Victim of Innocence

Victim of Innocence
A DCI Matilda Darke Short Story
MICHAEL WOOD

One More Chapter

an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019

Copyright © Michael Wood 2019

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com

Michael Wood asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © December 2019 ISBN: 9780008374846

Version: 2020-01-16

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Keep Reading …

Also by Michael Wood

About the Author

About the Publisher

Chapter One
Sunday March 6, 2011

Caitlyn Brown was confused. She staggered forward and held out her arms to hold on to something, anything, to stop her from falling.

What the hell had happened?

She heard the front door closing. Was that someone coming in or going out?

‘Hello?’ She called. Her voice slurred, but she had been sober since New Year. ‘Are you still there? Can you help me? I think …’

Steadying herself on the mantelpiece, Caitlyn turned around to face the living room door. It seemed to blur in and out of focus. Was someone about to come in? That wasn’t possible. She made a point of locking and double-locking the front door as soon as she came home from work. Her mother was the only other person with a spare key, and she wouldn’t turn up unannounced, not since the discussion they had about privacy over Christmas.

Caitlyn felt sick and dizzy. She needed to sit down before she fell. She needed a drink. She needed her mother.

Flopping into the armchair, Caitlyn reached over to the telephone and lifted the handset out of its cradle. She stared but couldn’t focus on the buttons. They wobbled in front of her eyes.

She scrolled through the phone’s built-in contacts and pressed the green call button when she saw what looked like the three-letter word ‘mum’. She held the phone to her ear and listened to the echoing ring. It sounded odd, as if it was the only noise in a large empty room.

‘Hello?’ A voice Caitlyn didn’t recognize answered. It sounded slow and deep.

‘Mum? Is that you?’ Caitlyn asked, concern in her slurred speech.

‘Yes. Caitlyn? Are you all right?’

‘I don’t know.’ She ran her hand through her hair. It came away wet. ‘I think there’s someone in my flat.’

‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘Mum? Is that really you?’ Caitlyn’s voice wobbled. It sounded slow in her head.

‘Oh God, Caitlyn, have you been drinking? You promised you’d quit. You’ve been doing so well, too.’

‘Mum, I haven’t been drinking.’

‘Then why do you sound like your dad when he comes home after United have won?’

‘Mum, I haven’t had a drink in months.’ That was a lie, but there was no reason to tell her mother the truth. She would only worry more than she already did.

‘Caitlyn, I’m not stupid. I know drunk when I hear it. Look, you’re going through hell right now, but drinking won’t help. And what will Mr Jowett say tomorrow when you turn up for work hungover? He’s been very good to you lately, Caitlyn.’

‘Someone’s in my flat,’ Caitlyn said, her eyes still fixed on the doorway.

‘Yes, of course. And Tom Selleck is waiting for me in bed upstairs. Look, sleep it off and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘But—’

‘Goodnight.’

The line went dead.

‘Shit,’ she said to herself. ‘I’ve phoned the police,’ she called out towards the doorway she could barely see.

There was no reply. Caitlyn remained in the armchair staring at the door, wondering if someone was going to enter. The walls seemed to be moving; the door to the hallway was getting further and further away. Eventually, she lifted herself up and used the wall to steady herself. It was closed and the Yale was locked. Maybe she hadn’t heard the door closing.

What did she remember? She was sat having a drink of wine—

‘Don’t tell mum. Mustn’t tell mum.’

—watching a repeat of Blue Planet on Sky when the doorbell rang. After that, nothing but a massive headache. She placed a hand on her forehead. It felt warm and clammy.

Caitlyn stumbled into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Her dizziness increased. She wanted to sleep. She began to remove her clothes; floppy fingers fumbled with her shirt buttons; tired legs kicked out of her trousers. She couldn’t be bothered to change into her pyjamas; she couldn’t find them anyway.

When she stood up, she caught her tired reflection in the wardrobe mirror. She looked a mess: pale, skinny, bad skin and crazy hair.

Caitlyn threw back the duvet and fell into bed. She started to relax straight away as her warm body was engulfed in the cool crisp sheets. She turned over to cocoon herself in the duvet and didn’t notice the blood dripping from her head onto the pillow; didn’t notice as a red stain grew like a flower across the sheets.

