Leigh Russell, page 1
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CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR LEIGH RUSSELL
‘A million readers can’t be wrong! Clear some time in your day, sit back and enjoy a bloody good read’ Howard Linskey
‘Taut and compelling’ Peter James
‘Leigh Russell is one to watch’ Lee Child
‘Leigh Russell has become one of the most impressively dependable purveyors of the English police procedural’ Times
‘DI Geraldine Steel is one of the most authoritative female coppers in a crowded field’ Financial Times
‘A brilliant talent in the thriller field’ Jeffery Deaver
‘Brilliant and chilling, Leigh Russell delivers a cracker of a read!’ Martina Cole
‘A great plot that keeps you guessing right until the very end, some subtle subplots, brilliant characters both old and new and as ever a completely gripping read’ Life of Crime
‘The latest police procedural from prolific novelist Leigh Russell is as good and gripping as anything she has published’ Times & Sunday Times Crime Club
‘A fascinating gripping read. The many twists kept me on my toes and second-guessing myself’ Over The Rainbow Book Blog
‘Well paced with marvellously well-rounded characters and a clever plot that make this another thriller of a read from Leigh Russell’ Orlando Books
‘A well-written, fast-paced and very enjoyable thriller’ The Book Lovers Boudoir
‘An edge-of-your-seat thriller that will keep you guessing’ Honest Mam Reader
‘Well paced, has red herrings and twists galore, keeps your attention and sucks you right into its pages’ Books by Bindu
‘5 stars! Another super addition to one of my favourite series, which remains as engrossing and fresh as ever!’ The Word is Out
‘A nerve-twisting tour de force that will leave readers on the edge of their seats, Leigh Russell’s latest Detective Geraldine Steel thriller is a terrifying page-turner by this superb crime writer’ Bookish Jottings
‘An absolute delight’ The Literary Shed
‘I simply couldn’t put it down’ Shell Baker, Chelle’s Book Reviews
‘If you love a good action-packed crime novel, full of complex characters and unexpected twists, this is one for you’ Rachel Emms, Chillers, Killers and Thrillers
‘All the things a mystery should be: intriguing, enthralling, tense and utterly absorbing’ Best Crime Books
‘A series that can rival other major crime writers out there…’ Best Books to Read
‘Sharp, intelligent and well plotted’ Crime Fiction Lover
‘Another corker of a book from Leigh Russell… Russell’s talent for writing top-quality crime fiction just keeps on growing’ Euro Crime
‘A definite must read for crime thriller fans everywhere’ Newbooks Magazine
‘Russell’s strength as a writer is her ability to portray believable characters’ Crime Squad
‘A well-written, well-plotted crime novel with fantastic pace and lots of intrigue’ Bookersatz
‘An encounter that will take readers into the darkest recesses of the human psyche’ Crime Time
‘Well written and chock full of surprises, this hard-hitting, edge-of-the-seat instalment is yet another treat… Geraldine Steel looks set to become a household name. Highly recommended’ Euro Crime
‘Good, old-fashioned, heart-hammering police thriller… a no-frills delivery of pure excitement’ SAGA Magazine
‘A gritty and totally addictive novel’ New York Journal of Books
To Michael, Joanna, Phillipa, Phil, Rian and Kezia.
With my love.
Glossary of Acronyms
DCI – Detective Chief Inspector (senior officer on case)
DI – Detective Inspector
DS – Detective Sergeant
SOCO – scene of crime officer (collects forensic evidence at scene)
PM – Post Mortem or Autopsy (examination of dead body to establish cause of death)
CCTV – Closed Circuit Television (security cameras)
VIIDO – Visual Images, Identification and Detections Office
MIT – Murder Investigation Team
1
Time seemed to crawl by as he stared at the intruder. He could only have stayed silent for a few seconds, but it felt like hours.
‘No, no,’ he croaked. His throat felt as though it was closing up. He tried again, forcing the words out in breathless bursts. ‘Why are you doing this? Who are you?’ His words rose in a shrill crescendo and he broke off, struggling to control his shaking.
‘You don’t need to know who I am.’ The voice was hoarse, impossible to identify.
All he could see of the face were dark eyes glittering at him through holes in a balaclava. The stuff of nightmares. The intruder lifted one arm and a faint light from the window shone on the barrel of a gun.
‘Get out of my house!’ he yelled suddenly, terror finally loosening his tongue. ‘Get out! Get out!’
Muffled by the disguise, the intruder’s laughter sounded barely human. ‘That’s not how this works. You do what I say or—’ There was a loud click and the gun jerked in a leather-clad hand.
‘What do you want?’ he gasped.
He took an involuntary step backwards, as though a few inches distance would shield him from a bullet threatening to rip through his flesh. Desperately he glanced around for his phone, but it wasn’t beside the bed.
His initial burst of adrenaline gave way before a visceral fear that gripped him, making it difficult to move or utter a word. He struggled to control his thoughts. He knew he ought to be observing the intruder, memorising details to tell the police, but he couldn’t focus. In any case, it was impossible to see anything under the shapeless jacket, balaclava and gloves, which concealed every inch of skin.
