Where Secrets Lie

by D. S. Butler

  ‘She’s fine. It’s not bad news. In fact, I think it’s good news. Mike met a chap through work last week and brought him around for dinner. He’s just started work at the University of Lincoln, and he’s lovely. I think you’ll like him.’

  Karen shivered. She knew where this was going. ‘I’m going to stop you there. I’m not going on a date with someone Mike has just met, no matter how lovely he is.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Karen. You’d like him. Besides, you can’t live like a hermit for the rest of your life.’

  ‘Why not?’ Karen asked, shoving a hand in her pocket to locate her car keys. ‘I quite like living like a hermit.’

  ‘I could send you his picture. You could take a look at his Facebook profile.’

  Karen groaned. ‘For goodness’ sake. Now I feel like I’m back in 1990 and you’re trying to fix me up with the brother of that boy who used to work at the petrol station.’

  Emma laughed. ‘I’d forgotten about that.’

  ‘You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. It was awful. And this will be awful, too.’

  ‘No, it won’t. It’s different now, and I promise he doesn’t have braces and acne.’

  Karen used the key fob to unlock her car. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘All right, no pressure. Just promise me you’ll think about it.’

  Karen shook her head. Emma was nothing if not persistent. ‘Fine,’ she said, sliding into the driver’s seat, ‘I’ll think about it.’

  She had no intention of thinking about it. She’d already made up her mind, but she needed to get Emma off the phone.

  After she hung up, Karen gave DI Morgan a quick call to tell him that Rick was going home and they’d had no joy with Albert Johnson but would try again tomorrow.

  ‘Are you at home now?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, surrounded by boxes. Remind me why I thought it was a good idea to move?’

  ‘Oh, I’d forgotten about the move. Have you had any news?’

  ‘Yes, I should complete tomorrow.’

  Wow, Karen thought. The sale had certainly moved fast. DI Morgan had mentioned he liked Heighington when they were investigating the disappearance of two young girls from the local primary school a few months ago, but she hadn’t expected him to buy a house there. It was a pretty village with a couple of pubs and a good bus service. The drawback was, it was on the opposite side of Lincoln to the police headquarters. It wasn’t far from where Karen lived herself, in Branston. Still, when the new bypass was built, it might make the journey easier.

  ‘That’s it, then,’ Karen said. ‘No going back now. You’ll be a proper yellowbelly. You’ve put down roots.’

  ‘Looks like it,’ DI Morgan said.

  ‘No regrets?’

  ‘Not yet. Ask me again after I’ve met the neighbours.’

  Karen couldn’t help laughing. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Rick was back home by half past eight. It felt a little strange to be going home knowing that someone outside the family would be there. He was used to his sister taking care of their mum during the day, but this was different. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d got to know Priya and he liked her, but it still felt odd to have someone in his house. Priya had grown up in the UAE, but she’d lived in England for the past ten years. Rick had been so relieved when his mother had warmed to her.

  On the drive home he’d tried to put morbid thoughts of the future out of his mind. Spending so much time at the hospital today had been a harsh reminder of the inevitable. After the hours spent watching over Albert Johnson, he felt like going to the pub and having a few drinks instead of coming home to look after his mother. The temptation to shake off his responsibilities for a few hours was powerful, but he pushed the thought away immediately. That was selfish.

  He found them in the living room. His mother was in her favourite armchair with the small folding table set up in front of her. Priya sat on the floor with her legs tucked beneath her. They were playing a game of cards.

  He said hello to Priya and then kissed his mother on the cheek. ‘Sorry I’m late. I’ve been waiting around at the hospital all day.’

  ‘Oh, I hope it wasn’t anything serious,’ Priya said with concern.

  ‘I was waiting to question a suspect, but he didn’t wake up. How have you two been getting on?’

  ‘We’ve been playing gin rummy,’ his mother said with a smile. ‘I think Priya’s been letting me win.’

