No Safe Home: the gripping new crime thriller everybody is talking about

by Tara Lyons

  Living in Hertfordshire was like a holiday for her; it was quiet and unassuming, unquestioningly peaceful. Walking alone, she passed dark houses where families slept peacefully in their beds. The lamp posts lit her way along the well-groomed hedges and blossoming flowers. To start her life afresh, she’d only travelled twenty-five miles, but it felt like a different country. Katy walked onto her road, where her apartment block was just about visible at the end of the street, and smiled to herself, contentment radiating over her.

  The slow drag of footsteps from behind Katy forced her to spin around. Despite the black sky, she knew who stood in front of her. It was a heavy build she knew too well. He raised his hands and closed the gap between them. Bile rose in her throat as a single tear tumbled down her face.

  “Look, love, I just want to talk to you. Please don’t be afraid,” Brad said.

  He walked further towards her, out of the shadows. She was unable to ignore the scar trailing from the end of his eyebrow to the tip of his ear. The mental command to formulate any words ignored, Katy could only respond by shaking her head.

  “Please, listen,” he whined. “I’ve sorted myself out. You can come home, I need you and Frankie in my life.”

  Katy’s noiseless tears rolled freely. “How…how did you –”

  “How did I find you? Sweetheart, I’ve always known where you were.” They stood face to face, so close their breath mingled in the air. “Do you really think I’d ever let you leave me?”

  “But… it’s been… I left… How?” Katy stumbled back onto the waist-high wall of the house behind her. Her eyes urgently roamed the sleepy street.

  Brad took another step forward, his legs slipped in-between hers, and he stroked her face. “I put a tracking device on your mobile phone last year. When you turned it on I came straight here, but I could see you were still upset for doing this to me.” He pointed to the mutilation on his face, and smiled. “I thought I’d let you have this little holiday with Frankie, take some time to forgive yourself.”

  The wet stream of tears scorched her cheeks, and Katy’s fear turned to fury. She stood up straight, forcing her husband away from her.

  “I was protecting my son! I will never, ever regret what I did to you.”

  Brad gave a low whistle and nodded his head. “I see the feisty side of my wife is in control of that mouthpiece tonight. Turns me on when you get all gutsy.”

  “You animal, get lost! We stayed away from you because you’re a monster… a bully. I don’t deserve to be treated that way, to be scared in my own home, by my own husband.”

  “Oh please, woman,” he snapped. “You’d be nothing without me. I gave you a home, a job, a son, a reason to exist. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be snivelling your sorrows about your dead parents, sticking your nose in that white stuff.”

  Katy’s eyes widened. “How dare you? That happened once. Five bloody years ago,” she yelled, enraged more at herself for failing to find a safe haven for Frankie.

  From nowhere, another man stood by Brad. There was something oddly familiar about the stranger’s dark eyes.

  “Is everything okay here?” he asked, in a soft tone.

  Brad turned away from Katy and glared at the man. “Fuck off, mate. This doesn’t concern you.”

  Her husband drew back his shoulders and Katy, now confident they weren’t friends, caught the man’s gaze and silently pleaded for his help.

  Brad shoved the man’s chest. “You deaf or what? Keep moving.”

  Within seconds the two men were shouting obscenities and scuffling with each other. Katy didn’t wait to discover who had the upper hand, but instead sprinted off towards her home.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hamilton placed a white, polystyrene cup into the woman’s shaky hands. Her chestnut curls fell unbrushed around a face drained of colour, the only exception was the redness in her eyes. He overlooked the grief, the need to launch forward with the investigation compelling him.

  “Miss Bairden, I understand you’re probably very tired and want to get home, so we’ll do this as quickly as we can.”

  “It’s fine, I want to help. And you can call me Lynn.”

  “How did you know the victims, Emma Jones and her son, Kyle?”

  She sniffed, roughly wiping her nose with a well-used tissue and took a deep breath. “When I was a teenager I moved from Scotland to study at King’s College London University. Emma was so confident and vibrant, and I just felt like a country bumpkin. Being local, she gave me a tour of the city, and showed me all the good clubs and where to shop, and we’ve been friends ever since... Sixteen years…”

  The woman’s eyes glazed over, staring into Hamilton’s chest as though she was looking right through him and into the past. He noted the lack of control Lynn held over her own emotions but, tearful as she was, she continued her story.

  “I hadn’t seen Emma for just over four years. I never met Kyle. She sent me photos of him growing up and we spoke on the phone, but, well, I didn’t like her husband, Tony. They’d married just a few months after meeting each other and Emma changed. She was no longer the bright woman I’d met all those years before. Anyway, there was no love lost between Tony and I, and he apparently thought I encouraged too much socialising and partying. Soon enough, Emma was pregnant and she said we couldn’t see each other anymore.”

  “So, what prompted this visit, Lynn?” Hamilton asked.

  “We kept in touch, via email and text. I assumed she’d done it in secret and I never asked… I didn’t want the messages to stop again. Then, one day she called and told me she had finally left Tony. I could hear the happiness in her voice. There was a restraining order against him, Emma had a new apartment and Kyle was in nursery.” Lynn widened her eyes and gasped. “Oh, my God, it was him. That bastard killed them.”

