On Cold Ground (Detective Karen Hart) Read online

  ‘Of course, we can’t know that for sure, but Samuel Pickett’s death could be a motive?’

  ‘It’s a stretch, but I suppose we can’t ignore it,’ Churchill said grudgingly.

  ‘So should I organise a warrant for Beverley Nelson’s car?’

  ‘No.’

  Karen felt a familiar spark of temper. ‘Why not?’

  His eyes narrowed, and he gave her a cold smile. He was well aware he was getting under her skin. He enjoyed it.

  ‘I’ll ask Arnie to get on it when he gets back.’

  ‘I’m perfectly capable of organising the warrant,’ Karen said, trying and failing to keep the irritation from her voice.

  ‘I’m still waiting for your report, DS Hart.’

  It was ridiculous. For one thing, Arnie and Leo had only set off about half an hour ago, so they wouldn’t be back for a while yet. The wasted time was infuriating.

  But how could she say that, without dropping Arnie and Leo in it, telling tales?

  ‘Sophie will finish the report. It’s almost done. I can apply for the warrant before Arnie and Leo get back.’

  ‘Are you hard of hearing, DS Hart?’

  She clenched her teeth. ‘No, I just don’t like pointlessly wasting time.’

  Churchill leaned back in his chair and swivelled round on it. ‘I know I can trust my team to do a good job. I need officers I can rely on. Until I know you are one of those officers, I’ll give the important jobs to Arnie and Leo. Understood?’

  Karen looked at him in disbelief.

  Arnie would probably say to nod and go along with it, but it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t in Karen’s nature to bow and scrape to a jumped-up idiot who wanted to be the cock of the walk.

  ‘Fine, but I think you’re making a mistake,’ Karen said. ‘We’re wasting needless time.’

  ‘Your point is noted, DS Hart. Please close the door on your way out.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DI Morgan sat on a faded green velvet sofa facing the Picketts. He balanced a cup and saucer on his knee. He’d turned down the offer of a cup of tea from Lisa Pickett’s mother, but she’d made him one anyway – and so he’d taken it, not wanting to offend. Sam’s grandmother was on autopilot, keeping busy, trying to help in any way she could, even if that was just making tea.

  They’d turned the family liaison officer away from the door yesterday, sending them off with a few angry words. What’s the point in you turning up when you’ve got nothing new to say? Will Pickett had asked angrily.

  He had a point, and Morgan hoped Mr Pickett wouldn’t react the same way today, because there was no fresh news for the family now either.

  Some cases affected Morgan more than others. He found the ones involving children especially hard. Samuel Pickett had been twelve years old. Sam had loved riding his bike and playing on his PlayStation. He was good at drawing and wanted to be a comic book artist when he grew up. The pictures that plastered his bedroom wall showed he’d had talent. Sam should have had his whole life ahead of him.

  Today, Lisa – Sam’s mother – sat opposite Morgan, looking out of the window, zoning out of the conversation. She looked tired, her face pale, her unwashed brown hair dragged back into a low ponytail. Lethargy and hopelessness had sunk in.

  Will Pickett wasn’t as angry today. When Morgan had first met the man, he’d seemed full of pent-up energy, furious, determined to find out what had happened to his boy. But now he was still, almost unnaturally so. He sat in an armchair on one side of Morgan, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees, gaze fixed on the floor.

  There was no interaction between husband and wife. Neither one reached out to reassure the other. They were alone in their grief.

  ‘Can I get anyone else a cup of tea?’ Lisa’s mother got half to her feet, looking hopefully around the room.

  She wanted desperately to help. To stop the pain. But there was nothing she could do.

  Morgan couldn’t blame her for wanting to escape to the kitchen and leave the oppressive sadness in the room.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Morgan said.

  Neither Lisa nor Will replied.

  ‘So, you have nothing?’ Will’s voice was barely a whisper. ‘Nothing to go on. Nothing to lead you to the person who killed Sam. The person who left him to die in a ditch like an animal.’

  Before Morgan could formulate a response, Lisa said, ‘He didn’t die like that, did he?’ She looked at her mother. ‘I thought he died instantly, from the impact. He didn’t suffer.’ She turned to Morgan. ‘Didn’t you say he died instantly?’

