Truth or Dare: Pre-order the nail-biting new Helen Grace thriller now

by M. J. Arlidge

  Chapter 52

  ‘Nothing? Nothing at all?’

  Helen couldn’t hide her dismay.

  ‘Nothing apart from the obvious,’ Meredith responded, her voice tinny on the other end of the phone line. ‘Martin Hill’s blood was all over the blade, but there are no traces of anything else. No sweat, no prints, no other blood traces, the blade and handle are clean as a whistle.’

  ‘It’s not been used before, then? In a domestic setting, say, for chopping food or—’

  ‘There’s no bacteria on it and, in fact, the protective coating that the knife has to prevent it from rusting in store is still intact.’

  ‘So the knife was acquired recently, perhaps specifically for this crime …’

  ‘Makes sense to me. Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for now, and the new series of Succession is calling, so …’

  ‘Of course, you go. We’ll speak in the morning.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt,’ the forensics officer replied ruefully.

  Ringing off, Helen leaned against the corridor wall, digesting Meredith’s news. The disposal of the knife had been crude and ineffective, but otherwise Martin Hill’s murder had been carefully conceived and perfectly executed. No witnesses, no forensic evidence, no CCTV – the ideal way to dispatch the unfortunate Hill. To Helen, this argued strongly against his attacker being a neo-Nazi aggressor, as Hudson believed, or a half-witted youth intent on revenge, as Lilah Hill suggested. No, there was something sophisticated, pre-meditated and neat about Hill’s death that suggested the culprit wanted to remain hidden. A racist thug would seek the acclaim of the kill, might even claim responsibility for his murder via some online forum, rather than remaining in the shadows. Ditto an old adversary, who might brag to mates, parading his bravery and strength for all to admire. Who was responsible, then? Lilah Hill might yet prove to possess a strong motive, but she had a rock-solid alibi, thanks to her colleagues. Was it possible, then, that she had hired someone to kill her husband? The thought seemed fanciful, but what other possibilities were there?

  Exhaling heavily, Helen pocketed her mobile and resumed her march to the incident room. The rest of the team had gone now, but she wanted to remain a while longer, to sift the day’s developments, to see if she could chance upon any leads, any avenues for investigation that they’d overlooked. As she stalked along the corridor, however, her eye was drawn to the window, to some activity in the courtyard below. Slowing, she realized that the tiny figure at street level was Joseph Hudson, walking across the tarmac to his bike.

  He was alone, having presumably stayed after everyone else had departed, though to what end Helen wasn’t sure. Watching him stride confidently across the bike park, Helen was filled with a riot of emotions. Sadness, suspicion, disappointment, but, above all, anger. Anger that this reckless, lying narcissist should challenge her so openly in her incident room. She had been at Southampton Central for years, driving this team, her team, to become one of the best in the country. What had he done except spread division, lies and disquiet? What right did he have to take a wrecking ball to her unit, her reputation, when he was just a faithless try-hard, with no inkling of the importance of teamwork, loyalty and respect? What right did he have to take her on, when it was he who was in the wrong?

  And now, without intending to do so, Helen found herself moving. Along the corridor, through the fire exit and down the stairs towards the bike park.

  Chapter 53

  Hudson looked up as Helen approached, her urgent footsteps alerting him to her arrival. She saw surprise there, then something that looked very much like self-satisfaction, even conceit.

  ‘So what was that all about?’ Helen demanded, dispensing with any pretence of formalities, as she slipped her phone back into her pocket.

  ‘What was what …?’

  ‘You know perfectly well what. That little performance in there, that gross insubordination.’

  ‘Steady now, Helen.’

  ‘Challenging my authority, in front of the rest of the team. I mean, that’s page-one stuff, Joseph. You just don’t do it.’

  ‘Except when it’s necessary—’

  ‘Oh, come off it …’

  ‘To get an investigation, a team, back on track.’

  ‘And you’re best placed to make that judgement, are you? Having been here for, what, two years?’

