Bring Them Home (Detective Karen Hart Book 1)

by D. S. Butler

‘Absolutely,’ Sophie said, getting to her feet and turning off the monitor. ‘I’ll just put some lipstick on and get my coat.’

  DI Morgan turned to Rick. ‘Fancy a night out at Karen’s local?’

  Rick flushed pink, which was unusual for him. His tanned skin didn’t blush easily. ‘Er, not tonight. Sorry, but I’ve already made plans.’

  Karen turned to look at Rick with a teasing grin. ‘Another date is it, Rick? I don’t know where you find the energy.’

  Rick gave a sheepish grin. ‘Oh, you know me, Sarge. I’m known for my boundless energy.’ He checked his watch. ‘In fact, I’d better get a move on. I’m going to be late.’

  Karen smothered another yawn as they waited for Sophie to come back from the ladies’ toilets.

  ‘I can see I’m going to have to make an extra effort with my conversation tonight,’ DI Morgan said drily. ‘If I’m not careful, you’ll be falling asleep on us.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Karen said. ‘I’ll be fine once I get some air.’

  Sophie walked towards them, beaming and more chirpy now that she’d applied fresh lipstick and brushed her hair.

  Karen was pretty sure the only cosmetic she had in her bag was a tube of Carmex lip salve. She was happy to leave the preening to Sophie, who was still young enough to care.

  Sophie pointed to Rick’s desk where an iPhone sat beside his keyboard. ‘That’s Rick’s phone,’ she said. ‘Has he already left?’

  Karen nodded and reached for the mobile. ‘Yes, it’s unlike him to leave his phone. He’s normally glued to the thing. He must be really preoccupied with his date this evening.’

  Sophie held out her hand to take the phone. ‘I’ll drop it off on the way to Branston and meet you at the pub.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  DC Sophie Jones tucked Rick’s phone in her bag and walked out of Nettleham station. She’d picked him up a few weeks ago when his car refused to start, so she knew his address. It had been light the last time she’d visited, but now it was dark and she had to slow to a crawl as she pulled into his road.

  Large houses lined the street, mostly four- and five-bed places, Sophie guessed. They weren’t the type of house a young DC could afford, but she knew Rick had moved back in with his mum a little while ago. A lot of young people were doing that these days, Sophie included. It was so hard to get on the property ladder without a decent deposit, and with the high rental prices it was very difficult to save. Lincolnshire was cheaper than many counties, and Sophie hoped to buy her own place soon.

  She wondered if the housing market had played into DI Morgan’s decision to transfer to Lincolnshire. He had moved recently, but Sophie didn’t have the nerve to ask him the reason behind the transfer. There was plenty of station gossip, of course, but Sophie tried not to listen. She could just come straight out and ask him – it wasn’t an unreasonable question but she didn’t want him to think she was nosey.

  She glanced at the dashboard clock and hoped Rick hadn’t already left for his date. After parking between a Mini and a large Transit van, she reached for her bag. Dropping off the phone wouldn’t take long. She’d only had a salad for lunch and was really looking forward to this famous steak pie.

  But as she reached for the phone, it beeped, displaying a message on the screen. Sophie grinned, thinking it would be from Rick’s hot date.

  But it wasn’t. It was from someone called Lauren.

  I’m sorry. I can’t cope with it any more, Rick. We can put Mum into Woodview or you can cope with her at home on your own.

  The message disappeared as the screen went black.

  Sophie frowned. She knew Woodview was a local care home. Her sister worked for an agency that recruited nursing staff and carers for residential homes around Lincolnshire.

  She put her hand on the door and stared at Rick’s house. The lights were on downstairs. She thought back over the last few weeks. Rick liked to boast about his love life and social exploits as though he were some kind of party animal, but it sounded like he was having a really tough time at home.

  Sophie flushed. She felt guilty. Over the past few weeks, she’d been at loggerheads with Rick on more than one occasion and she’d given him a hard time. It was easy for her. She lived with her parents, who were only in their fifties, and her mum still did her washing and prepared her meals.

