Bring Them Home (Detective Karen Hart Book 1) Read online

  ALSO BY D. S. BUTLER

  Lost Child

  DS Jack Mackinnon Crime Series:

  Deadly Obsession

  Deadly Motive

  Deadly Revenge

  Deadly Justice

  Deadly Ritual

  Deadly Payback

  Deadly Game

  East End Series:

  East End Trouble

  East End Diamond

  East End Retribution

  Harper Grant Mystery Series:

  A Witchy Business

  A Witchy Mystery

  A Witchy Christmas

  A Witchy Valentine

  Harper Grant and the Poisoned Pumpkin Pie

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2018 by D. S. Butler

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503904934

  ISBN-10: 1503904938

  Cover design by Emma Graves

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  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

  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

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  ‘I’m not sure about this,’ Sian Gibson muttered to her friend as they crept along the school corridor. There was no one else around as the other children had gone back to the classroom.

  Emily turned around and pressed a finger against her lips. ‘Shhh. Do you want someone to hear? Mrs Morrison will go mental if she catches us.’

  Sian wished someone would hear them. She wanted to get caught before they left the school grounds. Her mother would be furious if she found out she’d skived off.

  It was different for Emily. She was always in trouble and didn’t seem to care. In fact, the entire Dean family were trouble, according to Sian’s mother.

  Emily looped her arm through Sian’s and pulled her along. As they made their way past the line of colourful coats hanging from hooks on the wall, Emily grinned. She passed Sian her yellow coat before putting on her red anorak. Sian’s coat was only a month old, but Emily had the same anorak as last year. The cuffs were ragged, and there was a small hole by her right elbow.

  She usually turned the sleeves up carefully so the other children wouldn’t notice the frayed hems, but today she was too excited to care. The girls were mounting a daring escape and leaving school a full five minutes before the bell signalling the end of the school day.

  Ahead of them, the door to the playground was open. Nothing stood in their way. Sian felt her stomach tighten. She couldn’t back out now. Emily would think she was a baby.

  As they left the school corridor and stepped out into the cold October afternoon, Sian shivered. She looked back over her shoulder towards the classroom windows. Their classmates would be sitting cross-legged on the floor listening to the teacher reading another chapter of The Magician’s Nephew. Sian wished she was back there in the warm with them.

  Emily tugged her arm. ‘What’s the matter with you? Don’t you want to see the ponies?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. I just don’t see why we have to leave school early. We’ll be in so much trouble if Mrs Morrison finds out. What if she calls my mum?’

  ‘She won’t find out if you get a move on. Hurry up.’

  Sian’s mother said Emily was a bossy little madam and she didn’t like her spending time with the ‘Dean girl’. Sian had begged to be allowed to go to Emily’s for tea and had been surprised when her mother had finally relented. She’d be having kittens if she knew they were creeping out of school early.

  It was only five minutes, though. Surely that couldn’t get them into much trouble. Emily had insisted they leave school before the bell rang because she said she didn’t want any of the other children finding out about the ponies.

  Emily was horse-mad at the moment. All she’d talked about for the past six months was ponies and horses. Her parents had told her they weren’t wasting money on horse-riding lessons, but Emily walked to the stables every Friday afternoon and watched Sian’s weekly lesson with her Welsh cob Florence.

  Emily watched those lessons with such longing it made Sian feel guilty. Now, Emily was about to have her own riding lesson. She was glad for her friend but didn’t understand why they had to keep it secret.

  Sian loved horses. There was something comforting about the smell of the stables, and stroking the soft muzzles of the gentle ponies was the best feeling in the world, so she didn’t know why she was feeling so nervous.

  It was probably because she was afraid of being caught. Emily was right. She was a baby. She hated getting into trouble.

  It was silly really. If anyone should be panicking about getting caught, it was Emily. After all, Sian would probably be given a stern telling off and not allowed to watch TV for a week, but if Emily’s mother found out, she’d tell Emily’s dad. Sian was terrified of Emily’s dad. He was a huge man with a temper. But his shouting and threats didn’t stop Emily getting into trouble. She didn’t seem to care.

  Sian followed her friend, crossing the path and heading towards the fence that ran along the side of the playground.

  The girls climbed over the wooden fence but Sian stumbled, landing on her hands and knees on top of a pile of soggy brown leaves.

  Emily rolled her eyes but held out a hand to help her up.

  Sian took a last longing look at the warm lights of the classroom glinting between the trees. Finally, she brushed her clothes free of leaves and bracken and followed her friend into the woods.

  She’d been excited about going to Emily’s for tea. Sian’s mother always picked her up from the front gates, but Emily was allowed to go home on her own even though she was only ten. She used a shortcut along the side of the playground and the wood which led out on to Longwater Lane. But today they weren’t g
oing straight to Emily’s house. Today they were meeting Emily’s new friend, who was going to take them to see some ponies and let Emily ride one.

