Hand On Heart: An Unputdownable British Crime Thriller (DI Benjamin Kidd Crime Thrillers Book 5) Read online

  “Stop it now, you’re making me blush,” Kidd said, winking at her.

  The pink flushed her cheeks a little. “Now, you need to tell me where on earth you’ve been, young man.”

  “Young man?” he repeated. “I’m not quite sure I qualify for that one anymore, Diane.”

  “So long as you’re younger than me, you are a young man, DI Kidd,” she said. “Now. What have you been doing?”

  “I had a couple of weeks off,” he said. “Spending time with loved ones. Much like you were a couple of weeks ago I assume.”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “Well, it’s good to see you again. I’ve been back for a week, I was starting to think you’d run away with that handsome young man of yours.”

  Kidd couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Well now Diane, I couldn’t possibly. I would miss you too much.” He took out his key card. “See you later, have a good one.”

  “You too!” she called after him.

  Kidd buzzed his way through and started along the familiar corridors in the general direction of the Incident Room that housed him and the rest of his team. It would be nice to see them all again. With the exception of Zoe, who he and John had gone out for drinks with during his time off, he’d not seen any of them since all the paperwork from their last case had been submitted.

  “Welcome back, Kidd.” A rumble of Scottish thunder sounded from behind him. Slowly, Kidd turned around to see DCI Patrick Weaver half out of the kitchen area, a steaming mug in his hand. He had obviously been here a while. His jacket wasn’t on anymore, his shirt seams straining against the muscular bulk of him, and this had to be his second or maybe even third cup of coffee. There were enough drips running down the side of the mug to let Kidd know that at least.

  “Morning, boss,” Kidd said. “Didn’t miss me, did you?”

  “Like a hole in the head, Kidd,” Weaver grumbled. “You got a minute?”

  Though it was phrased like a request, Kidd knew better than to assume he had any choice in the matter. If Weaver wanted a minute, Weaver would get a minute. The likelihood was it would be more like ten or fifteen, and it would involve a case file that would turn even the hardiest of police officers’ stomachs.

  “Sure thing,” Kidd replied, making himself a swift cup of tea while DCI Weaver’s eyes burned a hole in the back of his head.

  “Did you have a good break, Ben?” Weaver asked.

  “Lovely,” Kidd replied. “Almost a shame to be back.”

  “Don’t you start,” Weaver replied. “I can’t have you jumping for early retirement. Not yet anyhow.”

  “You having trouble?”

  “I’m always having trouble,” Weaver said. “You about ready?”

  Kidd splashed some milk into his tea, grabbed the mug off the countertop and followed Weaver out of the kitchen and down the corridor. This was a walk that Kidd had taken many times before. Usually, it was because he was in some kind of trouble, or he’d done something to piss off the gaffer, but given that he hadn’t been here long enough to ruin Weaver’s Tuesday, it would likely be a case assignment.

  Weaver’s office was small. It was airless and always made Kidd feel tense when he walked inside, because walking inside was usually coupled with a telling off. The boss’s desk was in chaos, papers everywhere, a million tabs open on his internet browser, and the phone off the hook. He obviously didn’t want to be disturbed, whatever it was he was up to.

  “Have a seat, Kidd,” Weaver said. “You’re probably going to need it.”

  Kidd did as he was told, taking the seat opposite Weaver’s desk. Weaver walked around, picked up a case file, and handed it to him. Immediately the boss took a seat, crossed his arms and leant back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Kidd.

  This was going to be bad. And when Kidd opened the folder, he realised it was worse.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Kidd said.

  He was presented with five images of a severed arm, each of them taken from a different angle, showing off a different part of the mutilation. The largest of the images, or at least the one that was the most cropped, was focussed on a line of text.

  Armed and dangerous?

  Kidd looked up at Weaver, whose face had gone a little green. “You alright?” Kidd asked.