  ‘Sometimes a fresh pair of eyes is what’s needed.’

  Now Helen couldn’t conceal her scorn, openly laughing at him. ‘So this has nothing to do with us? The fact that our brief fling came to a rather sorry end?’

  ‘It’s to do with leadership, Helen. A quality you used to know something about.’

  ‘You really are unbelievable.’

  ‘For caring about the cases we’re running, for caring about the team’s reputation?’

  ‘No, for caring about yourself and your own bruised ego so much that you’re prepared to destroy the team.’

  ‘It’s not about that.’

  ‘That’s exactly what it’s about. At least do me the courtesy of being honest about it.’

  The words flew from her, sharp and angry. Hudson looked momentarily taken aback by her aggression. Softening a little, Helen continued, ‘Look, Joseph, we’re all in a tough place at the moment. You don’t want to be working for me, I don’t particularly want you in my team, but for the time being we’re going to have to make the best of it. We’re under intense pressure, intense scrutiny, and it’s taking a toll on all of us. We’re all exhausted, all frustrated, all feeling the heat. God knows, I had a drink the other day, for the first time in twenty-odd years … so I get it, I really do. This is tough for everyone.’

  He was regarding her curiously, uncertain where this was going. But he didn’t interrupt, so Helen continued: ‘So this is me making a peace offering. Can we put our differences aside until the current investigations are concluded? Then, we can sit down and sort this out properly, sensibly, so that everyone’s happy. Can you live with that? Can you do that for me?’

  ‘No.’ A single word, but loaded with defiance.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘You’d love me to come running back to Mummy, wouldn’t you? To be a good little boy because you’re feeling the pressure. Well, you can forget it, Helen. I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.’

  ‘What the hell?’ Helen exploded.

  ‘I mean it. We had something, could have been great together, but you dismantled all that with your clumsy accusations, your paranoia, your lies. Which is why I’m going to bring you down.’

  ‘Nothing I said was untrue,’ Helen shot back. ‘You did abandon your wife and child.’

  ‘Oh, change the record, Helen. I’ve heard it all before. And I didn’t like it then. So no, I won’t be your patsy, I won’t play ball. I will do my job.’

  ‘Well, just make sure you have one to keep hold of.’

  ‘Are you threatening me, Helen?’

  ‘No, I’m simply letting you know that if you deliberately sabotage these investigations, if you openly flout my authority or undermine the chain of command again, then I will have no alternative but to instigate disciplinary procedures.’

  She had been hoping this would shut him up, for if there was one thing that was important to Joseph it was his professional standing, his rank, his status. But to her immense surprise, he broke into a broad, mocking smile.

  ‘Go on, Helen, I dare you. I dare you to report me. Because if you do, the truth will come tumbling out.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Simmons, Peters, the team, the whole world will find out what you’re up to.’

  ‘You’ve lost me.’

  ‘I’ll tell them how you slept with me, then discarded me when you lost interest.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that and you know it.’

  ‘How I wasn’t happy, how I felt used, how I complained to you. How you then decided to drive me out of Southampton Central.’

  ‘My God, Joseph, are you del
usional?’

  ‘How you tried to suffocate my career, undermining me at every turn, giving me grunt work—’

  ‘Stop right there, Joseph, before you say something you’ll regret.’

  ‘It’s constructive dismissal, pure and simple. The union will be all over it and do you know why? Because I’m the victim here, Helen.’

  Helen stared at him, speechless. His gall was staggering, as was his determination to twist the truth to suit his own ends.

  ‘So go ahead, report me if you dare. But if you do, then the powers that be will learn all about your tawdry liaison with a junior officer, your misuse of office to try to suffocate my career and force me out. How you’ve broken every rule in the book to satisfy your own desires.’

  He fixed Helen with a glare as he concluded: ‘They’ll know everything.’