  At the thought of the ponies, Sian perked up a bit and walked a little faster. She shoved her hands deep in her pockets as the cold, damp October air made her shiver. It wasn’t raining, but drips of moisture fell from the branches above them, landing on their hair and coats.

  ‘Where’s your friend meeting us?’ Sian asked, no longer whispering now there was no one around to hear them.

  ‘Just through here,’ Emily said, pointing deeper into the woods. She grinned at Sian. Her eyes were sparkling and she bounced with each step like a puppy.

  Suddenly she turned to Sian, the excitement on her face replaced by fear. ‘What if I can’t do it? What if I fall off ? Or the pony doesn’t like me?’

  Sian shook her head. ‘Of course the pony will like you, and you won’t fall off. Somebody will hold the reins for you if it’s your first lesson.’

  Emily nodded but didn’t look convinced.

  Sian reached out to squeeze her friend’s hand, then both girls jumped when they heard leaves rustle in front of them.

  The afternoon was dark and gloomy, making it hard to see. A prickling sensation ran along Sian’s spine as a tall, thin figure loomed in front of them.

  At first, nobody spoke and then Sian stammered, ‘Is this your friend?’

  Emily finally found her voice. ‘Yes, the one with the ponies.’ Emily’s voice was louder than usual.

  Sian wished Emily’s friend would step away from the trees so she could see them properly, but in the next moment, she wished they’d just go away. For some reason, she felt an overwhelming need to run back to the classroom.

  ‘I told you not to tell anyone.’ The voice was gruff and angry.

  Sian’s hands tightened into fists in her pockets to stop them from shaking. She shuffled back a few steps. Sian wanted to return to school, but she was scared for her friend. She shot a glance at Emily and saw she was frowning.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Emily said. ‘It’s just that Sian really likes horses too, and she always lets me come to her lessons.’

  Sian waited for the figure to reply, but for the longest time all she could hear was ragged breathing.

  ‘Fine. This way,’ the figure said finally, before turning around and heading deeper into the woods away from the school and Longwater Lane. Sian had never gone in this direction before.

  ‘Is this the way to the stables?’ Emily asked. Her voice wasn’t as loud now.

  The figure walking in front of them said nothing.

  CHAPTER ONE

  DS Karen Hart collected the evidence files from her desk with a sigh. The case was going nowhere and, much as it pained her, she was going to have to clear it from her active cases. Mary Clarke, a domestic abuse victim, was now refusing to give evidence against her husband. For the past few days, Karen had been trying to persuade her to move to a women’s refuge in Lincoln. It had all been for nothing. An hour earlier, Mary – purple bruises still on her arms and neck – had slammed the door in Karen’s face after threatening to have her charged with harassment.

  ‘What’s up, boss?’ DC Rick Cooper asked, nodding at the files in Karen’s arms.

  ‘I’m taking the Mary Clarke paperwork to be filed. The case is finished.’

  ‘Not enough evidence for the CPS to press charges?’

  ‘Not if Mary keeps insisting she fell down the stairs.’ Karen clutched the blue cardboard folder. ‘There’s not much we can do unless she decides to accept our help.’

  Rick frowned and leaned against the desk. ‘Let’s just hope we get a chance to help her before her husband finishes her off.’

  Karen shuddered.

  ‘Sorry, boss. That was an insensitive thing to say.’

  Karen shook her head. She knew Rick was right: Mary’s life was in danger, and it was frustrating and infuriating to watch the situation unfold.

  DC Sophie Jones looked up sharply from where she was sitting at her desk in the open-plan office. ‘Surely there’s something else we can do, Sarge. We can’t just give up.’

  Sophie was a new member of the team and had only recently achieved the rank of detective constable. She was a hard worker, but idealistic. Karen thought she’d eventually make a good officer, though she’d only worked with Sophie for two months. The young woman was a stickler for rules and punctuality, and Karen imagined she must have been the class swot when she was at school.

  With her curly brown hair, pink cheeks and angelic expression, Sophie was a stark contrast to Rick. If she looked like an angel, he resembled a mischievous imp.

  Rick was a good-looking man and he knew it. He had tanned skin, evidence of his Italian ancestry on his father’s side, and wore his dark hair slicked back. His cocky smile was quick to surface, and he always wore a little too much aftershave. That aside, Karen was glad he was a member of the team. He worked hard and she trusted him.

  ‘No one’s giving up,’ Rick said to Sophie. ‘But we can’t prosecute if Mary doesn’t want us to.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous,’ Sophie said, getting to her feet and walking around the desk. ‘There has to be a way we can make Mary Clarke see sense.’