Chapter Two
Monday March 7, 2011

‘Table for two. Name of Darke.’

Matilda held her husband’s hand firmly while they waited for their table. His large fingers wrapped around hers. His were calloused, weather beaten, the hands of a manual worker, strong and rugged. She felt safe with this tall handsome man gripping her hand. She had no idea why she was suddenly so fixated on James’s hand, but as she looked down, she wanted to memorize every single line and cut, as if she was seeing it for the last time. She also wanted to lick it, take off his jacket and shirt, kiss his firm masculine body, run her tongue …

‘Mr Darke, your table is ready.’

‘Thank goodness. I’m starving,’ Matilda said, her face flushed with embarrassment.

It had been a while since they had dressed up and gone out somewhere posh to eat. Since the renovations on the house, they were living in a glorified caravan at the bottom of the garden. Meals consisted of takeaways, sandwiches, and things that could be cooked in one pan. Tonight was a chance to indulge in expensive food and drink over several courses.

They were shown to their table by the window and given the menus.

‘Are you all right?’ James asked.

‘I’m fine. Why?’

‘You look a bit flushed.’

Matilda smiled and felt herself blushing. ‘I’m fine. Honestly. I’ve been looking forward to this evening all day. I haven’t had lunch.’

‘I have,’ James said as he perused the menu. ‘But only a jacket potato, a bit of salad, tuna mayo, packet of crisps.’

‘Is that all? You’ll be wasting away,’ she mocked.

‘Are we having a starter?’

‘Of course.’ Matilda was almost salivating as she looked at the menu.

Her phone started to ring. They made eye contact. They both knew what this meant.

‘Luckily I hadn’t chosen yet,’ James said.

Matilda mouthed ‘sorry’ before taking her phone out of her inside pocket. She listened to the voice on the other end. All the while her bright face was falling to one of sadness and disappointment. She ended the call and didn’t dare look up at her husband.

‘You have to go,’ James said.

‘I’m afraid so. A body has been found in Heeley.’

‘I’ll drive you.’

‘No. Stay. Have some decent food for a change.’

‘On my own? I’ll look like I’ve been stood up. I’ll drop you off then go for a pizza.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, genuinely meaning it.

‘Don’t be silly. This is the cheapest meal I’ve had out in ages.’

He flashed her his perfect smile which she couldn’t resist returning. Matilda promised herself she would make it up to him.

It was half past eight. Fortunately at this time of night on a week day there was very little traffic around so Matilda arrived at Heeley on the outskirts of the city centre in good time. There was nowhere for James to park, so he stopped in the middle of the road and put the hazards on. Matilda leaned over and kissed him passionately on the lips.

‘I’m really sorry.’

‘Stop apologising. It’s not your fault. Now, go on, I can see Sian’s eyes burning into us.’ He gave the DS a wave through the windscreen. She waved back.

‘Don’t wait up.’

Matilda kissed him again then, reluctantly, got out of the car. She walked over to Sian and they watched James drive away.

‘That reminds me, I need a new hoover,’ Sian said.

‘What?’ Matilda frowned.

‘One with really good suction on it,’ she smiled.

‘Cheeky sod. I’m sure you and Stuart are still passionate.’

Sian rolled her eyes. ‘It depends how well England are playing at rugby.’

Matilda took in the scene surrounding the block of six apartments and blinked at the dazzling blue flashing lights on the police cars. She ducked under the police tape and looked up at the building. Lights seemed to be on in every room. The residents were obviously interested in the attention they were receiving from police. ‘What’s dragged me away from a four-course meal, then?’

‘Flat number one is registered to Caitlyn Brown. Police were called when her mother came running out of the flat screaming at eight o’clock this evening. According to a neighbour, she was rambling and inconsolable. Caitlyn was found dead in bed with a very nasty head injury.’

‘Where’s the mother now?’

‘She’s been taken to hospital and sedated.’

‘OK. Let’s take a look.’

Sian handed Matilda a paper forensic suit. ‘Not designer, I’m afraid.’