  A flash of pain crossed Will’s face.

  Morgan hadn’t said that. Perhaps the family liaison officer had said something to ease their grief, though they shouldn’t have. Not if it wasn’t true.

  It was tempting to say something to lessen their pain, even if only a small amount. But he wouldn’t lie.

  ‘We can’t say for sure.’

  ‘In your experience, though,’ Lisa said, leaning towards him. ‘Do you think Sam suffered?’

  How could he answer that?

  Morgan paused a beat, then said, ‘Even if he’d survived the impact for a short time, I’d guess he would’ve been unconscious.’

  ‘So he wouldn’t have been hurting, calling for us?’ Tears were rolling down Lisa’s cheeks, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her mother perched on the side of her chair and put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, pulling her close.

  ‘He doesn’t know,’ Will snapped. ‘He doesn’t know anything.’

  Will’s eyes burned. There was the anger Morgan had seen last time.

  Morgan had needed to come, to show they were still trying to get answers, that Sam hadn’t been forgotten, but now his presence was causing the family more pain.

  He stood. ‘I’ll be in touch. You can call me if you need to.’

  Will scoffed and looked away. ‘Don’t come back unless you have some answers.’

  Lisa’s mother led Morgan to the door.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I know you’re doing your best for Sam.’

  ‘We are. We’re checking all traffic cameras that line the roads that lead to the accident spot. It means checking a lot of vehicles, but we should have news soon.’

  She put her hand on his forearm and squeezed. ‘Thank you.’

  Morgan walked to his car, wondering what was worse: being the target of a bereaved father’s anger or being thanked by Sam’s grandmother. Logically he knew the situation wasn’t his fault, that he was trying his best to find the driver who’d killed Sam, but somehow Will’s anger was easier to absorb.

  So far he’d failed to get justice for Sam. Being thanked made him feel like a fraud.

  DS Hodgson and DC Clinton still weren’t back by three p.m., when Karen headed upstairs to attend the corruption briefing. She’d sent Churchill a copy of the case report summary via email, not trusting herself to deliver it in person. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to be civil if she spoke to him again about the report.

  The briefing was to be held in a room on the top floor, near the superintendent’s office. Karen hadn’t attended a meeting up there before. The room was very different from the ones downstairs they used for their own meetings.

  It was huge, for a start. Windows lined a third of the room, making it feel open and airy, despite the fact the December sky was already darkening. The table was solid, though it didn’t look like real wood. She put her hand on the tabletop. At least it didn’t wobble when she applied the slightest pressure, like the ones downstairs. Even the chairs were different. Impressed, Karen eyed the plush, well-padded swivel chairs on wheels.

  DS Grace was at the front of the room, connecting her laptop to a projector.

  ‘Am I early?’ Karen asked, smiling.

  ‘No, I think the others are late.’ DS Grace shrugged. ‘Suits me, though, because I’m struggling to get this thing working.’ She pointed to the projector. It was the only thing in the room that didn�
�t look brand new.

  Karen helped to get it set up, readjusting the cables from the laptop.

  As the first slide appeared on the white screen behind them, DS Grace grinned. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Who’s coming to the meeting?’ Karen asked, noticing that there were a lot of chairs set out.

  ‘It’s usually headed up by Assistant Chief Constable Fry, but today we’re being blessed with the chief constable’s presence, then you, me and DI Freeman’s old boss, DCI Moorland. We have the meetings up here, away from prying eyes.’

  Karen had pulled a face at the mention of ACC Fry’s name.

  Grace noticed. ‘If I were you, I’d try to keep a low profile today.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I know you and Fry don’t exactly get on like a house on fire.’

  ‘That’s not my fault.’

  ‘He doesn’t get on well with most people, as far as I can tell,’ Grace said, glancing across to the door, making sure they were still alone. ‘But he’s in a particularly bad mood today. Apparently, his car was stolen over the weekend, and he’s blaming every single officer in the Lincolnshire force.’

  ‘Sounds like Fry,’ Karen said. ‘Has it been found?’