  Day Four

  Chapter 54

  She wandered through the living room, her bare feet slapping the polished wooden floor. Save for the customary morning sounds of the refuse trucks and car horns outside, her progress was the only noise breaching the sepulchral quiet of the house, her footfall echoing gently off the walls.

  Coming to a halt, Lilah took in her surroundings, achingly familiar yet somehow deeply strange. She had bought this place with Martin, decorated it with him, marked and scuffed it during their rows, their love-making, the business of everyday life. It was their place, their home, and now it seemed profoundly empty without him.

  He was generally first up, rising at 7 a.m., regular as clockwork, whether he’d gone to bed early or been out partying till late. Often, he’d mock Lilah for her inability to rise, her deep, enduring love of her bed. Come what may he’d be at the breakfast bar when she stumbled in, bleary-eyed and gasping for coffee. Sometimes he’d provide it for her, sometimes he wouldn’t.

  But there was no one to fire up the coffee machine this morning, no one with whom to pick the bones out of last night’s events. So how was she supposed to make sense of it all? Martin was gone and she was alone, struggling to understand what had befallen him. Or what lay in store.

  Her firm had signed her off sick – they had no choice in the circumstances, even though it was exceptionally ill-timed – and the police had told her to stay local, in case they needed to talk to her again. Meaning she was stuck here, in this oppressively quiet house, with only her thoughts for company.

  The police officer – DI Grace – had been sparing with the detail at first, but Lilah had persisted, finally learning that Martin had been stabbed three times, once in the stomach and twice in the chest. The thought of it, the image of a long blade puncturing his heart, had made her feel physically sick. Their relationship had been complicated, fractured – on occasion she’d even thought she hated him – but still, the idea of him being attacked like that, of his body enduring such a brutal assault, was beyond awful. What must he have felt like when he knew he was in mortal danger, how terrified and shocked must he have been? Was death instantaneous or was he conscious throughout, aware of his life force ebbing away? The thought of his suffering brought tears to her eyes, which surprised her. She’d thought she was all cried out.

  Crossing to the sofa, Lilah tucked her legs beneath her, even as she wrapped her fluffy dressing gown around her. The curtains were drawn, the reporters who’d hassled her last night having departed, so for now this place was safe enough, her cocoon and sanctuary. It was just her and the odd, empty atmosphere. Had it not been for DI Grace’s instructions, she’d have been tempted to flee, to head to Durham to be with her parents. She’d spoken to them briefly last night and they’d urged her to do just that. How nice it would have been to be in their uncomplicated embrace, bathing in their love, support and affection.

  But there was no hope of that. She had to stay put to deal with the grim practicalities of death – telling colleagues and friends, organizing the funeral, dealing with the legal stuff and, worst of all, talking to Martin’s aunt.

  This was the bit she was dreading, but it couldn’t be avoided. Having had a brief, fraught conversation with her last night, she was due to call her again this morning. Now she would have to give her the full story, the brutal, unvarnished truth about her nephew’s murder. It would be hideous, heart-rending and all the worse because the whole charade was sickeningly pointless. His aunt had never shown Martin any love, reminding him every day that he was a burden and an inconvenience, forever prioritizing the needs of her own children at his expense. She would play the grieving relative now, any chance to enjoy the anguish and attention, but it would all be fake. Nevertheless, Nessa would seize the opportunity to fight Martin’s corner, to protect his interests, his legacy. She would no doubt question Lilah’s role in proceedings – what she knew, why she hadn’t protected Martin, why she hadn’t gone to the police after the abusive phone call – but, worse, she would question Lilah’s feelings for him, casting aspersions on the depth of attachment to Martin, her loyalty, the level of her distress. This, without question, would be the hardest part. Not just because it would be hurtful, aggressive and relentless, but because amidst all the barbs and insults, there would be a kernel of truth.

  This was why she was dreading the call, why she wished with all her heart that she could avoid it. Because deep down she knew that Nessa was right – that despite all the misery and heartache, there was a part of her that felt liberated and relieved.

  A part of her that was glad Martin Hill was dead.

