Hush Hush

Copyright

Published by Avon an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street,

London, SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018

Copyright © Mel Sherratt 2018

Cover photograph: Stoke Canal Scene © Alan Tunnicliffe/Shutterstock

Cover photograph: Running Woman © Henry Steadman

Cover design © Henry Steadman

Mel Sherratt 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.

Source ISBN: 9780008271046

Ebook Edition © October 2018 ISBN:9780008339302

Version: 2018-11-22

Praise for Mel Sherratt:

‘An absolute masterpiece. Twisty, turny and full of surprises!’

Angela Marsons

‘Mel Sherratt’s books are as smart and edgy as her heroines’

Cara Hunter

‘Mel Sherratt is the new queen of gritty police procedurals’

C.L. Taylor

‘Twists and turns and delivers a satisfying shot of tension’

Rachel Abbott

‘Heart-stoppingly tense. I love Mel Sherratt’s writing’

Angela Clarke

‘Gripped me from the first page and didn’t let go until the heart-stopping conclusion!’

Robert Bryndza

‘A writer to watch out for’

Mandasue Heller

‘Uncompromising, powerful and very real – an important new voice’

David Mark

‘Mel’s vivid imagination really brings her characters to life’

Kerry Wilkinson

‘Mel Sherratt is a unique voice in detective fiction’

Mail on Sunday

Dedication

To Chris and Alison,

for always believing in me.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Mel Sherratt

Dedication

March 2017

Chapter One: August 2018

Chapter Two: September 2018

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Chapter Seventy

Chapter Seventy-One

Chapter Seventy-Two

Chapter Seventy-Three

Chapter Seventy-Four

Chapter Seventy-Five

Chapter Seventy-Six

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Chapter Eighty

Acknowledgments

Author Note

Read More

About the Author

Also by Mel Sherratt

About the Publisher

March 2017

George Steele came out of The Potter’s, leaving the noise of the rowdy party still going on behind him. Outside, it was fresh, the hint of warmer weather around the corner.

It was nearing midnight as he began to walk home. He had planned on only having one more for the road, but that was two hours ago, and now he was struggling to stand up.

He wondered if Kathleen had left him anything to eat. He could murder something hot inside him. If she hadn’t, he would wake her. She could cook him something. He salivated at the thought of a bacon butty.

It was a short walk down a country lane and along a small path. Sober, it took him half as long as it did when he was legless. He snorted to himself as he stumbled to his right. It would take him all night, zigzagging the road as he was.

His phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket. He brought it near to his face, trying to see who was calling him, but he couldn’t read the screen, so he let it ring out. At this time of night, it would only be someone looking to cause trouble. He was sick and tired of people after a piece of him. Always wanting to fight with him, anger him, disrespect him. He couldn’t even rely on his useless sons to sort anything out. They just weren’t up to his standard when it came to what he expected of his family. And as for his silly daughter … He didn’t have the words for how pathetic she was.

He was at the path now, minutes from home. The house stood on four acres of land, the room he’d had so much fun with hidden away at the bottom of the garden. It had been passed down to him by his parents, the only thing they’d given him he’d ever been glad of. How he had hated his father and the time spent with him there, at the hands of a monster. Still, at least it meant he’d known how to get the best out of his own family too.

George didn’t hear a sound as someone crept up behind him. A crack to the head made him stumble forward. Another and he dropped to his knees. He turned around and was greeted with a whack in the face. Unable to see who it was in the dark, he tried to crawl away on all fours, but a kick to the stomach had him coughing. He held up a hand – each hit was followed by a pause.

‘Wait!’ he cried, catching his breath, sitting up on his haunches. ‘Whoever has sent you to do this, I’ll double your money.’ He winced in agony as pain pulsed through his body. ‘Because when I find out, be prepared to get a lot worse than you’re giving me now.’

A hit to the side of his face and colours exploded inside his head. He dropped to the floor again.

It took a few more blows before he realised his attacker wasn’t going to stop.

ONE
August 2018

Grace Allendale climbed the restaurant stairs to the first floor and slipped back to her seat at the table.

‘We’ve just placed our order,’ DC Sam Markham said, beaming at her. ‘Won’t be long now.’

