A Hill To Die On (DI Fenchurch Crime Thrillers Book 8) Read online

  And he’d vanished into thin air. No sign of him. No heaving, no hard breaths.

  Just two people sat on separate benches, both looking at their tablets. Nobody running from the police.

  She swung around, but there was no sign of him.

  How the hell had he got away?

  She raced over to the monument building.

  There he was. Up on the ledge, trying to jump over some nasty-looking spikes out onto the street.

  And off he went, sailing through the sky.

  Right as Adam bustled in next to her, lashing sweat from his darkened blond hair. ‘You got him?’ Breathing hard like he would suffer a heart attack.

  ‘Back!’ She swerved around him and raced out to the street again, heavy with commuters.

  No sign of Wristbands. He’d lost himself in the throng.

  Amazing work….

  She’d made a right arse of this.

  Chloe wanted to race off in any direction, but she had no idea where he’d gone. Could’ve gone back the way towards Ibrahim’s. Could be down at the Thames. Could be heading into the City. Her dad warned her about how that wasn’t their patch, but she didn’t really care so long as she caught Wristbands.

  She didn’t even get his name. Or really see his face. Could’ve been about three different races. Amazing…

  ‘Help! Police!’

  Came from behind her.

  Maybe Wristbands had cut around the monument and headed back into the gardens?

  Chloe swung around and set off towards the sound.

  Over the grass, a woman was clutching a rolled-up umbrella, pointing at the blocks that formed the smaller monument, a long section of wall between two benches which carried the inscription. ‘Help me!’

  A man lay on top of it, arms folded over his chest. Dressed in trousers and cardigan, but his feet were bare. A rough sleeper, probably.

  Chloe scanned around for Adam, but she couldn’t see him, so she jogged over the grass. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ The woman scowled at the man next to her. ‘I’m worried about him.’

  ‘Thank you, madam.’ Chloe gave a polite smile and stepped towards him. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. ‘Sir?’

  Nothing.

  It didn’t look like he was breathing. Then again, it was quite cold out, so maybe his heart rate was low. Slowed everything down.

  Maybe.

  She reached into her belt for a pair of blue nitrile gloves and snapped them on. Then prodded the man.

  Again, nothing.

  This time, she touched the body and it was cold. Stiff.

  A dead body.

  Amazing…

  She stepped onto the bench at the side, then up onto the wall to get a better look at him.

  Eyes wide open, tongue hanging out.

  Yep. Dead.

  And shit, she recognised him.

  1

  Fenchurch

  Simon Fenchurch hated to be that guy, but he kept his focus on the clock on the wall. It clicked to seven forty and he felt a little knot of tension disappear. Another minute done, twenty to go.

  ‘Are we boring you, Simon?’ Abi was looking at him with narrowed eyes. Hair scraped back in a severe ponytail, revealing her almost-elven ears. No makeup today, just raw and unvarnished Abi.

  Abi Fenchurch. His wife. Still, but only just. A three-month separation that was limping towards a divorce.

  And only one man in the way of it.

  Dr Steven Waugh. Lank hair hanging in curtains around a moon face. Thick beard covering his neck and cheeks. And so Australian it hurt. He smiled, making his cheeks fill up. ‘Simon, we need to make sure you’re present for these sessions.’

  Fenchurch couldn’t look at him for long. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘I mean, yeah, you are, but it’s not just physically present, is it? Mentally too. And from where I’m sitting, you’re barely physically present. Literally clock watching.’

  Fenchurch shifted his gaze back to stare hard at Waugh, giving him one of his ten most severe glares. Didn’t seem to faze Waugh, though.

  And Fenchurch kept thinking of him as a surname. First names were for friends and close family. Suspects had surnames. People you didn’t trust or couldn’t trust. ‘What more do you want from me?’

  Waugh sat back in his chair. ‘Simon, it’s polite to engage with us.’

  Fenchurch stretched his legs out, linking them at the ankles. ‘All I’ve done is listen to a litany of character flaws.’ He glanced over at Abi, but couldn’t hold her gaze for long. ‘It’s like I’m the one who had an affair, not her.’