‘What do you want?’ he repeated. The words sounded unreal, but he ploughed on. ‘I’m rich.’ Sensing a way out of danger, he became garrulous in his relief. ‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? If it’s money you’re after, you’ve come to the right place. Come to my study and I’ll open the safe. You can have everything. Only please don’t hurt me,’ he added, almost breaking down as the intruder stirred. ‘You can have all my money, my wife’s diamonds, passports. They can all be yours if you don’t hurt me. Is it a deal?’
He was in no position to bargain, but he had to try. Dimly aware of the alarm wailing outside, he knew if he kept his nerve this harrowing situation could be over quite soon. Somewhere in the room his phone rang. The burglar alarm monitoring service was following up the alarm signal. When he didn’t pick up, they would alert the police.
‘Go to the garage.’
‘What? There’s nothing there. Only my car. The money’s in my—’
‘Stop talking and move!’
Unable to buy his way out of danger, he had no choice but to obey. With the barrel of a gun repeatedly prodding the back of his neck, he stumbled down the stairs and through the door that took them from the kitchen to the garage. Climbing into the driving seat, he picked up the remote control he kept in his car. Conscious of the masked figure sitting behind him, as if in a dream, he watched the electric door slide upwards.
‘Drive or I shoot,’ the voice rasped. ‘Go! Now!’
As he reached the end of the road, he heard a siren in the distance. If the police were responding to his alarm call, they were too late. He didn’t dare brake but continued driving down towards the river, the gun pointing at the back of his head. If only he hadn’t insisted on tinted windows, someone might have noticed the masked face of his captor, directing him from the back seat. But the intruder and the gun were shielded from the outside world. Late-night carousers staggered along the pavements in a blur, oblivious to the drama speeding past them. On the crowded streets of the city, he was facing death alone. He wondered whether to crash the car deliberately, but was afraid any sudden impact might cause the gun to go off. His adversary might be injured or even killed in an accident, but he himself would almost certainly die. One tremor of a stranger’s finger on a trigger was all it would take. So he drove on, doing exactly as he was told, while his senses seemed unnaturally alert, watching and waiting for an opportunity to escape.
They reached the river at just after two o’clock. There was no one else around as they pulled up in a secluded spot.
‘Open your door and get out,’ the passenger rasped. ‘We don’t want to make a mess in your expensive car.’
He held his breath, clinging to the steering wheel as though that could save him. ‘What if I refuse?’ he asked.
‘It’s your car.’
The barrel of the gun jabbed him suddenly in the back of his neck, and he let out an involuntary whimper. Trembling, he opened the door and stepped out of the car. Raw night air whipped at his face, and he realised he was sweating. He stared at moonlight rippling on the water, and wondered whether it was the last sight he would ever see. It struck him that he had never taken the time to appreciate just how beautiful the river was, flowing darkly under a night sky pierced by brilliant points of light. The moon hung ahead of him, a softly glowing crescent. For a fleeting instant he found it strangely comforting. He was alive in a beautiful world. As tho
‘What do you want?’ he asked. ‘You can have anything. But don’t hurt me, please.’
‘Silence!’ The voice was no longer disguised, and with a thrill of fear he understood.
2
After her initial rush of excitement at the prospect of returning to work, Geraldine was seized by a spasm of guilt over leaving her six-month-old baby. Geraldine knew Tom so well, it was a wrench to hand him over to a childminder, and she almost changed her mind at the last minute. But Zoe, golden-haired and freckled, was relaxed and efficient and relentlessly patient. She seemed suitable, and had turned up at exactly the right time with impressive testimonials. Not only was Zoe happy to look after Tom, she was available at short notice just when Geraldine needed her. Ian questioned whether Tom might be better off in a situation where he learned to socialise with other infants, but Geraldine thought Tom would benefit from Zoe’s undivided attention, and they both liked the fact that she had no car. So everything was arranged.
The day before Geraldine was due to return to work, she left Tom with Zoe for the afternoon, so he could get used to her. He seemed quite content with the arrangement, and when she picked him up, Zoe assured her he had been fine. But now that it was almost time to leave him for a whole day, Geraldine felt uneasy.
Ian dismissed her apprehension with a sympathetic smile.
‘It’s only natural to feel nervous about it,’ he said kindly. ‘But you’re not doing anything wrong. Most mothers leave their children and go back to work.’
Geraldine nodded uncertainly. ‘I know. It’s nothing against Zoe personally. I’m just feeling anxious all of a sudden. And guilty,’ she admitted.
‘Well, there’s absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. Do you want a hug?’ he asked.
