Read The Collared Collection Online
Authors: Kay Jaybee,K. D. Grace
The Collared Collection
HOSTILE
WITNESS
Nell Peters
Hostile Witness is the mesmerising new psychological thriller by Nell Peters.
When her husband leaves her and their sons to shack up with a younger model, Callie Ashton thinks she’s hit rock bottom. She’s wrong. Already unemployed and struggling to hold everything together, Callie’s life goes into freefall when she stumbles across the murder of a neighbour. The killer soon becomes intent on despatching Callie too, wrongly assuming she can identify him.
Despite her new man being the officer in charge of the investigation, Callie's in great danger – and it soon becomes clear the murderer isn’t too worried whom he kills or maims in his quest to eliminate her. No one is safe and the killer seems to know her every movement. Soon, with no resolution in sight, Callie feels she has no choice but to take matters into her own hands…but at what cost to her safety – and sanity?
CONTENTS
More Crime Fiction from Accent Press
Chapter One
A military tattoo pounded somewhere behind her eye sockets and her entire body shook involuntarily, despite the heavy blanket wrapped around her shoulders. A mug of sickly sweet tea that had been forced upon her quivered in her grasp, slopping some of its contents onto the tiled floor to pool in a muddy, irregular oval like a Rorschach reject.
Leaning across the table, the tubby policewoman frowned. ‘You know, ma’am, finding a dead body is a terrible shock for anyone – you should drink some of that tea and you’ll feel loads better.’
She really didn’t see how anything could possibly make her feel ‘loads better’, ever again. ‘I’m trying,’ she lied, wishing the constable would waddle off and leave her alone.
Though the whole country was in the grip of a heatwave, she felt icy sweat trickle a course down her spine, seeping into the tight waistband of her jeans and down to her knickers. She was aware her nose was running, but she couldn’t have cared less.
‘Have you contacted Giles – Mr Symonds – yet?’ she asked, ‘He travels a lot and Dee says … said … he always forgets to turn on his phone … and the children – what about the children?’
‘That’s all in hand, ma’am, and someone from Family Liaison has gone to the school to break the news. Sarah and Tom, isn’t it?’
‘Thomas … he’s always called Thomas.’ The PC’s manner was brisk and – to her at least – irritating.
‘Right you are, then – don’t you go worrying about no one else, everything is under control.’
More tears flowed unchecked and she slopped more tea, ‘Poor Giles – he left for work this morning and everything was normal … now his wife is dead. Poor Giles … poor Sarah and Thomas …’ She knew she was rambling, teetering on the verge of losing control – and she just wanted to be left in peace.
The policewoman grabbed a battered box of tissues from the work surface and thrust it toward her, heavy features clenched into an ugly, no-nonsense gargoyle grimace. ‘But it can’t have been normal, can it, ma’am – not if Mrs Symonds was planning to top herself, just as soon as them kids left for school?’
She didn’t like the PC’s attitude, but when she closed her eyes to blot her out, all she could see were the deep gashes in Dee’s white wrists as they bobbed in bloodied water. Her stomach lurched ominously and she was afraid she might be sick again.
She had to change the subject. ‘What’s your name?’
Holding her notebook with pen poised, anxious to start writing, she replied, ‘Constable Stephens, ma’am. You can call me Sally if you want. Now tell me, did you actually see Mr Symonds leave the house this morning?’
Dutifully, she cast her mind back. ‘Err … well … no, actually, not that I remember … I just assumed.’
Sally’s lips pursed. ‘I see …’ She tutted, or maybe it was a cluck.
Someone rapped on the open back door and entered the kitchen without waiting to be invited – she lacked the energy to turn around to see who it was.
‘Callie?’
She recognised the voice … Confused, she looked up to see David. Why was he there, she wondered?
Sally lumbered to her feet, ‘Hello, sir. Mrs Ashton here is right shaken up about next door, but she’s refusing to go to hospital to be checked over.’ In that one short sentence, Stephens managed to convey that everything was Callie’s fault because she wouldn’t cooperate – she imagined Sally as a creepy teacher’s pet at school.
‘Thanks, Constable Stephens – Callie and I are old friends, so I’ll take over in here. I’m sure there’s something useful you could be doing elsewhere?’ His direct stare allowed little room for manoeuvre.
Sally bristled and stuck out her chin, stretching rolls of neck fat away from her stiff white collar. ‘Sir,’ she snarled, and stomped off, shirt stuck to her back with sweat.
Wearily, Callie asked him, ‘What are you doing here, David – and why did she just call you sir? Come to think of it, when did we become “old friends”?’
He looked uncomfortable and squirmed, twitching his shoulders, ‘Ah … I … um … look, I didn’t get around to telling you before, Callie, but I’m a detective.’ A blush of bright crimson scuffed each of his cheekbones.
She felt nothing could really surprise her now. ‘Oh … OK.’