  With a sigh, Sophie walked over to knock on the front door. It took a while for Rick to answer, and when he did, Sophie was surprised. He didn’t look like the same smooth, confident Rick she saw at work. His cheeks were flushed, and his tie was askew. He hadn’t bothered to change yet, and an ugly orange stain covered a patch on his usually pristine white shirt.

  ‘Hi,’ Sophie said. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Er, well, it’s not really a great time. I’m just about to get changed and go out. I don’t like to keep the ladies waiting,’ he said with a grin, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and quickly died away.

  Sophie completely ignored him and stepped inside, leaving Rick to stare after her in confusion before closing the door.

  ‘I won’t stay long,’ Sophie said cheerfully. ‘Just a few minutes to have a cup of tea. You owe me,’ she said, pulling the phone out of her pocket and holding it out to Rick.

  ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘You left it at work, dummy. I can’t believe you haven’t missed it yet.’

  Rick glanced nervously over his shoulder and then turned back to Sophie. ‘Oh, thanks. Things have been a bit hectic since I got home.’

  ‘Rick, who’s that?’ a woman’s voice called from further inside the house.

  ‘Is that your mum?’ Sophie asked. ‘I’d love to meet her.’

  She stepped around Rick and walked along the hallway, glancing into the rooms she passed until she found Rick’s mother in the kitchen.

  Rick followed, offering up reasons why it wasn’t the best time for a social call.

  Sophie stared at the kitchen table, which was smeared with baked beans.

  The small woman sitting at the table looked up at her with fierce eyes. ‘I don’t like beans,’ she said.

  Rick stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable.

  ‘I don’t like them much either. Here, let’s get rid of them,’ Sophie said, reaching for the kitchen roll and grabbing the plate.

  She wiped the beans off the table, dumped the stained sheets of kitchen roll in the bin, washed the plate, left it to drain and then sat down.

  Rick watched with a bemused expression on his face.

  ‘If you’re late for your date, Rick, I can make the tea. I’ll keep your mum company while you get ready.’

  Rick frowned, hesitating in the doorway, and then finally he sighed and pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down opposite Sophie. ‘As it happens, I cancelled the date. I’m planning a night in, keeping Mum company.’

  Rick’s mother gave a wide smile. ‘Oh, you are a good boy, Ricky.’

  Sophie saw a flicker of emotion pass over Rick’s face.

  It was clear to Sophie that Rick’s mother had some medical problems and he was struggling to cope.

  ‘Is Lauren your sister?’ Sophie asked.

  Rick looked confused. ‘Yes, why? Do you know her?’

  Sophie shook her head. ‘No, but she sent you a message.’

  Rick flicked his finger across the screen to unlock the phone and quickly read the message. His face fell.

  ‘You could talk about it,’ Sophie said. ‘Maybe I could help.’

  Rick put the phone down on the table and shook his head. ‘I appreciate the offer but I’m fine.’

  Sophie wasn’t going to be brushed off that easily. She turned her attention to Rick’s mother and spent the next few minutes asking her questions about Rick’s childhood. When his mum launched into an embarrassing yarn about Rick getting his head caught in the railings at a local park when he was seven, Rick finally had enough.

  ‘I just need to have a quick word with Sophie about work, Mum. We won’
t be long.’

  He hurried Sophie out of the room. In the living room, he turned to her. ‘I don’t know how she remembers stories like that from twenty years ago yet can’t remember what she did this morning!’

  Sophie smiled. ‘I think she was just getting to the good part.’

  Rick folded his arms across his chest. ‘Maybe she was, but you’re not going to hear the rest of that particular little tale.’

  ‘Spoilsport. Now I’m really intrigued.’

  Rick sat down on the sofa and Sophie took the chair opposite.

  ‘It’s clear you’re struggling, Rick, and I want to help. My sister works for an agency. She handles home help placements as well as staff for care homes and social services. You don’t have to cope with this alone, Rick.’

  Rick exhaled a long breath and looked away, staring at the wall.

  Sophie figured she was close to cracking the front he’d been putting on ever since she met him. ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of. And admitting you need help isn’t a sign of weakness.’

  ‘I’m not putting her in a home,’ Rick whispered, his voice shaking with emotion.