  She groaned. ‘Simon, the fact you’re not listening… It’s…’ She shook her head, then looked at Waugh. ‘Do you see what I’m contending with here?’

  Waugh frowned. ‘Thing is, Abi, “contending” is a bit of a loaded term, don’t you think?’

  She shrugged. ‘It might be, but I think it’s accurate.’ She shut her eyes. ‘I made a mistake, but he won’t acknowledge any fault on his part for—’

  ‘Any fault?’ Fenchurch swung around to stare at her. ‘Abi, I didn’t sleep with someone else. You did. This is all on you. Not me.’

  ‘And the fact you can’t see that—’

  ‘This again.’ Fenchurch sucked in a deep breath. Felt like he was drowning here. ‘Listen, we’ve both got busy jobs, I get it. Yours is bad, but I’ve been a lot more busy than you recently. Maybe that’s fair, I don’t know, but I try to be there for you. I try to—’

  ‘But you’re not. You haven’t been for a long time.’

  ‘That’s harsh.’

  ‘No, Simon, it’s not. Think it through. We both suffered because of… Because of what happened to us fifteen years ago. Losing Chloe. It drove a wedge between us and we separated, but I moved on with my life. I grieved. You didn’t. You just stayed in that state where you… where you kept looking for her.’ She swallowed hard. ‘And you came back to me, Simon. You let yourself grieve and I had my husband back. That’s why we remarried.’

  ‘But I found her. Christ, because of me, we found her. We got her back.’

  She shut her eyes again and shook her head. ‘Simon, I just don’t know if you love me anymore.’

  Fenchurch sat back. The words stung. ‘You were the adulterer, not me. You slept with an old colleague, not me.’

  Her eyes were still closed.

  Waugh smiled at him. ‘Can you see anything in what Abi’s trying to say?’

  Fenchurch huffed out a deep breath. He tried thinking it all through, but it just ached. ‘Okay, maybe she’s partly right. I gave up so much of my life for hunting for our daughter, then I found her and…’ His throat felt very tight. ‘And I had nothing else to hunt for. Took a while, but we reintegrated her back into our lives. We moved on as a family. And we became so close, the three of us. Four of us. Chloe loved her baby brother and… and in a way it… it let us relive her childhood.’

  But he still had the trauma of those years without her. Almost eleven years where she’d grown up, into a young woman. And he’d driven a wedge between himself and the rest of the world. Just had that steely focus to find her. And when he wasn’t looking or losing himself in his work, he lost himself in a bottle of wine. Most nights. Every night.

  Coming back from that was impossible.

  And that was her point, wasn’t it?

  He looked right at her, her eyes open again. ‘Abi, I’m sorry for neglecting you. For neglecting us. It’s been tough for me.’

  ‘I understand, but you’ve still been throwing yourself into your job.’

  ‘It’s an important one. Just as important as yours.’

  ‘And you martyring yourself while our son grows up without you is worth it, right?’

  ‘Don’t be like that.’

  ‘Like what? Telling you the truth?’

  ‘Come on, Ab. This isn’t about me.’

  ‘It is, Simon. Of course it is. Alan is three and a half. He spends more time with
the nursery staff than he does with you. We were supposed to visit my parents in December for a week, but you had to pull out because of a case. You couldn’t delegate to Rod or Kay or anyone else. Just had to be you. Cancelling your family holiday for work.’

  Fenchurch nibbled at his thumbnail. ‘Fair enough.’ He crunched a little sliver off. ‘I could’ve pulled out of that. I could’ve quit too.’

  Abi looked over at him, mouth hanging open.

  At this stage in his career, Fenchurch was weighing up his options. Close to getting a pension, maybe time for a second career. The whole bit. Everyone thought about it, more and more as the years turned into decades.

  But more often than not, the answer was no. Being a DCI paid more than becoming an ex-cop on the fast track to being an OAP. And that lifestyle was seductive.

  All the lonely nights Fenchurch had spent, yeah. He’d been through it all.

  ‘And I should’ve come down to Cornwall too. I was going to, but…’ Fenchurch looked at her. ‘Abi, I’m sorry. Sometimes things happen that I can’t control. But what I don’t understand is how me not being there is somehow the cause for you meeting up with an ex-boyfriend, who you were seeing while we were separated, and having sex with him.’