  Priya shook her head, her dark hair swinging around her face. ‘I haven’t! You’re a bit of a card shark I think, Mrs Cooper.’

  His mother chuckled.

  After his mother’s minor surgery, Priya had helped out with her overnight care, but because Rick had been home every night, and his sister was there every day, he hadn’t worried at all. Today he’d been uneasy, scared something would go wrong. It seemed his nerves had been unfounded. His mother was perfectly happy in Priya’s company. He had to admit it was nice having some help, and it took the pressure off him and his sister.

  ‘I can take over now, Priya. Why don’t you get off home?’ Rick said, shrugging off his jacket.

  ‘You must be joking,’ Priya said with a grin. ‘I need to win a game to get my money back.’

  Rick raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re playing for money?’

  Priya looked down at the pile of copper coins by his mother’s slippers, and Rick smiled.

  ‘All right, I’ll put the kettle on and you can deal me in.’

  The following morning, Sophie woke with a crushing headache. The fact it was self-inflicted made it worse. The sunlight sliced into her bedroom through a gap in the curtains and felt like a razor blade stabbing at her eyes. She tried, unsuccessfully, to drag the curtain closed with her foot. But it was too much effort. She pushed the duvet back and struggled to sit up. The room spun.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this bad after a night out. They’d polished off two bottles of wine over the tapas and then decided it was a good idea to head out for cocktails. Angela was probably used to drinking quite a lot, in her line of work, but Sophie certainly wasn’t.

  She shakily got to her feet, leaning hard on the desk beside her bed. Her bedroom was the same one she’d had since she was a girl. She’d removed some of the childish posters from the wall and replaced them with grown-up artwork, but there was no disguising the fact it was still a kid’s bedroom in her parents’ house. She only had a single bed – that’s all there was room for with the large wardrobe and the shelves crammed with books on police procedure and forensics.

  Sophie was a bookworm and enjoyed a challenge, but as she looked around her small bedroom and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes, she couldn’t help wondering if the job was worth all the effort she put in. Even if she wanted to do this job for the rest of her career, she didn’t know if she was any good at it. Both DI Morgan and DS Hart had been annoyed with her yesterday, and she’d deserved it.

  Her comment about Oliver Fox being dead for thirty years and not needing them to rush had been callous and uncalled for. Maybe she really wasn’t cut out for the job.

  She’d tried so hard, but perhaps this was one career where book learning and studying weren’t the be all and end all.

  She could hear her parents moving about downstairs and was glad she didn’t have to wait for the bathroom this morning.

  She thought of Angela in her serviced apartments and the fact her friend would soon have her own place in Washingborough. That stung. Sophie had daydreamed about renovating that house. She’d pictured herself reading a book in the seat beneath the bay window in the living room.

  She shouldn’t dwell on it. It wouldn’t help. It was only making her feel more depressed.

  In the bathroom, she winced at her pale cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes. She put some toothpaste on her toothbrush and tried not to gag as she brushed her teeth, promising herself she wouldn’t drink margaritas ever again.

  When she was showered, dressed and on th
e way out, her dad called her into the kitchen.

  ‘Are you all right, sweetheart? You don’t look very well,’ he said, his face a mask of concern.

  She felt guilty then. She was hungover. She didn’t deserve any sympathy.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I just shouldn’t drink during the week. See you later.’

  She went outside, blinking at the bright spring sunshine, hoping she’d have a better day than yesterday.

  It couldn’t get much worse.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  By eight thirty, all members of the team were back at work. Karen, DI Morgan and Sophie were at their desks at Nettleham headquarters, while Rick had resumed his watch over Albert Johnson at the hospital.

  Karen was nursing her second cup of coffee of the day when she heard a groan from Sophie.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, looking up from a pile of reports.

  ‘I’ve just been sent some notes about the original investigation. They were made by DI Goodfield, the investigating officer.’

  Karen got up and walked to Sophie’s desk so she could see the notes on the screen.

