Kill With Kindness

by Ed James

  ‘So you gave him the video. How was he?’

  ‘Seemed okay, you know? He just wanted to leave.’

  ‘He tried to kill himself. Took a few Blockchain, then . . . planned to watch the video until he died. Just like with Gayle.’

  ‘I wish I’d known. Then I wouldn’t be in the shit. I could just let him take the rap.’

  ‘Doesn’t work out like that, does it?’ Fenchurch got to his feet. ‘I’m going to charge you with Gayle’s murder and a load of other stuff. You’ll be lucky to get out of prison before you’re fifty.’

  Fenchurch pushed out into the corridor, drained. The clarity of thought, the evil, the . . .

  ‘Inspector.’ Loftus stood in the door to the Obs Suite. He beckoned Fenchurch in. ‘That was quite some performance.’

  Fenchurch sat in the chair. ‘I think she was relieved to be caught, sir. If she hadn’t confessed . . .’

  ‘Regardless, I’m impressed with your work.’ Loftus grunted. A nerve twitched in his forehead. ‘I’ve heard from the doctor operating on DI Mulholland. She’s going to be off for at least six months. Surgery, recovery, treatment for PTSD. Maybe a year.’ He grunted. ‘She almost lost her life. But you saved her, Fenchurch. Been saving a lot of people. Like one of those god-awful centre backs who slide in at the last minute because their positioning is so poor. It’s all for the cameras.’

  ‘I’m not sure what you’re saying, sir.’

  ‘I don’t know either.’ Loftus chuckled. ‘DI Mulholland should be thankful you were there to save her.’

  ‘You said DI?’

  ‘Well, yes. She’s only Acting DCI. I was going to demote her once I found a suitable replacement. Budgets are what they are and I’ve had to make do with an acting-up arrangement for this long.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t like the way she’s handled certain matters. Your son’s situation is a case in point, among many others.’ He reached over and clapped his shoulder. ‘Anyway, Fenchurch, I won’t ask you if you want the DCI role because I know you don’t.’

  Fenchurch laughed. ‘It’d be nice to be asked.’

  ‘Are you saying you’d take the role if I offered you it?’

  Fenchurch’s phone rang. ‘Sorry, sir, I thought this was off.’ He checked the display. Abi. ‘I need to take this.’ He walked out into the corridor. ‘Abi, what’s up?’

  Silence.

  ‘Abi?’

  Monday

  2nd October 2017

  Three weeks later

  Chapter Fifty

  Abi got out of the car first, her tears glistening in the morning light, mirroring his own.

  He brushed his hand across his eyes, shook the tears off. They clung to the back of his hand, thick and syrupy. As if he hadn’t done enough crying.

  The stairwell door opened and Chloe came out, eyebrows raised. Looked like she’d been crying too.

  Fenchurch swivelled round in his seat as the back door opened.

  Abi reached in and kissed Baby Al’s forehead. Caught Fenchurch’s look and laughed. ‘He’s home, Simon. Home.’

  ‘I know.’ Fenchurch reached over and unbuckled the belt. ‘Here.’

  Baby Al gurgled as his mother lifted him up. Halfway to being a toddler now, but still so tiny. He arched his back and his top rode up, showing the scar on his chest. The slice that had saved him. His heart growing back. Getting him out of intensive care.

  Fenchurch joined his wife and daughter on the pavement, competing with them to stroke his son’s face. ‘Jesus Christ.’ Fresh tears hit his cheeks. ‘Jesus Christ.’

  Chloe hugged him tight and led him inside. ‘Can’t let anyone see you crying like that, Dad.’

  ‘Sod it. I’ll cry when I want to.’

  ‘Let it out.’ Chloe held open the door for them. ‘I went over the cot again, tightened everything. Think it’s solid.’

  ‘Good girl.’ Abi pecked her on the cheek and started up the stairs.

  Fenchurch stood at the bottom and watched them climb. His whole family in one place. Their old flat. His son, his daughter, his wife.

  They’d soon run out of rooms when Baby Al needed his own. So selling up and moving . . . Like he didn’t have enough stress. Positive stress, though. Find a house south of the river, maybe even down in Kent, in the middle of nowhere.

  That dreaded bastard called hope dug into his lungs, squeezing his breath, making the butterflies in his stomach flap their wings.

  Hope. The thing that’s kept me going for so long, that made me find my daughter, that . . .

  Jesus Christ. It’s so fragile.

  All the shit of the last twelve years. It’s over.

  Time to get on with living.

  About the Author

  Photo © 2014 Kitty Harrison

  Ed James writes crime-fiction novels. Kill With Kindness is the fifth novel in his latest series, set on the gritty streets of East London and featuring DI Simon Fenchurch. His Scott Cullen series features a young Edinburgh detective constable investigating crimes from the bottom rung of the career ladder he’s desperate to climb. Set four hundred miles south on the streets of East London, his DI Simon Fenchurch series features a detective with little to lose. Formerly an IT manager, Ed began writing on planes, trains and automobiles to fill his weekly commute to London. He now writes full-time and lives in the Scottish Borders, with his girlfriend and a menagerie of rescued animals.