ALL THAT REMAINS

THE DI BENJAMIN KIDD THRILLERS

BOOK 12

GS RHODES

DARK SHIP CRIME

Copyright 2025 GS Rhodes

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published Worldwide by Dark Ship Crime

Cover Design by Creative Edge Studios

ALSO BY GS RHODES

The DI Benjamin Kidd Thrillers

When You’re Smiling

Just Keep Breathing

Your Best Shot

Be My Baby

Hand On Heart

Sticks and Stones

One Last Smile

Beyond The Sea

Exit Stage Death

Someone Else’s Skin

Like A Prayer

All That Remains

The DS Zoe Sanchez Thrillers

Deadly Tears

Deadly Vengeance

Deadly Games

Deadly Secrets

Deadly Ends

Don’t forget to join the GS Rhodes Mailing List so you don’t miss out on news of new releases.

READING ORDER

A reader reached out to be recently asking about the order in which the DI Benjamin Kidd and DS Zoe Sanchez books are to be read in as the two series run concurrently. There are links between the two series, and moments where the plots crossover (normally in phone calls between the two detectives.) It isn’t essential for them to be read in this order, or even for both series to be read, but below is that reading order for anyone interested in getting that fully rounded reading experience.

When You’re Smiling (DI Benjamin Kidd #1)

Just Keep Breathing (DI Benjamin Kidd #2)

Your Best Shot (DI Benjamin Kidd #3)

Be My Baby (DI Benjamin Kidd #4)

Hand On Heart (DI Benjamin Kidd #5)

Sticks and Stones (DI Benjamin Kidd #6)

One Last Smile (DI Benjamin Kidd #7)

Deadly Tears (DS Zoe Sanchez #1)

Beyond The Sea (DI Benjamin Kidd #8)

Deadly Vengeance (DS Zoe Sanchez #2)

Exit Stage Death (DI Benjamin Kidd #9)

Deadly Games (DS Zoe Sanchez #3)

Someone Else’s Skin (DI Benjamin Kidd #10)

Deadly Secrets (DS Zoe Sanchez #4)

Like A Prayer (DI Benjamin Kidd #11)

Deadly Ends (DS Zoe Sanchez #5)

All That Remains (DI Benjamin Kidd #12)

CHAPTER

ONE

With the last strum of his guitar, Elliot Hayes took his bow at The Hollow Tree. The crowd was going nuts, screaming his name, chanting for him, absolutely obsessed with him. To say that the night had been a success would be the understatement of the century. It was a triumph, maybe one of the best gigs he had ever done. Though he said that a lot. He was on an upward trajectory and he knew it. He could feel it. He just needed to keep going.

Elliot had been playing at The Hollow Tree, among other places around London, for the past four years since he dropped out of Uni. They weren’t teaching him anything there anyway. It was supposed to be a music course, the kind that would set him on a path to be able to produce his own records, but he could already do that. He didn’t need them. And now he was proving it.

He was very busy. Sure, the pay wasn’t much to write home about, and he had to scrimp and save to get by, borrowing money here and there, doing odd jobs around the place, but he was doing it. He was making a living off his art and what on earth could be cooler than that?

He made his way off the stage, riding that high of cheers, of praise, and made his way backstage. It couldn’t really be called “backstage,” it was a little office that the bar didn’t use anymore. But it was enough space for him to leave his guitar case.

He put his instrument away and hoiked it onto his back. It had been a good night. And there would be more good nights; he knew there would be. His future was bright.

Elliot made his way out into the bar area, chatting with a few people, soaking up the praise, enjoying the people fawning over him, the girls who just couldn’t seem to get enough.

It just made him think of Amy.

She was supposed to be there tonight, but their fight earlier this week, the fight to end all fights, had likely put an end to that ever being a thing again. It was a shame. They’d been together since Uni, they’d been through a lot together, but she’d just had enough of the way he was living his life. But he was on a path.

“I can’t get off it now,” he’d snapped. “This is it, this is my break, my path to the big time.”

“You mean you won’t,” she’d replied. “All you care about is yourself, your career, your stupid bloody shot at fame. What about me, Elliot? Huh? What do I do? Where do I come into this?”

“This is as much for you as it is for me!” That was a lie. None of this was for her really. It was all for him. All in the name of building his brand, building awareness.

She’d called him out on it and left. She’d said she didn’t want to see him again, but she still came out to see him at the café, still had one last chat with him. He’d let her go. She’d seemed fine with it, which just made it worse. It was what it was. It would be what it was. She’d come crawling back eventually… right?

Whatever.

“Did you see the journos?” asked Max, one of his bandmates, who had been with him pretty much from day one. He was excited, practically bouncing off the walls. Maybe he’d taken something, Elliot couldn’t tell. It didn’t affect him as a drummer so it didn’t matter.

“I didn’t. Where were they?”

“Hiding out at the back. Mal clocked them when they came in, told me to watch out, didn’t want to tell you beforehand in case you got nervous.”

“I wouldn’t have got nervous!” He laughed, but he would have. He was nervous about them being there. It was a strange thing. He wanted to be looked at, wanted to be seen, wanted to be noticed, but at the same time the thought of it utterly terrified him. What if people hated him?

They wouldn’t, though. Would they?

He was going to be a star.

“Come talk to them,” Max said. “They’ll be dying to talk to you.”

He did what he was told, Max introducing Elliot to them, their names drifting into his head and then straight out the other side again. It didn’t matter. They needed to know who he was, not the other way around.

He kept it light, he kept it jovial, he gave them little quotes that would look good as a headline, or under a moody picture of him on a website or social media or whatever and then he made his excuses and went before he could make more of an arse of himself.

Lisa was there. She’d been following him for a while, so he always made sure he gave her a decent quote, a decent interview. She knew more about him than he cared to let on, but it was fine. When he’d been thinking about dropping off the face of the earth and jacking it all in, she had pushed him to keep going. So that was something.

He got himself a drink, sitting with Max and talking about the gig, what went well, what they could do better next time. It was Elliot’s whole life, and he loved it. He loved every second of it.

Someone had made a dick of themselves at one point and the bar staff had to throw them out. Elliot tried not to be fazed by it, tried to keep his cool. But it was always worrying…especially at the moment.

The pub cleared out pretty quickly after Elliot and the band were finished, and he was being hurried along to finish his drink by eager bar staff who just wanted to shut up shop and go home. Even Mal wanted him out.

“It’s a Monday night, kid, I want to close up and get home to the wife,” he grumbled from behind the bar. “The sooner you piss off, the sooner I can do just that.”

Elliot laughed. “Did I not just help you with a massive take tonight?”

It was Mal’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, you did,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you get to drink until the wee small hours, I’ve got places to be. I still have to get up for deliveries tomorrow. You get to laze around in bed.”

“You know me too well,” Elliot replied before downing the rest of his pint.

“Good show tonight,” Mal said. “One of your best. You keep packing this place out, Elliot, you’re going to outgrow it.”

The thought sent a thrill through Elliot’s entire body. He loved playing the pub, he really did, but he imagined how brilliant it would be to get to play somewhere bigger, somewhere with seats, somewhere with a big stage. That would be the dream.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elliot said. “I’ll always be here. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried,” Mal said with a wink. “Get home safe, lad. I’ll see you soon!”

Elliot said his goodbyes to Max, who headed in a Norbiton direction as Elliot made his way back towards town. It was quiet now. It was a Monday night, after all. Anyone who was out and about had long since gone home to prepare for the continuation of their week, but Mal was right. He would be sleeping in tomorrow. He had earned that lie-in.

He made his way through town, stumbling a little, his guitar heavy against his back. It was quiet as he got back to his flat, a three-bedroom that he shared with two other creatives. Jeff and Levi. They usually kept themselves to themselves. Most of the time. There were some things they had to do together…

As he made his way to his front door, he caught sight of someone waiting outside, a lit cigarette between their lips. They eyed him carefully, and Elliot realised who it was.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked. They would be some of the last words he ever spoke.

CHAPTER

TWO

Detective Inspector Benjamin Kidd had finally made it back to Kingston. He’d taken the long way around, his sabbatical taking him to places that he hadn’t necessarily expected to go and taking him on adventures that… well… if he was totally honest with himself, he knew he shouldn’t have been going on those adventures either. But he was back in one piece and things felt… different.

When he got back to the house a month ago, his sister Liz had done a brilliant job of putting up the Christmas decorations in time for their arrival. The place looked like a winter wonderland, even if it was piss-wet and grey outside. But his home didn’t feel quite like his home anymore. He’d not lived in it for quite a long time, and that had shifted things in him slightly.

It wasn’t that there was something wrong with the house, it was just as lovely and homely as it had been when they’d left, the problem was that it didn’t feel like home anymore. Too much had happened. Too much had changed.

Of course I’d find a problem three seconds after walking into the house, he thought. Like I don’t have enough on my plate.

The days passed by in something of a flurry. He had dinner with his best friend, Detective Sergeant Zoe Sanchez, and they caught up about everything that had been going on with her, updates in the team, that kind of thing. He went and talked to Detective Chief Inspector Weaver, who set him up with Occupational Health and with a fitness test, which he absolutely wasn’t looking forward to.

“I knew you shouldn’t have stopped running,” John said when he came back from that particular meeting.

“I mean, I did get injured rather a lot.”

“Yes, I remember,” John replied. “Maybe that will teach you to throw yourself in headfirst.”

“We’ve been together long enough for you to realise that’s never going to happen,” Kidd replied.

He worked hard in the run-up to the fitness test, only taking a bit of time off over Christmas, and managed to scrape his way through it in the new year. The years were catching up with him, and how he was meant to get through that again when it rolled around was beyond him.

Sure, he could keep going on runs and stay in shape, but every time he tried to do that something would come along and derail him. Either some mammoth case that meant all his time and brain power was occupied by that, or he ended up getting into some scrape that laid him out flat.

Maybe he did need to take it a little easier.

Today’s run would be the last before he went back to work for real. He’d got the all-clear from Occupational Health, Weaver had called him up and told him to get back into the office, it was all systems go on the work front. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit excited.

He made his way downstairs in his running gear to find John in the kitchen, filling up a flask with what looked like tea.

“Bloody hell, going out again?” he asked with a smirk. “You passed the test, Ben, you don’t need to keep running.”

“Trying to stay on top of it this time.”

“How long will that last?”

“Until a case file hits my desk,” Kidd replied. “You alright? You left me asleep?”

“Woke up early, so came downstairs to check on some emails that came through over Christmas.”

“Who the bloody hell was emailing over Christmas?”

“My psycho boss,” he replied with a smirk. “You know how she gets. A thought pops into her head and next thing you know it’s in my bloody inbox. I think she’s very happy I’m coming back to the office today.”

The implication there was that John wasn’t quite that happy about going back.

He worked for a publisher called Westway Press, a big London publisher that did everything from romance to crime to sci-fi and beyond. John had been editing a crime book when his client was murdered, then he was targeted as well, only narrowly being saved from the same fate, and…well…it was part of the reason they ended up taking off on their little road trip for a bit.

