by Sally Rigby
Dark Secrets
Sally Rigby
Copyright © 2021 by Sally Rigby
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, organisations or places, events and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, alive or dead, events or locals is almost entirely coincidental.
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Read more about Cavendish & Walker
Other books by Sally Rigby
Writing as Amanda Rigby
Acknowledgments
About the Author
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Chapter 1
Detective Chief Inspector Whitney Walker stood at the entrance to her lounge, watching Tiffany hold her four-week-old daughter in her arms. Ava was Whitney’s granddaughter, and she was the cutest little dot imaginable, with a shock of dark curls. Being a grandmother was weird, especially at her age, but Whitney was enjoying it more than she’d ever believed possible.
She’d booked five weeks off work as soon as Tiffany had gone into labour, knowing that the first few would be the hardest. The labour hadn’t been easy, over forty hours, but Tiffany had been amazing, and was taking to motherhood so well. Whitney couldn’t be prouder.
Whitney was a single parent too, although she’d had the support of her mum and dad, when she’d given birth at only seventeen. It had totally changed her life, and she’d gone from intending to go to university to shelving those plans and instead going straight into the police force. But she didn’t regret it. She had a good career, with a loyal team and a very good friend whom she wouldn’t have met otherwise. Dr Georgina Cavendish, a forensic psychologist from Lenchester University who helped them with their more critical cases.
Whitney had loved her time being at home with Tiffany and baby Ava. She’d have put money on her itching to get back to work by now, but she’d barely given work a thought the entire time. And on the handful of times she’d called to check in, there was nothing the team had needed her for. Considering Lenchester was like the murder capital of the country because of the number they had, someone had been looking down on her while she was having some time off.
Damn. Why did she think that? She’d jinxed it. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and refocused on her family.
Tiffany glanced over at her. ‘What is it? Why are you smiling like that?’
‘I’m allowed to, aren’t I? It’s wonderful watching my daughter and granddaughter together.’ Her eyes welled up, and she blinked the tears away. Would Ava inherit her emotional gene? Tiffany hadn’t. She was made of sterner stuff.
‘You’re not getting soppy in your old age, are you?’ Tiffany asked, grinning.
‘You know me. I’ve always been a heart-on-the-sleeve person.’
‘I couldn’t have done any of this without your help, Mum. But you already know that don’t you?’
‘It’s been a joint effort so far. When I go back to work it’s going to be down to you for a lot of the time.’
‘I’ll manage. I have to. Providing today isn’t an indication of what she’s going to be like. I think she’s cried more this morning than she has done in her whole four weeks. Hopefully, she’s cried herself out because she’s now settled.’ Tiffany grazed her fingers over the tiny baby’s cheek, and her lips turned up into a loving smile.
‘How are you finding being a mum?’ Whitney realised that she hadn’t actually asked Tiffany outright how she was feeling.
‘Honestly, it was a massive shock at first. Even having you here all the time, nothing could have prepared me for being responsible for another human being 24/7. I don’t feel old enough to look after myself, let alone someone else.’
‘It happens to every new mother. Any woman who denies it is kidding themselves. It’s something you must experience for yourself. No number of words from anyone else could’ve prepared you. It’s a rite of passage. But look at you now. A natural.’
‘Thanks. I had a good role model.’
‘Has Lachlan been in touch yet?’
He was Ava’s father. They’d met in Australia when Tiffany was out there and they’d both come back to the UK determined to make a go of it when they found out about the baby. But he missed Australia, and they’d split up. He’d returned home, promising to keep in touch.
‘I heard from him this morning. He said he couldn’t afford the airfare to come over to see us.’ Tiffany shrugged. ‘It’s what I expected. What time’s Martin coming round?’
Martin was Tiffany’s father, who she’d only recently got to know. For many years, Whitney had denied his existence, saying her pregnancy was the result of a drunken one-night fling. And she’d truly believed that to be the case. Except, when she’d met Martin again over twenty years later at a school reunion, the one and only time either of them had been to one, she’d been shocked to learn that the truth was very different from what she’d told herself. It turned out that he’d wanted to continue seeing her but, in typical teenage style, Whitney had assumed he wouldn’t because of what they’d done, and she’d pushed him away.
Martin lived in London now, and they’d started seeing each other again. They were taking it steady because Whitney wasn’t ready for a full-on relationship yet. Life was too busy. Martin was a widower and didn’t have any children, despite trying. He was beside himself with joy when he’d learnt about Tiffany. He’d waited until she was ready to meet him and, once she’d agreed, they’d become close very quickly. They were so similar in many ways.
