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

by Tara Lyons

  The police station was only a twenty-minute walk from The Tavern and, with the evening sun still shining, Katy decided to walk to work. Frankie was already asleep by the time she called Alexina to update her on PC Lakhani and the statement she’d given him.

  She thought him cute, younger than her with boyish good looks, and yet extremely professional. Katy made her complaint against Brad, and insisted he was a danger to her and her son. Alexina had suggested she omit the glass vase incident for now and concentrate on the fact he was stalking her. PC Lakhani assured Katy someone would look into her case and be in touch with her, but in the meantime, he handed her an abundance of support group leaflets and helpline information.

  Satisfied with the decision she’d made, and knowing the police would now help her, enticed a feeling of freedom Katy wasn’t expecting. She bounced through the back door of the pub, hung her handbag in its usual place and made her way through to the bar. Craig was by her side instantly, but not before she glimpsed a familiar face on the other side of the bar.

  “Hi, Katy, love. I can’t stay and chat as I’ve got a meeting in town. If I don’t leave now I’ll be late. I’ll be back before midnight, don’t worry,” he said, and he marched through the pub.

  The football match played on the lone TV in the corner and had the attention of the only other two patrons. She gazed at them momentarily; they held no interest in the stranger approaching the bar.

  “So, it’s Katy. I’m Matthew Webb,” he said, and outstretched his hand.

  She accepted, and briefly shook it, but all the while a voice screamed inside her head. Her heart raced and she could feel beads of sweat escaping the pores of her scalp.

  “Listen, about last night –”

  “What are you doing here?” Katy interrupted.

  “I wanted to see if you were okay?”

  “How do you know where I work?” Heat rose from her chest, over her neck and settled on her cheeks like a blazing fire.

  “Sorry, I should explain myself.”

  Matthew sat down on a stool at the bar, making them level and forcing Katy to stare into those brown eyes again. A tug of war struggled in her mind – one side telling her to panic and grab the attention of the regulars, and the other side intrigued by the man who had saved her.

  “I’m new to the area and live just around the corner,” Matthew continued. “I was here once before, there was a wake. I wasn’t part of it, that was simply a coincidence, but it was much busier than tonight... so, you probably didn’t notice me. Then, when I saw that man harassing you in the street last night, and I recognised your face from here, I couldn’t just walk by without stepping in. I’m sorry if I got involved in a domestic, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Katy’s face continued to burn and her stomach clenched. Although the man was tall and muscular, there was something soft about his handsome face, and she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Don’t be sorry, it was definitely a case of right place, right time. Thank you for stepping in. What can I get you? It’s on me.”

  “Cheers, I’ll have a pint of Fosters please. So, that jackass was a complete stranger trying his luck?”

  She groaned. “No… My ex.”

  “Ah, tough break-up?”

  Katy nodded and placed his pint of beer on the bar. “Did you manage to see where he went after I left?”

  “He scrambled about on the floor for a while, obviously pretty drunk. Once I saw you’d made it away, I left him to it and walked home myself.”

  “Well, thank you again anyway,” she said.

  Katy emptied the dishwasher of glasses. A nervousness trembled through her body, driving the need to keep herself moving. She could feel Matthew’s eyes watching her as she busied herself around the bar. John silently motioned for another drink before turning back to the TV, and she was grateful for his timing.

  “Have you worked here long?” Matthew asked.

  “Not really, a few weeks.”

  “You look like a natural behind there.”

  “So, what brings you to Hertfordshire?” she asked, eager to turn the attention away from herself.

  “Oh, you know the usual, work.”

  Her shift slipped away while Matthew sat in the same spot enjoying two pints, but declining a third. While it was part of the job to chat with the patrons, talking all night was uncommon for Katy, and yet speaking to Matthew felt so easy. When Craig returned at eleven thirty to help prepare for lock up, Matthew offered to wait and walk her home.

  “That’s sweet of you, thanks, but I’ll call a taxi.”