  ‘Because I felt so lonely, Simon. I was vulnerable. Our son hasn’t been a well boy. He’s had so many operations considering his age. And I’ve borne the stress myself.’

  She was right. He had to concede that. ‘I’m sorry about all of that, Abi. Sorry you feel it, sorry I made you feel it, sorry we had to go through that, on top of what happened to Chloe.’

  She looked at him, tears glistening in her eyes. ‘Do you want to make things work?’

  ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

  ‘I know, but like he said—’ She wagged a hand in Waugh’s direction. ‘—you’re not mentally present. Do you want to try and save our marriage?’

  Fenchurch didn’t know.

  He really didn’t.

  He had that same stirring in his heart whenever he saw Abi. Still wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to walk down any street hand in hand with her.

  But she’d had an affair. Slept with someone else. And not just once. He didn’t know how many times. She said it was once, but who knew what the truth was? And that time was definitely premeditated.

  While he had been Mr Distant, it took Steve bloody Waugh’s magical couples therapy for her to open up about it all. To tell the truth.

  So he gave her it. ‘Abi, the truth is, I’m over it.’

  She looked over at him, her forehead twitching. She gasped, short and sharp. ‘Well.’

  Was he being too harsh? Too brutal? Too… selfish?

  ‘Abi, you hurt me. You slept with someone else. I could maybe understand or forgive once. But after all we’ve been through, after being separated, after renewing our marriage… I just can’t. I just can’t understand, can’t forgive, can’t… Can’t do this anymore.’

  She reached over for a tissue and honked as she blew into it. ‘Well.’

  ‘You keep saying that, Abi.’ Waugh steepled his fingers. ‘It’s like you’re hiding something from us. You say “well”, when you actually want to say something, but you hold it back from us.’

  ‘From “us”?’ She glared at Waugh, but flicked her hand towards Fenchurch. ‘This is about him, not you.’

  ‘But you are hiding something.’

  ‘Of course I am. He’s hurt me.’

  Waugh raised his eyebrows. ‘But you had an affair, didn’t you?’

  ‘People have affairs for lots of reasons. I’ve made myself clear on why I was vulnerable to that.’

  Waugh leaned forward in his chair, making the mechanism creak. ‘Just so we’re all on the same page here, I think it’d be useful for us to go into that in a lot more detail.’ He paused. ‘Is that okay?’

  Abi looked at him, then at Fenchurch. She shrugged. ‘Well…’

  Waugh looked at Fenchurch. ‘What do you think, Simon?’

  Fenchurch didn’t know how much it’d help. How much could it?

  Was it just Waugh being nosy? Peeking into people’s lives, getting some sadistic kicks out of it?

  Or would it actually lay bare all their flaws, all their history?

  Fenchurch gave a similar shrug.

  ‘I’ll take those as both yeses, then.’ Waugh scribbled something on a notepad. ‘Abi, you were involved with this colleague before, am I right?’

  She took her time answering, spending it looking at her fingernails. ‘When Simon and I were divorced.’

  ‘And you stayed in touch afterwards?’

  ‘Not until… It’s a long story, but we bumped into each other at a conference.’

  ‘And you rekindled things romantically?’

  ‘Not initially, no. We were friends. Coffees, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Did Simon know?’

  Fenchurch kept his gaze on the spiral carpet. ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘And you didn’t think it a bad idea to repeatedly meet an old flame for coffee and similar kinds of things?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Simon.’

  Waugh scribbled something down. Took him a while, like he was writing out the Bible from memory. ‘I want to ask something that I suspect all of us have been wondering.’ He set his pen down on the edge of his chair then snorted, shifting his gaze from Abi to Fenchurch and back. ‘Is Alan really Simon’s son?’

  Fenchurch was on his feet before he knew what hit him. ‘What the hell did you say?’

  Waugh seemed to shrink into his seat, like he was a cushion. ‘Simon, this is a safe space where—’

  ‘You don’t talk to us like that.’ Fenchurch stood over him, hands in pockets. ‘Do you hear me?’