  ‘Sarah, the woman who gave me the files yesterday, discovered them this morning. For some reason they weren’t with the other files I collected from Skellingthorpe. She scanned in the notes to save me another trip.’

  ‘That was good of her.’

  Sophie rested her forearms on the desk and used the mouse to scroll through the folder of scanned images. ‘There’s quite a lot of them. It’ll take me a while to get through everything.’

  ‘Do your best to get through as much as possible. I’d like to fit in a visit to DI Goodfield today.’

  Sophie double-clicked on one of the images, enlarging it, and let out a low whistle.

  Karen leaned closer to the screen, narrowing her eyes. ‘That handwriting is going to take some skill to decipher.’

  Sophie sighed. ‘I thought they used typewriters back in 1988.’

  Karen grinned. Sophie was part of the generation where everything was done on a computer. It surprised the younger woman to find that some people preferred handwritten notes. Official reports at the time would have had to be typed. But they might be able to dig out some interesting information from these handwritten notes. Perhaps something that hadn’t made it into the report because it wasn’t thought to be important at the time.

  ‘You can send me some of the notes, if you like,’ Karen said, then drained the last of her coffee and glanced at her watch. They’d been told Detective Superintendent Fox would be arriving soon, and she wasn’t looking forward to dealing with him. She sensed he wouldn’t be able to resist trying to pull rank despite being retired. Somehow, they had to make him feel like he was being kept in the loop, but not actually tell him anything about the investigation. That wasn’t going to be easy.

  Just then, DI Morgan strode out of his office and gave a smile that looked more like a grimace. ‘Karen, DSI Fox is waiting for us in reception.’

  Karen put her mug on the desk and followed him out of the office. He sounded about as enthusiastic as she felt.

  Detective Superintendent Fox was sitting in reception, flicking through a magazine on home security. His dark hair was neatly combed, and he wore an expensive-looking navy-blue suit and dark-blue tie.

  ‘Good morning, sir,’ DI Morgan said, holding out a hand.

  Robert Fox stood up, shook DI Morgan’s hand and smiled. He seemed less strained today. Perhaps they’d seen the worst side of him yesterday, which was hardly surprising. He’d been waiting for the news for thirty years, but being told his brother’s body had been found must have come as a shock.

  ‘I apologise for taking up some of your time this morning. I know you’re busy,’ he said, looking at DI Morgan and then Karen. ‘I know what it’s like to have to pander to a senior officer. You must think I’m an old fuddy-duddy, who should be at home with his slippers and pipe.’

  Karen smiled, feeling awkward. ‘Not at all, sir.’

  ‘Superintendent Murray thought you might like a quick tour of the station and then perhaps to look around the laboratories to see the work we’re doing on this case,’ DI Morgan said.

  Robert Fox smiled graciously. ‘I would like that very much.’

  DI Morgan swiped his pass card and held the door open for the ex-superintendent. Karen followed them into the corridor, looking at the broad back of DI Morgan next to the narrow shoulders of Robert Fox.

  Was he going to give them a hard time on this case, or did he simply want to be involved? She could understand his need to find answers. Karen had been desperate for information after the road accident that killed Josh and Tilly.

  She should have been able to accept that their deaths were simply the result of Josh’s late braking and distracted driving. After all, she’d spent months compiling evidence, picking up on every little hint the officers working in traffic would give her. There was a vague mention of another set of tyre marks on the road, so Karen had immediately leapt to the conclusion that another car had to be involved. But the accident report determined the other tyre marks had been old and not relevant to the accident.

  Karen hadn’t accepted the verdict easily, and she’d spoken to everyone involved in the investigation. They must have seen her the same way she was viewing Robert Fox now – as a nuisance. It wasn’t that they hadn’t been sympathetic; she had seen the pity in their eyes. They’d felt sorry for her, but she was a thorn in their side. They were doing their job, and she was getting in the way.