  “You didn’t last night,” he said tilting his head to one side, a mischievous expression on his face. “Let me walk you home, it’s no trouble.”

  “Honestly, there’s no need. Thank you.”

  He held his hands up. “Okay, okay. I’m not one to push, just promise me no more walking home alone in the dark.”

  “Trust me, I won’t be doing that again.”

  Matthew slid a business card onto the bar and smiled with a shrug. “In case you want to meet up for dinner, or lunch, or coffee. You know, whatever suits you. My mobile number is on there.”

  The invitation fell from his mouth and he couldn’t make eye contact with her. Katy nibbled her bottom lip, watching him leave, and supressed a giggle as she tucked the card into her back pocket.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Five years ago

  Denis Hamilton parked his car in the driveway and turned the ignition off. He sat in the darkness and soaked up the silence; there was no rush to get inside. The house brought so much uncertainty with it, and he never knew if he’d be greeted with a suffocating quietness or a barrage of aggressive insults. A few extra moments in the car were calming and free. The net curtain in the living room twitched, and he knew he’d been busted. Groaning, Hamilton hauled himself from the vehicle and opened the front door to his home.

  No delicious smell of food cooking welcomed him, mainly because he’d missed family dinners for over a month now. The ongoing case he and his vice team were investigating kept him away from home. He was missing a lot more than just dinner.

  A light murmur came from behind the living room door; he recognised Coronation Street’s theme tune. Picturing his wife curled up on the sofa watching the evening soaps, he realised it had been a long time since they’d snuggled up together and enjoyed mindless TV. He walked deeper into the house, a thudding beat from Maggie’s bedroom insulted his ears; he couldn’t quite understand the noise teenagers called music these days.

  Hamilton turned the kitchen light on and filled the kettle. It had been a manic day interviewing witnesses and all he wanted now was a warming cup of tea, a steaming hot shower and a good night’s sleep.

  “Your dinner’s in the oven.” Elizabeth surprised him from behind.

  “I ate at the station.”

  His wife tutted as she retrieved the plate and scraped the unwanted food into the bin. “You would have! I don’t know why I bother.”

  “Sorry, I should have called to let you know. But this case –”

  “Blah, blah, blah! I’ve heard all about this bloody case and how busy you are, Denis. It always comes before us. It would be nice to be appreciated, or at least have someone notice I’m here. Maggie didn’t touch a crumb of it either.”

  Hamilton abandoned what he was doing and gently wrapped his hands around Elizabeth’s waist. He inhaled the fruity, flowery smell of Dior – of his wife – and was delighted when she didn’t pull away from him.

  “I’m sorry, I really am. As soon as this case is signed off I’m going to book some annual leave. The three of us should take a much needed holiday.”

  “Ha! You think that’s the answer? More to the point, do you really think Maggie would come?”

  “Of course she will. She’s a good kid, Elizabeth, and we’ve always had fun when we go away together. We just need to get away from life for a bit, and it’ll be a great way to celebrate the end of her exam
s. Besides, sixteen is not too bloody old to go on holiday with your parents. I would have jumped at the chance had my parents ever offered it to me. Mind you, that would have meant them actually spending time together as a couple.”

  Elizabeth stepped out of his embrace and frowned. “When is the last time you actually had a conversation with your daughter, Denis? She has no interest in anything anymore.”

  Hamilton shrugged, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Maggie for more than five minutes. He usually left for work before she was even awake, and was in bed by the time he came home.

  “She’s a teenager, Elizabeth! She’s not interested in her parents but trust me, she’ll jump at the mention of a week in the sun. How long has she been playing that noise?”

  “A few hours. It’s revision time and she’s not to be disturbed.”

  “How can anyone revise for exams and have the music that loud?”

  Elizabeth raised her hands in the air. “I have no idea, but I made the mistake of disturbing her the other day and got my head bitten off.”