As if on cue, the doorbell went.
‘Now, by the sounds of things.’
Whitney went to the door and let him in. He kissed her on the cheek and gave her a hug. It felt so right.
‘I’m not too early, am I? There was hardly any traffic on the motorway, and it only took me an hour-fifteen from door to door.’ They’d arranged to go out for Sunday lunch at a pub in a nearby village.
‘Not at all. It’s not like we have to put on a show with you. You’re part of the family.’
The moment they entered the lounge, he headed straight over to Tiffany and
Ava.
‘How’s my beautiful granddaughter?’ he said in a quiet voice.
‘I’m about to put her back into her Moses basket. I’ve fed her, changed her, and she’s finally asleep. Hurray. I thought it was never going to happen.’
‘What time do you want to leave for lunch?’ Martin asked.
‘In case you haven’t noticed, I’m still in my PJs, so you’ll have to give me time to shower and get ready.’
‘You take your time, we’re not in a hurry.’
‘I’m so looking forward to it. This will be the first time I’ve gone out for a meal since coming home from the hospital. I hope Ava doesn’t cry all the time. We won’t be popular with the other diners if she does.’
‘She’s fed, changed, and now sleepy. If she does wake up, we can take it in turns to wheel her pushchair around. Don’t worry. I’m sure we won’t be the only people there with a young one. We’ve picked a good day for it. You go get ready, and I’ll keep an eye on her,’ Whitney said.
‘I’m on my way.’
Tiffany had taken two strides towards the door when Whitney’s phone rang.
Whitney went over to the sideboard where she’d left it and stared at the screen. ‘Crap. It’s work. They were under strict instructions not to disturb me unless it was absolutely necessary.’
She glanced at Martin and then Tiffany. She’d gone and jinxed it, just like she thought she would. Bloody typical.
‘Answer it, Mum,’ Tiffany said.
‘Walker. And this better be good,’ she snapped, sounding harsher than she’d intended.
‘Sorry to bother you, guv, especially on a Sunday and you also being on leave and not wanting to be disturbed, but this is important.’
‘It’s all right, Brian. Just tell me what’s wrong,’ she said to Detective Sergeant Chapman, a fairly recent recruit to her team who was turning out to be a valuable asset in more ways than one.
‘A family has been found dead at their home in the Westcliffe area. Suspicious circumstances.’
Her fingers tightened around her phone. ‘The whole family?’
‘I don’t know if it was all of them. All I’ve been told is that five people, including children, were found dead, sitting around the dining room table.’
Her stomach plummeted. Children? What on earth had happened?
‘Any signs of struggle? Cause of death? Anything?’
Had they been shot, stabbed, or killed in any other obvious way?
‘You know everything I do, guv. I’ve only just put the phone down from the officers who called to let me know.’
Hardly surprising, and she shouldn’t have asked, because until the pathologist was there, they wouldn’t know.
‘You did the right thing calling me. What’s the address? I’ll meet you there.’
That was the end of her annual leave. She hoped Tiffany wouldn’t mind.
‘Beech Avenue, number 96.’
That should only take her ten minutes.
‘Thanks, I know the area. I’ll see you shortly.’ She ended the call and turned to Tiffany and Martin, who were both staring in her direction, with resigned expressions on their faces. ‘I’m sorry, you two, but I’ve got to go to work, as you’ve probably worked out. There’s been a death. Several in fact, most likely from the same family and including kids. If I don’t go, they might pass the case onto a different team and I can’t let that happen.’
Murder cases were always given to her team because of their exemplary reputation for solving them. There were kids involved. She couldn’t allow this to go elsewhere.
‘That’s dreadful, Mum,’ Tiffany said, glancing over to the Moses basket.
‘Sorry about lunch, I know how much you were looking forward to it.’
‘Don’t worry, we can still go, if you’d like to, Tiffany?’ Martin said.
‘Yeah, I’d love to. I’ve been looking forward to going out for days. I’ve already planned what I’m going to order.’
Whitney offered a grateful smile in Martin’s direction. Thank goodness he was there to take her place.
‘Then I’ll come back here and stay with you until your mum gets back,’ he suggested.
‘You can’t do that, I might be gone for hours, and you’ll need to get back home. You don’t want to be driving late in the night,’ Whitney said.
