Blood on the Marsh (DI Susan Holden 3)

Maureen flinched. Whatever thoughts she had about the photos, she wasn’t going to share them with Holden. ‘I don’t give a shit about them!’ She waved the photos wildly in front of Holden’s face. ‘Right now, all I care about is David. You should be out there looking for him, not showing us stupid photos.’ And she started to rip them up into pieces.

It was Fox who intervened. He could read the signs, and they were flashing red for danger. ‘Mrs Wright,’ he said, because at that moment anything else seemed too casual, ‘let me reassure you. We’ll soon have a search party out on Boars Hill. I’m sure if David is there, they’ll soon find him.’

She looked at him, glad of his assurance even if she wasn’t convinced. ‘I can’t wait here,’ she said simply. ‘I’d like to join the search. David may be frightened. I should be there. I’m his mother.’

‘I understand,’ he said. It wasn’t his call to say ‘Yes’ or ‘No’, but he felt he had to say that much.

They both turned towards Holden. ‘DC Lawson will drive you up there,’ she said quickly. There was no need to deny the woman’s request. In fact, it was a damned good way of keeping tabs on her. ‘You can both join the search.’

‘What about me?’ It was Vickie. She had retreated to the door, watching, listening, and silent. Behind the black curtains of

her hair, there were dark smudges down her cheeks.

‘I want you to stay here,’ Maureen said firmly. ‘In case David phones. Or comes home.’

‘Is he here?’ Holden had pushed past Bella Sinclair as soon as she had opened the door of her flat.

‘Who are you talking about?’

‘Your son, Bella. We know all about you and your precious son, so why don’t you just tell us where he is?’

Bella didn’t say anything, not for several seconds. She looked from Holden to Fox to Wilson as if sizing up her options.

‘David is your son, isn’t he?’ It was the big male detective speaking now, more quietly than his boss, seeking confirmation.

She nodded.

‘So do you know where he is?’

‘Isn’t he at work?’

The man leant forward. ‘Has he been here today?’

She shook her head.

But Holden had had enough of Fox’s softly-softly tactics. She wanted answers, and being nice wasn’t going to get them, at least not as quickly as she wanted them. ‘Ms Sinclair,’ she snapped, stabbing her forefinger at the woman’s face. ‘Your son is wanted for murder. For three murders, in fact. His grandmother, your boss and his adoptive father. Now, when did you last see him?’

Bella’s mouth opened, shut and then opened again, but no sound came out. Her face, however, had turned a sickly white.

When she did speak, she did so with anguish in her voice. ‘Why would he have killed them? Why would he have killed Greenleaf? He didn’t even know him.’

‘What on earth makes you think that?’ Holden had her line of argument prepared. ‘He used to visit his grandmother in Sunnymede, didn’t he? So he could easily have met Greenleaf there, couldn’t he?’

‘Believe me, Greenleaf wouldn’t have wasted his precious time talking to someone like David.’

Holden smiled bleakly, and delivered her coup de grâce. ‘But Greenleaf spent his precious time chasing you, didn’t he Bella. And then he suspended you. So you had a motive to kill him. Maybe you told David, and out of misguided love for you, David killed him?’

‘That’s ridiculous!’ She sounded angry, but her face had paled. ‘Absolutely ridiculous.’

‘What’s ridiculous?’ Holden hadn’t finished yet. ‘Are you saying it’s ridiculous that David should love you, then? Or that he should do something to demonstrate his love?’

Fox flinched. Sometimes, he found Holden quite terrifying. First it had been Maureen, and now Bella. Find the weakest point – and in both their cases it was a mother’s love – and then stick the knife in and twist.

But if Holden’s intention was to get Bella to react, to say something that she instantly regretted, something incriminating, she was to be disappointed. The woman sank down onto her sofa and began to drag her fingers through her red hair, tugging viciously when they met resistance. When she looked up, her eyes were moist, Fox noticed, and her face a picture of misery. ‘He hardly knows me,’ she said plaintively. ‘We’ve had such little time.’

Fox almost nodded in sympathy. To him, the woman’s grief seemed genuine. But Holden’s features were as unrelenting as granite. And she hadn’t finished yet. ‘Where is he, Bella?’ she demanded. ‘We need to find him. Before he does any harm to anyone else. Or even to himself.’

‘Himself?! What are you suggesting?’