  ‘It’s a fair question and—’

  ‘Yeah, but you don’t ask it. Ever. You hear me?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Fenchurch walked over to Abi and looked deep into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry he said that to you. It’s not fair.’

  ‘It feels like it is fair, though.’ She shrugged. ‘I mean, the only stupid questions are ones you don’t ask. Right?’

  ‘Al’s my son, though. He looks a lot like me.’

  ‘And he’s a grumpy little sod.’

  Fenchurch couldn’t help but laugh at that. ‘Fair cop.’ He collapsed back into his chair. ‘Abi, when I said I’m over us, I don’t know if I am. What I’m sure of is that I still feel hurt. I feel betrayed by your affair. That you didn’t talk to me about how you felt. That… There’s just this massive wedge between us and I don’t know who put it there.’

  She stared right at him. ‘I’m sorry, Simon. I should’ve talked to you about how I felt. That I wasn’t happy about all the hours you were working. I work a full-time job too and we’ve got a toddler and—’

  ‘And you’re right, Ab. I should’ve been open to you. Present in our marriage. I should’ve been there for you.’

  There was a lot of hurt in her eyes. ‘Do you want to try to save this?’

  He nodded. Out of instinct, maybe, but it happened. ‘I do.’

  ‘Do you really?’

  ‘I do. Course I do.’

  The clock ticked to eight.

  Waugh dared to lean forward in his chair. ‘Okay, guys, that’s all we’ve got time for today. It’s been a good session, hasn’t it?’ Fenchurch swore the smug git was looking pleased that his tactic might’ve worked. ‘Same time next week?’

  Abi nodded, then gathered up her stuff. She left the tissue on the table, like she did every week.

  Fenchurch hadn’t spilled a single tear in nine sessions. But he’d just come close to spilling blood. ‘Next time, then.’ He gathered up his leather jacket. ‘But I don’t want any more of that kind of nonsense from you.’

  Waugh just tilted his head to the side.

  Fenchurch didn’t know if he agreed, if he was sorry, or what. He headed out into the corridor, stopping for a deep breath.

  ‘You okay?’

  Fenchurch looked
around at Abi, frowning. He still had that twinge of love in his heart, but it was paired with that sickening churn in his gut. No matter what they’d discussed, that they’d potentially agreed to think about trying to save their marriage… He was still hurt. He still felt that burning on his cheeks. ‘This stuff’s so close to the bone, Ab. So tough to hear the truth, even harder when it’s so raw and so fresh. Just three months since I found out about…’

  Since Chloe told him what was going on down in Cornwall.

  Since then, it’d been hell. Everything felt wrong.

  ‘How’s Chloe getting on as a probationer?’

  He looked over at her. ‘That’s for you to discuss with her.’

  ‘Chloe isn’t speaking to me, Simon. And it’s eating me up.’

  Fenchurch had little sympathy. It wasn’t just him who was cut up by this. ‘It’s not that… it’s… Listen, Chloe can make up her own mind about what she says to you. Or doesn’t. She’s upset about it. Feels let down. After what she’s been through, she’s got trust issues. Massive trust issues. And adultery isn’t helping her.’

  ‘I understand. But she’s living with you, Simon. It feels like I’ve lost her again.’

  ‘I’m not keeping her away from you.’

  ‘I know, but… I just want to know how she’s doing. That’s all.’

  ‘She’s doing us proud. It’s a hard month, the first month. She’s just about finished it and it’ll be plain sailing from there on. I have no doubt she’ll become a full officer.’

  ‘I just want to see her.’

  ‘I want you to see her, but it’s up to her.’

  Abi pressed her lips together. He’d seen that look so many times. ‘Do you have time for a coffee just now?’

  Right then, Fenchurch’s phone blasted out.

  ‘Sorry.’ He had to check it. Could be anyone. But it was DI Uzma Ashkani. One of his direct reports. Demanding, but driven. He smiled at Abi. ‘Sorry, I’d better take this.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll take a rain check on that coffee, then.’ But he could see the hurt in her eyes. Being second fiddle to the Job. He hadn’t known how much of a strain it was on her, but there it was.

  ‘Rain check.’ He sighed before answering it. Made that mistake a few times. ‘Uzma, what’s up?’