The Blossom Twins: An absolutely gripping crime thriller (Detective Natalie Ward Book 5), page 1
The Blossom Twins
An absolutely gripping crime thriller
Carol Wyer
Books by Carol Wyer
The DI Natalie Ward series
The Birthday
Last Lullaby
The Dare
The Sleepover
The Blossom Twins
The DI Robyn Carter series
Little Girl Lost
Secrets of the Dead
The Missing Girls
The Silent Children
The Chosen Ones
Other titles:
Life Swap
Take a Chance on Me
Mini Skirts and Laughter Lines
Surfing in Stilettos
Just Add Spice
Grumpy Old Menopause
How Not to Murder Your Grumpy
Grumpies On Board
Love Hurts
Available in Audio
The DI Natalie Ward series
The Birthday (Available in the UK and the US)
Last Lullaby (Available in the UK and the US)
The Dare (Available in the UK and the US)
The Sleepover (Available in the UK and the US)
The DI Robyn Carter series
Little Girl Lost (Available in the UK and the US)
Secrets of the Dead (Available in the UK and the US)
The Missing Girls (Available in the UK and the US)
The Silent Children (Available in the UK and the US)
The Chosen Ones (Available in the UK and the US)
Contents
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
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Epilogue
Hear More from Carol
Books by Carol Wyer
A Letter From Carol
The Birthday
Last Lullaby
The Dare
The Sleepover
Little Girl Lost
Secrets of the Dead
The Missing Girls
The Silent Children
The Chosen Ones
Life Swap
Take a Chance on Me
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Seventeen-year-old Kerry’s heart beats a frantic rat-a-tat-tat. This is definitely where she left Isabella, on the large, grassy bank opposite Sunmore Hall, next to the triumphal arch. They’d arrived early to grab the spot and she’d been sitting on a jumper, a smile on her face.
‘Isabella!’ Kerry calls. Her shout is instantly suffocated by the crowd around her, which leaps to its collective feet with a mighty roar as the main attraction, the boy band Blasted, takes to the stage. Whoops, cat-calls, whistles and screams lift into the darkened evening sky, which only minutes before was filled with an enormous murmuration of starlings, swooping over the illuminated stage as the crowd waited, the air damp with expectation and perspiration.
She’s clutching the cans of Pepsi purchased from the drinks tent only thirty metres away. Where the hell is Isabella? Her head swings left and right, sweeping along the grassy bank in case her sister has moved to an even better vantage point, but she can’t spot her. She pushes past an exuberant foursome – girls her own age, in matching T-shirts emblazoned with the group’s logo – now leaping up and down and singing along to the opening bars of Blasted’s latest hit. One of them is waving a glow stick like a frenzied conductor.
Kerry grabs the girl’s arm and pulls on it, attracting her attention. ‘Have you seen my sister? She was sat here next to you!’ she yells. The girl shakes her head and turns back to watch the act, who are now strutting up and down onstage, encouraging their fans to join in with the song.
Kerry moves in and out between sweaty bodies, all the while hunting for her fourteen-year-old sister, in a pink T-shirt and ripped jeans. She’d no idea so many people would attend the free concert at Sunmore Hall. Thousands of people have poured onto the manicured lawns behind the hall, most of them crammed directly in front of the elevated stage. It’s impossible to spot anyone close to her in the crowds ahead. Still she moves forward, hands clenching what were icy-cold cans, but which have now warmed. There’s no reason for Isabella to have left the spot where they were sitting. It isn’t in her nature to suddenly take off. That’s one of the things she loves about her sister – she’s reliable and compliant, more so tonight because it’s thanks to Kerry she’s been able to come and watch her favourite band.
She spins around and tries the opposite direction. Thoughts like congested traffic jam up one behind the other: maybe her sister has gone to the toilet, moved closer to the stage or spotted a friend and joined them. Each suggestion is rejected. Isabella wouldn’t do any of those things. What should she do next? Return to their original place and wait in case she turns up?
Another thought bumps the others from her mind: she’ll ring her. Kerry places the cans down on the grass, reaches for her phone in her back pocket and then dials the number. She presses her phone hard to her ear and sticks a finger in the other, and is relieved to make out ringing. The relief is short-lived. Isabella doesn’t pick up and Kerry berates herself for her own stupidity. Isabella probably can’t hear Ed Sheeran’s ‘Shape of You’ ringtone, not with everyone now joining in with Blasted and singing at the tops of their voices. Bodies merge with bodies so now all she sees is a giant, dark monster. Pick up, Isabella. It’s hopeless. Her sister will be engrossed like everyone else here. She’ll be singing along. She loves this track.
