Reunion: a gripping crime thriller (DI Kate Fletcher Book Book 4) Read online

  Reunion

  DI Kate Fletcher Book 4

  Heleyne Hammersley

  Copyright © 2020 Heleyne Hammersley

  The right of Heleyne Hammersley to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in

  accordance to the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2020 by Bloodhound Books

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be

  reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in

  writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the

  terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living

  or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

  Print ISBN 978-1-913419-34-9

  Also by Heleyne Hammersley

  The Kate Fletcher Series

  Closer to Home

  Merciless

  Bad Seed

  Forgotten

  Fracture

  …for Graeme

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  July 1988

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  July 1988

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  July 1988

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  * * *

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  * * *

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  * * *

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  A note from the publisher

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  Prologue

  January 2018

  Dusty looked up as the door opened, allowing the bright light from the floodlit car park to pierce the pub’s gloomy interior. She’d been among the first to arrive and had worked hard to avoid getting too caught up in the conversations of people that she barely remembered and had nothing in common with. She was here for only one reason – to see the other two. The announcement on the local newspaper’s website had seemed like fate.

  She’d not been back to Thorpe since she’d left for university in 1995 and, even before that, she’d not spoken to Lucky and Ned for seven years. Not since they’d left Sheffield Road Junior School in 1988 and gone their separate ways – Lucky to the Catholic school, Ned to Thorpe Comp and herself to the ex-grammar school in the next town which offered the best chance of the decent A-level results which would be her ticket out of South Yorkshire.

  At first she’d missed her two best friends, but she’d promised her parents that she’d work hard and not let them down, so she’d thrown herself into her studies.

  Her mum and dad were pleased with her and they thought she was happy. They’d never found out about the razor blades that she kept wrapped in tissue in the hollow base of her bed. They never knew about the time she’d got so drunk that her friends had panicked and called an ambulance – only to send it away after she became hysterical when one of the crew had tried to loosen her top to allow her to breathe more easily.

  It hadn’t been easy, coming back, and she knew that facing the other two was going to take all the strength that she could muster, but it was something that had to be done. Their meeting again was as inevitable as if they’d sliced open their palms and sworn on each other’s blood.

  The person coming through the door wasn’t familiar. It could have been any one of the boys that had teased her all the way through her early years at school for her gangly limbs and unruly dark hair, but it wasn’t Ned or Lucky. They’d come, though. She knew it as certainly as she knew her own name. It was time.

  1

  ‘Mrs Tsappis?’

  Kate was vaguely aware of a voice calling from reception as she stuffed her packed lunch into her walking bag. She and Nick had a full day’s walk planned on the Langdale fells and she was lost in thought, wondering if she’d ordered enough food from reception the previous evening.

  ‘Mrs Tsappis?’

  The name suddenly registered, and Kate turned to Nick who was checking the straps on his rucksack, a look of mock-innocence barely concealing his grin.

  Kate marched back to the reception desk. ‘Yes?’ she demanded, unable to conceal the irritation in her voice.

  ‘Your hat.’ The woman held out Kate’s insulated beanie.

  Kate managed a smile and grabbed the errant garment with a mumble of appreciation.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ she asked Nick as they approached the car park. He’d insisted that they drive up to Cumbria from Doncaster in his Mercedes after months of complaints about having to fold himself in half to get into Kate’s Mini.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The woman on reception calling me Mrs Tsappis. What was that all about?’

  ‘She must have assumed that we’re married,’ Nick said. ‘The room’s booked in my name so it’s an obvious mistake to make.’

  Kate wasn’t convinced. There was something in Nick’s expression suggesting that he’d either done nothing to disabuse the receptionist of her error or that he’d actually encouraged the assumption that Kate was his wife.

  ‘What should I have done? I could have booked in both our names I suppose but that seems a bit long-winded. Or maybe I should have announced us with a calling card. Doctor Tsappis and Detective Inspector Fletcher.’

  Now Kate knew that he wasn’t serious. One of the things she liked about Nick, apart from his dark good looks, was his inability to take himself seriously for too long. They’d been seeing each other for nearly a year – ever since Kate had met him on a previous case – and she was yet to tire of his daft sense of humour.

  ‘You never call yourself doctor. I thought it was a mark of your seniority that you use mister. I never really got that though. Surely it’s a demotion.’ She opened the rear door of the car and threw her rucksack onto the back seat. She wasn’t even sure why she minded; except that she wasn’t ready to change her name again. Once was enough and she’d never even thought about going back to her maiden name after she’d finally divorced Garry five years earlier.