He’d managed to keep working away for a bit while they weren’t in Kingston, dialling into meetings and such when he needed to, but now things were getting real, they were both going back to work. Life was about to have some semblance of a routine again.

“Take it easy, maybe,” Kidd said. He hated seeing John stressed out and worried. He was such a nice man, such a kind soul, the last thing he wanted to see was someone he cared so much about, someone he loved, getting bogged down by work. “If it helps, we can start planning a holiday when I get back tonight. That’s one way to take your mind off work, start planning to be away from it.”

“You on a holiday?” John said with a snort. “We just tried to take a holiday and you ended up working with the local force.”

“Yeah, not ideal, that,” Kidd replied. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I was working anyway, and you enjoy it,” he replied with a laugh. “But we can’t tonight, remember? We’re having dinner with Liz.”

“Oh God, are we?”

“When did I become your PA as well as your boyfriend?” John said. “We’re going round to hers at seven, having dinner, proper New Year catch up. Please don’t leave me alone with your sister.”

“You love Liz.”

“I do love Liz,” John replied with a laugh. “But she’s still your sister and we haven’t spent that much time together so I’ll be deathly nervous if it’s just me, her, and Greg.”

“I’ll be there,” Kidd said, stepping towards John and giving him a kiss. “Good luck today. Not that you need it. Maybe don’t rip your boss’s head off.”

“I’m not you,” John replied. “Though, now if that happens, I’m the prime suspect. Damn. Have to get rid of her another way.”

Kidd said his goodbyes and made his way outside, breaking into a run. He took a different route today, down towards Fairfield Park, running around it a few times before circling back. He slowed down and then stopped to stretch before starting a cool-down walk home.

His phone rang in his pocket, interrupting his music, and he took it out to see that it was Liz, probably to make sure he was actually coming tonight. He looked forward to smugly saying he was. PA John McAdams to the rescue.

“Hey, Lizzy,” Kidd said, more than a little out of breath. He really did need to keep running after all. “What can I do for you this fine morning?”

“You can cut the chipper attitude for a start, where are you?” she asked, incredulous.

“Out for a run,” he said. “Why?”

“Oh you make me sick,” she replied. “It’s minus two, Ben, why on God’s green earth are you out for a run?”

“Because I barely passed my fitness test and I’d rather not collapse while I’m on the job today if I can help it,” he replied. “Was there anything I could actually help you with or did you just call to berate me?”

“Alright alright,” she said, white flag raised. “I was just calling to check in, make sure you were still coming tonight.”

“Of course we are,” he said. “Would be rude not to.”

“Especially at such short notice when I’m doing a roast and have already started prepping it.”

“Bloody hell, it’s like a second Christmas,” Kidd replied. “How are things? How are the kids? Did you have any New Year plans?”

“My New Year plans were: pyjamas by eight pm, fall asleep in front of the TV, wake up to watch the fireworks, and go to bed,” she replied. “A very successful evening, if you must know.”

They kept talking on his walk home. This was one of the reasons he was glad to be back, being closer to Liz again. They’d not talked much while he’d been away, a combination of Kidd just putting everything about Kingston out of sight and out of mind, and Liz wanting to give him some space. She didn’t want to intrude on him being away, and he appreciated that. Even if he had found work to do off his own back.

He hung up once he got back inside, sticking the kettle on while he had a quick shower and got himself ready for the day. With a cup of tea in a flask that John had bought him for Christmas, he made his way to the station, ready for his first proper day back.

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was actually excited to be back in Kingston, part of the team once again, and while he didn’t wish ill fortune on anyone, he was excited to sink his teeth into a new case. He was a new man. Things were going to be better. He had decided.

CHAPTER

THREE

The walk to the station was fairly pleasant. He was starting a little later today, so the traffic on the roads he was walking was minimal, the school children had already vanished into their first classes of the day and that initial hustle and bustle had passed. He could be alone with his thoughts, sipping his tea as he went.

There was still an ominous air to the building, that concrete block opposite the Rose Theatre seemed imposing against the skyline. It practically blended into the heavy cloud coverage this morning. It looked like it was either going to rain or snow, Kidd wasn’t sure.

Typical, we can’t get a white Christmas, but we can have a white January, he thought, digging his free hand deeper into his pocket. He needed gloves, he should have asked for gloves for Christmas. Why did he always think of the perfect gift after the fact?

He walked into the station reception and was greeted with the biggest smile from the station officer. She was on the phone and gave him the one-minute finger. He knew better than to defy her, so he waited, letting her finish her call.

“Well, well, well, as I live and breathe, look who is finally back,” she said.

“Good morning, Diane,” he said. “This is the kind of greeting I was hoping for. You can bet your life Weaver isn’t about to roll out the red carpet.”

“Well, he should,” she said. “I’d heard you were coming back, people had said you’d been in and had meetings and such, but I’d not seen you so I thought it wasn’t true.”

“Sorry, Diane, I am back, unfortunately.”

“What do you mean, ‘unfortunately?’” she replied. “I’ve missed you. Missed you causing trouble around here, it’s been too quiet.”

Kidd laughed. “From what I’ve heard it’s not been quiet at all,” he replied. “But it’s always nice to be missed. Who was on the phone?”

Diane rolled her eyes. “Who do you think? Some members of the press are already hounding me for details of what’s going on by the riverside.” She let out a sigh. “Honestly, they think I was born yesterday, can’t help but try their luck and try and get information out of me. No chance. They’ll find out when everyone else does.”

Kidd needed her to rewind for a second. “What’s going on by the riverside?” he asked. “Something I should know about? I didn’t walk that way this morning, I must have missed it?”

“See, now you’re trying to get me to reveal my sources,” she said with a smirk. “Don’t actually know that much about it at this stage, but there are Uniforms down there already, Forensics on the way, it’s all go go go.” She eyed him carefully. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were hoping you were going to walk into something like this today.”

“I don’t wish for anyone to need my help,” Kidd said, but then lowered his voice. “But it would be a bloody boring job if no one did, eh?”

Diane laughed, and Kidd said his goodbyes before making his way through that familiar door and into the backrooms of Kingston station. People said hello as he walked past, welcoming him back, a couple asked him where he’d been. Some of them didn’t seem to know he’d been anywhere, and that was kind of the most beautiful part of it. Something major can be happening in your life, and it can feel like the centre of the whole universe, but you’re a blip on someone else’s radar. It puts things in perspective, makes things feel a little less high-pressure.

He made his way into the Incident Room, and was greeted by several pairs of eyes looking up to see him come in. It really did feel good to be back.

“Good morning, Boss.” Detective Sergeant Zoe Sanchez was at her desk already, curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, eyes trained on him, mischief glistening in her smile. “What time do you call this? You take some time off and suddenly get to have slacker’s hours?”

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Morning.”

The rest of the team said good morning too; Detective Constable Janya Ravel joined in with Zoe, ribbing him about his late start, and Detective Constable Simon Powell immediately offered him a pastry, which he happily took, and then brand new Detective Constable Ashley Hale, who seemed to be hanging back just a little bit.

Kidd had met him already, the team having been out socialising in the past couple of weeks. They wanted to welcome him back, but also didn’t want him to have to dive straight into work the second he got there. It was nice, it made the whole first-day-back thing feel less nerve-racking.

DC Ashley Hale, who insisted on being called Ash because Ashley makes him feel like he’s in trouble, greeted Kidd somewhat nervously. He was tall, gangly, and definitely standoffish now that they were in the Incident Room together. It was one thing to get to know each other socially, but they’d not worked together yet. In a lot of ways, they had things to prove to one another. Kidd needed to prove he was a decent boss, Ash needed to prove he was a competent DC.

“Nothing’s come in yet, has it?” Kidd asked, making his way over to his desk and hanging his jacket on the back of it. It was almost exactly as he left it, despite a DI covering with the team while he was away. It was completely cleared of its usual debris from whatever case he happened to be working on at that time. He knew that would soon change.

Zoe turned to him, eyebrow raised. “Nothing yet,” she said. “We’re finishing up a couple of things from our last case, tying up loose ends. Why? Have you heard something?”

“Diane mentioned something happening by the riverside this morning,” Kidd replied. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me sit up and pay attention.”

“I didn’t walk that way,” Zoe said. “Otherwise I could have given you the gossip.”

“It’s going to land on someone’s desk,” Kidd said. “It might be ours, you never know.”

“God, you really are back, aren’t you?” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Barely in the door and you’re looking for the first case to sink your teeth into,” Zoe said. “Some things never change.”

Kidd took a moment. Maybe things did need to change a little bit. If they didn’t have anything on their plates just yet, what was the harm in a slightly easier morning? He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, slipping it back on.

“Bored already?” Zoe said.

“No,” Kidd replied, before turning to the rest of the team. “How about breakfast?” he called out. “Before Weaver comes barrelling in here telling us to get to work on something, we could go out, get some breakfast? Anyone?”

Powell got to his feet first. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. “Why not?”

They gathered themselves, grabbing jackets and coats and scarves, it really was bitterly cold outside. They’d barely made it to the door when it swung open to greet them, the imposing form of Detective Chief Inspector Patrick Weaver filling the doorframe.

He eyed them all carefully, confusion flickering across his face as he took them all in.

“Are we going somewhere?” he asked.

“Breakfast, sir,” Kidd replied. “Morale and all that.”

Weaver smirked. “A lovely idea,” he replied. “But one that I’m afraid we’re going to have to postpone.” Kidd’s stomach dropped out of his feet. “We’re needed down by the riverside,” he continued, before locking eyes with Kidd. “Welcome back.”

CHAPTER

FOUR

They made their way down to the riverside on foot, Weaver leading the pack with Kidd at his side. The rest of the team followed behind, wrapped up warm in their winter coats. Even though Kidd had been hoping for this, there was always that jolt of nerves when you first got assigned a new case. You never knew what was going to be waiting for you around the next corner, and the fact that even Weaver seemed a little troubled by it told Kidd this was going to be far from easy.

“What do we have so far?” Kidd asked.

“Not a whole lot,” Weaver replied. “I got the call right before I came to see you and the team. We’re getting in on the ground of this one, so it’s all…it’s all going to be a little bit tense.”

As they turned the corner onto the riverside, a cold breeze coming in off the water and battering them in the face, Kidd could see the crowds of people gathered up ahead. People were walking past in the opposite direction, shaking their heads, frustrated by something.

And then Kidd realised.

They’re being turned around, he thought. This section of the Riverside is closed, people can’t walk through.

He looked at the restaurants as he walked past. The pub on the corner had managed to open, just outside of the cordon, but the rest of them, the ones that had no other way in or out, they were all closed, people in matching uniforms gathering in little clusters as they waited to be told whether or not they’d be opening at all today.

The uniformed officers at the cordon looked like they were about to freeze to death, rosy cheeks and pink noses giving away the fact that despite their stern expressions, this was not an ideal situation for them.