  “Far from it,” Weaver replied, taking a deep breath. “This landed on my desk this morning. Well–” Weaver took a moment. He definitely looked a little greener than he had a few moments ago. “It was given to me last night before I left the office, Superintendent Charles told me to make it a top priority. To say I had a rough night’s sleep would be the understatement of the century.”

  “Sorry to hear that, boss,” Kidd replied. He looked back down at the images. They really were something else.

  The arm looked like it had been hacked off rather than a clean slice. The hand was gone, probably so there weren’t any prints to figure out who it belong to, and the carving was… angry. There was nothing about it that felt methodical or calm, it looked rash.

  “So, what’s the story?” Kidd asked, closing the case file and putting it back on the desk.

  “That’s part of the problem,” Weaver replied. “This is fresh, nothing else like it on the borough. There is likely a missing person report somewhere whose DNA, if we bloody have it, is going to match what we can get from this arm, but as of now, we don’t know who it is or where it came from.”

  “Who reported it?”

  “Oscar Harkey,” Weaver said, opening the case file to check the details. “He’s a solicitor based in Twickenham, Harkey & Grace, you’ve probably dealt with them before once or twice.”

  The name certainly rang a bell, but he didn’t know if he’d ever met Oscar before. This was hardly the best circumstances in which to meet him, but he would have to.

  “He came back from a lunch break yesterday afternoon and this had been left with the receptionist,” the boss continued. “It came in a box, all wrapped neatly. The guy thought it was a birthday present.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Happy Birthday, Oscar.”

  “They had to call a paramedic,” Weaver said. “He was light-headed, short of breath, thought he was going to pass out or have a heart attack or something. He was in a bad way.”

  Kidd could hardly blame the guy. It was one thing to encounter something like this when you dealt with dead bodies on a regular basis, but when you didn’t… it didn’t really bear thinking about.

  “Has he been interviewed?”

  “Not just yet,” Weaver said. “He’s coming in this morning to give a statement, give us prints and whatnot.”

  “We’re going to need the prints of the receptionist too,” Kidd said. “So we can count her out.”

  “We have them,” Weaver said. “It’s all in the file. Forensics is very much on top of it.”

  “We’ll get someone down there to interview her as soon as possible,” Kidd said. “You said he’s a solicitor?”

  “Right.”

  “I can’t imagine this is the first time that a lawyer or legal representative has been sent something shitty in the post because of work they’ve done,” Kidd said.

  “Agreed.”

  “It might be worth looking into past cases that he’s been involved in,” Kidd said. “Anything that might have had something like this. There may be a connection if it was meant to scare the guy.”

  “A good point,” Weaver replied. “If you’re going to ask him about that, I would tread carefully. The officers that were in attendance said he was in a pretty bad way. Not altogether surprising, but tread carefully.’

  “I always tread carefully.”

  “Bollocks you do,” Weaver snorted. “They coined the phrase ‘bull in a china shop’ specifically for you, Kidd.”

  Even Kidd had to laugh at that.

  “Fine, I’ll tread carefully,” Kidd replied. “Have the press got hold of this yet?”

  “They have,�
� Weaver said. “There were some Tweets about it last night, but not much else. They’re sniffing around.”

  “Aren’t they always?” Kidd said. “Anything else?”

  Weaver took a heavy breath. There was definitely something else.

  “Problem?”

  “I wanted to know how you were getting on,” Weaver said. “After everything that happened on the last case I wanted to know that you’re alright.”

  Kidd knew what he was referring to. On the last case, the one that had gotten a little too personal for his liking, he’d let his emotions get the better of him. Once they’d made the connection that the parents of the children who were being kidnapped had been unfaithful and were continuing to be, and that the kidnappings were punishment for what they’d done, they’d had something of a breakthrough.

  But when his niece Tilly had been snatched from the streets of Kingston, he had taken matters into his own hands and hunted down Liz’s husband Greg and punched him. There had been a lot of blood and he had needed stitches. Fortunately for DI Kidd, Greg had lied about what had happened and kept Kidd out of it, claimed that it was the handiwork of a disgruntled colleague rather than his brother-in-law in a fit of rage.