  Slipping into the passenger seat, she clipped on her seat belt and grabbed Nick’s upper thigh, enjoying the firm feel of the muscles. ‘You never know, I might surprise you one day and actually answer to Mrs Tsappis.’

  Nick shook his head as he turned the key in the ignition. ‘It’ll never happen. It’ll be Detective Inspector Tsappis.’

  ‘Hey!’ Kate rebuked him by squeezing more tightly. ‘That’ll be Detective Chief Inspector Tsappis.’

  The windscreen wipers seemed to be making better progress
against the drizzle as Nick turned onto the road which led deep into Langdale and, as they passed through Elterwater, a muted scraping against the glass announced that the rain had completely stopped.

  Kate gazed out at the landscape noting familiar landmarks from her past life in Cumbria. The cloud was lifting slightly as they meandered through Chapel Stile and it had left cotton wool-like clumps nestled in the bracken-brown corries and gullies of the mountains. Kate had been the first to admit that the end of November probably wasn’t the best time of year in the Lakes but, as usual, it had been difficult to tear herself away from work and from the effects of a recent case on some members of her team.

  Two of her DCs, Hollis and Cooper, had been deeply affected in different ways; Cooper was still trying to shrug off the memories of an assault that had put her in hospital and Hollis was grappling with psychological issues related to the return of his biological mother. Kate felt for them both and had done everything she could think of to integrate them back into the job as smoothly as possible.

  Now, with a brutal murderer awaiting trial and an unusually light case load, she was glad that she’d booked some leave and had no regrets about taking her first trip with Nick. Even if it was to the Lakes in November.

  ‘It’s stunning,’ Nick breathed, lowering his head and leaning forward so that he could get a better view of the mountains that were starting to dominate the skyline as they travelled deeper into the valley.

  Kate had to agree. Autumn had been exceptionally wet in Cumbria – not as bad as the 2009 floods or Storm Desmond in 2015 – but the Windermere ferry had been cancelled due to high water levels and there were reports of minor flooding on some roads. The becks, cascading down from their sources high above the road, were full and furious.

  ‘This it?’ Nick asked, slowing down so that he could read the roadside signs.

  ‘Yep. Turn right into the car park. We head up that path there,’ she said, pointing to a scar of erosion beside Stickle Beck. ‘Sunset is at fourish so we should have enough time to get back before dark.’

  Nick pulled into a space close to the start of the path and they spent a few minutes tightening laces and checking the contents of their rucksacks before finally heading off up the path aiming for their first break at Stickle Tarn.

  It had been a great day. After the early mist and drizzle the cloud had gradually parted until, by late morning, they’d been walking in full sunlight. As they trudged wearily back towards the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, Kate noticed, with some satisfaction, that Nick seemed to be as tired as she felt. Those snatched hours in the gym at Doncaster Central Police Headquarters had paid off after all if she’d managed to match his fitness.

  Just as they approached the first gate across the valley track, Kate noticed two walkers ahead of them on the path. They’d stopped and seemed to be looking at something off to their left, slightly up the hillside. Curiosity piqued, Kate picked up her pace to see what had caught their attention.

  They were an elderly couple, probably in their mid-seventies. The man had a thick shock of grey hair exploding from beneath his dark red woollen hat which had a home-made look to it. He was much taller than his companion and seemed to be concerned about her as he wrapped an arm round her shoulders, oblivious to Kate and Nick’s approach. His wife was petite, and Kate couldn’t see much of her face as it was buried in her husband’s shoulder. In the gathering dusk it was hard to make out where one person began and the other ended as their matching blue waterproof jackets seemed to meld together.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Kate asked.

  The woman’s face turned towards her, pale and frightened. ‘Not really…’ she began.

  ‘Up there,’ the husband took over. ‘We were just on our way back to the car park and Eileen saw something moving up on the hillside. Turned out to be a few Herdwicks mooching about but they set off a bit of a gravel slide and that’s when we saw him.’

  Kate followed the direction of the man’s outstretched finger and could make out something red about fifty yards up the slope.

  ‘Him?’

  ‘Alec went to investigate,’ the woman said. ‘He told me to wait here and I’m glad he did.’

