One for Sorrow Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2019 Louise Collins

  ISBN: 978-0-3695-0089-2

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Magpie Rhyme

  One for sorrow,

  Two for joy,

  Three for a girl,

  Four for a boy,

  Five for silver

  Six for gold,

  Seven for a secret,

  Never to be told.

  ONE FOR SORROW

  Louise Collins

  Copyright © 2019

  Chapter One

  Murder, murder, murder. It was always on Chad’s mind.

  He whistled a tune as he waited for his coffee cup to fill. The bitter aroma filled the corridor, and he sniffed greedily at the smell. The walls were white, the doors were gray, and the lights were near blinding. All designed to keep him wide awake. He spotted his reflection in the metal plate of the machine and brushed a stray strand back on his head. His brown eyes were bright, and there were no trenches of gray beneath them. He looked good on Mondays, but knew by Friday he’d be looking ragged, and tired, verging on collapse.

  “That’ll be going in the trash.”

  Chad spun around at the voice. “What?”

  Gareth jogged towards him, and his feet echoed around the empty corridor. His eyes were wide with panic, and his hair was flat from excessive stroking. The last piece in the puzzle was the coat slung over Gareth’s arm, Chad’s coat to be exact. The fresh Monday feeling was soiled before coffee had even passed Chad’s lips.

  “What? Now?”

  Gareth stopped, and threw the coat the remaining meter. “Yes now. The county of Berkshire needs you.”

  “Still, why can’t I drink the coffee in the car?”

  Gareth glared, and Chad watched in fascination as the prominent vein on Gareth’s forehead grew. It started to turn blue, the same shade of Gareth’s eyes.

  “You spilled the last one on the seat.”

  Chad shrugged. “You were driving like a moron.”

  “I was chasing a suspect.”

  “I cleaned it, didn’t I?”

  “Spraying air freshener on the seat is not cleaning it.”

  “Close enough.”

  “No coffee,” Gareth growled, spinning around. “Now come on.”

  Chad sighed, then climbed into his coat. He didn’t match Gareth’s stride, but strolled behind him. When he finally pushed through the doors of the station, Gareth was waiting at the bottom of the steps. The cool October air made him shiver and turn up the lapels of his jacket.

  “Anytime today would be great.”

  Chad rolled his eyes. “It’s not like the stiff’s gonna get up and move.”

  “That’s no way to speak about the dead.”

  “I’m not talking about the dead; I’m talking about the DI.”

  Gareth’s eyes bugged from his head, and he looked pointedly behind Chad.

  “Detective Inspector.”

  Chad whirled around so fast he tripped down the steps. There was no one behind him, and he gritted his teeth.

  Gareth laughed, and raised his eyebrow. “Serves you right, disrespecting the DI like that.”

  “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  Gareth hummed. “I could tell him, muck up your chances of the Sergeant position, and leave it open for Martin.”

  “I’m gonna get that position, mark my words, and then it’ll be DI, then Chief. Life is looking good.”

  “Why don’t you just rub it in my face?”

  “Okay, I will, I’m newly engaged, and the sergeant position is in my grasp.”

  Gareth grabbed Chad’s hand, then lifted it to see his engagement ring. It had been all anyone had been talking about, mainly because it was near blinding when the light hit it.

  “So when is this big gay wedding happening?”

  “We’re looking at next summer. Neil wants it to be perfect, no expense spared.”

  “Your future hubby does like the finer things in life.”

  Chad flexed his eyebrows. “Thanks.”

  “Makes me wonder why he settled for you…”

  “Right, I might have to choose someone else to be my best man.”

  Gareth gawped. “What?”

  “I was gonna ask you.”

  “What, really?”

  “Of course, I don’t have friends outside of work, so you’re my only option.”

  “So I’m a last resort?”

  “You’re the only resort. So how about it?”

  “You know I’d love to be.”

  “Good, it’s gonna be pretty vacant my side of the church…”

  Gareth gave him a serious look. “It’s not about everyone else, but you and Neil.”

  “Seeing him and his loving family—”

  “I’ll be there, too, and he understands.”

  Chad sighed. “Focusing on the honeymoon will get me through the ceremony. Two weeks in the sun, sex, and Malibu.”

  “Stop fantasizing,” Gareth said. “We’ve got a crime scene to get to.”

  Chad hurried around the car, then got in the passenger seat. He clipped himself in, then turned to Gareth, doing his own seatbelt.

  “You ready?”

  Gareth shuddered. “Can you ever truly be ready?”

  “The best man needs to be ready, always.”

  Gareth narrowed his eyes, then put his foot down.

  ****

  Gareth opened the gate, and Chad followed him down the path. Three police cars were parked outside, and the public had been drawn in by the flashing blue lights. The dreary sky threatened rain. Chad was relieved the murder had taken place inside, not on the side of the road like the hit-and-run the week before.

  An officer stood at the door, watching the gathering crowd.