  When DCI Weaver had seen the aftermath, he hadn’t believed for a single second that it wasn’t Kidd who had caused the damage to Greg’s face. While Kidd had never admitted it, because he would probably be suspended if he did, it didn’t look like Weaver was about to let this particular discrepancy pass him by.

  “Everything’s fine,” Kidd replied. “I’ve kept an eye on them both since. The family seems to be doing well.”

  “And Greg?”

  “What about him?”

  “Kidd.”

  “His face is looking a lot better now that it isn’t covered in dried blood, yes,” Kidd replied. “He seems well.”

  Weaver sighed heavily. “You’ve got to be more careful.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.”

  “You bloody do, Kidd, don’t play dumb, alright?” Weaver snapped. “I can’t have you going off on victims, taking matters into your own hands. You’re not some bloody vigilante superhero or some bollocks like that, you are a DI, are you hearing me?”

  “Loud and clear, sir,” Kidd said, trying to keep his tone even. Now would not be the time to be snapping back at his boss.

  He was, of course, completely correct. He shouldn’t have acted the way he did, not at all. After he did it, he regretted it, even though it had been somewhat cathartic and at least confirmed what was, at the time, a theory.

  “Anything else?” Kidd said.

  Weaver shook his head. “No, nothing more,” he replied. “Just a promise that maybe this time you don’t go off and do something stupid, eh? Try and keep a cool head.”

  “I promise I’ll do my best, boss,” Kidd replied. Though, even he knew that almost certainly wouldn’t be enough.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Kidd left Weaver’s office, heading in the direction of the Incident Room via the kitchen once again. His tea had gone cold, to the point where it was almost certainly undrinkable, and seeing those pictures had gone some way to putting him off the beverage. He dumped it in the sink. He would get another one later.

  The Incident Room was already a hive of activity when he walked inside, everyone already present and ready to get to work. Detective Sergeant Zoe Sanchez was behind her desk, eyes laser-focused on the screen to the point where she barely acknowledged that Kidd had even walked in but for a cursory raising of her hand.

  Detective Constables Owen Campbell and Janya Ravel were in some kind of theoretical debate that Kidd could barely make head or tail of, and much to Kidd’s surprise, DC Simon Powell was back at his desk, apparently also trying to follow whatever it was that had gotten Campbell and Ravel so riled up.

  Simon looked to the door as Kidd walked in, his face bursting into a smile. On one of their previous cases, Simon had gotten himself into a bit of a scrape which had put him out of action for a week or so. While he was fairly new to the team when Kidd had returned from some extended leave several months back, they definitely noticed his absence on their last case. Though he had a tendency to be a little bit clumsy at times, and maybe a little bit too new to be totally useful, DC Simon Powell had been very much missed. Kidd couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

  “Well, well, well,” Kidd said, taking off his jacket and hanging it on a hook by the door. “Look who finally decided to show up for work again.”

  “Could say the same to you, Kidd, you’ve been gone for almost two weeks,” Zoe called from across the room. “Nice to have you back, maybe you can stop Campbell from trying to debate everyone all the time.”

  “If I had the power to make DC Campbell shut up, don’t you think I would have used it by now?” Kidd said, just loudly enough that it stopped Campbell and Ravel from talking and pulled their focus to him. Kidd grinned. “Well, would you look at that, maybe I do have the gift, after all.”

  “Morning boss, lovely to see you,” Campbell said.

  “Morning, sir,” Ravel added.

  “Nice to see that you’re all so lively this morning,” Kidd said. “How are you getting on, Si?” Kidd asked.

  Simon wobbled his head a little. “I’m doing alright,” he said. “I’ve been better. Certainly been worse. Happy to be back and ready to get back to work.”

  “Exactly what I wanted to hear,” Kidd replied, lifting the case file so everyone could see it. “Just had something new off the gaffer and it’s going to require a bit of work.” Understatement of the century, he thought. He turned his attention to Sanchez. “We’ve got to do an interview in about an hour, hope you’re excited for that.”