Grace smiled back. It was Friday evening and everyone in Spice World was in high spirits. The clientele were letting off steam, catching up with friends and family. Grace would rather have ordered a takeaway and eaten alone at home, but needs must.

The restaurant was situated in the lower part of Hanley, around the corner from Bethesda Police Station, Grace’s new headquarters. From the outside the Victorian building looked weather-worn and, as they’d walked inside the curry house, she’d wondered what she was letting herself in for.

But it had been a pleasant surprise to find a warm and modern atmosphere. There were tables full of diners spread out over the ground floor, and a grand staircase leading upstairs to many more. The music playing in the background was modern rock, not too intrusive, yet loud enough to be heard over the friendly banter of people out enjoying themselves.

This was the first time Grace had met her work colleagues since she’d got her new job as detective sergeant, a promotion from her former role in Salford. Grace had lived there for the past twenty-three years. She’d joined the police force after leaving university and had worked as a police constable before transferring to Major Crimes as a detective. She’d been quite settled in that role for several years, but when things took a tumble in her private life, she’d decided that she needed a new goal to aim for.

Having taken her detective sergeant’s exam last year, when a post had come up in her birthplace of Stoke-on-Trent, she decided to put in for it. She needed a change, somewhere she could start afresh, even though she wasn’t quite sure it was a good decision to come back to the town from which she and her mum had fled all those years ago. But circumstances were different now. The man who had caused them so much pain was no longer around.

After she’d been offered the job, Grace had got an invite to join the team for a night out before her start date on Monday. There was only one officer who hadn’t been able to make it, someone called Alex Challinor, who had a previous engagement he couldn’t get out of, although no one had enlightened her as to what it was.

Around her, her new colleagues were sharing some in-joke. Then suddenly Nick Carter, their DI, stopped laughing and turned to her.

‘Sorry, we’re ignoring you. You say you lived in Stoke when you were younger, Grace?’ he asked.

All eyes fell on her. ‘Yes, until I was twelve,’ she replied. ‘Then my parents divorced and I moved to Salford with my mum.’

‘So, you don’t have many memories?’ DC Perry Wright asked.

‘I have a few,’ Grace nodded. She could remember far more than she would ever share with them. The nights she’d heard her mum screaming as her father laid into her. The times there was no money for food because he’d spent it all in the pub. The days when he would go missing and be brought home by the police after being locked up in a cell. The weeks he spent with other women before fighting his way back into their house again. The double life he led that she knew nothing of until she was old enough to understand … ‘But I expect so much has changed since then, anyway,’ she added.

‘Not much to write home about,’ Sam giggled. ‘But we still love it. And you’ll soon know the place, and its people. Even the undesirables.’

Nick raised his glass in the air. ‘Welcome to the Major Crimes Team.’

Everyone joined Nick in a toast. Only Perry, sitting opposite her, didn’t lift his eyes to hers as well. He hadn’t joined in the conversation much either, she’d noticed.

The door to the restaurant opened and several men came in at once. From her first-floor position, Grace looked down at the newcomers as their laughter filled the room, booming, loud and boisterous. She counted four of them, all casually dressed in shirts and jeans; lean, with biceps and quads looking fit to burst through their clothes. A waiter rushed across to them and they were quickly seated, despite the busyness of the room.

As she turned back to her group, Grace noticed the atmosphere at their table had changed.

‘Seriously?’ Perry sighed. ‘Can’t we have one night out without it being a busman’s holiday?’

‘They might not see us up here,’ Nick said.

‘What’s wrong?’ Grace asked, realising she had a bird’s-eye view from her seat at the end of the table. Nick had his back to the group.

‘Meet part of the Steele family and some of their cronies.’ Sam nodded her head in the direction of the men. ‘They like to think they’re untouchable.’

‘They own Steele’s Gym in Baddeley Green,’ Nick informed her. ‘It’s got a boxing club attached to it as well.’

‘So, it’s a legit establishment?’ Grace questioned, trying to keep her voice calm and professional.

‘Let’s say it isn’t just a place where you can go for a workout,’ Nick explained. ‘The Steeles are one of our local crime families. Their father, George, was murdered last year; his killer’s still at large.’

