by Michael Wood
She walked down the drive and knocked on the front door, only to find it unlocked. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
‘Matilda?’ she called out, a hint of worry in her voice.
‘In the kitchen,’ came the reply.
Adele closed the door firmly behind her before heading to the kitchen. ‘Did you know your front door was … Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company,’ she said as she noticed a man in a cheap navy suit sitting at the breakfast table with a mug of coffee in his hand.
‘Adele, this is Mr Chappell. He’s brought the brochures round.’
‘Wow, that was quick,’ Adele said, taken aback.
‘We don’t waste time,’ Mr Chappell flashed his well-practised estate agent smile. ‘I’ll let you get off. Enjoy your holiday. If there are any issues, give me a call when you get back.’
He said his goodbyes, flashed his fake smile once again to Adele, then showed himself out.
Adele picked up one of the brochures. ‘They take good photos, I’ll give them that. They always seem to make houses look gorgeous.’
‘Cheeky sod, my house is gorgeous.’
‘It won’t be your house for much longer.’
‘No,’ Matilda replied, sadly, taking a longing gaze around the kitchen.
‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, Mat?’
‘Yes.’ Her answer lacked confidence. ‘Anyway, let’s not dwell on all that now. There’s a plane at Manchester Airport that has two seats in first class with our names on them.’
‘You’re right,’ Adele beamed. ‘I’m so excited. I can’t remember the last time I had a holiday.’
‘Me neither.’ She could; it was with James, but she had already cried over her husband this morning, so she tried to put it to the back of her mind.
‘Right then.’ Adele clapped her hands together. ‘Actually, I think I might just run to the loo again. I’m so excited.’ She smiled then trotted off to the downstairs toilet.
Matilda’s eyes dropped to the brochure advertising her house for sale. The board wasn’t going to go up in the front garden until she returned from holiday. She looked around her dream kitchen, as if seeing it all one last time. She knew she was making the right decision. It just didn’t feel right.
Her eyes fell on the open door leading into the hallway. As promised, her parents had redecorated, changed the furniture and the curtains. It was completely different, but she still couldn’t get the image of Ben’s dead body out of her mind. That was what he had hoped to achieve. And he had succeeded.
Reluctantly, Matilda had listened to advice from Adele, Valerie and Sian, and phoned her former therapist, Dr Sheila Warminster. Once she had told her everything that had happened since their final session several months previously, Sheila had booked her in for an appointment straight away.
It felt different to all the other therapy sessions Matilda had. This time, she was in the driving seat. She opened up and spoke for the entire hour. Sheila had cancelled her next appointment and they talked more. Matilda mentioned everything: Faith’s murder and the subsequent nightmares that had followed. Blaming herself for not seeing PC Steve Harrison as the killer sooner, Scott’s brutal attack, his weeks in hospital. Fortunately, Steve had pushed Scott into the side of the speeding tram. He hadn’t been hit full-on, more of a glancing blow. As he fell to the ground, he had banged his head on the concrete which rendered him unconscious. He spent three days in Intensive Care before he was moved to a ward. He was back at work within a week of being discharged. Now Ben Hales hanging himself in Matilda’s house was her biggest problem.
‘I can’t get it out of my mind,’ Matilda had told Sheila. ‘Whenever I leave the lounge or the kitchen. Whenever I come downstairs or in from the garage or the front door, I see him hanging there. I’ve redecorated, scrubbed and scrubbed, but he won’t disappear. I can still smell him.’
‘Have you considered moving house?’ Sheila had asked.
Yes, she had. Many times. However, she had always thrown the suggestion away. It wasn’t an option, not until someone else had said it out loud, then it made perfect sense. She should move. Although James built the house from the foundations up and it was their dream house, it was stopping her from moving on. She loved James with every fibre of her being. However, he was gone, and she needed to come to terms with that.
She had left the session feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from her. On her way home, she stopped at Abbey Lane Cemetery to pay a visit to James. As she tidied up his grave and laid a bunch of red roses she knew he would hate, she told him of her plans. Then went home with her head held high. Full of determination and plans.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Adele asked coming back into the kitchen.
Matilda jumped. ‘What? Oh nothing, just new starts.’
‘New starts all round,’ Adele said.
‘Sorry?’ Matilda asked.
‘The Major Crimes Unit. It’s in today’s paper. A new unit dealing with serious crime and cold cases to be headed by Detective Chief Inspector Matilda Darke.’
‘Oh that.’
‘Yes, that. Valerie was singing your praises.’
‘God knows why, I didn’t do anything.’
‘You caught a serial killer, Matilda.’
‘Rory caught him,’ she corrected her.
‘You identified him as the killer. The papers said he’s hoping to plead insanity.’
‘Yes, that got thrown out straight away. He’s sane all right. He knew exactly what he was doing. He’ll never be released from prison,’ Matilda said, looking past her friend and into the garden, or somewhere far far away in the distance.
‘Have you chosen your team for the new unit?’
‘Not yet. I’m waiting until after the memorial for Faith.’