‘I can certainly stay until early evening, but only if you’d like me to, Tiffany?’
He was so considerate, didn’t just take over and assume it would be okay. She approved of the way he sought Tiffany’s permission first.
‘That’s great, thanks, Martin. I’d love to spend the day with you. I knew I had to get used to being on my own soon, it’s just come a week ahead of schedule. You go, Mum, and don’t worry about us. In fact, we’ll think of you while we’re tucking into home-made pizza and chips and you’re having a sandwich on the fly. If that.’ Tiffany smirked.
‘Don’t remind me. You’re not the only one who was looking forward to this outing. Even though I know that’s not what you’ll be ordering.’
Tiffany was much healthier in her meal choices than Whitney.
‘Yeah but saying salad didn’t have the same impact.’
‘True. Anyway, we’ll arrange another time for all of us to go out. Enjoy yourselves and remember, I’m on the end of a phone if you need me for anything.’ Whitney wandered over to where Ava was sleeping. ‘See you later, little one. Love you.’
‘Bye, Mum. Knock ’em dead.’ Tiffany’s hand shot up to her mouth. ‘Oops, sorry, wrong choice of word. You know what I mean.’
Whitney left home and drove to the scene. She already knew it was going to be a case she’d like George involved with, but the forensic psychologist had gone to London to visit her family. They wanted her assistance with something. It had to be serious for them to demand George’s presence. But knowing her friend, she’d want to be informed. After Whitney had been to the scene, she’d decide whether to do so straight way or to wait a while.
Chapter 2
Whitney drove to the modern, detached house in Beech Avenue, in the Westcliffe area of the city. When she arrived, she parked behind the MGC belonging to Dr Claire Dexter, the pathologist.
Thank goodness it was Claire on duty, and not one of the other pathologists, as this case was going to hit the headlines with force. Brian was standing by the cordon, which went across the drive, talking to one of the uniformed officers who were milling around. She got out of her car and walked over.
‘Were you first on the scene?’ she asked the police constable who was standing by the rendezvous point, controlling the entry and exit to the house.
‘Yes, guv. I was on patrol with Sandy, PC Hall, when we got called out here. The others arrived soon after and are making sure the scene is kept secure.’
‘Who’s inside?’ she asked glancing at the visitors’ log in the officer’s hand.
‘The pathologist arrived ten minutes ago. Forensics haven’t turned up yet.’
‘Have you looked, Brian?’ Whitney asked, turning to her sergeant.
‘Not yet, I was waiting for you, guv. As soon as I saw Dr Dexter’s car I knew to steer clear.’
‘Wise move, I’m pleased to see you’re learning fast.’ She grinned.
Everyone knew what Claire was like and most were petrified of her. Not Whitney or George. They were too long in the tooth for that.
‘Who found the bodies?’
‘A friend of one of the deceased children who lives across the street. PC Hall is over there with him. We wanted to make sure he was with his family and kept out of the way.’
‘Who was on the scene when you arrived?’
‘The boy who found them and his mother. He’d gone back to fetch her and she called from outside the house where they waited for us, as instructed by emergency services.’
‘How old is the boy?’
‘I’m not sure, but I’d put him as early teens, no older.’
‘How much did he tell you?’
/>
‘His mother mainly spoke. She said that he’d arranged to go round this morning to call for his friend and went through the side gate to the back door, as he usually did. After no one answered, he went inside as it was unlocked and found the family.’
‘The poor kid. We’ll go over and question him shortly. If he went inside via the back door, who opened the front?’ She nodded towards it.
‘I did, guv, to preserve the scene as much as possible. Because the back door was unlocked and the front wasn’t I assumed that was the way the killer got in and out.’
‘Unless they used a key,’ Whitney said.
‘Oh …’ the officer said.
‘Forensics will tell us. You did the right thing. We still have to enter and exit the house.’ She turned to Brian. ‘Let’s go to see Claire.’
They signed the log, and ducked under the cordon tape, heading to the front door.
‘Hello,’ she called out, walking through the entrance porch into a square hall.
‘In here. You can stand by the entrance but no further until I say,’ Claire yelled, her voice coming from an open door on the right.
Whitney grinned to herself. Nothing ever changed. It was a comforting thought.
They took a few steps forward until they were standing in the opening to the dining room.
‘Good morning, Claire.’
‘Is it?’ the pathologist said, giving one of her stock answers. She glanced up from behind the camera in her hand and glared at them.
