But they had the new bullet, the one from last night. When the surgeons had removed it from Harry Becker, they’d sent it straight to ballistics and it had come back a match to the same ones used fifteen years ago. Kate knew they were all involved. But could she prove it?
‘I know how your mother was killed,’ Kate said.
Gabi clapped, slowly. ‘Well done you,’ she said sarcastically. ‘It took you guys long enough.’
‘Come in to the station, Gabriella, tell us what you know,’ Kate said. ‘Do the right thing.’
Gabriella laughed – a sharp outburst in the quiet of the hospital. ‘The right thing,’ she smiled. ‘What exactly is that? We all think we know. We’re all lying and sneaking around and betraying the ones we love because we think we’re right. But what if, Detective Sergeant Munro,’ Gabi said, mocking her name, ‘there is no right answer? What if we’re all wrong?’ Gabi paused, adjusting her coat round her shoulders and tucking her hair behind her ears. ‘I’ve done all I’m going to do,’ Gabriella said, shaking her head. ‘This is yours now.’
Kate knew that was it. She knew she wasn’t going to get any more out of Gabriella Patterson.
‘Just tell me, where’s the gun?’ Kate said quietly.
Gabi tapped the side of her nose and smiled. ‘You’re a good detective, DS Munro. I can see that. But sometimes you have to accept you’ll never know what happened.’ Gabriella walked away from her, towards the black BMW now pulled up outside. ‘Some secrets are destined to stay buried,’ she said.
Gabriella opened the door to the BMW and looked back at Kate. She nodded, slowly, then climbed into the car, next to her husband.
Kate took a deep breath. She heard the frantic chatter over the police comms, Briggs and Yates asking what to do, what did she say, should they go in for the arrest?
She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket again and pulled it out.
Your note said you were sorry, her husband replied. You seemed different. You’ve never apologised for anything before.
Kate stared at the message. Was she different? No case had ever affected her like this one. The attack on Thea Patterson and the murders of their parents fifteen years ago had pushed her to the edge. Locked in a relentless pursuit, she’d done things she never imagined doing – conducting illegal searches, mishandling evidence, sleeping with suspects, risking her career – and for what? To put away a woman who had clearly gone through enough in her life already?
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to leave this one be. Maybe here there was no such thing as right and wrong; for once in her life she would look for the shades of grey.
‘Let them go,’ Kate said into her radio. ‘Just let them go.’
As she stood watching the black BMW drive away, her phone rang. Kate answered it, dejectedly.
‘Katherine,’ said the posh voice at the end of the line. ‘It’s Albie. I’ve been following up on your Patterson case.’
‘Go on …’ Kate said, slowly.
‘After you left, it pricked my conscience, so I called one of my colleagues who works in the lab …’
‘They’re still shut, it’s Sunday,’ Kate interrupted.
‘Not if you know the people I know,’ Albie chuckled. ‘They looked up the results on the fingernail scrapings, the ones from Madeleine Patterson, and it’s the most curious thing. There were skin cells under the nails. The DNA wasn’t on file but they came back as a familial match. Fifty per cent of the markers matched Madeleine’s.’
‘What does that mean?’ Kate asked, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up on end.
‘They were related,’ Albie said. ‘My guess – the person that suffocated Madeleine was most likely her child.’
Kate hung up the phone, her brain racing. She stared up the now empty road, listening to the exclamations of annoyance coming over her radio.
Maybe Gabi was right. Some secrets were destined to stay buried. But it wasn’t going to be this one.
Friday 8 February 2019
Epilogue
Thea looked around the bare room. She looked at the cream walls, the wooden table screwed to the floor, the black box videoing their conversation. She looked at the detective sitting opposite her. She seemed smarter than usual. Her hair was shiny and hung loose around her shoulders; her shirt was ironed. She was wearing lipstick. Thea wondered what had prompted the makeover.
To her left was a window, looking out from the police station into the night sky. Outside, the rain continued to fall. It had been pouring all week, a biblical flood, echoing the disquiet in Thea’s mind. She hadn’t heard from Gabriella since she’d left. She hadn’t dare contact Harry.
DS Munro was going to end the day disappointed. She would never betray her family. Whatever happened, however they behaved towards her, they were the most important thing in her life. Tell the truth now, and all she could see was a gaping hole where loneliness and rejection and regret looked back at her. She’d never see them again. At least this way, there was a possibility. She had a chance for their forgiveness.
Thea thought about her sister. She’d lied to Gabriella about their mother. It was true, she had killed her to protect Harry, but for a different reason, one Gabi could never know about. Thea had sworn never to breathe a word. She’d promised Harry, all those years ago.
The morning after the prom, Thea woke to the sound of Gabriella’s snoring. Already the summer’s day was making itself known; their bedroom was muggy and smelt of stale alcohol, oozing out of her sister’s pores. She climbed out of bed and padded down the corridor to the stairs.