Kidd said his good mornings, flashing his badge as he stepped under the police tape and made his way to the group of people in white coveralls.

“DI Kidd, you’re back.” Frances Dean’s voice was one of surprise. Maybe people really hadn’t been expecting him to return. “Bit of a troublesome one to be coming back to, I’m afraid.”

“What have we got?” Weaver asked.

“Male, early twenties, found floating in the river,” Frances said gravely. “Wrists and ankles had been bound together, looked like he’d had the absolute life beaten out of him.”

“Can we see him?” Weaver asked.

Frances took them towards the tent, letting them go inside so that they could get a good look at the boy. He was young, twenties was definitely the right call there, his body was wet, skin wrinkled in places where it had been in the water. His face was a mess, lip split, face bruised. Whoever was responsible had really done a number on him.

“Drowning?” Kidd asked cautiously.

“I’d say not,” Frances replied. “I’d say he was dead when he hit the water.”

“For how long?”

“Oh, this is a relatively fresh body,” Frances said. “If he’d been thrown in the water dead, he would have sunk, he had been tied to the railings.”

Kidd’s eyes bulged. “Hold on,” he said. “So whoever did this to him, beat him to death, and then strung up in the water?”

Frances nodded. “Whoever did this, wanted him to be found,” she replied. “Because, well, he was right here, half in the water, half out. Might have been put in closer to high tide because he was just there. He was tied to the railing like… like someone sending a message.”

Kidd looked over at Weaver, who looked spooked. If someone was sending a message, the question was who was sending the message and who was it for? It didn’t sit well with Kidd. He’d heard nothing of it this morning, and now being faced with it, Kidd wasn’t sure what kind of preparation you could do for something like this, but this was pretty bleak as far as killings went.

“Any word on cause of death?” Kidd asked.

“Not yet,” she said. “Could be any number of things, but I’m leaning towards the beating he took. He looks like he was seriously injured by it. Pretty sure he didn’t drown. We’ll get an autopsy done on him ASAP, get you that information as soon as we have it.”

“Thanks, Frances, I appreciate that,” Kidd replied, taking this opportunity to step out of the tent and back into the open. He took a few deep breaths, gulping in the fresh air as he tried to figure out what to do next.

“What do you think?” Weaver asked.

It was the vaguest question imaginable, the kind of question that made Kidd just want to respond with “lots of things” but he resisted that urge. He could get on Weaver’s back about things later, right now he needed to focus.

“Well,” Kidd started. “Like Frances said, whoever is responsible for this wanted it to be found. You don’t leave a body trussed up like a turkey if you don’t want it to be seen.”

“Right.”

“Right,” Kidd said. “And if the body is pretty fresh, people might not think he’s missing. We need to find out who he is and fast.”

“Where do you want to start?”

Kidd took a breath, looked along the riverside, clocking the CCTV cameras that were there, the flats above some of the restaurants, The Snake Pit club nearby. There were a lot of options for them to look into, a lot of places for them to go from here. It wasn’t going to be easy by any stretch, but the sooner they could figure out who this was and how on earth they got here, the better.

“We seem to have gotten a little lucky with this, it’s a pretty well-covered place,” Kidd said, gesturing to the various cameras he could see around the area. “If nothing else, we should be able to get a timestamp, track his last movements. There aren’t too many places in Kingston town centre that are without coverage.”

“So you want to get the CCTV?”

“If we can,” Kidd said. “It might be our best bet at figuring out who he is, where he came from.”

“Detective?” Kidd turned to see Frances coming towards him, a clear plastic bag in her hand. It held a set of keys, a waterlogged phone, a wallet, and a small bag of white powder that had somehow survived the submersion. “Found on his person.”

Kidd smiled, turning his attention to Weaver. “What did I say? Lucky.”

“Not so much for the victim,” Frances replied, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Kidd replied, taking the bag. “But this brings us one step closer to finding who killed him.”

CHAPTER

FIVE

Elliot Hayes. Twenty-five years old.

The wallet gave them a very clear heading. It gave them an address, it gave them a name, and it wasn’t too long before they had multiple addresses to investigate. They had his current home address in a flat in Kingston town, and they had what appeared to be his family home just on the outskirts of Surbiton.

They got in touch with the family as quickly as possible, their first port of call, knowing that they would need them to identify the body. The picture on his license didn’t quite match his currently messed-up face, but once it was confirmed that their victim was Elliott Hayes, things would become clearer still. They had things they needed to work towards.

Kidd got the bag of powder sent off to be tested, just to make sure it was what he thought it was. The sight of the drugs made his blood run a little colder. He associated it so much with Andrea that it made him uncomfortable, like she was watching, like she was always looking over his shoulder.

There was every possibility of course that it had nothing to do with her. Drugs were likely in Kingston before Andrea, they would be there afterwards, but it still didn’t sit right with him.

DC Powell had been setting up the big board since they got back to the station, Kidd and the rest of the team establishing contact with the mortician, with the local council, with anyone who might be able to give them information on his last movements. He tasked Ash to check him out online, see what they could find out about him.

This was the part where they would likely gather their leads, where things would steadily start to become clearer. But no matter how many times Kidd did this, it never got any easier. He had to keep himself as removed as possible, try not to let himself get too hung up on how young the lad was, on the potential that was lost. It was a tragedy.

He talked with Weaver for a little while, the DCI wanting to make sure that he felt like he was in a fit enough state to deal with all of this.

“You’ve just got back,” Weaver said. “I know it’s your job, and I know you’ve been dealing with stuff down in Southend, but this is a lot to be going into when you’ve barely set your foot in the door.”

Kidd considered it for a moment, genuinely asking himself if it maybe was going to be a little bit too much. He was trying to be better, broadly speaking. When he’d been in Kingston previously, things had all become too much. That was what had led to him leaving, that was what had led to his sabbatical. But in a lot of ways it was better for him to stay busy, better for his brain to be put to use rather than sitting there and waiting.

“I’ll be grand,” he replied. “But I’ll be sure to keep you posted if that changes. Any support you can offer would be greatly appreciated.”

He didn’t necessarily have a lot of faith that there would be huge amounts of support from DCI Weaver, it was a rare dare that he got his hands dirty, besides they had a full complement of a team now so there wasn’t really any reason to. But he was making an effort to make sure Kidd was alright, there was no reason for him to not cash in on that.

Kidd gathered the information that they had so far and relayed it to the rest of the team, steadily forming the beginnings of a game plan in his head. They would need to split up, cover as much ground as possible, and while DC Hale was gathering information on Elliott from the Internet, they would be gathering it from those who knew him best. It would all add up to a bigger picture, one that would hopefully lead them to question the right people.

“You want us to split up?” Janya suggested, when Kidd relayed the information to them. She had read his mind. “Happy to go with DC Hale to either one of the addresses, just let us know which.”

“Thank you, Janya,” Kidd replied. “If you could get to his flat, that would be great. If there are any roommates, discuss things with them, and get a sense of what his life was like. Zoe and I will go and chat to the parents.”

“Family Liaison will be in touch ASAP,” Powell piped up from his desk. “They’re a little bit swamped at the moment. They’re a couple of people down. A combination of sickness and… well…”

It took Kidd a moment to remember Caitlyn Jones. He’d known her for a number of years and it was her brother who had joined the team and ultimately found himself wrapped up in organised crime with Andrea Peyton. No wonder Caitlyn was taking a bit of time off. After Owen had been killed, Kidd had done the same. He didn’t want people looking at him differently, didn’t want people questioning him about what happened. She was doing the right thing there, that much was for certain.

“And I’m trying to get in contact with his bandmate, Max,” Ash said. “But he’s been pretty dark on social media for the past few days. He’s pretty much untraceable.”

Kidd thought that was a little suspicious, but maybe too obvious a place to start.

“Righto,” Kidd said. “Let’s get moving. Report back as and when, let’s see what we can get.”

Kidd and Zoe made their way into Surbiton, driving past blocks of flats, through the middle of town and towards some of the slightly more affluent houses. They were getting closer to Thames Ditton than they were to Surbiton. The houses were getting larger, the driveways more pronounced, there were even a few automatic gates.

“Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” Zoe muttered as they pulled up outside the address. The house was magnificent. Red brick that looked like it had been freshly jet washed, the most perfectly manicured front garden Kidd had ever seen, and a door that looked more like something you’d find in Hobbiton than Surbiton. It was wooden and round, with a shiny gold knocker in the middle of it. Everything about it looked like it was dripping money and Kidd could feel himself getting more uncomfortable with every passing second. It was things like this that gave him class anxiety, made him look at his shoes and try and remember the last time he’d polished them.

“Not what I was expecting,” Kidd said. “Probably should have looked at it on Google before we came.”

“Why? Would you have dressed nicer?” She had him pegged, and Kidd kind of hated it.

“You know how these houses and these kinds of people make me feel,” Kidd replied.

“So you’re judging them based on them having a nice house?”

“Absolutely, I am,” he quipped in response. “Come on, let’s see what they have to say for themselves.”

They made their way to the front door, Kidd hammering the shiny gold knocker and listening to the steady boom of it echoing through the house beyond. It’s very possible he imagined that second part, but it just felt like the kind of thing that would happen when you banged on a door quite this heavy.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing a man standing in it. He was tall, which was the first thing Kidd noticed about him. Tall, broad, and staring down at the two detectives like they had just interrupted something incredibly important.

“Can I help you?” The voice was exactly the one that Kidd had been expecting, smooth, silky, posh, so posh that it almost sounded like it hurt him to speak to anyone.

“My name is Detective Inspector Benjamin Kidd,” Kidd started, doing his best to keep his voice level and clear. “This is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Zoe Sanchez. We’re here to discuss Elliot Hayes. Are Mr and Mrs Hayes in?”

“I am Mr Hayes,” he said. “Paul Hayes.” He took his glasses off, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, it’s been a difficult few hours. I feel like we’d barely sat down and… here you are.”

“Mrs Hayes is inside?”

“Win,” he replied. “Winnifred. She’s inside. Yes. She has the tea; would you like some tea?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Kidd replied.

Paul brought them inside, the door closing behind them with a heavy slam, a sense of finality accompanying the banishing of the outside chill. He guided them through an opulent hallway with gilded wallpaper, and art hung in frames where perhaps photographs of the family would have been in an average family home. Kidd followed, taking everything in with interest, noting how clean and tidy everything was, how well put together the house was, the detail in all the decoration. It wasn’t necessarily pertinent to the case, but it was always interesting to see how the other half lived.

He took them through to the kitchen, which was starkly modern in contrast to the entryway. There were black marble countertops, cupboards that didn’t appear to have handles, large panoramic windows that showed off the grounds. That’s how you knew a house was posh, when it stopped being a garden and became “grounds.”

There was a woman sitting at a dining table off to one side, a cup of tea clasped in her hands, which looked pale and frail around it. She stared out the window, barely acknowledging the two detectives as they stepped inside.

