity of our Jane Doe. HOLMES came up with a positive match for her prints. Her name is Leanne Jackson. White female, twenty-three years old. Priors for public disorder and possession of controlled substances.” He tapped the whiteboard behind him and a photograph of a young, dark-haired woman appeared.

  “This was taken three years ago. It’s the most recent image we have at the present time.” Neal waited. Ava knew he was allowing time for people to jot down the name, write a brief description, become familiar with their victim. As soon as she was named, this woman became a real person, someone with family, friends, loved ones. Just like all of them.

  Neal scanned the room. “A couple of students who’d been drinking in a club on the waterfront spotted Leanne’s body in the River Strom at around two in the morning. One of them apparently needed to vomit and while acquainting the Strom with the contents of his stomach, got a sobering surprise.”

  Neal glanced briefly at the picture of the woman on the whiteboard. “The vomiting student,” (no one laughed), “decided to play the hero and jumped into the river, even though the body was floating face down in the water. Leanne Jackson was beyond saving. Our young hero, Josh Lewis, managed to tow Leanne to the riverside where his friend, Logan Curry, helped him to heave her body over the wall and onto the path. Logan had already called 999 so by the time they laid Leanne’s body on the path, the ambulance had arrived. The paramedics pronounced Leanne dead at the scene.”

  The room was silent. Ava could feel the unasked questions squeezing out the air. But Neal wasn’t ready to take questions yet.

  “Statements were taken from the students. It was noted that they were intoxicated and could not therefore be regarded as reliable witnesses. Not that they had witnessed anything more than a floating body. Josh’s heroic rescue has probably done more harm than good in terms of forensics, but no one can blame him for acting as he did.” Neal paused, as if expecting a challenge to his words. “As far as witnesses are concerned, so far we have none.”

  “Did she drown, sir?” someone asked.

  “Too soon to say. She’d been severely beaten, but we won’t know until after the PM if she was alive when she went into the water. Our press liaison officer has informed the local radio station and an appeal will go out this morning asking people to come forward if they saw Leanne anywhere near the marina last night. Or if they witnessed anything suspicious. Some of you will obviously be doing a lot of legwork, questioning staff in venues around the marina, pubs, restaurants, cinema etcetera. We also need to get our hands on the CCTV footage for these venues, as well as any cameras along the riverfront. We will need to contact and question the owners of any boats moored at the marina.” He looked around at them. “We’re going to be busy, people.”

  “Will a diving team be searching the river?” Ava asked.

  “Yes. That’s already underway.” Neal’s phone rang. “Excuse me, it’s Dr Hunt.”

  A low hum of conversation filled the room while he took the call. Ava watched Neal’s face, trying to work out what Ashley Hunt was telling him. He looked weary now, his eyes red from lack of sleep. He stroked the stubble on his chin as though he’d just realised he hadn’t shaved.

  Neal suddenly looked straight at Ava. It was only for a moment, but it left her feeling exposed. Ava wasn’t sure she wanted Neal to know that she was concerned, that she cared for him. Her feelings about Jim Neal were complex and she treated them like the symptoms of a potentially serious illness — ignoring them and hoping they’d go away. She suspected he did the same. Next to her, PJ gave her a dig.

  “Ouch! What was that for?”

  “You’ve got feelings for him, haven’t you?” PJ whispered.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Fibber.”

  Neal ended his call and cleared his throat. The room fell silent.

  “Dr Hunt has just confirmed that cause of death was drowning. It looks like Leanne was beaten, then tossed into the river. Her injuries would have prevented her from saving herself.”

  All eyes went to the image of the young woman on the screen. She was pretty, Ava thought. Pretty girls attracted attention. But there would be nothing pretty about Leanne Jackson now. Ava had seen bodies fished out of the water before. Their eyes were swollen, their bodies streaked with purple-pink patches of lividity, giving them the appearance of an unevenly cooked sausage.

  Next, Neal assigned tasks to the various members of the team. There was much to allocate. Many of the mundane tasks, such as knocking on doors and taking statements were assigned to the PCs. They were routine jobs, but no one in the room underestimat
ed their importance. A chance word from someone who had seen Leanne, or a conversation overheard between her and another party, might eventually lead to a successful conviction.

  The team would try and build up a picture of the victim and her life — her health (including her mental health), social activities, education and work, her daily habits and routines, financial situation, and Internet history, all could help reveal why she ended up in the Strom.

  The officers dispersed to go about their grim business, and the room emptied. Only Neal, Ava and Tom Knight remained.

  “DS Knight’s going to be working this one with us, Ava,” Neal said. “You two know each other by sight at least, right?” They both nodded. “Tom, I’d like you to notify the next of kin. Take DC Jenkins with you. She needs the experience. Be compassionate, but find out what you can about Leanne’s background and where she was in the past few weeks. Ask about friends, boyfriends, anyone she’s been seen with recently. You know the drill. I want a complete picture of who this young woman was.”

  Tom nodded. “Yes, sir. Pleasure to be working with you, and you too, DS Merry.” Tom Knight came from an East End council estate with a diverse ethnic population and his accent was ‘Multicultural London.’ Ava suspected that he toned it down now he was in the north, much as Neal moderated his Scots intonation.

  “Same here,” Ava said. Neal was right. She and Tom did have a passing acquaintance. Once, at a staff do, she’d seen him looking at her with more than a little interest, but Ava was used to men’s looks.

  “DS Merry, you and I are going out to the scene in five minutes.”

  “Ok, boss.”

  When they met in the car park, Neal’s hair was damp at the edges. He’d evidently splashed his face with water to waken up. It wasn’t that long since he’d left the scene.

  Ava parked near the riverside, and she and Neal walked to the spot where Leanne’s body had been found. Leanne wasn’t the first nor would she be the last to be fished out of the Strom. Drunken revellers, students, party-goers, and stag-nighters had all ended up in the water over the years. Not to forget the despairing souls who jumped off the bridge in a bid to end it all.