Maddie was back to looking out the window. Rhiannon sighed. Maddie picked up on it. ‘They’ve got every advantage, Rhiannon. There’s no way we were getting this job home. There’s no motivation for Barry Fat-boy back there to rat on Toby, to bite the hand that feeds him — not as part of official evidence. This way we get the medals back, we get a burglar off the street for twenty-four hours and I get to—’
‘Dress up like a skank!’ Rhiannon cut in with a chuckle.
‘Dress up like a skank! Exactly. Speaking of which, are you ever going to head back towards the station? I need to peel this stuff off my teeth and then have a long shower.’
Maddie ran her fingers over the display box that carried the medals. Today was a good day. A small victory, but in policing you have to take those. Maybe they wouldn't get a charge out of Toby Routledge, but they would be able to reunite a war veteran with the irreplaceable. Just as soon as she had washed the grease out of her hair and changed into something more presentable.
Chapter 3
Patrol Sergeant Tim Betts thumped the front door. All was quiet; the only sound was the steady rain that beat out a rhythm on a nearby plastic bin. It was nothing like the description of the call they had been given. There were reports of an aggressive-sounding male, shouting loud enough to be heard down the street. A female had been heard screaming, too. The informant was a close neighbour who had called before; they said that they often heard a man’s voice but this was the first time they had heard the girl. They said it sounded like she was fighting for her life.
Tim looked at his colleague, PC Vince Arnold, a brick shithouse of a man, who’d spent much of his career answering calls just like this one. “Another shitty domestic,” he had said as the radio operator had given the details, just like he did every time. But he had still been the first one out of the car and Tim knew that men who beat on women were his pet hate.
Vince was scowling now. He was stood back enough to be able to look up at the top window from over the angular porch. His shoulders were dusted with rain and the rim of his hat held droplets that glinted from the street lighting. Vince sighed. He turned to look into a car that was left at an angle on the drive as if it had been parked in a hurry. It was a silver estate car, a Volkswagen. Vince ran his torch through the window. He huffed again. Tim had been able to release him earlier in their shift for some plain-clothes work with CID. He knew Vince liked that sort of work; it was something different at least.
Tim hit the door again, keeping up a steady rhythm that got louder. He stopped when his knuckles complained. There were lights on. It looked like they were at the back of the house. Vince moved to Tim’s right to look into the windows. There were neat-looking blinds turned at an angle. Tim didn’t think you would get much of a view and, sure enough, Vince didn’t linger. He stepped back just as the light in the porch came on above them.
‘Yeah?’ A man with a large build opened the door. He looked pissed off. He was wearing a black vest that was tight over a slightly protruding gut. He had a thick neck and limbs and a tribal tattoo that ran up his arm, across his chest and neck and out of sight. Tim noticed that he was breathing a little heavier than he might expect. He was trying to disguise it too. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead where it met with his cropped hair.
‘We got a call. Someone was concerned for the occupants here. We’re just here to make sure everyone’s okay.’
‘Well, ain’t that nice. We’re fine, thanks.’ The door pushed to close. Tim stuck his boot out. He caught it just in time. The man looked down at the boot in his door. He took his time to look back up again. His breathing had increased a little more.
‘You wanna get that boot out of my door?’ It was a growl, a man trying to contain anger.
‘Yeah. Once I’ve checked everyone’s okay. I just need a minute or so of your time and then I’m sure we can be on our way.’
‘I told you. I said I’m fine.’
‘No, you didn’t. You said we’re fine. Who else is here with you?’
‘That ain’t none of your business.’
‘Like I said, I‘m here to make sure everyone’s okay. So yeah, it’s my business. How about you ask her to come to the door so I can say hello at least. We’ve been here before. Her name is Grace, right? And you should be Craig?’
‘I don’t know you.’
‘Not me, personally. The police. My colleagues have been here before.’
‘We don’t need you. No one called you here.’