Isabella will return. She can’t miss the massive stone archway modelled on some ancient historic archway in Greece or France or somewhere. Kerry doesn’t care what it is; all she cares about is seeing Isabella standing in front of it again, like she had been throughout the warm-up act. She’s about to ring off when a flashing in the thick-bladed grass only a few centimetres away to her right catches her eye. The mobile phone lights up again and she shuffles forward, swooping on it before it can be damaged. She stands up, aware of bodies pressing against hers, bouncing along to the music as if together on a ginormous trampoline, trying to take her with them, and she resists, sticking elbows into their sides as she recognises the pink, spotted case and stares at the screensaver. It is the face of her kid sister, grinning goofily. Why is Isabella’s mobile lying in the grass?
The lyrics sung by those around her assault her ears like some doomsday warning: ‘You’re gone. Gonna miss you forever.’ Chilled blood washes through Kerry’s veins. Something terrible has happened to her sister.
One
Saturday, 11 August – Morning
DI Natalie Ward stretched fully. The bed in the spare room was not as comfortable as the double one she’d shared with David for the best part of two decades, but it would do for a while longer until one of them agreed to move out.
She swung her bare legs out over the edge and forced herself up. It was only seven o’clock on a Saturday morning, but she was due into work at eight, and with DS Murray Anderson on a well-deserved holiday in Australia, she was a man down. The ill-fitting blind was down on the VELUX, the only window in the converted attic space, but it didn’t prevent light from spilling in and illuminating the corners of the shabby room. They’d had grand plans to convert it into extra accommodation for one of the children, but they’d had insufficient funds to carry out a full restoration and now the room was little more than a storage hole, containing a single bed and boxes of memorabilia.
She ducked as she stood up and kept her head lowered. It was tight for space up here, and even at its apex she couldn’t stand upright. She eased herself towards the stepladder and clambered down it onto the landing. It was a nuisance sleeping in the loft space, but she was not going to climb into bed with David. She’d made her choice and she would have to lump it until they could make proper arrangements.
David was obviously still hoping for a reconciliation but Natalie was not going to be swayed. She’d stood by him the first time he’d admitted to a gambling addiction that had wiped out their savings, and tried again after his addiction had caused him to be in a betting shop when their daughter Leigh had gone missing, but the final straw had been when he’d turned to drink and neglected to notice their son Josh had been experimenting with drugs. She might even have forgiven him one last time if it hadn’t been for the lies. Natalie couldn’t bear being lied to. Her younger life had been blighted thanks to dishonesty and she wasn’t having it ruin her adult one.
She entered the kitchen, where David had set up a cup for her and filled the kettle with water, but the gracious act wasn’t enough to change anything. He’d lied again. In spite of everything, he’d lied again…
Natalie is exhausted. Work and anxiety over Josh’s recent behaviour have taken their toll. Besides, she has other, greater concerns. Her feelings for David have diminished. In spite of all his efforts, she simply doesn’t love him enough to make their relationship work. She needs to end it before they rip each other to shreds and ruin everything they’ve built up together. It’s going to be hard and she’s not sure when or even how to tell him.
She pulls out the bottle of wine from the fridge. It’s a decent wine that David bought especially for her. She idly lifts the lid on the ceramic pot that contains the housekeeping money she leaves for David to use, anticipating it will require topping up, and is surprised to see it hasn’t been touched. How has David paid for the wine? She recalls he took Leigh out to McDonald’s and bought a DVD too, and he was drunk a few times. Where did he get money to pay for alcohol? She hunts in the glass recycling bin but only discovers one empty cheap bottle of whisky and two bottles of wine that she consumed, along with the usual jars and fruit juice bottles. That in itself wouldn’t normally raise any suspicions had David not been completely drunk on more than one occasion this past week. The fortnightly collection is in two days’ time. Why are there not more bottles here? The only conclusion she can come to is that David has hidden the amount he’s been drinking.
She wanders into the sitting room, where David, pale-faced, is watching a drama. She asks him outright, ‘The kitty money hasn’t been touched. How did you pay for this wine and the DVD?’