Grace dropped her eyes momentarily, feeling her cheeks burn at the mention of that name, but none of the others seemed to notice. She’d read that George Steele had last been seen leaving his local pub just before midnight on March fifteenth the previous year. His family had reported him missing the next day, and he’d been found a few hours later on a shortcut through to his home. He’d been beaten to death. A thorough investigation had given the police no leads. Now it had been assigned to Alex Challinor, her absent colleague, to work on if anything new came to light.

‘There are two sons and a daughter.’ Nick looked at Grace. ‘Eddie is the one on the right. He’s the eldest brother.’

Grace looked down through the glass balustrade to see a man of about thirty-seven reading a menu before slapping it on the table and glancing around the room. She dropped her eyes for a moment.

‘The one sitting opposite him is Leon. He’s a couple of years younger.’

Grace focused on Eddie’s brother, an almost identical version of him. If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought they were twins. Both had dark brown hair and were well groomed – attractive in their own rough-around-the-edges way.

‘There’s a sister, too. Jade. She runs a nail bar in the gym with their mother, Kathleen,’ Perry added.

‘Testosterone aplenty.’ Sam let out a long sigh. ‘Maybe they’ll be fine once they get some food.’

Nick sat up straight as three waiters walked towards their table. ‘Speaking of which, here comes our order.’

Grace placed her napkin on her lap. As she dished rice on to her plate, she heard a squeal and looked downstairs. Leon Steele had seized a waitress who was walking past, pulling her onto his knee.

‘Hey,’ the woman protested, trying to get back to her feet, but he held on to her. She squirmed as he whispered something in her ear. As the group burst into loud jeers again, all heads in the restaurant turned towards them. Grace groaned inwardly. She was hoping to have more time to get to know her work colleagues before this happened.

Perry removed his napkin from his lap and made to stand up. But Nick held him back.

‘Let’s just see if it calms down,’ Nick said as restaurant staff rushed over. ‘It’s going to get a lot more troublesome and ruin many people’s nights if we wade in.’

Grace watched as Leon released the woman and held up his arms in surrender. ‘Only having a bit of fun,’ he shouted to the room as the waitress scuttled off.

‘I hate how they think they own the place.’ Perry scowled as he looked down at his food. ‘Meanwhile we sit back and let it happen.’

‘This is a night out, not a team briefing,’ Nick chided. ‘And for now they haven’t seen us, so let’s just leave it like that.’

Eddie Steele’s gaze rose up and Grace dropped her eyes immediately. When she looked again seconds later, he was staring her way. Their eyes locked for a moment, as if they were the only two people in the room, before Grace lowered hers once more.

She couldn’t hold her tongue. It wasn’t what she’d intended but she might as well come clean now. Really, was there any other way than to tell her work colleagues the truth?

Grace turned to the group and put her glass down heavily on the table, enough to get everyone’s attention but not to cause too much of a fuss so that everyone else looked their way.

‘You wanted to know all about me?’ She looked at each one of them in turn, knowing that, once she’d said the next few words, everything was going to become a whole lot harder.

‘They already know!’ Nick intervened.

Grace tried to stop a frown forming on her face.

‘I told them about Matt.’ Nick shook his head. ‘I’m sorry; I thought it would make things easier for you. I know how much you need a fresh start.’

‘Yeah, we’re all here for you,’ Sam said. ‘It must be really hard to deal with.’

Grace gave a faint smile. Nick stared at her. She could almost sense his thoughts, telling her to stay silent.

She didn’t want him to lie for her. She wanted to be honest upfront. But it was clear from the look in Nick’s eye that she needed to keep quiet.

She couldn’t tell anyone that Eddie and Leon Steele were her half-brothers. And George Steele, criminal, racketeer and murder victim, had been her father.

TWO
September 2018
TUESDAY – DAY 1

Josh Parker pushed up the weight with a long and loud groan. His shift had finished half an hour ago, the same time Steele’s Gym had closed, but he liked to stay behind to do his own workout.

It was half past ten in the evening and no one else was around. The clank of the hand weights as he put them back into the stand seemed to echo round the large room.

He’d worked at Steele’s Gym since it had opened in 2006. On the outside, it was a standard gym, with a boxing club and a nail bar that was more often than not manned by Clara, the receptionist. The establishment purposely had no airs and graces, which suited most of their clients.