There was a coldness to the room. The whiteness of the walls with the black countertops and the grey cupboards, the cold light of the midmorning pouring through the windows, no lights on, not even a lamp. Everything was bathed in a haze of grey, which, given the news they had been met with that morning, wasn’t altogether surprising.

Paul flicked the kettle back on, pressing the corner of one of the cupboards and watching it spring open in front of him. That explained the lack of handles.

He made them tea and led them over to the dining table where the two detectives took a seat opposite the grieving parents. There was a silence, a hush that seemed to spread to the deepest corners of the house. Was it always like this? Or was it just the recent news that had caused things to be this way?

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” Kidd said. “I’m sure you understand that with investigations like this, time is of the essence. The more information we can get at this early stage, the more likely we are to be successful in solving it.”

“Solving the death of our son.” They were the first words that Win Hayes had spoken and they were laced with ice. Kidd hadn’t expected a warm greeting or a fanfare, but this had clearly hit her hard. Paul appeared to be the one staying strong for the pair of them.

“Yes,” Kidd replied. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

“Your sorrow means nothing,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “But I appreciate it, nevertheless.”

“We wanted to ask you a few questions about Elliot,” Kidd said. “We want to get a sense of the life he was living, anyone he might have known, places of interest that we can look into. Would that be alright?”

Winnifred seemed to soften a little at that. “That would be fine,” she replied. “I’m not trying to be spiky, this just… this isn’t the kind of thing you expect to be dealing with as a mother. The order of things is all wrong. He shouldn’t be gone.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, having another sip of her tea, no doubt grateful to have something to do with her hands.

Next to Kidd, Zoe opened her notebook, pen poised and ready to note down anything of interest. Kidd steadied himself. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Tell us a little about Elliott,” he started. “How he lived, what he got up to, that kind of thing. Please don’t leave anything out, no matter how small.”

It had begun.

CHAPTER

SIX

DC Janya Ravel hadn’t really known what to expect when she made her way to Elliott Hayes’ flat that morning. Based on what she knew, which wasn’t an awful lot, she had expected things to be less than tidy. Boys, broadly speaking, had a habit of being that way. But what she was met with was enough to turn her stomach. And she had seen more dead bodies than most.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she said as she stepped into the flat. They’d called ahead, getting the numbers of the tenants from their landlord, so Janya had expected they would have done a quick sweep, maybe tried to tidy things up a bit ahead of their arrival, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

The flat looked like a bomb had hit it. The hardwood floors had muddy footprints on them and dust gathered in the darkened corners. The sofa was old, cracked black leather, so the insides were peeking through and looking grimy. There was a coffee table in there somewhere, buried beneath post and papers and leaflets and pizza boxes that had congealed grease on the outside of them.

The kitchen she could see on the opposite side of the room, hidden through a little alcove, didn’t look much better. There were dishes piled up in the sink, on the countertops. Everything about the place told her it had been well lived in and hadn’t had a good clean for a long, long time.

She didn’t want to touch anything, not the walls, not the table, nothing. The air even felt like it was contaminated in some way, the mustiness of windows not being opened, the dampness of the heating not being put on, either because they couldn’t afford it or because the radiators were covered in so much debris that the heat couldn’t make its way through.

Elliot had two roommates—Jeff, who had let them in, and Levi, who was standing over by a bedroom door, on ceremony, waiting to be given some kind of instruction. Neither one looked like they had slept, which was either the truth of the situation or from the shock of finding out their housemate was dead.

There could be a dead body in here and you wouldn’t know it, Janya thought. Even the smell might not make its way out.

“Sorry for the mess,” Jeff said, clearing his throat. He sounded like he’d had a heavy night. “It’s… it’s not normally this bad, but things have been a bit out of control recently. We’ve all been busy. And cleaning is the last thing anyone wants to do after we’ve been at work and stuff.”

Janya could tell he actually felt embarrassed about what he was showing them. It was one thing to live like this if they’d all come to some sort of agreement that it was fine, but the second you invited someone else into your home, it brought it into much sharper focus. It was pretty embarrassing, no matter which way you sliced it.

“It’s alright,” Janya said. “We’re here to talk to you about Elliot. Is there…” She looked around, dreading the answer. “Is there somewhere we can sit and do that?”

Jeff started to move things off the sofa and the dining chairs. Levi quickly followed suit and did as his housemate was doing, giving them all a place to sit. Janya cautiously planted herself on one of the dining room chairs, trying not to focus on the fact it had been covered in all manner of stuff just a few moments before. She just needed to do her job and get out of there.

“So, Elliot,” Janya said. “Tell us about him.”

Jeff and Levi looked at each other, their faces blank. She narrowed her eyes at them. Were they hiding something, or did they just not know where to start?

“We didn’t really know him that well,” Jeff said, stepping in before Levi had a chance to say anything, which made Janya all the more curious to hear from the other housemate. “We… we don’t really hang out or anything. We just live here.”

“As in, none of you hang out or just you two and Elliot?” Janya was pressing now, trying to dig into this, because something about it didn’t sit right with her.

“None of us do,” Jeff replied. “We all see each other in the kitchen or whatever and sometimes we have parties here where we all invite a couple of people, but we’re not friends. We’re just roommates.”

“Artists,” Levi corrects. “Jeff’s a painter, I’m a writer, Elliot makes music. We just live here because we all needed a space where we could create and we needed people we could live with to make that happen. It’s convenient. We keep ourselves to ourselves mostly, split up the cleaning, look after number one, you know?”

Janya resisted the urge to comment on the cleaning because the only way the cleaning was being split was that someone mentioned cleaning, and they all split. There was no way on this planet either of these boys could tell them where the hoover or the dustpan and brush were.

“Mostly?” Janya asked, eyes fixed on Levi.

“We’re friendly if we see each other in the kitchen,” Jeff said. “And there are things that you need to talk about, the bills and stuff. But anything social is pretty much off the table.”

“So you all just live here so you can make your art?”

“Yeah,” Jeff replied. “It might seem weird, but people do this in east London all the time. They just happen to live in massive communes or warehouses or whatever. They don’t really have that in Kingston, so we have to make do with this. It’s not so bad. The rent is cheap enough and our day jobs get us by.”

“What do you do?”

“I work in a café,” Jeff said. “Sometimes a bit of bar work.”

“I do bar work too at a couple of pubs and clubs,” Levi replied. “Casual work so I can pick it up and put it down whenever I need to. It’s not that stable, but it works.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about Elliot that you think might be useful?” Janya asked. “Any unusual behaviour or people he might be connected to that could be of use to us?”

They looked at one another, the two of them thinking it through. It was Jeff who piped up first, unsurprisingly. He seemed to have an awful lot to say.

“He was getting a lot of media attention,” he said. “I’m not trying to make it sound like sour grapes or anything, but it was actually pretty annoying. We’re all working pretty hard over here to try and make ends meet. It’s always difficult to watch someone become a star on the rise.”

“So you think someone in the media could be causing him issues?”

“He used to complain about it,” Jeff said, “but I think he secretly loved it. He was being hounded by a couple of them. They really took an interest in him because it was starting to look like he was going to blow up. He made it seem like it was a massive imposition and an invasion of his privacy, but he loved it. He was getting what he wanted.”

“That must have been difficult to deal with,” Ash said. “How did that make you both feel?”

“Not like I wanted to kill him,” Levi said flatly. “If that’s what you’re implying.”

“Just trying to get a picture of how things were,” Ash replied. “I imagine that can’t have been an easy thing to deal with.”

“It wasn’t,” Levi replied. “But I’m not about to kill him because of it.”

“His girlfriend might have,” Jeff said, voice cold. Levi looked at him sharply.

“Girlfriend?” Janya asked. “Who is his girlfriend?”

“To be fair, we don’t actually know if she’s his girlfriend or just someone he was seeing who was… intense,” Jeff replied. “She came around a lot. He didn’t always have the time to see her because he had gigs or he was writing new songs or planning events and stuff, and that really pissed her off. She wanted to be the centre of his world, but he was the centre of his own world.”

“Not, like, in a selfish way,” Levi said quickly. “We’re not trying to speak poorly of him or anything like that, but he was living his life and trying to make it and a lot of the time it seemed like she was getting in the way of that. She knew she was, and they would have these explosive arguments.”

“Arguments?” Janya asked.

“They’d always do it in his bedroom,” Jeff said. “Like, it was courteous or whatever, but the walls in this place are pretty thin, so it wasn’t all that courteous. We both heard it. They’d really go at it, yelling at each other. She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t focus on her and he’d tell her that he needed to focus on his music. It was the same old story. They broke up a lot. But she always came back around. I don’t know. It’s confusing. Just drama.”

“What’s her name?” Janya asked.

The two boys hesitated. “I don’t know,” Levi replied. “We didn’t really meet her, and he never really talked to us about her.”

“That’s what I mean when I say I didn’t know if it was his girlfriend. She just seemed to be here a lot,” Jeff replied. “He was a closed book to me. Whenever asked if he was okay, he’d just shrug it off. He was too busy to care.”

Great, these idiots don’t even know her name, she thought, watching as Ash wrote ‘Girlfriend? Volatile?’ and a whole bunch of question marks.

“Anyone else you can think of who might be worth looking into?” Janya asked. “Was there anyone else who Elliot was with a lot?”

“He used to be at The Hollow Tree a lot,” Jeff said. “And he has a bandmate. Max, I think his name was. He came around sometimes and they’d write together. He was cool.”

“Anyone else?”

Jeff and Levi looked at one another like they were trying to say something to one another via telepathy. It was starting to get on Janya’s nerves. She couldn’t help but feel like they were hiding things from her.

“No,” Jeff said eventually. “Not that I can think of.”

“Me either,” Levi said.

Janya quickly realised she wasn’t going to get anywhere with the two of them, and their best bet would be to look in Elliot’s bedroom. She asked which room was Elliot’s and excused herself. She pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves, Ash quickly following suit, and they made their way into the room.

“I think it’s quite admirable,” Ash said quietly.

Janya turned to him sharply. “What?”

“Them living here,” he said. “Like, they’re trying to live their dreams. They’re doing what they can to make ends meet so they can make their art. I think it’s great.”

“I’m sorry, were you in the same living room?” Janya hissed, not wanting the two lads to hear. “The whole place looks like a bloody warzone, are you out of your mind?”

“I think it’s alright.”

“I dread to think what your room looks like back home,” Janya replied.

Elliot’s room wasn’t quite as bad as the living room and kitchen area. Maybe he took more pride in his space than he did in the communal areas, or perhaps he was the clean one of the three, but it was alright. There were band posters on the wall, a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that was filled with vinyl records, CDs, a few books too, mostly autobiographies of musicians and business books. They’d said he was a musician, and this all seemed to confirm it.

Mounted to the walls were a couple of guitars, electric and acoustic, a ukulele, too. There was one empty space, the hanging clips were there, but the instrument was missing.

Janya looked around the room to see if the instrument had been left anywhere. Had he had it with him the night he died? Perhaps it was now at the bottom of the river. Poor Elliot.

“You find anything?” Janya asked Ash.