In the foyer of the building, Matilda struggled into the flimsy white suit. She was uncomfortable and the shoe covers wouldn’t fit properly over her Jimmy Choos.

Sian looked at her watch.

‘Don’t you roll your eyes at me,’ Matilda said. ‘I’m not dressed for this.’

The long hallway had three rooms leading off it: a living room, kitchen, and bedroom. As it was only a one-bedroom flat, the bathroom was en suite. Matilda looked into the living room as she passed. It was large and crowded with furniture. Several scene of crime officers snapped photographs and took samples of blood smears on the wall.

In the large bedroom a swarm of white-suited officers dusted for prints, took photographs, and sketched the scene. Leaning over the victim in the bed was pathologist Dr Adele Kean in a forensic suit.

‘Evening,’ Matilda said.

Adele stood up and revealed the victim to Matilda. The duvet had been pulled back and the young woman lay as if asleep in matching bra and pants. Her eyes were closed and there was a small smile on her lips, as if she was having a pleasant dream she didn’t want to wake up from. All Matilda could think of was what a shocking waste of a life it was.

‘I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought tonight was date night,’ Adele said.

‘It was but I made the mistake of telling Sian my plans, so she organized a nice murder to ruin it for me, didn’t you?’ Matilda turned to the DS who was smiling.

‘Listen, if I have to sit home every night and watch Emmerdale, so can you.’

‘Just wait until it’s your birthday,’ she said with a hint of a smile. She turned to Adele. ‘What can you tell me?’

Carefully, Adele leaned over the bed and slowly rolled Caitlyn onto her side to show Matilda the back of her head. ‘As you can see we have a single blow to the back of the head.’

‘Nasty.’

‘Absolutely. It’s fractured the skull. There’s blood on the pillow and there’s some in the living room too, apparently. However, I’d say she died from a massive head trauma.’

‘What was she hit with?’

‘I don’t know,’ Adele frowned. ‘Something blunt but big and heavy. There’s nothing in the wound to identify a weapon, but the skull has caved in. I’d say you’re looking for something round.’

‘Like a bowling ball?’ Matilda guessed.

‘Nothing that big, but, possibly.’

‘Is this how she was found?’ Matilda turned to Sian.

‘Yes. The duvet was over her though. It’s like she just went to bed and died.’

‘Any sign of disturbance?’

‘Not in here. Come into the living room,’ Sian said, leading the way.

‘I’ll see you later, Adele.’

‘OK. I’ll try and do the PM tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know. Love your earrings, by the way,’ said Adele.

‘Thank you,’ she smiled and left the room.

‘As you can see from the carpet there are marks where the sofa should be, but it’s been pushed back,’ Sian said, pointing. ‘There’s blood smears on the back of the armchair and the wall too.’

‘So, what? She was hit in here and then the killer put her to bed?’

‘Could be.’

‘I’ve got a clear fingerprint in a blood smear,’ a SOCO said, turning to Matilda.

‘Great. Check it against the victim.’

‘Will do.’

‘Any sign of a break in?’ Matilda asked Sian.

‘No. The flat was locked,’ she said.

‘How did the mother gain entry?’

‘She had a key, I’m guessing. We’ve not been able to interview her yet. Anna’s at the hospital with her. She’s going to give me a call when she finds anything out.’

Matilda looked around the room. On the floor by the door was a plastic box which contained all the exhibits. She bent down and picked up a heavy glass object in an evidence bag.

‘What’s this?’

‘It’s a paper weight,’ Sian said.

‘Where was it found?’ She asked, looking at the blood smear on the glass ball.

‘Here,’ the SOCO pointed to a gap on a shelf above a radiator.

Matilda took the paper weight through to the bedroom. ‘Adele, would this have done the job?’

Adele asked her Anatomical Pathology Technician to turn Caitlyn on her side to reveal the wound once again. The glass ball fitted perfectly into the indentation in the wound.

‘Nice of the killer to leave the murder weapon behind,’ Adele said.

DC Rita Morgan entered the bedroom. ‘Ma’am, I asked Aaron to run Caitlyn Brown through the PNC to see if she’s known to us, and she is.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes. She reported a crime a few days ago. She said she was raped last year.’