  A look of sadness washed over his wife’s face. Though her jet-black hair was neatly tied back and her make-up as fresh as when she applied it that morning, there was an emptiness in her emerald green eyes. She looked older than her thirty-three years. Guilt punched him in the stomach for deserting his family lately. He leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek.

  “I’m sorry, darling. Let me have a chat with Maggie. Get her to turn the music down at least.”

  She smiled. “Good luck with that. I’ll make the tea, shall I?”

  As he climbed the stairs, Hamilton was cheerful that a fight hadn’t erupted with Elizabeth. He was always on tenterhooks as to how his wife would react to his homecoming. But, it had pleasantly landed somewhere between awkwardness and a slanging match.

  Perhaps some snuggling is on the cards.

  He knocked on Maggie’s door, but if she had responded he wouldn’t have heard over Ed Sheeran blasting on repeat. He pushed open the door and froze. A gasp escaped, his heartbeat pounded like a drum. Maggie lay on the bed in her nightdress, her brunette hair spread around her, an empty litre bottle of vodka and a packet of pills next to her. He screamed for his wife and ran, skidding to the floor. He searched for a pulse, but her skin was ice-cold to touch.

  Hamilton scooped his daughter up into his arms and, cradling her to his chest, buried his face in Maggie’s hair. He ignored Elizabeth’s screeches of panic and rocked back and forth; and, as the stereo sang The A Team, he finally heard the lyrics about angels flying.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Hamilton sensed the dark atmosphere the moment he opened his eyes. His wife, sat upright beside him in their dusky bedroom, sobbed uncontrollably. It didn’t happen as often as it used too, but every now and then he would find Elizabeth in the depths of grief, and his heart would ache that little bit more. He switched on the bedside lamp, pulled himself up and wrapped his arms around her. Elizabeth fell onto him, her tears soaked his bare chest.

  “It’s okay, darling, I’m here. You’re not alone,” he whispered, and clung tighter to her slender frame.

  No more words were needed; he’d discovered that in the weeks after Maggie’s death. Somehow, he always managed to say the wrong thing and so, for half an hour they sat in the dimly-lit room in complete silence, before his wife lifted her head and looked at him. Her usual spellbinding green eyes were red and swollen, but she smiled through her evident pain.

  “We’d better get ready or we’ll both be late for work,” Elizabeth said.

  She pecked him on the cheek, slid out from under his arm and got up. Gazing in the mirror, Elizabeth attempted to control her bedhead hair by flattening it with her palms. Hamilton couldn’t tear his eyes from her. Even after all these years, he loved to watch her, especially in the moments when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  “Maybe you should call in sick today,” he said, breaking his own trance.

  She walked to the end of the bed, placed her hand on her hip and rolled her eyes.

  “But I’m not sick, Mr Hamilton.” She pouted with a wink and he leapt from the bed to hug her. “Today is a bad day, but… the kids at school always help me through.”

  Certain it wasn’t a dig, but hefty as a punch to the stomach nonetheless, he looked to the floor. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around a lot lately… these cases…”

  “Say no more, you know I understand.” Elizabeth pulled away and waltzed off to their en-suite bathroom.

  He sighed, knowing she needed the space to mentally prepare herself for the day, but it had left him feeling desolate. Sometimes they discussed a current investigation he was involved with, especially one that featured heavily in the media, but he couldn’t bring himself to share the images of the dead children he had seen in the past few days.

  “Maybe you could call Jacqui at The Red Lipstick Foundation,” he suggested.

  The charity had offered ongoing support to their family after Maggie’s suicide, and Elizabeth had formed a special bond with their founder. Reluctant to ignore the heart-breaking scene just moments before, Hamilton felt compelled to comfort his wife. Elizabeth peered around the door and shouted over the gushing water from the shower behind her.

  “I’m fine, Denis, honestly. Go on, off to work and catch the bad guys.”

