No Safe Home: the gripping new crime thriller everybody is talking about

by Tara Lyons

  Butterflies fluttered inside her stomach as she bypassed the group chat rooms and opened her personal inbox. There was one message waiting, and Katy couldn’t help beaming with excitement.

  For two weeks now, private messages had been sent back and forth between her and Steven. They had a connection. Steven also didn’t have a profile picture, but they had felt comfortable to share a description of themselves with one another. She had been honest, revealing her current appearance rather than the glamourous one from six months previously. The pair didn’t skate into anything too personal, which appealed to Katy. As fond as she was of Steven, it was too early to open up her box of secrets.

  A deep ache pierced her heart as she read the newest message from her only confidant. Steven suggested they meet in person. It was a subject they’d never discussed before, and Katy was disappointed he had broached it so soon. She didn’t want to lose him as a friend and wondered how to let him down gently, not having dated, let alone flirted in over five years.

  A noise from the stairwell outside the front door startled Katy, and she quickly pressed the power off button and shut the laptop lid. Tip-toeing from her room, she spied through the peep hole and her heart raced as two policemen strode past her line of vision. Her clammy hands rested on the cold wood, while she pressed her ear hard against the door. Inaudible chatter and muffled buzzing erupted from their radio transmissions, disturbing the once-quiet hallway. The sound of the policemen’s uniformed boots pounding the stairs mingled with shrill screams. Deep voices echoed down from the flat above and crept under Katy’s door. A baby’s cry pierced through it all, vying for attention that didn’t seem to be coming.

  Leaning on the wall, Katy slid to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees and sobbed. She stayed there for some time; immobile and listening to the comings and goings on the staircase, until her tears dried up. Her blocked nose and pounding head only added to the claustrophobic sensation that the walls were closing in around her. She sucked in a lungful of air, and exhaled slowly in a bid to soothe herself. It was the first time she had allowed the wretchedness to overwhelm her, and the first time in months since she’d cried uncontrollably. She hadn’t been able to hold it back any longer and so, allowed the release to consume her.

  Since moving into their new apartment, she had been strong, determined and focused on creating a safe home for Frankie. But, hearing the police stomp just inches away from her, caused her body to shake. Katy thought they had finally found her, that they had finally come to take her son away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Before Hamilton left to attend another murder scene, he rallied the team together in the incident room. Although they were only missing one member, it seemed quieter without Morris, and he wondered if he needed to request additional manpower while they waited for the new detective sergeant to join them.

  “It’s a nice split down the middle today,” he explained. “Fraser and Wedlock, I want you to work on the possible murder case of the teenage victim. Let’s see if we can get this one wrapped up as soon as possible.”

  “Shall we compare notes then, boss?” Fraser called out.

  “What? Why would we need to do that?”

  “Well… we attended the scene together and –”

  “And you’re a competent detective, Fraser. As we both saw and heard exactly the same information, what could I possibly add to this investigation?”

  Although the room had been quiet before, Hamilton’s outburst amplified the tension. With all eyes on him, he knew he’d unnerved them and decided to change his approach.

  “Listen, someone is being transferred, but I don’t know when Morris’s desk will be filled. Yes, we have to work together, but I need to see some initiative from you all too. There’s been another murder, a separate case that Clarke and I must attend. So, we have two fresh, open cases demanding our attention. Are you telling me this is too much for you?”

  Hamilton had directed the question at Fraser. Her white cheeks flushed pink and she awkwardly tucked her long blonde hair behind her ears, but she looked him square in the eyes and shook her head in silent acceptance. He wanted to explain himself, but the right words wouldn’t present themselves.

  “Good,” Hamilton said. “I don’t need regular updates from either of you, I just want results. Clarke, our crime scene is in Pimlico and we’re late. I’ll drive.”

  The thirty-minute drive to Gatliff Road took them through Victoria Embankment and Parliament Square. Hamilton relished the journey through the busy city centre. He found the distractions captivating – the monumental sized buildings dwarfing them in history and fables and the cyclists whizzing by in their personal lanes. He knew the quickest way to travel through London was on the underground tube, but the close proximity of sweaty strangers would be an all-time professional low for him.

  The radio played a familiar tune, and something deep inside tugged at Hamilton’s heart. He switched it off and Clarke took the silence as an opportunity to divulge his recent love quest; he was the ultimate player and Hamilton hated it. However, feeling he had little choice, he allowed his partner to witter away, satisfied that at least Clarke wasn’t speculating on his mood in the office.

  Hamilton parked the car as close to the cordoned off area as possible and marched into the building, uniformed officers directing his path as he went. The apartment block looked more like a hospital than a safe haven to live in; the plain, bright white walls, the sharp angle of mirrored tiles in the lift, and corridor after corridor of identical front doors. A petite, black officer stood guard outside number twenty-six, but there was something about her expression that made Hamilton uneasy.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She stood to attention, and although her body looked in control, her dark eyes welled with tears.

  “I’m the attending officer, sir.”

  She tore her gaze from Hamilton and stared at the wall. He knew better than to engage her for further details right now.