  ‘Not yet, as far as I know. I wouldn’t advise you asking about it, though.’ DS Grace chuckled.

  ‘I don’t have a death wish,’ Karen muttered as DI Freeman’s old boss entered the room.

  He smiled at them both as he sat down. ‘Sorry I’m running late.’

  ‘No problem,’ DS Grace said. ‘I’ve only just got the projector set up. And the big bosses aren’t here yet.’ She winked at him.

  Karen sank into one of the comfortable seats beside DCI Moorland. ‘How the other half live, eh?’

  ‘Quite a difference to the chairs we have downstairs.’ DCI Moorland leaned back, making himself comfortable.

  ‘Yes. I could get used to this.’

  Grace straightened, the smile slipping from her face, and Karen turned to see Chief Constable Grayson and Assistant Chief Constable Fry walk into the room.

  ‘Ah, Karen, good to see you again,’ Grayson said with a smile. ‘Glad you could make the meeting.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I hope you and your son are well.’

  ‘Yes, well, Ethan hasn’t given me too much trouble lately.’

  Karen nodded at ACC Fry. ‘Sir.’

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you here today,’ Fry said. ‘I heard your department was very busy at the moment.’

  ‘That’s true, sir, but as you know, I have a personal interest in this investigation.’

  He didn’t reply, but took a seat beside Grayson.

  DCI Moorland met Karen’s gaze and offered a small smile.

  ‘Superintendent Murray won’t be joining us today,’ Grayson said. ‘She had to go and pick up her son from school. He’s come down with a stomach bug.’ He turned to DS Grace with a smile. ‘Why don’t we make a start?’

  DS Grace began the briefing update.

  As the minutes passed, Karen grew more and more disillusioned. She had no doubt that DS Grace was an accomplished officer. She’d covered every angle, researched every lead, but still she’d found no link from Freeman to more senior officers.

  At the end of the briefing, DS Grace concluded, ‘It seems likely Freeman was the officer at the top. We know he was the one who paid bribes to officers in traffic, and we have Charlie Cook’s statement that suggests Freeman was their only point of contact.’

  ‘Excellent work, DS Grace,’ Fry said, then turned to Grayson. ‘As I’d suspected, this whole thing stopped at Freeman’s level. Thanks to DS Grace’s thorough work, I think we can put this investigation to bed.’

  Karen’s stomach twisted. He was right. There was no evidence to suggest other officers were involved. Maybe Freeman had masterminded the whole thing. But Karen wasn’t ready to let go yet. She sent a desperate glance to Grayson.

  But the chief constable didn’t notice; he was deep in thought. After a moment, he said, ‘I agree it certainly looks that way. DS Grace, do you feel there is any potential in digging deeper?’

  Grace glanced at Karen, who was trying very hard to keep her emotions in check. ‘There are one or two more things I’d like to check out, sir. But it shouldn’t take much longer.’

  ‘Would you care to share what those things are, DS Grace?’ Fry asked.

  ‘Alice Price, in particular. I think—’

  ‘Alice Price was an unfortunate case,’ Fry said with a sigh. ‘I’m afraid anything she says probably won’t be trustworthy.’

  DS Grace nodded. ‘I’ll bear that in mind, but I’d still like to follow up.’

  ‘Very well,’ Grayson said. ‘Keep ACC Fry updated.’

  And just like that, the meeting was over and they filed out – all except Karen and DS Grace, who was struggling to disconnect the projector.

  ‘I’m sorry, Karen,’ Grace said. ‘I wish I could have given you more.’

  ‘No,’ Karen said. ‘You’ve done an excellent job. I just expected someone else to be involved.’

  ‘You’re still thinking of Churchill, because of what Alice Price said?’

  ‘I know she took it back and insisted she’d been confused, but I’d still like to know why she suspected him in the first place.’

  Grace finally managed to pull out the cable. ‘I’ll talk to them both again. If there’s any dirt to be found, I’ll find it.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Karen left the meeting room and was surprised to see a tall uniformed officer step out from the office next door. He froze in the doorway, eyes wide, as though she’d caught him somewhere he shouldn’t be.