  Sophie shook her head. ‘You don’t have to, but you can get help. Perhaps someone to come in during the day. It’ll be expensive to get someone qualified, but there are grants you can get from the local council – schemes and plans designed to help people in your position.’

  Rick looked at her. ‘You really think it’s an option?’

  Sophie nodded. ‘Absolutely. I’ll have a word with my sister for you and we’ll see what we can figure out.’ She reached over and patted Rick on the hand. ‘You’re not alone, you know. When things get difficult, you can mouth off to me. I’m a good listener.’

  Rick smiled and it looked as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  ‘I’m hungry. Can I have a chocolate biscuit?’ Rick’s mother called from the kitchen, breaking the tension.

  Rick grinned as he got up and they walked into the kitchen. ‘I don’t see why not, Mum. Let’s all have one.’

  He made a pot of tea as Sophie chatted to his mum about EastEnders. She muddled up a few of the characters, but Sophie avidly watched the soaps and enjoyed the conversation.

  Rick put three mugs of tea on the table and sat down.

  ‘So, the Jack-the-lad act is all a front, isn’t it?’ Sophie teased. ‘I should have guessed.’

  Rick looked aghast. ‘It’s not an act.’ He grinned. ‘I can’t help it if the ladies find me irresistible, Sophie.’

  ‘If you say so, mate,’ Sophie said laughing, pleased to see that Rick was almost back to his normal assured self.

  DI Morgan and Karen sat at a table in the Waggon and Horses next to the large log burner, which was flaming furiously. Karen stretched out in her chair, feeling sleepy and relaxed.

  DI Morgan took a sip of his pint of Timmy Taylor Landlord and closed his eyes. ‘That’s perfect,’ he said. ‘I needed that.’

  Karen raised her gin and tonic and was about to take a sip when her phone rang. She delved into her bag and pulled out her mobile.

  It was Sophie.

  ‘She said she’d be along later but she needs to help Rick with a few things first.’

  DI Morgan took another sip of his pint. ‘I hope that means they’re getting along better.’

  ‘So do I.’ Karen got to her feet. ‘I’ll go and order. Steak pie?’

  DI Morgan shook his head and pulled out his wallet. ‘I’ll get it.’

  ‘No, you won’t. Detective sergeants’ salaries aren’t as high as I might like but I can afford to treat you to a steak pie.’

  She made her way to the bar. The way the Waggon and Horses was set out meant one side of the pub was a dedicated dining area, and the other half of the pub was fitted out as a traditional bar. They were sitting in the cosy dining area, as Karen usually did. She often walked down to the pub alone, or sometimes with Christine, to have a chat and good-natured gossip with some of the locals. She placed the order and then went to sit back at the table.

  ‘It’s not a bad result, is it? We got three girls home safe, and we were only expecting two,’ Karen said.

  DI Morgan nodded. ‘All things considered, it’s an excellent result. I’d started to think we would never find them.’

  ‘I still find it hard to believe Nigel Palmer managed to hide his wife’s murder for so long. Poor Gwendolyn,’ Karen said, feeling melancholy as she took another sip of her gin and tonic.

  ‘She’s finally about to get justice,’ DI Morgan said. ‘I’ll see Nigel Palmer is punished for her murder if it’s the last thing I do.’

  Karen gave a half-hearted smile. She appreciated the sentiment, but due to his advanced emphysema, doctors had advised them that Nigel Palmer would probably not make it to his own trial. Any time he had left would be spent in prison, though, so she supposed that must be some consolation.

  Plus, finding the money to pay for his legal defence wouldn’t have been easy. They’d found out where Cathy got the money to supply Amy Foster with drugs. She’d been withdrawing funds from her father’s account. Karen would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when Nigel Palmer was told that he was almost broke.

  ‘And the case against Phil Carver looks strong,’ DI Morgan said, keeping his voice low so no locals would overhear him.

  Karen nodded. She wanted Phil Carver to go away for a long time. In the end, he’d had nothing to do with the girls’ disappearance, but Karen believed he’d been in the early stages of grooming Emily Dean when she went missing. The images on his computer were a good basis for prosecution, and another team at Lincoln Central were focusing on the forums and groups Phil Carver had visited online. With a bit of luck, that investigation would track down a few more visitors to those sites and bring them to justice.