‘Poor girl.’
‘I keep going over it in my head. I caught her. I know I did.’
Adele didn’t tell her it would have been better if Matilda hadn’t caught her. A straight drop would have snapped her neck, and she would have died almost instantly. Instead, Matilda held her while Faith slowly choked to death. She didn’t need to know that, however.
‘There were too many factors for you to have saved her,’ Adele said. ‘Has James Dalziel been in touch?’ she asked, changing the subject.
‘Yes. He came round last week to see if I was all right. He brought me some flowers. I apologized for thinking he was the killer, and he admitted that he was attracted to me.’ She blushed. ‘That’s why he had my photo in his study.’
‘Ooh,’ Adele teased.
‘Don’t get your hopes up, Adele. He’s moving back up to Scotland.’
‘Oh. How do you feel about that?’
Matilda laughed. ‘Adele, I don’t know what you’ve got in your mind, but there was never anything going on with me and James. Even if I wanted to pursue anything, I wouldn’t with a man obviously on the rebound. Now, come on, that plane won’t wait for us.’
An excitable smile spread across Adele’s face. ‘Monaco isn’t going to know what’s hit it when we land.’
Matilda left the house, closed the door and locked it. From inside she heard the landline ringing.
‘Leave it,’ Adele said. ‘Unless you’re looking to claim back PPI?’
Matilda smiled, and they headed for Adele’s car.
The phone continued to ring. Eventually, the answer machine picked up the call.
‘Hello, you’ve reached Matilda Darke. I’m sorry I can’t take your call at the moment. Please leave a message after the tone and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Bye.’
The wait for the beep was a long one.
There was a pause before the caller left their message. ‘Matilda? It’s … it’s Sally Meagan. I’m probably the last person you were ever expecting to hear from, but I need some help and I don’t know who else to turn to. The thing is, I’ve received a phone call from a solicitor this morning. Apparently, before he died, DI Ben Hales had bee
n looking into Carl’s disappearance. He says he’s found him. He knows where Carl is. Could you give me a call please?’
Acknowledgements
It sometimes seems unfair that my name appears on the front of the book when I have received so much help and advice from such wonderful people. However, in the spirit of a BAFTA winner’s acceptance speech, I would like to tearfully thank the following people:
My agent, Tom Witcomb for his feedback on my work. I’m privileged to have a hands-on agent who strives to make me work harder to make each book the best one yet. Thank you also to everyone at Blake Friedmann.
My editor, Finn Cotton, has been a great support. Thank you for your hard work and encouraging emails. To everyone at Killer Reads and Harper Collins, particularly Sarah Hodgson, a huge thank you. To my copy editor, Janette Currie, for correcting my errors (fewer than the last book, thankfully). To the designers of the cover, my thanks and my apologies.
Fellow writer, Neil Spring. Writing can be a very lonely process. It helps to have someone in your corner you can turn to for support, advice, and to use as a sounding board. I’m grateful to have Neil for all those things. He’s a mighty fine writer too.
Claire Green at the National Digital Autopsy Service, pathologist Philip Lumb, and all the staff at the Medico-Legal Centre in Sheffield for their advice, showing me around the post-mortem suite, and making sure my work is as accurate as possible. Thank you to Simon Browes for answering all my medical questions. I hope nobody ever reads our text conversations about hangings and stabbings. Chillingly gruesome. A massive thank you to ‘Mr Tibbs’ for everything concerning police procedure. Any factual errors in this book are all mine and for the purposes of fiction. Don’t blame the experts.
A special shout out to my mum who mentions my books to most people she meets and for baking the best cakes ever. To my sister, Donna, for running the Sheffield half-marathon so I didn’t have to. To Jonas, Chris, Kevin, and Max, a manly hug and a big slap on the back, except for Max, he gets snuggles. To Debbie and Katie for the fun meals at possibly the worst pub in Sheffield.
Finally, a big thank you to the readers, bloggers, and reviewers, especially the ones who have been with Matilda from the beginning.
If you enjoyed The Hangman’s Hold, try the previous book in the series…
Eight killers. One house. And the almost perfect murder…
Starling House is home to some of Britain’s deadliest teenagers, still too young for prison.
When the latest arrival is found brutally murdered, DCI Matilda Darke and her team investigate, and discover a prison manager falling apart and a sabotaged security system. Neither the staff nor the inmates can be trusted.
The only person Matilda believes is innocent is facing prison for the rest of his life. With time running out, she must solve the unsolvable to save a young man from his fate, and find a murderer in a house full of killers…
Order your copy here
About the Author
Michael Wood is a freelance journalist and proofreader living in Sheffield. As a journalist he has covered many crime stories throughout Sheffield, gaining first-hand knowledge of police procedure. He also reviews books for CrimeSquad, a website dedicated to crime fiction. The Hangman’s Hold is his fourth novel.
@MichaelHWood
/MichaelWoodBooks
Also by Michael Wood
The Fallen
Outside Looking In
For Reasons Unknown
A Room Full of Killers
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