  “Let’s just calm down for a minute,” Hamilton said. “This is the first we’ve heard of Miss Jones’s husband. Tell us everything you know about him, and Emma’s other relatives. I promise you we’ll investigate every angle of this case.”

  Hamilton and Clarke spent the next thirty minutes with Lynn, delving into everything she knew about Tony Jones. It was more progress than they had made with Scarlett Mitchell and her son, Noah; their stench of death still lingered in his nostrils, and was a stark reminder of his failure. Knowing the forensic results could take some time with those first victims, he was desperate to obtain as much information as possible; confident if he found a link between the two women it would be the key to unmasking their killer.

  “You’re deep in thought, gov,” Clarke said as the pair watched Lynn leave the station.

  He mumbled a reply, made his way through reception and took the stairs up to the incident room.

  “Look, gov, we could really do with Fraser on this case. Her keyboard wizardry is second to none, and it would free me up a bit to dig into the family, get out and interview… Gov, are you listening?”

  “Yeah.” He turned in the stairwell and looked at his partner. “I’ll see how Fraser’s doing, but I’ve already spoken to the chief about the situation.”

  “About the other case –”

  “Leave it, Clarke.”

  Hamilton continued to climb the stairs, frustrated his concentration was being pulled elsewhere. He appreciated certain matters needed to be confronted, especially the clash with Fraser; they had to move on from this and work the case. A storm brewed inside his mind, the dull pain ran from his temples and down his neck – mainly when he thought about his personal life clashing with the professional.

  In the incident room, Hamilton cursed himself for not stopping at the canteen and made a mental note to replenish the refreshments in the office kitchen. Fraser continued to tap away at her keyboard, never making eye contact with her colleagues. He asked her to join them at the evidence boards where Clarke was busy updating the information.

  “Right, we need you on this case with us,” Hamilton said. “I’m going to have another word with DCI
–”

  “No need to do that, boss,” Fraser interrupted.

  He frowned, waiting for her to continue. Apparently, she didn’t intend on divulging any further information voluntarily and so, unimpressed with the volatile course their relationship had taken, Hamilton probed further.

  “And why is that, Fraser? How did your interviews go yesterday?”

  “They went very well, boss. Paige Everett did not commit suicide, but was goaded into snorting cocaine live on Facebook. I’ve just requested that the video be removed from the social media site.”

  “It was still on there? Did you watch it?” Hamilton clenched his fists.

  “Yes, as were all the comments from those who watched it. I did watch it, boss. It was sickening…” Fraser closed her eyes briefly, before pulling herself a little straighter. “Anyway, the outcome is that uniform accompanied me this morning to arrest the dealer, Billy Roscoe. He’s in custody now and the case has been passed over to CID.”

  “Good work. Has this all been cleared with the chief?”

  “No, it hasn’t… I thought it best to inform you first.”

  “I’ll update him. You should be proud of yourself.”

  “Actually, boss, would you mind if I saw DCI Allen? I’d like to wrap up this case myself.”

  It wasn’t usual procedure to allow a detective sergeant to report to the chief, but Hamilton recognised there was a possibility he had failed Fraser when he’d jumped ship on the investigation. He wanted to rebuild the close working relationship they’d had previously and granted her request.

  An agonising fervour gripped him, and the urge to advance with the bedroom murders felt crucial. Hamilton asked his partner to bring Fraser up to speed and, always happy to take the floor, Clarke sprang into action.

  “Here’s what we’ve got: The two crime scenes are within a five-mile radius of each other, Pimlico and Islington. The females were both in their early thirties, their sons aged four and five, and all four were murdered in their homes. In their beds. At the moment, we can only guesstimate, but it looks likely that the two families were killed at least two months apart. We’re waiting for confirmation on cause of death but, with Scarlett Mitchell, that could take some time considering how advanced her body had decomposed. We’re probably looking at a sexual crime given the position of the bodies, and they were both naked from the waist down.”

  “There isn’t much information about the first victim, Miss Mitchell,” Fraser said pointing at the evidence board.

  “That’s because we don’t know much about her yet.”

  Hamilton stood up and crossed his arms. “And there’s where I want your attention, Fraser. Get me everything you can on this woman and her son. Clarke, you do the same with the Jones family so we can determine how these women link up.”

  “If they do at all, gov,” Clarke replied. “Sometimes people are just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know. They just seem too similar for there not to be a connection.”

  “How did the perpetrator get into the homes, boss?” Fraser asked.

  “From what the forensics team gathered at the crime scenes, there was no forced entry or opened windows at either of the houses.”

  “Well, in that case, I don’t think it was sheer bad luck, Clarke. The women might have invited the attacker into their homes, or he was skilled enough to get in and out undetected.”

  Hamilton slowly slid his index finger back and forth over his closed lips, contemplating what Fraser had just said. His eyes scanned over the evidence boards, the crime scene photographs and every minute detail before him.