  ‘It was our first big case working as a team,’ DI Morgan said. ‘Do you see ways we can improve? Perhaps at a communication level? I’ve been reading up about a new tiered system for reports. It’s very interesting. We might be able to incorporate it into our current workflow.’

  Karen rolled her eyes. She didn’t think it sounded interesting at all. ‘I don’t know about all that technical reporting stuff but I thought we all worked together pretty well. Of course, I still have to persuade you to listen to my hunches . . .’

  DI Morgan laughed. ‘Maybe one day, but for now I think I’ll rely on good old-fashioned police work, thanks.’

  A couple came up and said hello to Karen, and when she introduced DI Morgan and mentioned he had only moved to Lincolnshire a few months ago, they warmly welcomed him to the area.

  When the couple went to find a table, DI Morgan said, ‘Friendly locals around here. I’m glad I moved. I can see myself settling in quite well.’

  Karen leaned forward, resting an elbow on the dark wood table. ‘And why did you move here? You know you’re the talk of the station.’

  DI Morgan looked down at his pint. ‘I know you think there’s some big secret behind my transfer, but there isn’t. I’m really very boring.’

  Karen narrowed her eyes and decided to let him off for tonight. She should have known better than to expect he’d open up just like that.

  ‘We’ll have to make up an interesting backstory for you. One that’ll really get tongues wagging.’

  ‘I’m not sure I like that idea.’

  One of the girls from the kitchen brought out their plates then ducked back to get them some gravy.

  DI Morgan looked down at the huge slice of steak pie and his eyes widened. ‘Well, it certainly looks good.’

  ‘Wait until you taste it,’ Karen said, reaching for her knife and fork.

  They made short work of the pie, chips and fresh vegetables, pausing only briefly to comment on how delicious it was.

  Stuffed to the point of bursting, Karen leaned back in her chair and sipped her drink. She looked around the pub full of happy locals, feeling content. DI Morgan was a good boss and despite their differences, t
hey’d worked well together.

  Karen raised her glass. ‘Here’s to a good result.’

  ‘And many more to follow,’ DI Morgan said, clinking his glass against hers.

  Karen walked home from the pub hoping to burn off some calories. The bitter westerly wind whipped at her short hair and made her eyes water so she walked with her hands buried deep in her pockets, her chin tucked into her chest and her scarf covering the bottom half of her face. It was only when she was level with Christine’s house that she noticed the security light above her garage was on. As she approached the drive, she scanned the front garden and saw Mary pacing back and forth. A small suitcase sat beside the garage door. This was getting to be a habit.

  She called out as she walked towards Mary, scanning the woman’s face for new injuries. But something made her pause. Mary seemed different. Her head was raised, and her movements were quick, almost frantic. Although Mary’s old bruises were still dark and looked painful, Karen couldn’t spot any fresh ones.

  Mary rushed up to her, full of nervous energy. Her eyes were wide as she clutched Karen’s arm. ‘I’ve done it. I’ve left him.’

  Mary wasn’t wearing gloves and her cheeks were flushed pink with the cold. She was trembling.

  Karen put her arm through Mary’s, drawing her towards the house. ‘That’s brilliant news. Come inside and we can plan the next step. We should be able to get you a place in the shelter tonight, but if not, you’re welcome to stay here until a place is available.’

  ‘No,’ Mary said, surprising Karen by shaking her head firmly. ‘Thanks, but I won’t be needing a place at the shelter. I’m going to stay with my sister in Norfolk.’

  Karen opened the front door. ‘You reached out to your family?’

  ‘Yes, and you were right. They were pleased to hear from me. I thought they’d given up on me but they haven’t. They still want to help.’ Mary blinked. ‘I don’t deserve it. I put them through hell.’

  ‘How are you getting to your sister’s?’

  She waited for Mary to step inside before closing the door behind them. It was a relief to be out of the biting wind. Mary propped her suitcase against the wall. It wasn’t a large case, but Karen imagined it contained all of Mary’s possessions.