‘We don’t just turn up, Craig. Someone called us. We are coming in and we are checking on Grace, I’m telling you that now. So you can let us in and we can have a conversation or we will push you out of the way and come in anyway. And that probably involves handcuffs.’ Tim stepped forward. He felt Vince step in closer behind him. The man stood in the door had almost a foot in height on him, even before the step up into the house, and the same again in width. Tim was glad that Vince was here. The man stood firm. He was looking over the top of Tim.
‘THE FEDS ARE HERE, GRACE!’ His shout was sudden. Tim was close enough to smell his breath. It was tinged with alcohol. ‘THEY’RE COMING IN.’ He still blocked the door. A few more seconds passed. Tim shuffled forward to make it more uncomfortable. He heard a noise in the house. Then he saw movement. A young woman appeared. She hung back, skulking in the hall behind. Tim couldn’t see her well, but she looked a lot younger than the man at the door. She was maybe twenty-five; he had the man at ten years older at least.
‘Why do they need to come in?’ she said. Her voice was low. She was looking to the floor. Tim answered her.
‘We had reports of some loud shouting from this address. We just wanted to be sure that everyone’s okay.’
‘We’re fine,’ she said.
‘Can we just come in and take some details. Then we’ll get out of your hair.’
‘You can see we’re fine now.’ The man cut back in and edged forward. The rim of Tim’s cap bumped into his chest.
‘And you can see we’re getting wet.’ Tim replied. ‘We’ve got some paperwork to do before we can go and I’m not happy yet. We don’t go until I’m happy. We are coming in and we will speak to you both separately and we don’t leave here until that happens.’ Tim angled his head to stare straight at the man blocking their way. He needed to get in that house. Something had happened; he was sure of it now. He needed to see if there were any signs of disturbance and to get the girl on her own. She wasn’t going to talk freely while he was around. Tim wouldn’t leave until he had done as much as he could.
The man took another few seconds but he did step back. Just far enough so that Tim could move into the hallway. He glared at Tim and Tim glared right back. Vince stepped in behind him. Grace slipped further back into the shadows of the hallway.
All the internal doors hung open. Tim could see the living room off to the right side. The kitchen was straight on.
‘How about you come with me into the living room there?’ Vince spoke to the man who was now stood awkwardly in the hallway.
The man snatched his glare from Tim to Vince. ‘You fancy yourself then, big man?’
‘Sorry, fancy myself at what?’ Vince’s voice was faux cheery — his goading voice. Tim had heard it enough times.
‘You reckon you can take me, is that it?’
Vince still had his arms crossed. ‘Well, sure. But I was just gonna take down your name. It’s up to you what we do after that.’
The man sneered back. ‘You’d need a lot more of you to take me down.’
‘You’re starting to bore me now, mate. How about we stop all this posturing bollocks so we can get this done, yeah? This doesn’t need to take long.’
‘I’ll speak with Grace here in the kitchen.’ Tim said. Vince nodded at him then gave a thumbs-up gesture confirming he was going to be okay.
‘Nah,’ said the man. ‘I don’t want to be split up from my missus. I don’t trust you lot.’
‘Worried what she’ll say?’ Tim s
napped.
‘I got no worries, mate. Nothing happened here but some telly and a bit o’ dinner. Ain’t that right, love?’
Grace kept her head bent. Her head jerked towards his voice but she didn’t raise her eyes.
‘Let’s just get this fucking done!’ He stepped across the hall and pushed past Tim on his way into the living room.
‘Shout if you need me.’ Tim said.
Vince rolled his eyes. ‘Hopefully he kicks off!’ he whispered.
The kitchen was typical of a new-build property: square, with a modern fitted kitchen and high stools under a raised island. The house was detached but still sat close to its neighbour. Tim could see out into the garden. It was small and surrounded by high fencing and punctured by white lights that looked to be dug into the ground. The kitchen overall was poorly lit; the garden was noticeably brighter. Soft downlighters under the units were the only light source inside. Grace’s head still hung. She had long, dark hair that fell forward over half her face, enough to cover all of it in shadow. Tim could see from her outline that she had a tiny frame. She was backed into the sink.