On the inside, behind the scenes, money was the tool. Cash was loaned to anyone who was desperate and couldn’t get it elsewhere, and paid back with crippling percentage rates. Beatings were rife if money wasn’t delivered on time and had to be collected. The monthly parties that they’d recently set up were working a treat to bring in extra too. It was something that Eddie Steele didn’t like, but the money they were raking in each time was not to be sniffed at.

Josh knew the police were keeping an eye on him and the Steeles, as were the family they were rivals with, the Woodmans. They too were watching their enemies. Eddie had asked Josh in particular to pay attention to what was going on, even though Leon thought he was looking after the gym.

He clasped his hands together in front of his body and flexed his biceps. They almost seemed to pop out of his skin and he smiled at himself in the mirror.

‘Looking good,’ he said quietly. ‘Looking good.’

A noise made him turn his head. He thought he’d heard a door open and he listened for a moment. But there was nothing else, so he went back to admiring himself.

Peace and quiet meant that he could pay attention during his workout. Music blaring through the day, the thump of the treadmills, the whining of the rowers, plus the banter from the clients all faded away once he was on his own. There were mirrors all around that he could look at without fear of being called narcissistic. He was vain, he admitted freely, but in this job it paid to look good. Working for Eddie Steele, it was expected.

He pushed the barbell above his head, glancing at a photo beside him on the wall. He and Eddie were fourteen and wearing boxing gloves, arms around each other’s shoulders after fighting in the ring. Eddie had always been victorious in everything he did. He had a vicious streak Josh couldn’t match, no matter how hard he tried.

Josh had known the Steele family since he was at junior school. He and Eddie had been in the same class and had gelled during a PE session when Eddie had legged someone over for tackling the football from him. A fight had ensued and Josh managed to break it up after the teacher had blown his whistle. As he pulled the boy up, a swift thump in the stomach when the teacher wasn’t looking ensured that he and Eddie clicked.

And it wasn’t just he and Eddie who had got close. Eddie’s sister, Jade, had been the local sleep-around for years beyond school. At thirty-two now, she was the youngest of the three Steeles. Josh had spent a year with her himself in his early twenties, before realising his anger and temper would be better served to superior uses. Jade knew exactly how to wind him up. It was as if she goaded him deliberately. And because she was a Steele, the fact that he couldn’t slap her around if she proved a threat to anything he was doing didn’t sit well with him. He and Eddie had their fingers in lots of pies back then, long before the gym opened, and he wasn’t up to losing that.

If it weren’t for Josh Parker, Leon would be second-in-command. Josh knew that Leon hated this and there was no love lost between them. Much to Josh’s annoyance, Eddie had always bailed Leon out of trouble, and since they were teens, Leon had wanted in with everything they did. Josh hadn’t liked it, yet he’d put up with it, biding his time over the years before Leon could be taken out of the equation altogether. But now, Leon was stronger than ever, even though he was still only the younger brother.

Josh had tried on many occasions to land Leon in trouble with the law so that he’d be booted off to prison for a few years, allowing Josh to get his claws into the family business. There was so much up for grabs, and he wanted it. He’d earned it. And it was time he got what he was owed.

After a post-workout shower, Josh switched off the lights and locked up the building. Walking around to the back of the car park, he clicked off the alarm as he drew level with his car. The lights flashed yellow and he opened the boot and put in his gym bag. But as he closed it, he jumped as a figure appeared at the side of the car.

‘What do you want?’ he asked, rolling his eyes.

Out of nowhere, something was sprayed in his face. He squeezed his eyes shut as they began to burn.

‘What the …?’

Josh put his hands to his face and staggered. More liquid was thrown on him. Then the smell of burning flesh was all around him as he dropped to his knees.

Crying out, he writhed on the ground. Some bastard had thrown acid at him. It was going to ruin his face! Fear coursed through him, tears were too painful to form. In desperation, he rolled over, trying to dampen his hands on the tarmac, wet from a recent thunderstorm.

He could hear nothing but his own screams as his skin fell from the backs of his hands. Breathing heavily, he tried to listen, to see if his attacker was still there. Was there anyone near him now? He pulled a hand away from his face, but pain ripped through him again and he cried out. It was as if his skin had shrunk, stretching like torn cling film.

Time seemed to slow as the burns went deeper. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he was pulled over onto his back. Someone straddled him.

He couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t even hold out a hand in defence. All he could do was shout.

In silence, his attacker raised a knife high in the air.