  “Ecstatic,” Sanchez deadpanned, turning her attention away from the computer to him to give him a half-arsed smile. “You have a good bit of time off?”

  “I bloody needed it,” Kidd replied. “But no rest for the wicked. I’d barely got in the door and Weaver wanted to talk to me about this. Here’s what we’ve got so far,” he continued, making his way to the front of the room. “We’ve had a severed body part delivered to a solicitor in Twickenham.”

  He gave it a moment to settle. While each of them had dealt with all manner of things during their time in The Met, whether that be as a team or previously in their careers, it wasn’t every day that someone was Father Christmas-ing body parts around the borough.

  “It’s already been sent off to forensics to see if we can pick up any traces of who it belongs to,” Kidd said. “The guy we’re interviewing in an hour is Oscar Harkey—”

  “Harkey & Grace?” Sanchez interrupted. “Jesus.”

  “What?” Kidd asked.

  “Dealt with them before,” she said. “They’re pretty high profile. Gotten a few dirty criminals off in their time.”

  It wasn’t altogether surprising. It was often joked about how when someone decides to become a solicitor, the first thing they do is remove your heart and your conscience. Whether they believe someone is innocent or not, it is their job to defend their client. It was Kidd’s job, and the job of his colleagues, to try and make sure the evidence is watertight to make it bloody hard for them.

  “Well, he’s coming in this morning,” Kidd said. “It could be linked to something.”

  “More than likely,” Sanchez replied. “Sorry to interrupt, sir, got over-excited.”

  “Hold onto that energy,” Kidd said. “This is going to be a tough one I think.”

  He went on to tell them that prints had been taken from the box that it had been delivered in and they would need to look at the CCTV of Twickenham High Street from yesterday to find someone carrying a giant parcel. They’d gotten a statement from the receptionist, but she had been so busy that afternoon that she couldn’t really give much of a description, apart from what he was wearing. Jeans and a t-shirt. It wasn’t a lot to go on.

  “We need to set up an evidence board,” Kidd said. “And as soon as we have a
nything to go on, we need to get moving.”

  “Any clue what they’re doing it for?” Campbell asked. “Bit creepy to be sending severed body parts to people, isn’t it?”

  “Bit of an understatement,” Kidd replied. “But that’s what we need to find out. And quickly.”

  The team started to move. Simon was incredibly keen to get back to his usual job of setting up the evidence board. It was a rhythm they’d gotten into over the last couple of cases. One that Kidd was glad to have. They worked like a well-oiled machine, everybody knowing what they were doing. While Kidd was leading the cases, he knew that his team had a handle on things. He was sure of it.

  Kidd followed Simon, standing at his side as he stuck the photographs of the severed arm onto the board.

  “Everything alright, Simon?” Kidd asked. Simon kept his focus on the board for a moment, straightening a picture, looking at it intently.

  “What’s written on the arm?” he asked. “‘Armed and dangerous?’” He looked to Kidd. “What do you think that means?”

  Kidd shrugged. “That’s another thing we need to find out,” he said. “Brilliant question avoidance, by the way.”

  Kidd was never all that good at showing his emotions. He tried to avoid it a lot of the time because it tended to get in the way of work, but he still felt guilty about what had happened to Simon. Sure, everything was okay now, he was back at work, everything was fine, but Kidd felt responsible for what had happened to him. On the case before last, he’d gotten pretty badly hurt. Badly enough that he had ended up in hospital. Kidd hadn’t been able to shake off the feeling of responsibility.

  Simon shrugged. “Learned from the best, sir,” he replied. “I’m okay.” He seemed a little bit shaky. His face seemed paler, his eyes set a little deeper than they were before. That kind of thing changed people, Kidd knew. He hoped it hadn’t knocked the wind out of Simon’s sails too much.

  “You’re sure?” Kidd said. “I don’t want you rushing into anything too soon. If you need more time to rest—”