  It had fallen to DI Freeman, who was good friends with the head of traffic at the time, to try to make Karen see sense. She hadn’t. At least not then. Instead, she’d just stopped talking to people about it. She kept all the reports she could get her hands on in a blue folder at home and pored over them every night. She’d just kept it secret.

  It was only a few months ago that she’d finally felt ready to move on and had burned the folder. She had to admit it felt like a weight had been lifted.

  For five years, she’d been consumed by theories about what must have happened that day. It was better now, though. At least she was dealing with it. Occasionally, her mind wandered back and she found herself wondering whether Tilly had been upset, distracting Josh . . . Maybe he’d turned, looked away from the road, or maybe he’d mistakenly pressed the accelerator rather than the brake . . .

  She’d slowly come to accept that she would never find out the truth. She would never know what had caused the accident, only that it had happened and it had ruined her life. Now she needed to let go.

  But Oliver Fox’s family hadn’t had the option of putting it behind them until now. They’d lived for thirty years without answers, and Karen couldn’t even imagine what that was like.

  DI Morgan slowed as they approached the laboratories. ‘This is one of the labs where we examine evidence. Post-mortems are carried out at Lincoln County Hospital. But most of the other evidence is examined here. If Harinder is about, he’ll be able to explain how we got the details from the driver’s licence.’

  ‘I was wondering about that last night,’ Robert Fox said. ‘It must have been in a terrible state after thirty years.’

  DI Morgan gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  He led the way into the lab, and Karen stepped in after them. There was a faint smell of disinfectant in the air, and as usual Karen found the lights made the lab sterile and too bright. She wouldn’t like to work there all the time.

  Harinder was sitting in front of one of the many computers that lined the right-hand side of the lab.

  He turned to smile at them. ‘Morning.’

  ‘Good morning, Harinder,’ DI Morgan said. ‘I’d like you to meet retired Detective Superintendent Robert Fox. He’s Oliver Fox’s brother.’

  The smile slid from Harinder’s face. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss, sir,’ he said stiffly.

  He wasn’t used to dealing with members of the public, especially not the victims of crime
s. He was more comfortable behind a computer screen, working his magic there.

  ‘Harinder ran the program to sharpen and extract the text. It’s thanks to him we got Oliver’s name and address from the licence.’

  ‘Thank you very much for your hard work. I’m grateful you’re working so hard on this case. I have to admit I was worried that after thirty years the evidence would only be given a cursory glance before being stuffed at the back of a storage room.’

  ‘We intend to find out what happened to Oliver, sir. You have my word on that,’ DI Morgan said.

  Robert Fox’s eyes were glassy with tears. Karen wished she could offer some words of comfort, but she came up blank. She felt guilty for viewing the man as a problem rather than a distraught family member. Detective superintendent or not, the victim was his brother.

  ‘I could show you the image of the original driver’s licence and then the final version, where we were able to see the text, if you like?’ Harinder volunteered.

  Robert Fox blinked away his tears and then said, ‘Oh, yes, I’d love to see that.’

  As Harinder scrolled through the files on the computer, enlarging images, the older man said, ‘Oh, that is impressive. We didn’t have anything like this in my day. Computers really are marvellous, aren’t they?’

  Karen was thankful for Harinder’s help. They only needed to spend a few more minutes with the former DSI and then they would be able to get on with the job of finding out what had happened to Oliver Fox.

  As they left the lab, Detective Superintendent Fox turned to them. ‘I know you must resent me for this. I’ve used my sway with the assistant commissioner, and I’m not proud of it. It’s something I never imagined myself doing, but maybe you can understand if you imagine this was a member of your family.’

  Karen smiled at him. ‘I think we all would do everything in our power to get answers. It’s absolutely understandable.’

  He returned her smile. ‘I really do appreciate all the hard work you’re putting into this.’

  They took him back to the main office and introduced him to Sophie, who was going through the handwritten reports. He chuckled and made a joke about deciphering the handwriting.