He’d been looking over the desk. It wasn’t too cluttered—a couple of energy drink cans and a few dirty mugs dotted between pieces of paper and notebooks. Ash was flicking through one of the notebooks.

“A diary, it looks like,” Ash said. “He’s got a couple of gigs written down in here, some planning notes about a festival or a concert or something.”

He flicked through a few more pages, mouthing out the words as he read. Elliot’s handwriting wasn’t particularly legible, spidery at best, scribbled at worst.

“P,” he said suddenly.

Janya narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“There is someone in here who keeps being mentioned called ‘P,’” he clarified, picking up the diary and handing it over to her. “Look.”

She flicked through some of the pages. “Meeting with P” and “P thinks it’s a good idea, so we’ll see where it goes,” and more besides. Whoever ‘P’ was, they seemed to be instrumental in whatever it was that Elliot was trying to create. So maybe they knew about what he’d been up to, and if he’d been in any kind of trouble.

“Good spot,” Janya said, pulling out an evidence bag and shoving the book inside. “Keep looking, see if there’s anything else you can find.” But Janya had a feeling Ash had stumbled upon something big, they just needed to figure out what.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

“Elliot marched to the beat of his own drum,” Winnifred said. “He made music, or wanted to. He was performing in bars and clubs, trying to make a name for himself and… things were difficult, he… he was following his own path.”

These were not the kind of phrases that approving parents used when talking about their children’s career choices. It almost sounded like she was forcing herself to say those things, trying to keep up appearances in front of Kidd and Zoe. There was more to this, Kidd could see that quite plainly.

“How did you feel about him pursuing music?” Kidd asked.

Winnifred blinked. “Well, it wasn’t what we would have chosen for him,” she said. “It’s a very unstable life. Anything creative can be like that.”

“Especially when you don’t have something to fall back on.”

“Paul.” A warning shot from Win, her eyes cutting across to her husband who wasn’t even looking at her, wasn’t even looking at the detectives, who instead had taken a rather intense interest in his cup of tea.

“What do you mean by that?” Kidd asked. He watched Win flinch. Not the strongest start, this. What else could they be hiding?

“He gave up on his degree,” Paul said bluntly. “We taught him that he could pursue whatever he wanted to pursue, be whomever he wanted to be, but at the end of the day, he needed to have something to fall back on, something that could make him some money, and he simply didn’t agree.”

“What was he studying?” Zoe asked.

“Music,” Paul said, his voice flat. He shook his head, taking another sip of his tea. The air became thick with tension, like he was in the process of dredging up a discussion he’d had with Elliot many times before, maybe even one he’d had with Win. “He was studying something that he loved, the thing he claimed he wanted to do, what I don’t understand is why that wasn’t enough.”

“Paul—”

“No, they’ve asked me, I’m going to tell them,” Paul said. “We suggested he study music, and he was all for it, wanted to learn more, wanted to develop his skills but then he didn’t want to be criticised, he didn’t want someone telling him how his music should sound or how he should be producing and so he left. He gave it all up, threw it away.”

“We wanted him to teach,” Winifred said, her voice quiet, smaller than it had been when she was scolding Paul. “We hoped that it would give him something stable that he could fall back on, so he had a foundation. We didn’t want him to just… just float around.”

“We weren’t telling him to stop making music. That’s the last thing we wanted for him,” Paul continued. “We were just trying to give him something steady so that he could make his music and not feel that pressure to make it all make money right away. He could be teaching other people how to make music while doing his gigging and trying to make ends meet. Instead, he just threw all of that away because… well, who even knows why.”

Kidd felt like there was something more in there. Even if he didn’t know the actual reason, it was pretty clear that Paul had a theory as to why he had left it all behind. He wasn’t about to let that slide quite so easily.

“Why do you think he left?” Kidd asked. “Did he tell you?”

“He told us that he wanted to try it properly,” Winifred said. “He wanted to give it a proper shot before he jacked everything in to become a teacher. I don’t… I can’t claim to understand it. But… that’s what he wanted. We couldn’t force him to stay at University.”

“You mean you wouldn’t force him to stay,” Paul said.

“What could we have done?” Winifred snapped. “We couldn’t force him to go to classes or force him to do well and work hard. It was entirely down to him. I can’t have this conversation with you again, Paul, it’s been years. And he’s been doing fine.”

It seemed to be the last word on the matter. It was interesting that it had been such a fierce bone of contention between the two of them, that after whatever time had passed, they still couldn’t seem to get on board with what their son wanted to do.

“Where does he perform?” Kidd asked, wanting to move the conversation forward.

“All over,” Winifred said. “Pretty much wherever they’ll have him. He travels sometimes, goes to other places in London, sometimes outside.”

“Where does he perform locally?”

“There are a couple of places,” Winifred replied. Kidd wondered if maybe they’d heard the last out of Paul for a little while. He was sitting there, quietly seething. He wasn’t over what he clearly perceived as a betrayal on Elliot’s part. “Howdy’s, a bar on the riverfront. The Hollow Tree; he performs there an awful lot.”

“Where is that?”

“The Old London Road,” she replied. “From what he’s told us, he’s actually helped turn the place around. It looked like it was going to close at one point, but he was bringing people in on a Monday night, of all things. That seemed to be a big part of things for him. He was a rising star.”

Paul scoffed. Kidd ignored it.

“Locally at least,” Winifred said. “There were articles being written about him, people that said he was going to be the next best thing. If you Google him, he’s all over the place, he was just waiting for his big break.”

“With Max.”

“Max?” Kidd asked.

“Bad influence on him, I reckon,” Paul said. “He’s the one who got him to leave.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He wasn’t at Uni, he was just some guy that Elliot met⁠—”

“Stop dragging all this up!”

“Our son is dead, Winnifred. I want the police to know all the facts,” Paul barked. “Max didn’t go to Uni. Max was looking for someone to write and perform with and he found Elliot, latched onto him and dragged him out of Uni.”

“You couldn’t drag Elliot to do anything,” Win said. “You know that. He did that because he wanted to, because he knew it was the right decision for his career. You know that, I know that, so let it go.”

There was a clear divide here, Kidd could see it. On the one hand, you had Paul who didn’t want his son to follow his creative pursuits, didn’t want him to take a chance on something so uncertain. And on the other, you had Win, who had nothing but faith in her son’s ability to make it. She was the one who was talking him up, who was backing him, who knew enough about his life as a performer that she could tell them as much as she was. How much did Paul know? Had he totally checked out of everything as far as Elliot was concerned?

“He felt like his big break was coming, for him and Max. At least that’s what he told me,” Win said. “Every time I saw him he said that it was coming, that he could feel it, that things were lining up and then… well…” She shook her head. “Well, that’s not happening anymore, is it?”

She took a drink of her tea, tipping her head back and finishing it off before placing the mug on the table. She wouldn’t let it go, wrapping her fingers around it as tightly as she dared.

“Tell us more about The Hollow Tree,” Kidd asked. He’d walked past it enough. It wasn’t too far from where he lived, but it didn’t feel like his scene. Maybe he needed to check it out.

“The Hollow Tree is a dive bar,” Paul chimed in. “It’s dirty, it’s grim, and I think he could absolutely do better than there, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Bloody hell, Paul, will you give it a rest? He’s dead,” Winifred snapped. “Is that not enough for you? He’s dead, you don’t have to worry about him being there anymore.” She got to her feet, unable to keep the tears from streaming down her face, and left the room.

It left the three of them in silence, Paul’s cheeks tinged pink, his hands shaking a little. Kidd could tell that he hadn’t meant to push things quite that far, but he just couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop his mouth from running about something that had clearly caused him a lot of upset.

“Is there anything else you’d like to add, Mr Hayes?” Kidd asked. “Any other people who might be of interest to us?”

Paul cleared his throat, looking up from his hands. There were tears in his eyes too now. They were each dealing with this in different ways. Winifred had tried to remain positive, tried to keep things together both for herself and for Paul, maybe a little bit for Elliot too, to honour his memory. Paul was angry, angry at the world, angry at his son, maybe even a little bit angry at himself.

“The Hollow Tree is probably a good place to start,” he said, his voice quieter, whispering almost, like if he gave them his full voice, he wouldn’t be able to get through a sentence without losing control. “And his girlfriend, ex-girlfriend, I’m not sure. It’s hard to keep track.”

“What was her name?”

“Amy Fox,” he replied. “They were together for a few years, but it was very… on and off. Turbulent, I guess would be the word that I’d use. Not that I’m trying to drop her in it or anything, not at all. She just… The two of them just clashed. Similar personalities, I think.”

“Thank you,” Kidd replied, waiting for DS Sanchez to take any further notes that were required. “I’ll leave you with a phone number in case anything else comes up, or you think of anything that might be useful to us,” he continued. “And there should be a Family Liaison Officer assigned to your case before the end of the day. They’ll be round to make sure you’re doing okay, help out, be there for you.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

“It’s a very difficult time,” Kidd said. “Look out for one another and make sure you reach out if you need something.”

Paul shook his head. “It’s fucking awful,” he said, his voice gruff. “I… I don’t know how I’m meant to get through this. I don’t know how I’m meant to get Win through this. She loved him so much.”

“One day at a time,” Kidd said. “And reach out if you need help. I mean it, call that number, talk to the FLO. We can get you help if you need it.”

It seemed to calm him a little, and he sat back in his chair. “Thank you,” he said. “I can show you out⁠—”

“We know the way,” Kidd interrupted. “Go and check on Win. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else from you.”

CHAPTER

EIGHT

“Did you have Dysfunctional Family on your bingo card?” Zoe asked as they got back in the car. “Because I sure did. If you’d have told me that they were going to be disapproving of their creative son, I would have told you what a bloody cliché it was.”

“It does seem to be a fairly common theme, doesn’t it?” Kidd replied, starting the engine. “They’re hurting though, both of them in different ways, but they’re really feeling it.”

“They’re bound to,” Zoe said. “Especially as it’s literally just happened. We need to make sure a FLO gets to them as soon as possible. They can’t be left alone to rattle around that big house.” She paused, looking out of the window as they drove. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I hate that you’re driving.”

“Shut up.”

“You never used to drive, and I hate it when you do,” she said, hanging on a little tighter to her seat belt. “You ever been to The Hollow Tree?”

“Never,” Kidd replied. “Walked past it. It’s near my house. It just never really looked like my scene. Loud rock music, never looked like you can get in there and get a seat.”

“Alright, Grandpa.”

“I’m not going out to a pub to be deafened by music. I’m there to sit in a quiet corner and have a chat with my friends,” Kidd replied. “Each to their own, but that’s not for me, not at all.”

“We’ll need to talk to them,” Zoe said. “If he’s the rising star that his mum says he is, they’ll be devastated that Elliot is dead.”

“More than that,” Kidd replied. “If he works there, they’ll likely have some idea of the kind of people he was spending time with, who he was interacting with.”

“If he’s in any trouble,” Zoe said. “There has to be something about that.”

“Hopefully,” Kidd replied. “We’ll have to just wait and see.”