  Chapter 55

  ‘Did you have feelings for Joseph?’

  DCI Grace Simmons scrutinized Helen shrewdly, looking for any hint of evasion or duplicity.

  ‘I’m not really sure,’ Helen replied honestly. ‘I think I was developing some kind of affection for him, I enjoyed his company, but obviously his secrecy about his former life, his lies about his wife and child, put paid to that.’

  Simmons nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing. She looked pale and anxious, clearly shocked by what Helen had told her. Helen hadn’t wanted to burden her with this – hadn’t wanted to drag her old friend into her mess – but after last night she’d had no choice. Joseph had gone way beyond insubordination, he was trying to leverage her, no, he was trying to blackmail her into keeping quiet about his rebellion whilst he slowly set about destroying her unit, a team she’d spent years constructing.

  There was no question of taking him on at his own game, of resorting to underhand tactics. If need be, that would come later. Her first step was to come clean, to confess to their clandestine relationship, hence why she’d requested a private interview with DCI Simmons first thing this morning. She was an ally, a mentor, but she was also her boss, and it was vital that this situation was handled properly, by the book. Which was why they were now closeted away together in her office.

  ‘So what happened then?’ Simmons queried.

  ‘Well, I confronted him with my discoveries and he basically went nuts. He blew his top, accused me of conspiring with his ex-wife, bitching about him, denigrating him.’

  ‘And do you think he was in any way justified in his reaction?’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, you’d contacted his ex-wife without his knowledge or permission, asked her deeply personal questions about their relationship, about DS Hudson himself. Do you not think he was justified in being angered by this invasion of his privacy?’

  ‘Well, possibly, yes—’

  ‘Dangerous too for you professionally. What would have happened if his ex-wife had become upset, reported you to the Force?’

  ‘Look, it was a stupid thing to do, I admit that. And I regretted it afterwards, but it revealed something which I had suspected all along – that Joseph Hudson couldn’t be trusted, was interested only in himself, which was important for me to know both personally and professionally. He’s not a team player.’

  ‘Which you might have discovered in time through more legitimate means.’

  ‘Yes, for sure. Look, I know I shouldn’t even have been in a re
lationship with him in the first place and, yes, I could have handled it better—’

  ‘And after that?’

  ‘Well, we rowed and he left,’ Helen said, her mind arrowing back to that bitter confrontation. ‘Then the Justin Lanning investigation took over and I didn’t speak to him again until after it had concluded, when I was recovering in hospital.’

  ‘And what was that conversation like?’

  ‘Deeply unpleasant. I suggested that perhaps our continuing to work together was not a good idea—’

  ‘Did you threaten him?’

  ‘No, absolutely not. I just pointed out that our relationship – the trust between us – had completely broken down and that would not be good for the team, especially as he would effectively be my deputy whilst DS Brooks was on maternity leave. I suggested he might look elsewhere for a suitable position, one befitting his talents, and that I would do whatever I could to facilitate that move.’

  ‘And what was his response?’

  ‘He told me in no uncertain terms that he was going nowhere. That I could leave if I wanted to, but that he was staying put.’

  ‘And that was the last conversation you had on this matter? Before last night, I mean?’

  ‘Yes. Since then he’s been doing his job – on the face of it, at least – taking orders, running down leads, but actually he’s been cultivating allies, attempting to turn officers against me, prioritizing his own investigations over mine and generally trying to undermine me at every turn.’

  ‘And do you think he would go to Peters, take this all the way to the top, if you did call his bluff? Does he have the stomach for a full disciplinary enquiry?’

  Helen thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I think he would. It would damage him, of course, professionally. But – but I think he feels we’re at war now. I think he’ll take it all the way.’

  It seemed profoundly odd to be saying these words, but it was true. Joseph Hudson did seem intent on bringing her down, whatever the cost to himself. Looking up, she saw Simmons appraising her, weighing up the situation, clearly deeply troubled by what she was hearing.