  Rick glanced at Karen and rolled his eyes as if to say, ‘See what I have to deal with?’

  ‘In an ideal situation, we’d push ahead with the charges, Sophie,’ Karen explained. ‘But from experience, I know it’s not going to stick.’

  Sophie was about to open her mouth to protest again when DI Scott Morgan entered the office area with Superintendent Michelle Murray and the three officers looked up expectantly.

  Superintendent Murray didn’t often visit the CID offices. She had a large office on the top floor of Nettleham police headquarters, and only occasionally came down to the lower floors to attend key briefings. Today she looked concerned, her dark eyes even more intense than usual.

  Beside her stood DI Scott Morgan, as immaculate as always. He’d been the leader of Team Three for just over a month, and Karen hadn’t yet worked out what made him tick. Her last DI had been an open book. But Scott Morgan didn’t give much away.

  Superintendent Murray spoke first. ‘We’ve had a report of two missing girls, both ten years old, from Moore Lane Primary School in Heighington.’

  Karen dumped the files on her desk and checked her watch. It was only just after four p.m. ‘How long have they been gone?’

  ‘They were seen just before three o’clock when the class finished rehearsing for the school play. Their teacher noticed they were missing at three fifteen.’

  That was unusual. Children tended to disappear on their way to and from school rather than during the school day.

  Karen shifted her attention to DI Morgan. Unlike the superintendent, who looked tense, his face was impassive.

  ‘Is there any reason to suspect foul play?’ Rick Cooper asked.

  DI Morgan replied, ‘Not yet. A uniformed unit is already on the scene, conducting a preliminary search of the woods beside the school and the surrounding streets, but it’s possible the girls decided to leave early of their own accord and will turn up at home wondering what all the fuss was about.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ Superintendent Murray said in her soft Scottish accent. Karen had never heard her raise her voice. She didn’t need to. Everyone at Nettleham HQ knew Superintendent Murray’s gentle tone was deceptive, and woe betide anyone who assumed she was a soft touch.

  ‘It’s Heighington again, boss,’ Rick muttered, looking at Karen.

  She gave a curt nod, understanding what Rick was getting at. She turned her attention back to the superintendent, who was issuing instructions to DI Morgan.

  ‘You and DS Hart should get to the school straightaway. I’m sure DC Cooper and DC Jones can set up the incident room in your absence. Keep me updated.’

  Superintendent Murray turned and walked away, and Karen reached for her coat.

  When they were in the fl
eet car with DI Morgan at the wheel, Karen asked, ‘What do we know about the girls so far?’

  ‘Two girls. Both ten years old. Sian Gibson and Emily Dean. The head teacher of the primary school is Jackie Lyons. She’s the one who reported the girls missing. The girls’ teacher is Roz Morrison, and she says that although Emily Dean is a difficult child, it’s unlike her to sneak off during the school day, and it’s very out of character for Sian.’

  Karen nodded. ‘And we haven’t spoken to the parents yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ DI Morgan said. He put his foot down as they pulled away from a junction. ‘But they’ve been informed.’

  Karen was about to suggest that she talked to the parents of the two girls while DI Morgan spoke to the teachers, but before she could, DI Morgan asked her about Rick’s comment.

  The car came to a stop in front of traffic lights, and Karen turned to look at DI Morgan. She hadn’t realised he’d picked up on it as he’d been talking to the superintendent at the time.

  Less than eighteen months ago, Karen had been seconded to DI Freeman’s team after a young woman had disappeared from Heighington. Heighington was only a small village and normally very safe and Karen couldn’t help thinking it was a pretty big coincidence to have a similar case in such a short period. Hopefully this one was a false alarm and the girls would turn up safe and well. It still ate away at Karen that they hadn’t been able to track down Amy Fisher, the nineteen-year-old who’d disappeared without a trace. Even though Karen had only been on the periphery of the case, it still stung that they hadn’t been able to get a result.

  ‘Did you hear about the Amy Fisher case?’

  DI Morgan nodded. ‘The nineteen-year-old who went missing from a village in Lincolnshire over a year ago? Yes, if I recall correctly, there were plenty of suspects but she wasn’t found.’

  Karen was impressed. DI Morgan had been based in the Thames Valley when Amy Fisher went missing. Then again, she should have guessed he would recall some details of the case. In the short time she’d known him, she’d noticed he liked to accumulate knowledge.

  ‘Amy lived in Heighington,’ Karen said quietly.

  DI Morgan considered that information for a moment before replying, ‘It’s unlikely to be related to our missing girls. Emily and Sian are ten. Amy Fisher was nineteen. If the incidents were related and we were dealing with a predator targeting young girls, we’d expect them to be in a similar age range.’