The door was open to their parents’ room and Thea peered through as she passed. She could see her father’s foot sticking out of one side of the bed, and wondered whether their parents had made up. Of her mother, there was no sign, her nightclothes in a pile on the floor.
At the bottom of the stairs a noise caught her attention. She could hear her mother’s voice, low and calm, then male tones, coming from the living room, and she paused in the hallway. She’d been in this situation years before, listening to her mother and Harrison carry on their affair, but she was older now. She wouldn’t put up with it again.
She felt anger burn in her stomach and pushed the door open with a bang. Thea saw her mother facing away from her in the middle of the room, naked, her dressing gown pooled on the floor around her feet. A man was sat on the sofa in front of her wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts. As Thea came into the room her mother turned, surprise on her face.
Because the man in front of her mother wasn’t Harrison. It was Harry.
He was on the far side of the sofa, his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped round them, his knees almost touching his face.
Thea’s mother sighed, then bent down and picked up her dressing gown, swinging it round her shoulders and pulling the cord tight at the front.
‘You can’t blame a girl for trying,’ she said and pushed past Thea.
Thea stood in the doorway, her mouth open. She heard her mother’s footsteps on the stairs, then the door to the master bedroom slam.
‘I wasn’t … We weren’t …’ Harry gabbled. His eyes were wide, every inch of him tense. ‘I was sleeping, she came in, she …’
Thea slowly walked over to the sofa and sat next to him.
‘Did you have sex with my mother?’ Thea asked carefully and Harry shook his head. A quick movement, emphatic, over and over.
‘But she’s always around, she always manages to get me by myself. She’s kissed me, she’s …’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘I’ve told her to leave me alone but she won’t let it go. She says we need to … Says I need to experience a real woman.’ Harry pulled his legs closer to his chest, the words flying out of his mouth. ‘You believe me, don’t you, Thea?’ he pleaded, and she nodded.
Thea leaned over and pulled Harry to her in a hug. She felt him relax, his arms go round her and his face rest on her shoulder. ‘Please don’t tell anyone, don’t tell Gabi,’ he said into her hair.
‘How?’ Harry murmured.
‘I don’t know,’ Thea said, slowly. ‘But I promise I will.’
A flash of lightning lit up the sky outside the police station. Thea started counting, looking out of the window, waiting for the soft rumble of thunder to follow seconds later.
She turned back to the detective. ‘Whatever you think you know about my mother, DS Munro, I assure you, you’re wrong. She deserved everything that happened that day.’
‘She deserved to be shot by her lover’s son, then smothered by her own daughter?’ DS Munro asked, her voice calm.
Thea slowly shook her head. ‘You can’t prove anything. Harrison confessed. He’s dead. You’ll have a hard time convincing any jury otherwise.’
‘That may be the case, Thea,’ the detective said. ‘But you know what? I’m willing to try. We have saliva and blood from your mother on the cushion. We have a medical report detailing Harry’s injuries from the gun. We have DNA from either you or Gabriella under her fingernails. And I’ve learnt a little something about DNA recently.’ DS Munro sat back in her chair, putting her arms behind her head. ‘Do you want to hear it?’
Thea scowled, and the detective carried on, a slight smile on her face. ‘A normal test just looks at a short sequence of the DNA, a part known to be highly variable between individuals. So for identical twins, this comes back the same.’ She pointed at Thea. ‘No use for you two. But …’ she said. ‘If we sequence your entire DNA genome, everything that makes up who you are, then subtle differences show up where environmental factors over the years have slightly changed your profile.’ She nodded. ‘Good, huh?’
Thea shook her head. ‘So do it, what’s stopping you?’
DS Munro frowned. ‘Well, it’s super-expensive and takes forever.’ She shrugged. ‘But if we have to, we will. In the meantime, the media will love this. I can see the headlines already – the press have always been fascinated by the three of you.’
Thea bristled with anger. She remembered the newspapers when their parents were murdered; she remembered the reporters constantly hounding them. This wasn’t fair. ‘Leave them be,’ she growled. ‘Leave Harry and Gabriella out of it.’
‘And I will, I will, Thea.’ DS Munro slowly took a sip of water from the cup in front of her. ‘I believe it was you.’ She pointed a finger at Thea’s chest. ‘I think you killed your mother. Because of the hospital report from that day, because of the scratches on your arms. But, you know …’ She shrugged and Thea felt her rage build. ‘If you don’t tell me what you know, then what choice do I have? We’ll ask for the test, but while we wait, maybe I’ll go after your sister. Maybe I’m going to have to charge Harry, petition for no bail, leave him to rot in prison like his father did, while we wait for a court date. You know how long these things take, don’t you, Thea? You do know what happens in prison? To people with a mental illness like Harry’s?’
Thea glared at the detective. She couldn’t let her ruin their lives. Harry would not go to prison. She had to protect them, as she always had. As she always would.
Outside, the rain continued to fall. Lightning flashed, a sudden burst of brightness through the dark. Thea asked herself the question. Then she slowly started to count, waiting for the thunder. Waiting to give the answer.