  “Both these women were lonely. Scarlett was left undiscovered for weeks, and I’d say Emma was headed for the same fate if it wasn’t for an irregular visit from an old friend… Right, change of plan! Fraser, I want you to delve into both women’s lives and cross-reference for similar support groups, be that divorced or single mothers, and any comparable online activity. Clarke, there’s CCTV everywhere in London, I want you to find out if there’s any cameras in or around the buildings the victims lived in. I’ll hunt down this Tony Jones. Let’s find out why his wife had a restraining order against him.”

  Fraser and Clarke shared an inaudible joke as they returned to their desks. The tension had broken for now, and Hamilton felt as though he had regained some form of control. He wasn’t prepared to let his collapsed resolve hinder his role and endanger another family in their homes.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The following morning, Katy sat at the small kitchen table in Alexina’s flat, nursing her fourth cup of coffee. She had never seen her son so happy and couldn’t believe he still wanted to spend time with his two new friends. While the children were busy watching a film, Katy confided in her new, friendly neighbour about the previous night’s event.

  “That must have been terrifying! Are you hurt? You should have come straight up here; did you get any sleep last night?” Alexina questioned.

  “No. I sat in the hallway with a baseball bat in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other. I really thought he would have come to the house.”

  “Bloody hell, Katy! Why didn’t you call the police if you were that scared?”

  “I can’t. They’ll take Frankie away from me.”

  Alexina reached her hand across the table and took Katy’s. “Why? What happened, love?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. The children were laughing hysterically at a scene from Toy Story, oblivious to their mother’s conversation. Katy bowed her head, knowing this was the only chance she might have to trust someone, but unsure whether or not to take the risk. Alexina withdrew her hand and waited silently. She finally looked up and met her friend’s gaze.

  “Brad is a violent man… we married too soon. I never really knew who he was, but I was in such a dark place after my parents died, I thought he had rescued me from all of that. It was little things at first, he’d accuse me of flirting and call me names, and then he started controlling the money and who I spent time with. It got worse after Frankie’s first birthday. He watched every little thing I did. I started getting a taxi home from work every day because I was petrified of what would happen if I was late, and his dinner wasn’t ready for him. You know, most of the time he didn’t hit me at all, he just had to look at me… his eyes… deep pools of darkness. He was aggressive and rough in the bedroom, frightening even, and I had no one else to turn to. The night we ran away… he had hit Frankie. Brad’s huge hand whacked around my little boy’s head so hard, his body was tossed to the floor. I didn’t think he was going to stop, so I went for him. I kicked and punched and grabbed whatever I could. Until finally, I swung a glass vase and smashed it into his face. There was blood everywhere. He was furious, thumped me so hard in the stomach I could hardly breathe. He said Social Services would take Frankie away from me for what I’d done to him. The next time he left the house, I grabbed my son and we ran.”

  Katy fumbled with a stray piece of wool on the cuff of her jumper and exhaled slowly; her honesty exhausting.

  “Sweetie, you have to go to the police –”

  “No! I have no proof, Alexina. He’s the one with a huge scar on his face. I’ll get arrested and then…”

  “It was self-defence. And with him following you here, tracking you with that app, and attacking you in the street, they’ll have to believe you.”

  Katy sighed. “I don’t know… I feel so drained. I thought I had taken Frankie away from him. I thought we were safe here. I can’t…”

  “So, what now? You’re just going to give up? Let him come and take you back to that life, or just sit here in fear waiting for another attack?”

  “We’ll move. I’ve destroyed the phone last night, he won’t be able to find us again.”

  “Can you guarantee that he won’t? And do you really want to spend your life running? Do you really want that to be Frankie’s life? You’ll be forever looking over your shoulder. Katy, you’ve already proved you
’re a fighter. You are strong enough to take your life back. Do it again, but do it properly this time. Stop alienating yourself, you’re not on your own any more. I’ll come with you to the police station if you want.”

  Katy smiled, she couldn’t remember the last time someone had encouraged her to speak out and be heard. The past few years of her life had been consumed with hiding from the truth, putting on a show for her colleagues and Brad’s friends and family; no one had cared about her. She looked across at Alexina and wondered if this stranger could really help her rebuild her life. Could she honestly trust someone again after what she’d been through? She stood up from the table and crossed the hallway to the living room. Standing in the doorway, she watched Frankie. He looked relaxed and carefree, and she knew she would do anything to let him keep this life. Alexina approached from behind.

  “You’re right,” Katy said, and faced her friend. “I can’t keep running. It’s not much, but I’ve made a home for us here and only I can keep it safe. I now know Brad has always been aware of where we were… I can’t live in fear every day any more.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Alexina said.

  “Before my shift at The Tavern tonight, I’m going to the police station and telling them everything about Brad. This is my life and I’m taking it back.”

  “There’s one thing you need to do first.”

  Katy frowned. “What?”

  “Go and get some bloody sleep, you look awful!” Alexina laughed. “There’s no connection between you and me, so you’re both safe here. Have a lie down on my bed, and a shower when you wake up, you’ll feel more comfortable.”

  Without thinking, Katy threw her arms around Alexina and thanked the woman for her kindness. She didn’t know if it was the fatigue or the unexpected compassion, but a dizziness soon took hold of her and she welcomed sleep like an old friend.