  It was a difficult time for a rookie – they always found it hard to shake away their first encounter with a dead body. When he first started working in the police force, he couldn’t decide what was worse: a body found in a home, where people should feel safe and protected, or in a cold, abandoned hideaway void of love and compassion. He soon learnt it didn’t matter, because discovering a crime scene was a horrific experience, regardless of its location.

  “Stand down, officer. Go outside and get some fresh air,” Hamilton instructed, and tapped her shoulder as a gesture of empathy.

  He opened the front door and instantly flung his hand over his mouth and nose. A young lad from the forensic team, with a green tinge to his skin, was busy rubbing Vicks vapour rub under his nostrils. Acknowledging Hamilton, the pathologist handed him the tub and shoe covers from a nearby case.

  “Christ! Couldn’t they open the windows? I think my breakfast is about to make an unwelcome return,” Clarke muttered, as he accepted the vapour rub.

  “It takes less than two weeks for the putrefaction process to begin with the corpse. Gases that infiltrate the human body’s tissues are released and organs deteriorate. They’ll be scrubbing the smell of death from this home for some time.”

  Hamilton and Clarke exchanged stunned glances; it wasn’t the reply either of them expected from the sickly-looking pathologist.

  “How long has the body been here?” Hamilton frowned.

  “You mean bodies… any time between two and four weeks, if the missing fingernails are anything to go by,” he replied, and walked away down the hallway.

  Clarke shuddered, fully covering his entire nose with heaps of vapour. Hamilton shot him a glance and rolled his eyes; after all these years, his partner still couldn’t handle the smell. Audrey Gibson exited the master bedroom as Hamilton joined her in the doorway.

  “Ah, Inspector, I’m afraid we meet again. Laura is having herself a well-deserved holiday.”

  “Audrey, hello. I must apologise for my behaviour
the first time we met.”

  The small woman waved her hand in dismissal. “Nonsense! We both have difficult jobs and it’s not like we can be upbeat all the time.”

  He smiled at the woman’s genuine positivity and stepped around her to examine the scene. Hamilton’s eyes began to water; not at the grotesque sight before him, but at the overpowering stench of rotting flesh. He coughed, suddenly wishing he’d been as liberal as Clarke with the Vicks.

  The victim’s bloated, black features and discoloured veins protruded through the skin making her unrecognisable. Like a naked starfish, the victim lay on the bed; her pyjama bottoms crumpled on the floor beside her. Hamilton backed out and followed Audrey into the large living room. A uniformed policewoman jumped up from her seat the moment he entered.

  “Sir, I’m one of the attending officers,” she quickly announced.

  “I sent your partner downstairs. Tell me what you know and then you can get out of here too.”

  “The call was made by the landlady who’d had complaints about the smell. Also, the rent hadn’t been paid last week and the occupant wasn’t answering her calls. She used her own set of keys to enter the building downstairs, but said the front door to this apartment was unlocked. We’ve taken an initial statement from her, but she’s more than willing to come down to the station.”

  “Okay. Do we have the victim’s name yet?” Hamilton asked.

  “Of course, yes… sorry, sir,” the officer replied, and flipped through her notepad. “Scarlett Mitchell and her five-year-old son, Noah Mitchell.”

  Hamilton inwardly sighed at the mention of a small child, a fact he hadn’t been made aware of previously. He jerked his head, signalling for the officer to leave, and turned to Audrey for further information; they were all parts of the puzzle to help him catch a killer.

  “Inspector, we’re ready for the bodies to be transported to the mortuary now. Please don’t ask for cause of death; you’ve seen the body. I will need to conduct a thorough post-mortem. As for the child, I imagine he was suffocated… the pillow was still covering his face. Fear not, I will get back to you as soon as I possibly can. This scene is horrendous and I’ll do my utmost to assist you.”

  “Thank you, Audrey. I appreciate that.”

  She purposefully marched from the room, and Hamilton overheard her shouting orders and delegating to her team. He wanted to know so much more about the bodies, but it became obvious Audrey wasn’t the type to play ball until all the necessary forensic evidence was collated.

  Hamilton tensely rubbed his temples, he knew his current mood was affecting how he interacted with his colleagues; both Audrey and Fraser had felt the brunt of his temper already. During his five years with the MIT, this was the first time he’d felt shaken by what he was facing. Although he had been involved in cases with vulnerable, abused and murdered children, they had never before come so close to his own nightmares. He worried his colleagues would uncover his secret.

  He crossed the room and looked out of the floor-to-ceiling window at the spectacular view of the city; the tip of the London Eye illumined purple in the distance beyond the high-rise buildings. The River Thames glistened under the sun and the churning trains leaving Victoria Station screeched beneath him. He leaned against the window and caught his own reflection – bronzed skin without imperfection, an expertly short-trimmed black beard and closely shaven black hair – he was the epitome of strength and order. Inside however, he was breaking, emotions he had battled to suppress returned with a vengeance to haunt him. He pulled himself straight and made a decision: personally, justice hadn’t been served, but he’d do everything in his power to ensure it would be for the little boy and his mother who had lived in this home.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Five years ago

  The pinks and whites of the floating cherry blossom petals fluttered in the warm April breeze. The entire day had been planned around when these trees would be in full bloom. The gentle wind, clear blue sky and delicate colours of the buds mingled perfectly. It was calming and beautiful and a symbol of hope for Katy and Brad’s wedding day.