A slow rumble echoed through the room. And Thea started to talk.
If you loved Ask Me No Questions, don’t miss the next gripping mystery thriller in the DS Kate Munro series … Click here to order now!
And check out Louisa de Lange’s first compelling psychological thriller, The Dream Wife – click here to read now!
Author’s Note
I have lived in and around Southampton most of my life, so when I needed a home for Kate, it was my obvious first choice. And anyone who lives in Southampton will recognise many of the places mentioned in this book: Bassett, Southampton Common, Hill Lane and The Avenue are very real. However, Gabi and Thea’s childhood home and the nightclub, Heaven, are a complete figment of my imagination and the depiction of a few locations have been skewed to suit the story.
In addition, while Hampshire Constabulary exists, the version in Kate’s world is, of course, complete fiction, and not a true depiction of the many dedicated (and rule-abiding!) people who work there.
Acknowledgements
Thank you, as ever, to my agent, Ed Wilson, for his continuous faith, endless support and introduction to the world of gin.
To my editors Harriet Bourton and Ben Willis: thank you. I am so fortunate to work with you both and be at the receiving end of your incredible knowledge and insight.
And thank you to the rest of the amazing team at Orion Fiction: to Alainna Hadjigeorgiou, Jessica Tackie, Lucy Frederick and, of course, Bethan Jones for her work on the early stages of the manuscript.
A special mention must go to PC Dan Roberts and Dr Matt Evans. Thank you for taking time out of your incredibly busy lives to answer my questions with tireless patience – and for responding to the weirder queries without comment or judgement. And thank you to the other experts for your advice: particularly to Susan Scarr, Laura Stevenson, Charlie Roberts and Hannah Leggett. All mistakes made and liberties taken with the truth to fit the plot, are entirely down to me.
Thank you to Meenal and Seetal Gandhi, Alec Bennett and Madeline Taylor, for providing me with your unique experiences of being an identical twin.
Thank you to Teresa Andrews and Janet de Lange – readers of the very first draft and dispensers of ever-valuable honest feedback.
To Ryan Mortimer, James Burford and everyone else who allows my shameful habit of stealing names – thank you. Please consider it a compliment – even if it turns out you’re naming a baddie.
And last but not least, thank you to Chris Scarr and Benjamin: for always being there for me, and tolerating the crazy that comes with this bizarre profession.
COMING AUTUMN 2020:
NOWHERE TO BE FOUND
Louisa de Lange
***
SHE FOUND THE BODY.
NOW LUCY BARKER IS MISSING …
Lucy Barker has disappeared, and her distraught husband Scott says he has no idea where she is.
But rumours abound about this seemingly perfect couple. Why is Scott behaving so strangely? And why was Lucy lying to him about where she went every Tuesday night?
Then, while investigating the recent murder of man found floating in a lake, DS Kate Munro learns that it was Lucy Barker who discovered the body and called the police.
Now she must find out if the two crimes are connected. Before Lucy’s time runs out …
Nowhere to be Found is the brilliantly twisty second thriller in the DS Kate Munro crime series.
Click here to order now!
Author Biography
Louisa de Lange studied Psychology at the University of Southampton and has lived in and around the city ever since. She works as a freelance copywriter and editor, and when she’s not writing, she can be found pounding the streets in running shoes or swimming in muddy lakes.
Ask Me No Questions is her second novel, and her first in the series with DS Kate Munro.
To find out more, you can follow her on Twitter @paperclipgirl
Credits
Louisa de Lange and Orion Fiction would like to thank everyone at Orion who worked on the publication of Ask Me No Questions in the UK.
Editorial Harriet Bourton Bethan Jones
Ben Willis
Lucy Frederick Copy editor Clare Wallis
Proofreader Jenny Page
Audio Paul Stark
Amber Bates
Contracts Anne Goddard
Paul Bulos
Jake Alderson Design Debbie Holmes Joanna Ridley Nick May
Editorial Management Charlie Panayiotou Jane Hughes
Alice Davis
Finance Jasdip Nandra Afeera Ahmed
Elizabeth Beaumont Sue Baker
Mar
keting Jessica Tackie Production Hannah Cox
Publicity Alainna Hadjigeorgiou Sales Jen Wilson
Esther Waters Victoria Laws Rachael Hum
Ellie Kyrke-Smith Frances Doyle Georgina Cutler Operations Jo Jacobs
Sharon Willis Lisa Pryde
Lucy Brem
AN ORION EBOOK
First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Orion Books
Ebook first published in 2019 by Orion Books Copyright © Louisa de Lange 2019
The right of Louisa de Lange to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978 1 4091 8024 1
Typeset at The Spartan Press Ltd,
Lymington, Hants The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Carmelite House, 50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK company
www.orionbooks.co.uk
Table of Contents
Praise for Louisa de Lange
Dedication
Title Page
Contents
Newspaper Article
Part 1
Monday, 21 January 2019: Chapter 1
Ask Me No Questions Page 27