  “Where we heading?” Gareth asked.

  The officer didn’t pull her gaze off the road. “Upstairs bedroom, first door on the right.”

  Gareth nodded, then swooped down to pick up two plastic-wrapped body suits. He ripped his own open, then passed one back for Chad.

  Chad broke the plastic, then reluctantly tugged the bodysuit over his clothes. He covered his shoes, then pulled his hood over his head. Gareth gave him the once over, then nodded.

  The officer held her hand out for the plastic, then mumbled, “I’d put the masks on, too.”

  “I’ve been a detective five years now. I’m used to it.” Chad snorted.

  The woman looked at him, and her brow split with harsh lines. “He’s been there a while.”

  “A while?” Gareth asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  She tore her gaze from them and fixed her stern expression to the crowd edging closer.

  As soon as Gareth pushed through the front door of the house, Chad understood.

  “‘You’ll smell’ would’ve been more appropriate,” he mumbled.

  They shared a disgusted look, then yanked the mouth and nose guard from the body suit’s pocket. The house creaked from the many feet edging around the property. Officers in white suits were swabbing the living room and taking photographs of the scene. Two dirty glasses sat on the coffee table, and the hive of officers gravitated towards them. Th
ey photographed, swabbed, then bagged them up.

  “Come on,” Gareth said through his mask.

  Chad turned back to the stairs and nodded. Gareth led the way and edged into the bedroom. A member of the forensic team was videoing the scene, and they listened to his initial conclusions.

  “Asher Campbell, thirty-five, lived alone. Police alerted by a family member who hadn’t heard from him. The body has begun stage three of decomposition, and by what I can see, he’s been here a few weeks. With the atmosphere in the room, it could be longer.”

  The video recorder beeped, and the officer glared accusingly at the device. “Bloody thing.”

  The officer taking photographs stopped flashing and mumbled, “There’s another battery downstairs.”

  Gareth stepped forward and gestured to himself, then Chad. “I’m Detective Constable Gareth Smith, and this is Chad Fuller.”

  Chad bristled. “Detective Constable Chad Fuller, but soon to be sergeant…”

  Gareth elbowed him in the ribs. “Not now.”

  “There’s no need for the formalities. The name’s Vito.”

  “We’ve not seen you before,” Gareth said.

  “Oh, I just moved to the county.”

  There was a harsh tut, and then the camera flash blinded them. For a few seconds red blotches covered Chad’s field of vision.

  “Save the small talk and concentrate on him.”

  Vito nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  Gareth looked down at the body, then quickly glanced away and looked anywhere but. “What can you tell us so far?”

  “Weren’t you listening?”

  “Is there anything else, cause of death?”

  Vito sighed. “I can’t give you anything concrete until I look at him in the lab, but the bruising around his neck is inconsistent.”

  “Inconsistent?” Chad asked.

  “It’s more severe, and the skin has turned black. The rest of the body has broken down at the same rate, flesh sagging and taking on this purple hue.”

  “Meaning?” Gareth prompted.

  “He could’ve been strangled.”

  Chad nodded. “Poor bastard. He’s a big fella, would’ve taken someone strong.”

  “The killer’s a man then,” Gareth said.

  The officer with the camera lowered it, then glared at Gareth. Chad noticed her thick mascara, and her skillfully penciled eyeliner.

  “I—I’m just saying, statistically more likely to be a man.”

  “Don’t underestimate a woman.”

  Chad raised his hands in surrender. “We aren’t, I swear.”

  “Good.”

  “This is the most prominent wound on him though,” Vito said.

  Chad got close, tilting his head. A number five had been burned into the man’s flesh like a brand, over his heart.

  ****

  By Friday, Chad’s face looked worn and exhausted. Asher’s face, absent of death and decay, was pinned to a whiteboard in the incident room. He had blond hair—Chad hadn’t been able to tell in the dimly bedroom—and his eyes were bright blue. Underneath were the grim pictures of the scene, and objects of interest. The DI paced back and forth in front of the whiteboard, rubbing his bald head.

  “Let’s run through what we know,” he said, then gestured to Gareth.

  He rushed to the front, then turned back to face the other three detectives working on the case, and the restless DI.

  “The DNA swabbed at the scene, and the fingerprints taken from the glass in the living room are not on the system. Our killer is unknown to us.”

  Chad nodded along and waited patiently for Gareth to continue. Kate sat on one side of him, leaning forward in her chair, and Martin sat slouched on the other side of him.

  “The last contact was three weeks ago. A text message to his nan. He wasn’t close to his neighbors, and they didn’t notice any unusual activity around his address. Nothing had been stolen. The car was parked outside like normal. The camera at the end of the street had been busted.”

  “The killer was smart, made sure he wasn’t seen.”

  Chad glanced at Martin beside him and drummed his fingers on his chin.

  “Maybe,” Gareth said, “but I think the camera is more an annoying coincidence.”