A hug was Ian’s answer to most of her wobbles and, as usual, the reassuring warmth of his arms around her really helped. Rationally, she knew she was right to return to a job at which she excelled. As a detective, her skills had been honed over many years dedicated to investigating serious crimes. Tom would be better off with a woman experienced in child care. Most mothers leave their children, she repeated to herself as she drew up outside Zoe’s neat little house. It was ridiculous to worry about him. And she would still be home to put him to bed. Holding him close, she peeled him away from his car seat, and hid her reluctance when she handed him over. Zoe put him down and handed him a soft toy that jingled when shaken. Dismissing her misgivings as natural, Geraldine turned to leave, but Tom seemed to sense what was happening and let out a wail of protest. Even though Geraldine had left him with the childminder before, there was a finality about her departure this time, an abandonment of their shared life.
‘Don’t worry. He’s going to be fine,’ Zoe assured her, ushering Geraldine out of the front door on to the chilly November street. ‘As soon as he can’t see you, he’ll stop crying.’ She was right. The crying had stopped and there was a faint sound of jingling coming from the house.
Uncertain whether she should feel relieved at Tom’s easy acceptance of her departure, Geraldine forced herself to drive away, wondering whether she had done the right thing. Ian had encouraged her to stay at home for another six months, which she could easily have done. She had been desperate to return to work, but now that the moment had arrived, she couldn’t remember why she had been so impatient to give up being a full-time mother. She almost turned the car around to go back and reclaim Tom. She would admit she had made a stupid mistake, and she wasn’t ready to go back to work yet. Tom was her baby and he should be with her, not with some stranger who was only caring for him because she was being paid. This painful parting was unnecessary. She didn’t have to do it. But she didn’t turn around.
Her reservations vanished as soon as she entered the police station. She had done her best to adapt to living at home with a baby, but there was no denying the police station felt like home to her. The tension in her neck and shoulders seemed to ease as she crossed the entrance hall. Admittedly her job could be stressful, but she relished the familiar challenges of her work. The unpredictable demands of a baby were a different matter entirely, with Tom’s needs a seemingly interminable reminder of her inexperience as a mother.
‘If only you could tell me what you want,’ she had murmured to him in the middle of the previous night, when he had woken up screaming for no apparent reason. After about fifteen minutes he had abruptly gone back to sleep, leaving her frustrated and exhausted. Her sister, Celia, who had two children, assured her Tom was just teething, or suffering from harmless colic, but Geraldine had no way of knowing if that was true. Skills acquired over years spent interrogating hardened criminals didn’t help her when she was investigating why her six-month-old baby was crying.
The desk sergeant glanced up from a file he was studying and smiled at her. ‘Hello again,’ he greeted her, before looking back at the document he was reading.
And just like that, with no fuss, she was back. There was a similar absence of fanfare when she walked into the serious crime workspace where most of her colleagues were too preoccupied to give her more than a cursory nod and smile of welcome before returning to their tasks. What felt like a momentous change to Geraldine was unremarkable to everyone else. Only her friends, black-haired Ariadne and blonde Naomi, jumped up from their desks and hurried over to greet her.
‘I’m so glad you’re back,’ Naomi said, her pretty face creased in a welcoming grin.
‘We missed you,’ Ariadne added, beaming.
Geraldine smiled back at her two colleagues. An experienced officer, Ariadne Moralis took after her Greek mother, with hair and eyes as dark as Geraldine’s. Like Geraldine, she was in her early forties, while Naomi Arnold, not long ago promoted to detective sergeant, was barely out of her twenties. While they could not have been more different in appearance, both were intelligent and hardworking, and Geraldine considered herself fortunate to have such dedicated colleagues working alongside her in murder investigations. They made a good team.
‘It’s great to be back,’ she said.
‘We’re not on a case right now,’ Ariadne told her, ‘but there’s always the usual catching up to do.’
‘Plenty of paperwork to keep us busy,’ Naomi added.
Ariadne mimed a yawn and Naomi smiled.
Geraldine spent the morning getting to grips with the changes that had been introduced while she was away. There were the usual alterations to acronyms, and so-called improvements had been made to the systems she needed to use. It took time to update her passwords and note the changes, all of which was dull work, but she didn’t mind. Hopefully they would be able to enjoy a relatively relaxed period in the run up to Christmas. She was having disturbed nights now Tom had started teething – or suffering from colic – and she didn’t want any additional stress in her life, if she could avoid it. Ian was excited about Tom’s first Christmas although, at little more than six months old, he wouldn’t know anything about it. Geraldine was more concerned about what to give the childminder, and whether she ought to buy a present for Zoe’s daughter who would be home from university soon. At lunchtime she phoned Zoe who reassured her that Tom was fine and reiterated a promise to call if there were any problems. Geraldine wasn’t far away.
The nights were drawing in. While there were disadvantages to investigating murders in warmer weather, particularly when a body had been left exposed to the elements for more than a few days, nevertheless shorter days made investigations more challenging, especially in bad weather.
‘Hopefully everyone is too focused on Christmas to be thinking of killing anyone just now,’ Geraldine smiled.
‘I don’t know about that,’ Naomi replied sourly. ‘If you ask me, family gatherings are where vicious quarrels are most likely to break out. Throw in excessive drinking, and it’s a tinder box waiting to ignite. Who wants to spend a whole day with their family? Surely that’s exactly where most murders are plotted.’
