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Victim of Innocence: A DCI Matilda Darke short story
Michael Wood
The nightmare is just beginning… A short story and prequel featuring DCI Matilda Darke, star of Michael Wood’s darkly compelling crime series. Perfect for fans of Angela Marsons and Patricia Gibney. She invited the killer into her home… The body of a young woman is found in an apartment block in a Sheffield suburb. She was attacked at home, in a sudden moment of violence that sends shockwaves through the community. DCI Matilda Darke has no choice but to work with her rival, DI Ben Hales, as the investigation takes them undercover into the dark world of a serial rapist targeting innocent women on the streets of the steel city. But can Matilda and Ben finally put their grievances aside and work together? Or will this case be their last?
Victim of Innocence
A DCI Matilda Darke Short Story
MICHAEL WOOD
One More Chapter
an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Michael Wood 2019
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com (http://www.Shutterstock.com)
Michael Wood asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © December 2019 ISBN: 9780008374846
Version: 2019-10-14
Table of Contents
Cover (#uc5dd9760-c503-516f-8729-f78179fc93d2)
Title Page (#u24d6408e-6ee0-55d5-bd43-d50a21ea5496)
Copyright (#ucf1780d4-bd5a-5bec-af43-1c3b966d8cd0)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Keep Reading …
Also by Michael Wood
About the Author
About the Publisher
Chapter One (#uea50fca9-7cb2-5bc3-80ec-fe4e6eee6748)
Sunday March 6, 2011
Caitlyn Brown was confused. She staggered forward and held out her arms to hold on to something, anything, to stop her from falling.
What the hell had happened?
She heard the front door closing. Was that someone coming in or going out?
‘Hello?’ She called. Her voice slurred, but she had been sober since New Year. ‘Are you still there? Can you help me? I think …’
Steadying herself on the mantelpiece, Caitlyn turned around to face the living room door. It seemed to blur in and out of focus. Was someone about to come in? That wasn’t possible. She made a point of locking and double-locking the front door as soon as she came home from work. Her mother was the only other person with a spare key, and she wouldn’t turn up unannounced, not since the discussion they had about privacy over Christmas.
Caitlyn felt sick and dizzy. She needed to sit down before she fell. She needed a drink. She needed her mother.
Flopping into the armchair, Caitlyn reached over to the telephone and lifted the handset out of its cradle. She stared but couldn’t focus on the buttons. They wobbled in front of her eyes.
She scrolled through the phone’s built-in contacts and pressed the green call button when she saw what looked like the three-letter word ‘mum’. She held the phone to her ear and listened to the echoing ring. It sounded odd, as if it was the only noise in a large empty room.
‘Hello?’ A voice Caitlyn didn’t recognize answered. It sounded slow and deep.
‘Mum? Is that you?’ Caitlyn asked, concern in her slurred speech.
‘Yes. Caitlyn? Are you all right?’
‘I don’t know.’ She ran her hand through her hair. It came away wet. ‘I think there’s someone in my flat.’
‘What? What are you talking about?’
‘Mum? Is that really you?’ Caitlyn’s voice wobbled. It sounded slow in her head.
‘Oh God, Caitlyn, have you been drinking? You promised you’d quit. You’ve been doing so well, too.’
‘Mum, I haven’t been drinking.’
‘Then why do you sound like your dad when he comes home after United have won?’
‘Mum, I haven’t had a drink in months.’ That was a lie, but there was no reason to tell her mother the truth. She would only worry more than she already did.
‘Caitlyn, I’m not stupid. I know drunk when I hear it. Look, you’re going through hell right now, but drinking won’t help. And what will Mr Jowett say tomorrow when you turn up for work hungover? He’s been very good to you lately, Caitlyn.’
‘Someone’s in my flat,’ Caitlyn said, her eyes still fixed on the doorway.
‘Yes, of course. And Tom Selleck is waiting for me in bed upstairs. Look, sleep it off and I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘But—’
‘Goodnight.’
The line went dead.
‘Shit,’ she said to herself. ‘I’ve phoned the police,’ she called out towards the doorway she could barely see.
There was no reply. Caitlyn remained in the armchair staring at the door, wondering if someone was going to enter. The walls seemed to be moving; the door to the hallway was getting further and further away. Eventually, she lifted herself up and used the wall to steady herself. It was closed and the Yale was locked. Maybe she hadn’t heard the door closing.
What did she remember? She was sat having a drink of wine—
‘Don’t tell mum. Mustn’t tell mum.’
—watching a repeat of Blue Planet on Sky when the doorbell rang. After that, nothing but a massive headache. She placed a hand on her forehead. It felt warm and clammy.
Caitlyn stumbled into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Her dizziness increased. She wanted to sleep. She began to remove her clothes; floppy fingers fumbled with her shirt buttons; tired legs kicked out of her trousers. She couldn’t be bothered to change into her pyjamas; she couldn’t find them anyway.
When she stood up, she caught her tired reflection in the wardrobe mirror. She looked a mess: pale, skinny, bad skin and crazy hair.
Caitlyn threw back the duvet and fell into bed. She started to relax straight away as her warm body was engulfed in the cool crisp sheets. She turned over to cocoon herself in the duvet and didn’t notice the blood dripping from her head onto the pillow; didn’t notice as a red stain grew like a flower across the sheets.
Chapter Two (#uea50fca9-7cb2-5bc3-80ec-fe4e6eee6748)
Monday March 7, 2011
‘Table for two. Name of Darke.’
Matilda held her husband’s hand firmly while they waited for their table. His large fingers wrapped around hers. His were calloused, weather beaten, the hands of a manual worker, strong and rugged. She felt safe with this tall handsome man gripping her hand. She had no idea why she was suddenly so fixated on James’s hand, but as she looked down, she wanted to memorize every single line and cut, as if she was seeing it for the last time. She also wanted to lick it, take off his jacket and shirt, kiss his firm masculine body, run her tongue …
‘Mr Darke, your table is ready.’
‘Thank goodness. I’m starving,’ Matilda said, her face flushed with embarrassment.
It had been a while since they had dressed up and gone out somewhere posh to eat. Since the renovations on the house, they were living in a glorified caravan at the bottom of the garden. Meals consisted of takeaways, sandwiches, and things that could be cooked in one pan. Tonight was a chance to indulge in expensive food and drink over several courses.
They were shown to their table by the window and given the menus.
‘Are you all right?’ James asked.
‘I’m fine. Why?’
‘You look a bit flushed.’
Matilda smiled and felt herself blushing. ‘I’m fine. Honestly. I’ve been looking forward to this evening all day. I haven’t had lunch.’
‘I have,’ James said as he perused the menu. ‘But only a jacket potato, a bit of salad, tuna mayo, packet of crisps.’
‘Is that all? You’ll be wasting away,’ she mocked.
‘Are we having a starter?’
‘Of course.’ Matilda was almost salivating as she looked at the menu.
Her phone started to ring. They made eye contact. They both knew what this meant.
‘Luckily I hadn’t chosen yet,’ James said.
Matilda mouthed ‘sorry’ before taking her phone out of her inside pocket. She listened to the voice on the other end. All the while her bright face was falling to one of sadness and disappointment. She ended the call and didn’t dare look up at her husband.
‘You have to go,’ James said.
‘I’m afraid so. A body has been found in Heeley.’