  A new season, heavy with the scent of fresh beginnings, called to Katy like a beacon from the torrential sea that had become her life. Her world had changed in a fleeting moment when both her parents had died in a car accident, and yet here she stood two years later, being welcomed into a new family. The family who had saved her. She desperately wanted to close the door on the emptiness and despair behind her, and soak up every piece of delight Brad had to offer.

  Their wedding day was spent in the exquisite Kew Gardens in London. Although they’d only known her six months, Brad’s parents were overjoyed to see their son happy and spared no expense. Less than one hundred family members and friends joined together to witness Katy and Brad recite their vows in the flourishing private garden, and dance under a confetti of falling petals. The Cambridge Cottage, nestled in its own corner of Kew Gardens, brought everyone together for dinner and the evening reception. The chatter of guests, clinking of champagne glasses and applause during the speeches generated an electrifying buzz in the room.

  While their guests enjoyed early-evening cocktails, the newly-weds slipped away and strolled along Kew Garden’s Cherry Walk hand in hand. They began at the Rose Garden and followed the different collections of Japanese flowering cherries, stretching through to King William’s Temple. As it culminated, with the pink blossoms soaring vividly against the white frame of Temperate House, Katy and Brad lit two lanterns in remembrance.

  “I still can’t believe how fast everything has moved between us.” Katy wrapped her arms around Brad’s muscular chest. “Do you think my parents –”

  “Shh!” he interrupted, and pulled away slightly, just enough to force eye contact. “We’ve said our goodbyes to them now. You’re moving forward with your new life. With us.”

  Katy couldn’t disagree with him. Brad had already taught her the need to stop wallowing in self-pity and being selfish. She gently rubbed her small, protruding stomach and was once again filled with happiness for their future plans.

  “You’re right, Brad. I’m sorry. From today, it’s about you, me and our baby.”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Exactly! Now, let’s get back into that party. I need a drink.”

  Once the pair had returned to their family and friends, the celebrations really began. The band kept the tempo high. Several shawls and ties were abandoned, dotted around the room over chairs and tables. Women disregarded their heels and danced barefoot, while the young men tried their luck with the single ladies. Brad stayed close to the bar, enjoying the free tab his father had arranged. Katy waved from the dance floor but he turned his back, evidently in deep conversation with someone she couldn’t see through the crowd.

  Suddenly, the two best men scurried around Katy, lifting her with ease into the air. Guests formed a circle around them, cheering them all on as her mother-in-law handed her a glass of champagne. She raised her glass in the direction of the bar, before allowing the bubbles to slip down her throat. It was the happiest day of her life. Katy never imagined she’d feel this immense happiness again and smiled at everyone around her.

  By midnight, most of the guests had left. Brad’s parents delighted them with one final surprise and handed the newly-weds keys to the honeymoon suite at The Richmond Hotel; a venue renowned for its views of the River Thames and Marble Hill Park. A car sat waiting for them out front, and Katy finally felt like the princess her father had always believed her to be. She had experienced the fairy-tale wedding she had always dreamed of having. She had hardly seen Brad since they released the lanterns earlier that evening; it was amazing just how much time was spent talking to people she’d never met before. Katy craved to be alone with her new husband.

  Once the porter had shown them to their suite, they waited in the corridor for him to leave. Katy couldn’t quite believe that after everything she’d faced, the man of her dreams was about to carry her over the threshold.
Her heart sank when Brad opened the door, waltzed inside and made a beeline for the complimentary bottle of champagne. She quickly stepped in behind him, closed the door and ran her hand over Brad’s back.

  “Babe, is everything okay?”

  He spun around and forced her onto the bed. Jumping on top, he straddled her and gripped her face. The tears sprung from her eyes, while his fingers pinched her cheeks so hard she was rendered speechless.

  “You think it’s okay to sexy dance with my friends? Did you honestly think I wouldn’t see you? And drinking alcohol when you’re pregnant. That’s my child in there, so don’t you ever endanger its life again. What kind of a mother are you?” he hissed, pointing at her stomach.

  The reality of his drunkenness hit her and, never having seen Brad’s temper before, Katy whimpered underneath him.

  “I ever see that kind of behaviour from you again, and you’ll be sorry. You’re my wife now, act like it and don’t fucking disrespect me. Do you understand?”

  She mumbled, nodding her head as a fresh, wet stream of tears dripped into her ears.

  “Good. Now take that blasted dress off.”

  Brad clambered off her and drank the champagne straight from the bottle. Katy fumbled with the zip on the side of her lace gown, oblivious to how her perfect day was transforming into the beginning of her nightmare.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Moonlight slithered through Katy’s open curtains, a small offering of light in her darkening bedroom. Frankie had been asleep for two hours and she’d already washed the dishes, scrubbed the kitchen and cleaned his toys away. The idea of soaking in a hot bath was an enticing thought, but she was confident that even a relaxing time-out wouldn’t work for her; there was no pleasure in unwinding.