  ‘It’s a body,’ the man confirmed. ‘Looks like a walker had a fall. Rain probably washed him down the gully and the sheep must’ve disturbed the body when they went across.’

  ‘You say it’s a male?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Looks like it. I think I could make out a beard. I didn’t want to get too close and it looks like he might have been out there for a while. One of the hands looks like it’s a bit decomposed.’

  His wife flinched slightly at his choice of adjective.

  ‘Obviously we were going to call the police but there’s no signal here. We’d just decided that we’d both go back to the Old Dungeon Ghyll when you two turned up.’

  He looked hopefully from Kate to Nick, obviously seeking guidance. ‘I didn’t want to leave the body there in case somebody else came along and got a shock but there didn’t seem to be anything else that we could do.’

  The man was starting to ramble, his eyes glassy, cheeks a hectic red. Kate recognised the first signs of shock setting in and realised that she needed to get these people out of the cold and get a hot drink inside them. She cast another look up towards the body. Even in the fading light, the patch of red was obvious and might attract the attention of other passers-by. The man was right – no need to inflict that on anybody else.

  She turned to Nick who had been standing slightly behind her during the exchange. He’d allowed her to take charge, she realised, and hadn’t interrupted as the man had told his story.

  ‘This is Nick,’ she told the couple. ‘He’s a doctor. He’s going to walk with you back to the hotel. When you get there, have a hot drink or a stiff whisky, whichever you prefer. Nick’s going to ring the police and they’ll want to talk to you both. Where are you staying?’

  The man explained that they were at a cottage in Elterwater, but their car was parked in the car park next to the hotel.

  ‘That’s fine,’ Kate reassured him. ‘Just wait for the police. If you don’t feel up to driving, I’m sure they can arrange a lift back to your cottage.’

  The woman, who introduced herself as Eileen Caldwell, seemed to have gained control of her emotions now that she could see that there was a plan in place. She stepped away from her husband and looked at Kate. ‘You’re going to stay here by yourself?’ she said, concern evident in the lines of her frown.

  ‘I’m going to have a look at the body,’ Kate explained. ‘It’ll be dark soon and the police are going to need as much information as possible. If I can get a good look while there’s still some light, I might be able to help.’

  ‘Is that wise, dear?’ the woman asked. ‘From what Alec said, it’s not a pleasant sight.’

  ‘I’m a police officer,’ Kate said. ‘I appreciate your concern, but I honestly know what I’m doing.’

  ‘She’s a detective inspector,’ Nick said, and Kate was surprised by the note of pride in his voice. ‘Trust me, she’s seen much worse.’

  Apparently convinced, the couple allowed Nick to shepherd them along the track. Kate waited until they were out of sight before rummaging in her bag for a head torch and setting off across the hillside. The going was trickier than it had looked from below. Dead bracken threatened to trip her up every few steps and, hidden beneath the brown fronds, rocks and stones promised a turned ankle if she put her foot in the wrong place. As she drew level with the body, she glanced up at the gully above. A dark slash into the mountain, it looked like the entrance to a Tolkienesque underworld, the stream it contained set deep within its walls.

  She could see just above her where the sheep had disturbed a bank of scree causing the mini avalanche of stones which must have released the body and allowed it to travel down to its current resting place, lodged next to a huge moss-covered boulder. Kate switched on her torch and tried to make out details. From the waterproof le
ggings and Gore-Tex jacket it was difficult to determine gender although the bulk contained inside the weather-proof clothing strongly suggested a male.

  Kate scanned the torch along one outstretched arm looking for the detail that the elderly man, Alec, had shared with his wife; the decomposed hand. She was no pathologist, but it might suggest roughly how long the body had been lying on the fells. The clothing would have protected his legs and torso and she presumed that his feet were encased in boots, but the hands and face would have been a huge temptation to rodents and crows.

  In the light of her torch she could see fingers, stretched out as though he’d been trying to haul himself out of the gully and, as Alec had suggested, they were a greenish colour. She adjusted the beam of her torch to get a closer look and realised that he’d been mistaken. The green wasn’t decomposition, it was a glove. The body wasn’t necessarily as decayed as she’d been led to believe.

  She shifted position, trying to angle the torch towards where the face should be, looking for the beard that had been suggested, but the beam cast shadows and it was hard to make out exactly what she was seeing. She slipped and stumbled as she clambered round the restraining boulder for a better view. Finally, she managed to train the light on a mop of dark hair and, as described, a thick black beard. A man then.