He went to the sink and ran cool water to rinse her face. She guessed she was probably wasn’t looking her best. As he gently pushed the hair back from her forehead, she whispered, ‘Thanks, that feels good.’ But when she closed her eyes to savour the moment, she was immediately back in next door’s bathroom, staring at a mutilated body – so she opened them wide again.
‘Why CID? Dee committed suicide, didn’t she?’ She felt so strangely detached she could hardly focus on him.
‘Probably, but we attend any unexpected death as a matter of course, just to be on the safe side, and I happened to be in the area when the address came over the radio.’
‘Right …’
She refused the offer of another tea, while he brewed a coffee for himself. Taking the chair opposite hers, he sat Christine Keeler-style and asked, ‘I expect you’ve already told the other officers everything you know, but would you mind going over it one more time for me, please?’
Chapter Two
Anxious to be of help in any way she could – if only to offset a worming feeling of guilt because she was still alive, while Dee was very dead – Callie took a deep breath; the double dose of painkillers she’d swallowed were starting to kick in.
‘The boys left for school at about eight thirty-five, I think – they … we … were running a bit late. I made a coffee and read some of the paper, put a load of washing in. It was probably about ten when I went to the newsagent’s on the corner and bought some chocolates for Dee.’
He looked up from his notes. ‘Why was that?’
‘To say thank you – she did me a favour.’
He smiled. ‘What favour?’
She sighed, wondering how that could possibly be of any significance. ‘There was a parents’ evening at the school yesterday and a cake sale afterwards to raise money for gym equipment. I’d completely forgotten about it until Alex came home and mentioned it …’
‘Sorry, remind me – is that your oldest boy?’
‘Yes, he’s fourteen and Sam’s ten. Alex goes to the same school as Dee’s kids.’
‘OK …’
‘I drove into town to buy a fancy cake at Marks and Spencer, but they were sold out, ditto the bakery … it was quite late by then. So, I did quick shop for ingredients at the mini-market – only when I got to the checkout, I realised I didn’t have any money on me.’
His grin was lop-sided. He nodded, clearly expecting her to continue.
‘As usual, Dee had made and decorated several magnificent gateaux and she gave one to me.’
‘That was mighty neighbourly of her.’
‘Yes, I suppose … except everyone knew it was far too good to be my own effort. I brazened it out though.’
‘So you took the chocolates round to say thanks – at about what time, do you reckon?’
She thought about that. ‘Oh, I don’t know – after I’d tidied up a bit and put another load of washing in the machine, it must have been eleven or thereabouts.’
He nodded again, reminding her of one of those annoying dogs OAPs drove around with on the back shelf. ‘Go on.’
‘When I rang the front doorbell, there was no answer – I thought I could leave the chocolates round by the back door in the shade …’
‘You and Dee were on pretty friendly terms, then – if you felt comfortable doing that?’
She shrugged. ‘I suppose … I mean, we got on alright, but I didn’t see that much of her, really. She was always off serving on some committee, working as a volunteer in the charity shop, or hospital visiting – that sort of thing. Unlike me, Dee was heavily into good works.’
He seemed to be scribbling a great deal. ‘I see, so you went in?’
‘Yes. In the kitchen I called her name, but there was no answer and suddenly I felt very scared – I can’t explain it, but somehow I knew something was wrong. It was a horrible, eerie feeling.’ Her stomach was fast tying itself in knots, dreading to tell the gory part. She asked for a glass of water, both as a delaying tactic and to gulp down the taste of bile rising in her throat.
‘You’re doing really well,’ he coaxed, while she drained every drop then swiped at her mouth inelegantly with the back of her hand.
Wanting to get the ordeal over with, she started to gabble. ‘I had a quick look round the ground floor – everything seemed normal, pristine as ever. I don’t even know why I went upstairs … there was a little voice in my head telling me to get out of the house immediately … of course, I didn’t.’ Her head fell forward into her hands and she didn’t think she could continue.
Gently, he said, ‘Take your time, there’s no hurry – I do understand how difficult this must be for you …’
‘Do you …?’ she asked, her voice redolent with spiteful doubt.
David got up and refilled her water; her knuckles turned white where she gripped the glass and she had to set it down before it shattered.
He smiled reassurance, ‘Let me help you out – was the bathroom the first room you went into upstairs?’
‘Yes … I don’t know why I did that, either …’
‘It doesn’t matter; what happened next?’
Her fingernails located the flesh of her palms and dug deep, ‘I saw her poor body – she was submerged and the bathwater was red … her blood … her cut wrists were floating on the surface … it was horrible … gross.’ When a loud, involuntary sob escaped from somewhere deep within her, he reached forward and squeezed her hand to reinforce his moral support.
Callie inhaled a lungful of air. ‘I was talking to myself … telling myself what to do … I was so frightened … And I still had hold of the stupid chocolates – I suppose I must have dropped them when I put my arms into the water and tried to lift her … I’m not sure.’