“And Max.”

“Yes,” Kidd said. “I’m interested in who this Max character is. We need to track him down, and fast.”

Things were opening up, every path they took leading them somewhere new, to something else, to someone else. They just needed to keep following them, and not get lost along the way.

They got back to the station in pretty good time, Kidd immediately tracking down Amy Fox to try and bring her in for an interview. They needed to talk to her, ideally before things got out to the press, before people found out that Elliot had died. It would be better coming from a police officer than social media or some rag newspaper.

“You got her?” Zoe asked.

“I’ve managed to find out where she works and left a message with her manager,” Kidd replied. “They’re going to get back in touch and send her down when she gets in for her shift. They were actually quite accommodating.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, so maybe your reputation precedes you.”

They waited until Janya and Ash returned before they started to fill each other in on what they had discovered while they were at their different locations. Janya immediately started in on the absolute state of the apartment, and the two artists who didn’t really know who Elliot was and were no help whatsoever. It was Ash who had something that was of interest to Kidd.

“P?” Kidd asked.

“We’ve got the diary and a couple of notebooks that he kept so you can look at them for yourself,” Ash said. “But yeah, it came up a few times. It looks like he was planning something pretty big, a festival or a concert or something and whoever P is, they were going to be pretty instrumental in that.”

“That’s someone we’re going to need to get a hold of,” Kidd said. “Maybe they work at one of the venues Elliot played at. The Hollow Tree is one that his parents mentioned.”

“It’s in the diary,” Janya said. “He’s got a regular gig there and every now and then seems to do weekends there. If we’re going to find out information about him, that seems to be the place. That and the girlfriend.”

“Amy?” Kidd said.

“She came up in conversation with Jeff and Levi,” Janya said. “They didn’t name her, didn’t know who she was, I don’t think, but they did talk about a girlfriend that he fought with a lot. They didn’t seem to get on, apparently. Just a lot of yelling.”

“His Dad said their relationship was turbulent,” Kidd replied. “She might end up being quite useful to us then.” He checked to see if he’d missed any calls while they’d been talking but not yet. Maybe she was coming straight down, maybe she was going to try and avoid them. That would tell them as much as her showing up would.

“Also, it might be worth looking into what his presence is like on social media and in the media,” Janya said. “Apparently, he was getting an awful lot of attention, not all of it wanted, and while he seemed to love it, you know what the media can be like. They can go to some pretty crazy lengths to get what they want.”

“A good point,” Kidd replied. “And we need to track down Max.”

“Max came up for us too,” Janya said.

“Did they say anything that rang alarm bells?”

“No, they seemed to like him,” Janya replied.

Kidd raised an eyebrow at her. “Which immediately makes you doubt him?”

“How did you guess?” Janya replied. “Is my face that obvious?”

“Yes,” Kidd replied with a laugh. “Powell, how are you getting on?”

“I’m getting on at the council and those local businesses about the CCTV,” Powell started. “And I’ll get the evidence board up to date as quickly as I can. I’m just trying to make some headway on the CCTV, as that always seems to be our best bet. The Snake Pit is the one place I haven’t been able to make contact with yet, probably because they don’t open until later. I’ll keep you posted.”

“I can talk to Seth,” Zoe said. “He works there. He might be able to get that sent to us a little bit quicker, you never know.”

“Good stuff, thank you, Sanchez,” Kidd replied. “Keep at it, let’s see how far we can get before we close out for the day.”

He made his way back over to his desk, sitting down and opening up his internet browser. He Googled Elliot Hayes and looked through the various articles that had been written about him, small-time blogs, a couple of local newspapers, and then a name that he recognised.

He was mentioned in an article by Joe Warrington about local events that were up and coming. Kidd hadn’t thought that kind of thing was his scene. He normally reported on local news, or more like local gossip, the way that he reported things. Posting about a music artist must have meant that Elliot Hayes was making some kind of impact, and maybe it was worth it for the clicks.

He started to comb through the various articles, noticing a couple of the same reporters coming up over and over again. Maybe these were the ones who were causing him problems, the ones that wouldn’t leave him alone. It wouldn’t hurt to look into them, to dig a little deeper.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Zoe said, hovering beside his desk. “You’re in your element.”

“Straight back in at the deep end, Zoe,” he said. “You know me. I love getting my teeth stuck into something like this. And it’s home turf, you know? It was one thing to be doing all this stuff in Southend, but doing it back home? I don’t know, there’s a buzz about it.”

“You’re so cracked,” she said with a laugh. “You looking up those articles?”

“Yeah, there’s all sorts,” he replied. “He really was a star on the rise. People were getting properly obsessed with him. It’s a shame. He could have been something.”

“A contender.”

“Something like that,” Kidd replied. He sent a couple of the articles across to the team via email for them to take a look at, asking Janya if she could look into some of the journalists that were attached to it. “I’m going to go and chat to Weaver. Make sure he’s fully up to speed with what’s going on. He’s going to be keeping a closer eye on me than normal, I think, I want to make sure he’s up to date.”

“Come back with coffee or don’t come back at all,” Zoe replied, heading back to her desk. “I think we’re going to need it.”

CHAPTER

NINE

Chatting with Weaver was exactly what Kidd needed in that moment. It was nice to have the DCI on his side this time, even if he knew that once he got back into the swing of things, they would grow distant once again. Partly because Kidd had a habit of breaking the rules to get what he wanted, and partly because Weaver had a habit of not getting involved in cases if he could help it. He knew that Kidd knew what he was doing, and he didn’t really want to get his hands dirty.

He popped out after the conversation, coming back with coffee and pastries for the team. It may have been way past lunchtime at this point, but they could all do with a bit of a sugar boost to kick the afternoon off.

He returned, seeing that Powell had updated the big board, that Janya was looking through the articles that he had sent over, and that Ash and Zoe were hard at work making phone calls to the local businesses to try and get hold of whatever CCTV they could. Things felt like they were moving in a positive direction, and when the phone call came from Diane later that afternoon to let them know Amy had arrived, Kidd couldn’t help but feel like things were looking up.

They may not have a suspect at this very early stage, but they had leads, and leads meant there were many avenues open to them as far as possibilities went. He was feeling positive and bouncy, as he grabbed Sanchez and took her with him to reception to collect Amy.

She was young. That was the first thing that struck Kidd when he got to the reception area. She was wearing what had to be her work uniform, a black button-down shirt and a pair of smart black trousers. Her bleach-blonde hair was tied back in a low ponytail and she had a little bit of shimmer on her eyes. When they entered the reception area, she was nervously bouncing her leg. Her head jerked up and she locked eyes with Kidd, as he entered.

It must have been a nerve-wracking thing to walk into work and have your boss tell you that you needed to go down to the police station. Kidd didn’t think she would have heard about Elliot yet. As far as he was aware, the press were being kept at bay, likely by a combination of Diane and Weaver battling them on the phones. They would have to release something eventually. You didn’t have a cordon set up along the riverside without arousing some suspicion.

“Amy Fox?” Kidd said as he approached. She got to her feet immediately, a smile flashing across her face. It was fleeting, passing, barely even there really, a polite smile that was trying to mask the nerves. “Could you follow us, please?”

She fell into step with them pretty quickly, Kidd leading her through some of the back corridors and into one of the more comfortable meeting rooms. This wasn’t the kind of room they used for any kind of interrogation. It was where they brought people when they needed to have serious conversations, when they needed the other person to be comfortable.

They offered her tea, which she politely declined, and water, which she happily took. Once seated, she still bounced her leg, a nervous habit most likely. Kidd knew he needed to put her out of her misery. He introduced himself and Zoe, going straight into what they wanted to talk about with as much care as he possibly could.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here today,” Kidd said. “This isn’t an easy thing to say, and I’m sure it won’t be an easy thing to hear, so please take whatever time you need to process what I am about to tell you.” The knee bouncing stopped, almost like she had preempted the news that was about to come her way. “This morning, the body of Elliot Hayes was found on Kingston Riverside. He was killed, we suspect, in the early hours of this morning. We understand that you knew Elliot.”

Amy had barely said a word to them since she had arrived, and this had made her clam up almost entirely. She took a sip of her water, sitting back on the plush sofa. She made herself smaller, shrank herself down. Had she been alone, Kidd imagined she would have curled up and let herself feel whatever she was feeling. It was a lot to take in, Kidd knew that. He wasn’t about to rush her.

“I knew him,” she said eventually, not looking at the two detectives. “I mean, we had a history, a long history. How much do you know?”

“Just tell us what you feel we need to know,” Kidd said. “If we have any questions, we’ll come back to them.”

She nodded, downing the rest of her water. She asked for more, and Zoe obliged, slipping out of the room and back in record time. Amy steadied herself, planting her feet on the ground. No more bouncing, only business.

“We were in a relationship for a time,” she said. “It was very on-again, off-again. I imagine you’ve heard that from someone somewhere, and that’s why you’re talking to me, but it wasn’t stable, not the kind of thing you can rely on.”

“How long had it been on-again, off-again?” Zoe asked.

“Three years or so?” she replied. “We were at Uni together, and he left in second year and I stayed and I… I liked him. I don’t know if I ever loved him, I think I did, we said that we did, but I liked him enough that no matter what we were going through or what reason we’d broken up on that particular occasion, I always found myself going back. I couldn’t help myself. He was like a drug.”

“Why did you break up?”

“Which time?” she asked with a little chuckle.

“The most recent.”

“It was probably the most amicable of the breakups we’ve had,” she said. “A lot of the time it would end in us yelling at one another, shouting in his flat or on the street, chaos and fire. That seemed to be how things went. We’d had the bust up a few nights before. He’d been going on about how he was on this path to stardom, and I was getting in the way. I was too needy, too clingy, which is fucking ridiculous. I just wanted to see him, spend time with him.”

The knee bounce was back, the urgency in her voice, a slight shake there, nerves perhaps. She wasn’t used to being this vulnerable.

“But he wanted to meet somewhere, wanted to chat about it and I wondered if it was going to be some kind of reconciliation because he was listening to me. But this time… This time, it was just a very normal chat. I think it might have been the first time that either of us accepted it was over.”

“Tell us more about that,” Kidd said.

“He called me. I mean, he called and called and called and I finally answered and he said he just wanted to talk,” she said. “It felt more measured than anything we’d done before, like he’d really thought about the relationship. It felt more considered.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. Calm, I guess,” she said. “When we started talking about it, I kind of realised that I wasn’t totally happy either. We were… drifting. We’d been drifting for a long time, but even when you’re drifting, you bump into one another every now and again, and when we did, we’d just explode at each other and it just… it didn’t work. Not at all. We weren’t happy. We wanted different things.”

“What did you want?”

“I want someone who wants to be with me,” she said. “I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to do next, where I’m going to go. I’ve got a job at this restaurant, but that’s not my career. I’ve got ambitions. I’ve got dreams. I might go and do a postgrad or something. I just need to focus on myself, I think. Being with him… waiting for him… it’s been a distraction. I can’t be distracted by… him. By the way he is.”