  She winked before closing the door and, despite downplaying her sorrow, guilt gnawed away at Hamilton while he dressed for work. He glanced at his watch, conscious he was already running late. The team’s intensifying investigation required all his time and energy, but he made a mental note to text Jacqui later and ask her to touch base with his wife. Elizabeth didn’t return from the bathroom before Hamilton was ready to leave, so he shouted farewell through the door.

  “Bye, Denis,” she quietly replied. “Be careful out there.”

  When he finally arrived at the café, Fraser was already sitting at the table in the far corner. He stopped at the counter to buy a cup of tea, but the waitress explained it had already been ordered, and followed him over to the table. The pair waited while the grey-haired woman in a pristine, white apron set down their mugs and left. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d requested a colleague meet him for a drink before their shift began, if indeed he ever had. Fraser fidgeted in her chair, twiddling strands of long blonde hair through her fingers.

  “I thought it would be beneficial if we cleared the air, Kerry,” he said, in an attempt to sound friendly.

  “I have wanted to do the same myself, sir. I just wasn’t sure how to go about it.”

  “You know my office door is always open,” Hamilton replied, and she grimaced. “Well, usually it is. You have to understand, Kerry, I’ve worked in the Met for a long time. It’s unfamiliar ground for me to have to explain myself, or my actions for that matter.”

  “I wasn’t aware I had made you feel that way,” she said, folding her arms.

  “The tension in the office is palpable. You’re a fantastic sergeant, but there will be times you have to work alone, and I expect you to follow orders without hesitation. Granted, it’s bad timing, what with being without Wedlock and Morris –”

  “I don’t think that has anything to do with this,” she interrupted.

  His eyes roamed over her taut expression; it was clear this woman could not be fooled easily.

  The instant Fraser had stepped into her interview less than six months ago, Hamilton sensed she was a strong character and filled with a desire to be on the team. He knew it wasn’t fair to try and dupe her.

  “Be frank, Kerry. What do you want me to say?”

  The rain beat rhythmically against the misted windows like the second hand of a grandfather clock. Fraser made eye contact with her boss.

  “I want to hear the truth. I spoke to DCI Allen and he said it was a conversation I needed to have with you. You were so supportive to me during our last murder investigation, and maybe it’s because it was my first big case with you, but I just can’
t… I don’t understand why you would shun away. Yes, I’m still the newbie, but you were so dismissive of me the other day.”

  “You’re right. With the entire observation. I haven’t been myself this week, not since the Paige Everett case, but I shouldn’t have made you feel the way I have. There’s a part of my life that I’ve learnt to block out, or at least push back from the surface, because it’s the only way I can get on with everyday life.”

  Hamilton hesitated, took a few slurps from his now luke-warm tea and proceeded to tell Fraser about the night Maggie died. He spared no details, so she could fully understand the devastation scorched in his memory.

  “I am so sorry, boss. I had no idea… no one told me.”

  He half smiled. “People at the station stopped talking about me, eventually. Those who know wouldn’t dare mention it and those who don’t? Well, that’s because they don’t need to.”

  “So… why are you telling me?”

  “Despite the short service, you’re a valued member of my team, Kerry. We have to trust each other, and you needed to know why I abandoned the Everett investigation. It wasn’t because of you.”

  Her eyes widened. “The crime scene… it must have been a mirror image. The only difference being…”

  “I know. It’s not entirely the same situation, but Maggie was a victim of cyber bullying. I had no idea it was happening to her. She was taunted via Facebook and text messages while she was at home… the one place she should have felt safe. The place I should have made safe for her. But I was too busy to even notice.”

  The pair sat quietly as the momentum of customers picked up in the café; work men and uniformed officers rushed in for their takeaway bacon rolls and coffees. Hamilton’s shoulders slumped. It was the first time he’d spoken so openly to someone other than Elizabeth about what had happened to their daughter. He had never forgiven himself and would take the guilt to his grave.

  “I swore I’d never be like my father, that I’d always be there for my kids. The day Maggie died… I never felt more of a failure.”