  ‘Ray?’ It was the PC who’d been at the cathedral after Lloyd Nelson’s body had been discovered. He’d brought her coffee. Karen didn’t often forget a face, especially if it belonged to someone who brought her coffee.

  He gave a nervous smile. ‘Yes, DS Hart.’

  ‘What are you doing up here?’ She looked behind him into the office he’d just left. It was empty, and the lights were off.

  ‘I was looking for DCI Churchill’s office.’ A red flush crept up his neck.

  ‘That’s two floors down.’

  ‘No wonder I couldn’t find it then.’ His nervous smile changed to a goofy grin.

  ‘I’ll show you, if you like.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t want to put you out. You must be busy.’

  ‘It’ll only take a minute.’ They walked to the stairwell, and Karen tried to figure out what he’d been doing in the empty office. Did she really believe he’d wandered in there looking for DCI Churchill?

  It was a bit of a coincidence that he just happened to be in the office next door from where they were holding the corruption meeting. Maybe she’d tell Grace to be more careful in future – to hold the meetings off-site.

  Karen gave him a sideways glance. Ray looked young, fresh-faced and innocent. When Karen had first spoken to him, he’d seemed really enthusiastic about his career path, excitedly asking her questions about the best route to becoming a detective. He didn’t look like a spy. But the question remained, why was he there? And why had he looked so guilty when Karen spotted him?

  ‘What do you need DCI Churchill for? Anything I can do?’ Karen asked.

  ‘Oh, he said to pop by sometime. He offered to give me career advice.’

  When they arrived at Churchill’s office, he was on the phone. The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, Karen saw Churchill scowling and talking in a whisper.

  ‘Oh, he’s busy,’ Ray said with a shrug. ‘I’ll come back another time.’

  He walked off quickly, leaving Karen watching after him, puzzled.

  She lingered outside. Churchill spoke too quietly for her to get the gist of the conversation or determine who he was talking to.

  She edged closer, desperate to hear something incriminating. But the movement drew Churchill’s attention.

  ‘I have to go.’ He ended the call. ‘Can I
help you, DS Hart?’

  She moved forward, stepping into the room, and felt his eyes boring into her. ‘I just wanted to check you received the report I emailed.’

  Churchill paused. He didn’t believe her.

  ‘Yes, I replied to your email.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ She flushed. ‘PC Watts was just here to see you. He left when he saw you were busy.’

  ‘But you didn’t?’ Churchill raised an eyebrow. He knew she’d been listening at the door. He wasn’t stupid.

  ‘I thought I’d wait until you’d finished your call. I didn’t want to interrupt.’

  ‘PC Watts.’ Churchill shrugged. ‘I don’t know who that is.’

  ‘Ray Watts.’

  ‘Never heard of him.’

  ‘He said you’d offered him career advice.’

  ‘Doesn’t ring a bell. Now, DS Hart, if that’s all, can you close the door on your way out.’

  Churchill and PC Ray Watts. Was there a connection between the two men? Was Watts spying on Churchill’s behalf? Did he plan on telling Churchill that DS Grace would be paying him another visit?

  Karen walked slowly down the stairs. Other than spotting him coming out of the office next to the meeting room, she had no reason to believe Watts was involved. No proof Churchill was corrupt either. Just because she didn’t like Churchill, it didn’t mean he was a crooked cop.

  When Karen got back to the open-plan office, she saw Arnie and Leo had returned. They’d been assigned desks near the coffee machine.

  Karen wandered over. ‘Any news?’

  ‘Lloyd Nelson’s boss insists there was no embezzlement,’ Arnie said, scratching his neck.

  ‘How would he know for sure? Lloyd could have been very careful to cover his tracks.’

  ‘Apparently Lloyd didn’t have access to the accounts. There’s no money missing as far as the boss is concerned.’ Arnie shrugged. ‘He did promise to have his accountant go back over the books with a fine-tooth comb to make sure. He’ll let us know if they find anything.’

  Karen wheeled over a chair and sat down beside Leo. ‘Do you think that’s good enough? If money was embezzled, it could be Ross Blundell’s motive for killing Lloyd. Maybe he’d try to hide the missing money from us because it makes him look guilty.’