“And how is he?” Zoe asked.

“He likes to party,” she said. “He likes to drink and do drugs and stay out late playing his gigs. He likes being worshipped by the people that come and watch him perform. I think in a lot of ways I was holding him back, stopping him from getting to experience things fully because I’d be waiting for him.”

“What things did he want to experience?”

“He wanted to sleep with the groupies,” Amy said bluntly. “Whenever we’d argue he’d always make it clear to me that he got offers all the time, that girls were always throwing themselves at him, and he could get anyone he wanted but he always came back to me, blah blah blah, really charming stuff.”

“Sounds it,” Kidd said.

“So actually when he came to end it this last time, calmly rather than a fuck you, slam the door kind of way, I felt relieved,” she said. “I agreed with what he was saying, I put in my two cents, we talked about it like grown-ups, and… and there we are. That was a couple of weeks ago. I’ve not really seen him since.” She paused. “I used to go to his shows all the time. I’ve not seen him play for almost a month. Funny how life changes.”

“What were your arguments like?” Kidd asked.

“So people have told you about them?”

“They’ve been mentioned,” Kidd replied. “It seems your relationship was turbulent.”

“Good word, turbulent,” she replied. “That’s exactly what it was. I think we were too similar, two people with very big personalities and very strong ideas, we clashed. And when we clashed, everybody knew about it. Well, as you know, I guess, because people have been telling you about it. How nice. His parents mentioned it, did they?”

“They did.”

“They never liked me,” she said. “They think it’s either me or Max that forced him to quit Uni, like anyone could force Elliot to do anything. He just didn’t want the life that they wanted for him. He wanted to be free, he wanted to make his music, and they didn’t want him to do that. They’re the problem, if anyone is.”

“How so?”

“They tried to control him,” Amy said. “But he couldn’t be controlled, no matter how hard they tried. It was quite sad, really. They lost touch with him because they wanted him to do everything they said. He still had contact with his mum. She came to the shows sometimes. She was proud of him, absolutely loved him and what he was doing. His dad, less so.”

“How did that make you feel?” Kidd asked.

“What?”

“His parents not liking you,” he said. “That must have been rough.”

“They can do what they want,” she said. “They weren’t about to stop him doing anything and he wanted to be with me, so he was with me. And then he wasn’t. I guess nobody won in the end, because now he’s dead.”

Kidd couldn’t tell what she was showing them here. Was it a defence mechanism that she was brushing everything off or did she really not care what had happened to this person she had been on-again, off-again with for the past couple of years? There was something in it that didn’t quite add up. And he felt like he needed to dig deeper. If she wasn’t that upset, it wouldn’t matter if he leaned on her a little harder.

He repositioned himself in his chair, sitting forward, while he considered his next question. Now it was time to find out just how much she really knew.

CHAPTER

TEN

“You said that he liked the attention. What makes you say that?” Kidd asked.

Amy blinked. “How do you mean? I just saw the way he was around certain people.”

“Certain people?”

“Newspaper journalists,” she said. “The girls that were throwing themselves at him, bookers, anyone who he felt could help him get ahead. He loved the attention, he loved being at the centre of it all.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at here⁠—”

“I’m not getting at anything,” Kidd interrupted, though not unkindly. “I’m just trying to get a sense of how your relationship with Elliot played into all of this. You said you argued a lot. Was it because you didn’t like that side of him?”

“Exactly,” she replied. “I hated the side of Elliot that was fame-hungry and just trying to get ahead of everybody else. I had to watch him night after night while he turned into a completely different person.”

“How so?”

“I watched him fall in love with himself,” she said, “and out of love with me.”

“Can you expand on that?” Kidd asked.

“He was doing this because he loved music, of course he was, or at least that’s how it was in the beginning,” she said. “It was him and Max against the world, making their music, pushing themselves as hard as they could go. But then it became about something else. It became more and more about him getting famous, and making inroads with bigger and more important people. And I hated it.”

“Because he wasn’t with you anymore?”

“Because I was losing him,” she said. “And losing him made me crazy, or feel crazy, I don’t know. I kept seeing patterns in the silliest things, watching as he hung out with these awful, awful people who always wanted him drunker or higher or whatever. It was dangerous. And I was watching him go down these really dark roads. I didn’t want that for him.”

“What did you want for him?”

She hesitated, but not for long. Kidd got the impression she’d been waiting to say this for quite some time.

“I wanted him to be happy,” she said. “And I don’t mean that in a cheesy, Hallmark movie kind of way, I mean it in a genuine, I want this boy to be happy the way he used to be, kind of way. He used to love his life, he used to love just gigging as and when he could and writing songs, but then it all became a bit too serious. It became all about the business and how he could get to the next level. Everything else fell by the wayside.”

“Including you?” Kidd asked.

She sighed. “Including me,” she replied, somewhat reluctantly. “And I know how that makes me look. I know that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and all of that shit, but that’s the truth of the situation. I wasn’t worth it for him anymore.”

“I thought you said you were happy to be ending things?” Zoe said, flicking back through her notes to make sure she’d not written it down wrong.

“I was,” she replied. “But that’s because I wasn’t with the old Elliot anymore. I’d been clinging onto something that was no longer there. I’d already lost him to this other world, and I just needed to find a way to accept that more than anything else. Which sucks.”

“How did Max feel about all of this?”

“Max?” Amy said with a snort. “He was encouraging all of it. They’d get some level of fame or notoriety and he’d be pushing for the next thing, and the next. He was as hungry for it as Elliot. The difference was, he wasn’t in the spotlight.”

“How so?”

“He was helping produce, and he would drum on the night and they had a couple of bass players that dipped in and out, but Elliot was the frontman, he was the star,” Amy said. “So Max got the best of both worlds. He got to get paid and get the attention without it being his face in the limelight. He was winning in all of this.”

“How did that make Elliot feel?”

“You’d have to ask him,” she said, bluntly. “But he was feeling the pressure for sure. The attention became too much sometimes, but Max was there talking him down, telling him to talk to the next person and the next, to keep on pushing. To me, it felt like Max was using him. But no one else really saw that. So maybe I was just jealous that Elliot had more of a relationship with Max than he did with me.”

They gave Amy a little time to calm down, to keep herself together. They suggested that she call someone to come and pick her up rather than go back to work, and Kidd left her with his number in case she needed someone to talk to about all of this. She may have made it seem like she wasn’t all that bothered about losing Elliot now, but it would all come crashing down around her eventually and Kidd wanted her to have people she could reach out to should she need them.

“What do you think of Amy, then?” Zoe asked when she had left, the two of them heading to the little kitchen and getting themselves some coffee. They sat down at the little table in there rather than heading back to the Incident Room. Kidd needed some time to process everything.

“I think she’s hurting,” Kidd said. “And that she is hiding just how much she is hurting because… I don’t know why.”

“I think she probably feels embarrassed about being sad,” Zoe said. “She wasn’t with him anymore, he wasn’t her person, so to be mourning him intensely might feel a little embarrassing. Like people are judging her. She strikes me as the kind of person who doesn’t like to be judged like that. I kind of get it.”

Zoe went quiet, taking a sip of her coffee, and Kidd realised that they weren’t talking about Amy anymore. He’d not really been there for her after Owen died, and he knew that. He had up and left because he was having his own feelings, his own problems. They’d not had the time to talk about exactly how things had been for her during that time.

“And how are you doing with all of that?” He asked.

Zoe blinked, looking up at him. “What’s that now?”

“We’re not talking about Amy and Elliot,” Kidd said. “I think we’re talking about Zoe and Owen. I know we didn’t have a lot of time to talk about all of that, and I’ve been somewhat hesitant to bring it up since I’ve been back because…”

“Go on.”

“Because you seem so happy with Seth, for one,” Kidd said. “And the last thing that I want to do is dredge up some kind of history that’s going to cause you pain. That would be really shitty of me, I think.”

“It wouldn’t be,” she replied. “You’re right, we didn’t get a chance to talk about it because… you had your own stuff to deal with. I didn’t realise quite how much stuff because you did a fantastic job of keeping all of the Andrea and Craig stuff from me until I absolutely needed to know about it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about all that, in case I haven’t apologised already,” Kidd said. “Everything that happened with that, plus John, plus Craig, plus Owen, it was a lot. Running might not have seemed like the right option, but I had to do it. I needed to get away.”

“I’m just glad you finally told me about it,” she said. “I think if you hadn’t, that really would have been the end of our friendship.”

“Well then, I’m really glad I did,” he said. “So, how are things in that department?” he asked again. “We’ve not talked about it, and I want you to know that if you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

Zoe took a moment, having a sip of her coffee, wincing at how hot it still was before placing it down on the table in front of her. She wrapped her hands around the cup and let out a heavy breath.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I still think about him from time to time because… well… I still work in the same building. So much of my life hasn’t changed, even though he’s no longer in it. But also so much has. Things have moved on, which they are bound to do. Basically, I’m okay. But I knew that you coming back would be hard.”

“How do you mean?”

“You come back and you bring all this history with you,” Zoe replied. “I’m not trying to get at you here, I promise, but you have so much history here; we have so much history together. You coming back brings back a lot of memories and thoughts. I’m okay, but I reserve the right to not be okay at some undisclosed point in the future.”

Kidd chuckled. “I think that’s entirely fair,” he replied. “So, the case?”

“The case,” she said, happy to draw a line under that particular conversation. “I think she’s telling us as much as she can, and our next port of call needs to be The Hollow Tree and pretty much anyone who has written an article about Elliot in the past couple of years. Especially if they’re doing it a lot.”

“Joe Warrington wrote about him,” Kidd said. “Not a door I necessarily want to open, but one that I may have to. He seems to have all the gossip in town, who knows what he might know.”

Zoe sucked in a breath. “I’d be careful knocking at that particular door,” she said. “I… I may have done that. And it didn’t end well.”

“How so?”

“Oh, he’ll never speak to me again,” she said. “Both a blessing and a curse for sure, but he’s pissed at me.”

Kidd considered this. A lot really had happened since he’d been away. The last thing he wanted to do was get on the wrong side of Joe Warrington.

“Maybe that’s a last resort kind of door, then,” Kidd said. “We’ll keep him at arm’s length for now.”

Zoe seemed to relax a little at that. “Sounds like a plan.”

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

Back in the Incident Room, they filled in the rest of the team on their interview with Amy Fox. It hadn’t presented them with any more leads, but it had certainly filled in some of the gaps in Elliot’s life. He was a star on the rise, everything seemed to be going his way. They would need to look a little more into the press’s attention, perhaps. While Amy hadn’t seemed concerned, Kidd was. He knew what they could be like.

Powell got a photo from her social media and put it on the board with the others. She was a connection they had if they needed any more information.

Janya had the crime scene investigators search Elliot’s room. They found more white powders, and bags of pills hidden beneath the mattress.

