Chapters (38)
- Cover
- Also by Betsy Reavley
- Praise for Betsy Reavley
- Epigraph
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Author’s Note
- A Note From Bloodhound Books
‘Maybe a few weeks ago. Some post for me had been delivered to the barn. I went to collect it.’ From her reaction, clearly this was news to Gemma.
‘And when you visited Mrs Matlock, she didn’t mention anything that might be significant?’
‘She gave me the post, then I left.’ Shane could feel his girlfriend’s anger bubbling.
‘Okay. That will do for now.’ Palmer indicated to Singh that it was time to leave. ‘We may need you to come down to the station and answer more questions.’ Shane nodded meekly. ‘Thank you for your time.’
Back at Parkside Police Station the press were gathering and waiting for Barrett to appear to make a statement. The room was buzzing with conversation and Barrett watched all the reporters through a crack in the door. He was comfortable standing up in front of his team but talking on cameras was well out of his comfort zone.
Elly Hale sat nervously at a desk laid out in front of the cameras and microphones. Much to her horror she had been asked to introduce her boss to the press. When she spotted Barrett peering through the door, she knew it was her signal.
‘Good afternoon.’ Elly’s voice was shaky. She cleared her throat. ‘Thank you for joining us. DCI Barrett will be speaking in a minute. We request that you don’t ask any questions until he has finished his statement.’
The room fell silent and all eyes turned to look at Elly. Below the desk she clenched her hands together wanting to sink down into her seat and for the ground to swallow her up. Seconds later, much to her relief, Barrett walked into the room and took his seat next to her.
‘I’d like to thank you all for coming at such short notice.’ He pulled at the lapels on his navy-blue suit jacket, as a physical signal to exert his authority.
‘At approximately three fifteen on the afternoon of Sunday the fifteenth of December, officers attended an address in Ickleton and discovered the body of a woman at the address. The deceased, a Mrs Wendy Matlock, age thirty-nine, was pronounced dead at the scene. This case is being treated as murder. We would request that anyone in the area of Butcher’s Hill, in Ickleton, on Saturday night please come forward.’ Barrett looked at the faces of the people watching and recording him.
‘We believe that the murder of Wendy Matlock and that of Dennis Wade, who was discovered in Ashton’s Bookshop on Friday morning, are linked. On behalf of the officers, I wish to pass on our sincere condolences to the friends and family of both victims at this terrible time. I urge anyone who has any information about either of these vicious crimes to contact detectives or call Crimestoppers.
‘We ask that the general public remain calm but vigilant at this time. Thank you.’