‘I did a translation for somebody,’ he replies casually, eyes locked on the screen. ‘For cash. I used that money rather than touch the kitty.’
She sits down on the chair near him and looks at him. ‘Who?’
‘Who what?’
‘You’re deflecting,’ she replies. ‘You know exactly what I mean and you’re avoiding the question.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ he grumbles. ‘Don’t you ever switch off from work?’
‘Tell me the truth, David.’
‘Why do you always assume I’m lying?’
‘You’re doing it again. I only asked you to tell me who you did some work for. You ought to be able to reply without flying off the handle.’
He snaps off the television set and throws the control onto the coffee table. His chin juts out and he says, ‘I translated a short document for Evans.’
Evans is a small legal practice in Castergate, where they live. She sips her wine. Suddenly it tastes bitter. She puts the glass down. No matter what he says, she knows he’s lying. She knows him too well.
‘If I asked to see this document, you could show it to me? Or if I mention it to Ralph Evans, he’ll know what I’m talking about?’
‘Yes. We done here?’
‘No.’
‘Are you accusing me of something, Natalie? Because if you are, I’d tread very carefully.’
‘Tell me where the money really came from. Did you get it through gambling?’
A small muscle in his jaw flexes repeatedly. He’s angry but also cornered. ‘It was a fucking scratch card. One fucking card!’
‘That’s still gambling whichever way you look at it. You promised, David. You promised me again that you’d stop all this shit! How many more times are you going to break your promises?’
‘I’ve been attending therapy sessions. I had a blip. It isn’t easy but I’ve done no harm.’
‘Yes, you have. You let me down. You let us down and you lied to me.’
‘Fuck you, Natalie. You have no right to take any moral high ground with me. You keep secrets and tell lies too.’
Blood rushes to her ears. He’s right in that she has something she intends telling him when the time is right but she’s never lied to him. A voice in her head contradicts her with a, But you never told him the truth either.
She’s about to back down when he comes at her again with, ‘So, you want to tell me anything, Natalie?’
Maybe this is the right time to tell him they should separate. She stares at the wine glass for the longest minute then speaks quietly. ‘Yes. There is.’
Natalie checked her phone but had no messages. She’d half hoped Mike would have texted her. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d left for a five-day break to Scotland to visit his parents, with his daughter, Thea. He’d been due back the day before but there’d been no news. Even though they’d decided not to take their relationship to the next level until she and David had officially split up, they had been staying in touch with texts, and at work. David wasn’t making matters easy. He’d refused to move out of the family home, and without any regular income, it was difficult to see what options he had.
Natalie paid the mortgage on the house, so she wasn’t keen to move away either. They were at a stalemate until they could reach a resolution. At the moment, they were considering options, but from where Natalie stood, there weren’t many to choose from. They’d also kept everything from the children, waiting for Leigh to finish school for the summer then for both children to return from a week’s holiday in Devon with Eric, David’s father, and his girlfriend, Pam. They were due back tomorrow and it would be time to come clean.
Natalie flicked through an estate agent’s site, searching for cheap apartments to rent. She’d finally decided that as much as she wanted to live here with her children, she was the only person who could afford to leave. She’d have to keep up payments on the house as well as rent, but if David could earn enough to keep food on the table for the children, she might manage. That apart, the children needed a parent at home, and with her working chaotic hours, she couldn’t always be there for them; it made sense for David to stay, even if he hadn’t proved himself to be trustworthy in recent weeks.
A rustling alerted her to his arrival. ‘I’m seeing Paul today,’ he said. Paul was his sponsor, the guy helping him with his gambling addiction.
‘That’s good,’ she replied, slipping her phone into her bag.
‘Want me to make the tea while you grab a bath?’
‘David, there’s no need to do this. It only makes it harder.’
‘I’m only offering to make you a cup of tea.’
His face was unshaven but the stubble couldn’t hide his sunken cheeks. The last six weeks had taken their toll on both of them. It would be a miracle if the kids hadn’t picked up on what was going on.
‘I’ve been thinking. It’s not ideal but I can probably find a flat near headquarters for a while. A couple have come up for rent. I’ll look at them after work or during my lunch break. You stay here until you can sort yourself out and get some regular work, then we’ll decide what to do with the house. We’ll talk to the children tomorrow and explain what’s happening.’