  “Carry on,” the DI said.

  Gareth swallowed hard, then continued.

  “We know now the cause of death was strangulation. No forced entry. There’s two glasses on the coffee table.”

  The DI grunted. “Asher invited him inside; they shared a glass of whiskey. They ended up in the bedroom. Our killer strangled Asher, then burned a number five into his chest.”

  “Asher Campbell had an interest in BDSM porn,” Gareth said. “His phone is filled with bookmarked videos of men tied down and choked. This could’ve been a sexual fantasy gone wrong, rather than a cold-blooded murder.”

  The DI strolled to the front. “But the number 5? Deliberate, or accidental, we’ve still got to find this guy responsible. What was Asher doing three weeks ago? Where did he go?”

  Chad cleared his throat, and four pairs of eyes snapped to him. “He was out on Grove Street, going club to club, not drinking, but lingering. He was captured on Bridge Avenue getting into his car at 2 AM, and then he drives out of the city.”

  “Alone?” the DI asked.

  Chad nodded. “At that point he was. At 2:22, he was captured on CCTV at Smiths Services.”

  “So he had a little detour before going home. Anyone else in the car?”

  Chad blew out a slow breath. “Not in the front, car’s got blacked out windows. He might have picked someone up, impossible to say.”

  “Do we have his order?”

  Kate nodded. “A burger meal, with an extra side of fries. One milkshake, and one soft drink.”

  Martin pinched the top of his nose. “That’s not clear either. Was he ordering for one or two?” He turned to Chad, and asked, “Was he a big fella?”

  Chad ignored him. “Between Bridge Avenue where he got in his car, and Asher’s residential address someone joined him, it’s a forty-mile stretch. He took a detour into Watermead to get to the services. We’ve got a lot of ground to look over.”

  “Let’s get to it,” the DI said.

  Out of view of the DI, Chad got out his phone, and tapped a message to his fiancé. He was going to be late home that night.

  “You texting the hubby-to-be?” Gareth teased.

  Chad glared at him, and checked the DI wasn’t in earshot.

  “I saw him earlier,” Martin said.

  “What, where?”

  “The DI sent me to Smiths Services, and I drove past Neil on my way back.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Half three.”

  “Couldn’t have been him. He would’ve been at the office.”

  “I’m pretty sure it was. Even flashed my lights as him, but he didn’t notice.”

  “Well what was he wearing then?”

  “Jesus, Chad, I didn’t study him in detail … looked like a shirt and jacket.”

  Neil wore suits to work. Ones that cost four times as much as Chad’s.

  He shook his head. “I still don’t think it was him.”

  Chapter Two

  The late nights at work continued, and every time Chad finally got home a mantra of “sorry” left his lips. Neil shot him a soft smile, but it didn’t reach his blue eyes. He was sitting on the sofa, knees tucked up to his body watching a TV series Chad had promised they’d watch together. The house always held the lingering scent of whatever Neil had ordered for take-out, making the guilt in Chad’s gut twist just a little bit more. They both worked hard, and late.

  “I knew what I was signing up for when I got with you.”

  “I know, it’s just … this case.”

  “You’ve been working on it for almost two months now.”

  “And still nothing. All I know is the killer’s cocky, or stupid.”

  Neil frowned. “How did you wo
rk that out?”

  “His DNA is all over the house. Fingerprints, hair, even saliva on a glass. All that evidence and no one to match it to, and a number five? Why mark someone with the number five?”

  Neil gestured to the armchair. Chad slung his coat over the back of the sofa, then obediently sank in the soft cushions. The high-tech chair began rolling the knots from his shoulder’s, vibrating in thirty second intervals. Chad sighed, pressing back and stretching out like a cat.

  “Thank you for getting this,” Chad said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  “There’s pasta in the fridge if you want it.”

  “In a bit. Tell me about your day at the office.”

  Neil froze, then paused the TV program he’d been watching. “Same old boring job.”

  “Come on, you’ve got that big presentation, right?”

  “That was four weeks ago.”

  Chad squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not…” He twisted until he was facing Neil. “Tell me about work, you big cooperate hotshot.”

  Neil laughed. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “You earn triple what I do. It’s because of you we could afford this place.” He gestured to the huge living space, to the arch that led to the spiral staircase, and the double doors that led to their oversized kitchen. They even had a swimming pool outside. Every time Chad looked out the window, he looked twice, sure he’d seen wrong.

  “True, but your job’s exciting. Mine’s me sitting behind a desk, or talking about sales and margins. It’s boring.”

  “Still, I wanna know.”

  Neil licked his lips, leaning down. “I could bore you with what I did at work today, or I can get a nice bottle of wine from the kitchen, we’ll get comfortable on the sofas and watched the first Rom-Com that comes up in the search.”

  Chad’s lips lifted into a smile. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  “Yep. The question is, red or white?”

  ****