‘How long have you lived here then, Grace?’
‘A year.’
‘Okay. So you must have been the first in?’ Tim referenced the estate the house was part of. Houses were still being finished around it. They were in the village of Hawkinge, which was on the outskirts of Langthorne.
‘Yeah.’
Tim took out his notebook. ‘And I assume that is Craig in there, is it? We got some information on the way up.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And he’s your partner?’
‘Boyfriend, yeah.’
‘How long have you guys been together?’
‘A while. Look, I’m fine, okay?’
‘This won’t take long. Do you mind if I just . . .’ Tim flicked the main light switch on the wall right next to him and the room was instantly a harsh white. Grace jerked her head up to the source. Her hair shifted. Tim could see the redness around her eyes that stood out from her pale skin. She had been crying. No doubt.
‘What happened, Grace?’
Grace finally met his eyes. She looked terrified. ‘Nothing. We had dinner and watched some telly. Then you turned up.’ Tim closed his pocket book to put it away. His experience taught him that it could be a barrier.
‘I know what he said. And maybe you think that you have to stick to his story — that you can’t tell me what happened. But you can. We can help you out, Grace, but we can’t do it until you help us a little bit. You need to tell me what happened.’
‘I told you what happened.’
Tim sighed. He took the time to look round the kitchen. It was immaculate. He realised that everywhere he had seen in the house so far had been too. ‘Who made dinner?’
‘I did.’
‘What did you have?’
Grace hesitated. ‘Lasagne.’
‘Leftovers?’
‘Some. In the fridge. You hungry?’
Tim smiled. ‘Show me.’
The fridge was to Grace’s left. She turned to it, shuffling her position so she could open the door with her right hand. It looked cumbersome; it would have been easier if she had led with her left. She pulled the door and stepped away, her left arm hanging awkwardly across her stomach.
‘There. You happy?’
‘Did you hurt your arm, Grace?’ Tim said. He wasn’t interested in the fridge’s contents anymore.
‘No.’
‘Show me. Can you pull your sleeve up so I—’
‘No! I don’t need to be pulling my sleeve up or doing anything else. I’ve answered your questions. I’ve told you what happened!’
Tim held his palms out to let her know he was stepping down. ‘Okay, okay. So you had dinner, then you cleaned every trace of it up. That’s possible. So what made you cry?’
Grace’s head fell forward again. Her hair fell over her face.
‘We were watching something sad.’
‘What was it?’
‘The telly!’ she snapped. It was anger of a different sort: one part irritation, two parts fear.
Tim also recognised the signs of someone who was lying to him. It wasn’t difficult to spot. But knowing didn’t help much, not in this situation. She wasn’t making any accusations. There was no sign of disturbance and nothing other than watery eyes to give a clue that anything had happened at all. But Tim had been to enough violent domestic incidents to know how she might be a victim: the spotless house; the aggressive partner coaching her, reminding her of the story she needed to give while stood in front of them; the meek and terrified younger victim. He might have got her to the point where her biggest fear was the police, the very people sent to protect her. That’s how far abusers could get inside someone’s head. If Tim raised his voice she would burst into tears. He was sure to be soft with his tone for one last try.
‘We’re here now, Grace. Me and my mate in there. You say the word and we will take Craig down the station. You get some breathing space and you can tell us what happened. We will charge him and we will prosecute him. We can keep you safe. We can put conditions to keep him away, maybe even remand him in—’
‘NO!’ Tim saw a flash of strength. It was gone just as quick. She took a moment before she continued. ‘We had dinner. Then we watched telly. I’m sorry you got called out to here and wasted your time. Maybe it was one of the other houses.’
Tim nodded. ‘Maybe it was.’ He expelled a long breath and took a moment to consider. ‘Look, Grace. We’ve got a CID team. They work in plain clothes. A skipper I know has been doing some work with women . . . like you. She’s making a real difference. She can meet you. Away from the home, somewhere safe. It’s off the books. An informal conversation about how we can keep you safe. That’s it. Would you consider it?’
