Page 6 of Worse Than Murder (DCI Matilda Darke Thriller #13)

I walk into the living room and Sally and Philip spring apart like a couple of teenagers caught necking. They don’t look at me and they’ve stopped talking. I know I’ve been the subject of conversation.

I’ve just had a long and scalding hot shower after my run. I’m in my dressing gown and I feel warm and cosy. It’s a feeling that won’t last for long.

The living room is huge. There is a massive picture window looking out over Lake Windermere. The sun is setting, and the sky is a burning red. It looks like a painting. You can’t look out at this view and not take comfort. Being in the countryside has helped me enormously.

‘Good shower?’ Sally asks. She’s tucked up on the end of the sofa.

She’s wearing a flowing summer dress in vibrant colours.

She always looks immaculate. She says it’s because she needs to look good for the customers, but she’s one of those women who could wear a bin bag and look elegant.

Even her feet are gorgeous, and, in my opinion, feet are the ugliest part of the body.

‘Lovely. Thanks.’ I sit down on the sofa opposite and look at them in turn. ‘So, what’s going on?’

‘Nothing. Why do you ask?’

‘You’ve both got guilty expressions.’

‘No. We were just chatting,’ Sally says, giving Philip a side-long glance.

‘About me?’

‘Erm…’ Sally looks to Philip again, then back to me, then back to Philip. ‘No. Well, not not about you.’

Oh dear. I’ve been waiting for this.

‘Have I outstayed my welcome?’

‘No. Absolutely not,’ Philip says firmly.

‘You haven’t, Mat, honestly,’ Sally agrees.

‘It’s just,’ Philip begins. ‘We had the police here earlier, while you were out running. They’ve taken prints around the utility door, but one of the PCs– can’t remember her name– she asked if anything has changed since the first attempted break-in.

The only thing that did was you arriving.

Now, we’ve just been talking, and we can only see maybe three reasons behind the break-ins.

One, that possibly you’ve been followed here.

Two, Carl’s kidnappers have come back for him. Three, it’s totally random vandalism.’

‘As far as I’m aware, nobody knows I’m here.’

I’ve noticed, lately, that my words sound slow and slurred, as if I’m drunk. I’m not. I sometimes think my body is too tired to even speak. I’m not sure if that’s because I’m knackered from all this exercise or the grief is weighing me down.

‘Mat.’ Sally tucks her hair behind her ear. I’ve recognised this as her tell for being nervous. She does it with awkward customers, but she always manages to get the upper hand. ‘How likely is it that they’re coming back for Carl?’

‘After all this time, I’d say very unlikely. Although…’

‘Go on,’ Sally prompts me.

‘Carl’s case is never closed. The cold case review unit looks at it every now and then. We still want to bring Annabel’s murderer in. Maybe they’ve launched another investigation. Maybe they’ve been asking questions and they’re getting close this time. Or, on the other hand… no.’

I really should think before I speak sometimes.

‘What?’ Philip asks.

‘I don’t want to scare you.’

‘We’re already scared.’ Sally reaches over to Philip. He takes her hand.

‘Put yourself in the shoes of the kidnappers for a moment. The type of people who kidnap a child for ransom and kill someone in the process are going to be involved in criminal activity of various kinds. Whatever they’re up to, they’re going to worry about people knowing who they are.

Let’s say, for example, one of them just happened to be here in the Lake District and saw Carl.

They might worry he’s going to recognise them and go to the police. ’

‘Jesus,’ Sally says under her breath.

‘So, you think one of the kidnappers has inadvertently found us?’

‘I’m not saying that at all. It’s just an option. But I don’t believe it.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he’s tried to gain access to the restaurant four times and failed.

He wouldn’t have done that. And I don’t believe he would try to kidnap Carl again.

He’d…’ I stop myself this time. I don’t need to say it.

We all know that, rather than risk being identified, the kidnapper would just kill Carl and do a runner.

‘This has nothing to do with Carl,’ I say, hoping to allay their fears.

Sally lets out a heavy breath. ‘That’s a relief.’

‘It’s just a random chancer wanting to steal a few bottles of vodka, then?’ Philip asks.

‘Or the serial killer has followed me here from Sheffield. I should probably leave. I don’t want to put any of you in danger.’

‘We don’t want you to go,’ Philip says. ‘Carl loves you being here. We both enjoy you being here.’

Their kindness means so much to me. I can feel emotion rising inside me and tears pricking my eyes. Since when did I get so soppy over a few complimentary words?

‘He killed my mum and nephews,’ I say. ‘I have no idea who he is. I don’t know how long he’s been watching me. I don’t know if he’s a random stranger with a fixation or if he’s someone I know. I know nothing, and that scares me. I can’t have any more people I know being put in danger.’

‘We have CCTV all around this building, and a panic button,’ Sally says. ‘You’re safe here and we want you to stay.’

I smile and nod. If I open my mouth, who knows what will come out.

‘Besides,’ Sally continues, ‘We’ve got so many weapons in that kitchen should he get in here. He doesn’t stand a chance against us.’

‘She’s right. Have you seen how Sally whips up an omelette? She’s a nightmare with a whisk.’

Philip’s attempt at humour lightens the mood a tad. I smile, but it hurts to do so.

I turn on the sofa and look out of the window. The view sprawls over the lake. The surrounding trees stand tall and lush and green, and they don’t move an inch in the breezeless evening. It’s like the world is holding its breath, waiting for me to decide what I’m going to do next.

I sigh and I can feel my body relaxing. I love it here.

It’s peaceful. It’s the perfect place to recuperate.

But there’s an edge. Someone is out there; I can feel it.

Right now, I’m not a detective, I’m a woman filled with a mixture of raw emotion– grief and anger.

If the killer shows his face and comes for me, I’m more than ready for him, and I’ll kill him with my bare hands, if I have to, and fuck the consequences.

‘Tea?’ Sally asks.

‘Please,’ I smile.