‘Maddie. Maddie Ives, right?’ Grace muttered. She was back trying to hide behind her hair.
‘That’s right. Have you met her?’
‘A couple of times.’
‘Okay. So you know how it all works and you know she can be trusted. Did you see her recently?’
‘A while ago. A few months maybe.’
‘Would you see her again? If you felt like you needed to?’
‘I told her I would get in touch if I needed to.’
‘Right . . . So, will you be seeing her again? After what happened tonight?’
‘I told you, nothing happened tonight.’
‘Okay, Grace. As long as you know where you can go for help.’ He longed to say what he was thinking — Only I’d hate to see you turn up as the next statistic. Domestic violence can really get out of hand. I reckon you might know that. Victims can end up seriously hurt — or worse. Don’t be that person, Grace. But he knew it could just end up frightening her off. ‘Please . . . speak with Maddie again at least.’
‘I said I would. If I needed to.’
‘I guess that will have to do.’ He chanced a smile. His eyes ran back over her fragile frame. Her arms were wrapped across her front as if she was consoling herself. She was fooling no one. He walked into the hall and took a left into the living room. Again it was tidy. The only thing even remotely out of place was a thin duvet that was folded up on the arm of a single seat sofa. Craig was sitting down on a longer sofa against the same wall, facing the window with the angled blinds. He was leaning right back, doing his best impression of boredom. His head snapped up when Tim walked in.
‘You fucking off then, boys?’ Craig’s whole face was a grin. This was the hardest bit. Tim knew they were leaving. And when they did, he knew that Grace would be in the gravest danger yet. Behind that grin, Tim could see the menace. They had only served to wind him up.
‘We get reports of even the slightest noise from this address, Craig, and we will be back to start making arrests. You understand? Don’t give us an excuse.’
Craig practically sprung to his feet. He stepped forward, his right hand fell to his crotch and he grabbed it firm
ly. Tim was aware of Vince tensing up next to him. Craig stepped in closer. Tim stood his ground. Craig’s face was just a few inches from his.
‘I make a lot of noise when I shag, though . . . officer. You know what I mean? And it’s been a few hours now. I like to be nice and regular. Grace here knows how to do it, too. I’ll get her to show me later, but she does like it rough!’ He stepped back with his eyes bulging wide. His arms fell to his sides and swung in a sort of swagger. He licked his lips. His grin was still there — more of a sneer.
‘There’s a line, Craig. When rough is too rough. I’ll be seeing you again soon.’
‘No, you fucking won’t, mate!’
They stepped back out onto the pavement. Tim hadn’t seen Grace again. The front door was closed firmly behind them.
‘What a cock!’ Vince spoke first.
‘He was at that.’
‘I was trying to find something, anything. When I ran him through I was praying that he was wanted for something. No such luck.’
‘Is he known for anything?’
‘Yeah. Domestic assault, would you believe it! Not with her, though. He was nicked seven or eight times a few years back, once every couple of months at least — some serious. The last couple of years there’s been nothing.’
They were back at their car and Tim slid into the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition and lowered the window. The rain was lighter and it was turning to sleet. He could just see it against the porch light as he stared back over at the house.
‘He didn’t stop, though, did he?’
Vince had sat next to him. ‘No. Grace in there just doesn’t report him. The previous stuff was with two other women. The only time we’ve met her is when someone else has called it in.’
‘Like tonight.’ Tim said.
‘Just like tonight,’ Vince agreed.
Tim turned to face the front; it was time to leave. He turned the blue lights on to flicker in the quickly darkening night. He liked to make a show of wife-beaters, especially when he couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing made neighbours’ curtains twitch like a flashing blue light and maybe they would get the message that there was a woman in there who might need their help — even if she was refusing it now.
HE WILL KILL YOU an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist Page 3