“Could be that he just pissed off the wrong person,” Janya said. “I mean, we’ve found drugs on his person, we’ve found them in his bedroom. He’d had the shit kicked out of him. Who’s to say he didn’t piss off his dealer and…”

It was a possibility, a theory. But it still meant they needed to find the person responsible for that.

Kidd desperately didn’t want it to be connected to Andrea. Her grip on the town already felt vice-like, another death on her hands, more spilled blood. Kidd didn’t want to think about it.

The afternoon continued, looking up journalists, writers, social media influencers, anyone who had a connection with Elliot, until eventually Kidd’s phone buzzed on his desk with a message from John and he realised it was time to call it a day.

JOHN

Don’t forget, dinner at your sister’s tonight. Please tell me you’re coming.

KIDD

I’m just leaving work. I’ll come home and get changed and we’ll head on over.

He did exactly that, dismissing the team and heading home, where he got ready in record time to leave the house with John, the two of them setting off on foot to Liz’s house.

“And how was it to be properly back at work?” John asked, as they made their way over, the two of them walking hand in hand through the back streets of Kingston.

“Straight in at the deep end,” Kidd replied. “I don’t think there could have been a more serious case for me to come back to if we tried.”

“And you’re loving every second of it?” John said.

“Yes,” Kidd admitted. “I actually am. There’s a bit of meat to it. You know me, John, I need it.”

“You should be studied,” he said. “I, on the other hand, am back in the office and things have pretty much gone entirely back to normal.”

“You’re joking.”

“Boss is breathing down my neck, authors are absolutely feral because it’s the new year and they’re either freaking out about new releases or trying to get new books over the line so that they can get new contracts,” John said. “It’s like I’ve not even been away.”

“So what you’re saying is that you need a nice relaxing dinner with good company and wine tonight to get you through it?” Kidd suggested, somewhat hopefully. He didn’t necessarily want to be dragging John to his sister’s house if he wasn’t in the mood.

John smiled. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

The house was a hive of activity. Tilly and Tim were both excited to see their uncle, and even John this time around, who had become something of a staple at these dinners. They were coming around to him, especially as he had started plying them with free books that he’d managed to pilfer from his publisher.

“Well, well, well,” Liz said. “I was half expecting you to cancel on me.”

“I rarely cancel on you,” Kidd said, pulling her into a hug. He tried not to, but every now and again, work would get in the way and it had to take priority. Though he was going to be better at that. It was one of his resolutions for the year, to stop letting work get so in the way of everything. He already expected it to go poorly.

“I know, I know. We’re just glad you’re here.”

“Greg’s in?” Kidd said. “I thought he’d be working late.”

“Managed to swing the night off,” Liz replied. “So we’re a full house tonight. A slightly less full house once these munchkins go to bed.” She said it loud enough for Greg to hear in the other room, and Kidd heard the TV switch off just before Greg appeared in the doorway.

He greeted the pair of them, taking his cue to run the kids upstairs and start getting them ready for bed. Kidd had seen them a fair amount over Christmas, so it wasn’t the end of the world that he wasn’t seeing much of the children tonight, but it was still a shame they’d arrived as late as they had.

How is that resolution going? he thought.

Once the children had been put to bed, Liz dished up dinner and opened a nice bottle of wine, pouring everyone large glasses before she took a seat and encouraged everyone to tuck into the spread she had spent a lot of the afternoon and evening making.

“This is a bloody Christmas dinner,” Kidd said. “It looks incredible.”

“Glad you added that last part,” Liz said. “It started as me just wanting to get rid of some leftover veg and potatoes, but then I thought, why not just do the whole thing and treat ourselves? The start of the year is so bleak, might as well have some nice food. Go on, please, help yourselves.”

They filled their plates, Kidd deciding to really embrace the late Christmas dinner, and after the day he’d had, he felt like he deserved it.

“So, you’re back at work?” Greg asked. “I know you didn’t spend a lot of time relaxing while you were away—Liz kept me filled in on your adventures down on the coast—but it must be strange to be back in Kingston.”

“It is,” Kidd replied. “Everything has changed, but at the same time so much has stayed the same. New team member started while I was away, so that’s an adjustment, and a new case was dumped on my desk this morning, so it’s all go go go.”

“No time to sit down and dwell on being back,” Greg suggested.

“Well, I had to get through a fitness test and occupational health evaluations first,” Kidd replied. “So actually, that was my rest time, if you can believe it.”

“You got through the fitness test, then?” Liz said.

“Alright, Liz,” Kidd replied.

“What?”

“That sounded like a snipe.”

“I wasn’t sniping!” she said, her cheeks tingeing pink. “You just always say how hard they are. That was me trying to ask if it was difficult. I wasn’t suggesting you couldn’t do it.”

“He almost couldn’t,” John chimed in. “Didn’t you nearly pass out?”

“I did,” Kidd said sheepishly.

“And you had to lie down and then they brought you a Mars bar for the sugar rush.”

“Oh my God, spill all my secrets, why don’t you?” Kidd said with a laugh. “All true. It was horrible, and I need to get back to running so that next time I do it, I maybe don’t need to have an emergency Mars bar.”

“I’ve found that it always helps to have an emergency Mars bar lying around,” Liz said. “You never know when you’re going to need that extra boost.”

“Then why not have a Boost?” Greg suggested.

“Touché,” Liz replied.

They continued to talk about how work was going for each of them, and how, while Kidd and John’s lives had changed so dramatically over the past six months, Greg and Liz’s life had pretty much stayed entirely the same. They’d had a relationship blip in the middle of last year, but now were finding themselves to be stronger than ever before.

“Tilly will be starting school in September,” Liz said. “And that’s a terrifying thought. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself.”

“So it’s just going to be you and Tim all day?” Kidd asked.

“Well, I’m actually thinking of going back to work,” Liz said. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve done it, and I used to love working so… I think Tim will end up in nursery, and I’ll end up back in the workforce in some way. Things will be changing for us this time around. It’s frightening.”

“As someone who has had a year of great change,” Kidd started. “I can tell you that it’s not so bad. It can be scary at times, but you just have to get yourself through it. You’ll have an absolute ball going back to work. Do you know what you’re going to do?”

Liz was practically giddy with it. “No, not a clue,” she replied. “The world is my oyster, which is both exciting and entirely paralysing. I could do absolutely anything, which means my brain doesn’t really know where to put me.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Kidd said. “And if you need anything from me, just give me a shout.”

“You offering yourself up for the school run?” Liz said.

Kidd hadn’t actually considered that. “It sounds like it would be a bit out of my comfort zone, but if you need me to pick up Tilly or take her to school, I can do that. Or at least try.”

“That’s all I ask,” Liz replied.

Their evening continued on, the conversation descending in and out of talking about work and family and New Year’s resolutions and beyond. It was the kind of dinner that Kidd had missed while he’d been away, that connection with his family that had been so key to his life in Kingston. It was nice to have that back. Not that he would tell Liz. She would probably just make a vomiting noise and make fun of him if he dared try.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Kidd and John said their goodbyes to Liz and Greg at around ten pm, all of them feeling more than a little bit worn down by their return to normal life post Christmas and New Year. That and the fact that they all had early starts in the morning.

“I hate that we are the kinds of people who have early starts,” Liz said.

“That’s practically everyone,” Kidd replied.

“I know, but when it was Mum and Dad talking about it, I never thought it would be us,” she said. “I just imagined more of a life of leisure rather than one of… well… whatever I have.”

She gave him a hug, squeezing him tight. “Make sure you take care of yourself,” she said. “And if you dare disappear on me like that again⁠—”

“I know, I know, death on swift wings.”

“Something like that,” she said. “Don’t be a stranger. The kids miss you. I miss you.”

“I’ll message you,” Kidd replied, heading down the garden path with John and starting their journey home. It wasn’t too far, a short walk across Kingston, a little skip through town, and then they were on the Old London Road and making their way back to their house. He really did need to make sure he saw her more. She lived so close, it was a shame not to.

“What are you thinking about?” John asked.

“How I’m a terrible brother, mostly,” Kidd replied. “Making promises to myself that I’m going to be better because my sister lives a stone’s throw away and I feel like I never see her.”

“You know that’s not true,” John replied, taking Kidd’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “You’ve been away for the last few months. How were you meant to see her when you were trying to get your head back together?”

“Well, that’s true,” Kidd replied. “I just feel bad. I have a niece who’s about to go to school, everything is changing and moving on, and I don’t want to miss too much, you know?”

“I know,” John replied. “But you’re doing fine. And look, I imagine this is coming from a place of guilt about you up and leaving before, back when things got bad with Craig vanishing. But this is different. You needed the break. We both did.”

Kidd was incredibly grateful for John in that moment. They’d been through a lot together, not all of it good, and to have come through the other side and still be together, stronger than ever, felt like an overwhelming positive in Kidd’s life. He didn’t want to fuck that up.

They carried on walking back to Kidd’s house, heading down the Old London Road and, this time, Kidd took more notice of his surroundings. The Hollow Tree sat on the corner up ahead, looming up into the night. It was loud, the rock music pouring out of the door as it always seemed to do, the crowd inside having a good time. He wondered if the person who was responsible for Elliot’s death was in there right now. It was very possible. And the thought of it sent a spike through Kidd’s heart.

He crossed the road, John still at his side, walking towards the pub with some intent. A quick glance inside showed busy bartenders, shouting over the deafening music to get people’s orders, pulling pints, taking payments, moving on to the next person at breakneck speed.

“You’re not trying to pull me in there for a drink, are you?” John said, eyes widening in horror. “I really don’t think it’s my scene. Also, early start tomorrow. Let’s get back.”

“It’s not that,” Kidd said, carrying on past the pub, looking inside the window. He didn’t know what he was looking for. It wasn’t like someone was going to jump out and say that they did it, or volunteer some piece of information. They had no idea who he even was. Not yet anyhow.

“What are you doing? You’re acting weird,” John said.

Kidd stopped as he stared at the window, pulling his focus away from the inside and to the posters that were taped up. He looked at one that had a picture of Elliot Hayes on it. He was standing on the stage, presumably in the pub, mid-song, face sweaty, hair hanging wet over his forehead as he strummed a guitar and sang something into the microphone.

His name was in big letters underneath it.

ELLIOT HAYES & FRIENDS

Every Monday Night at The Hollow Tree.

It’s where he would have been playing the night that he died. How many people did he draw here on a Monday night? What kind of crowd was it? Who in that crowd had a vendetta against Elliot Hayes and would kill him?

John pulled Kidd around. “What’s going on?”

Kidd tapped the poster in the window. “That’s my victim,” he said. “Found down by the riverside this morning, he would have been here the night he died. Just spooked by it, that’s all.”

“Because it’s so close to home?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Kidd replied, looking back inside the pub. It really was rammed for a Tuesday night. He wondered who was playing tonight, if he should go inside and find out, if he should start talking to people.

“Let’s go,” John said. “You’ve had a drink, you’re not thinking clearly. Come back to it tomorrow, when you’re on the clock.”

Kidd hesitated. He wanted to know more, he wanted to keep looking into it, but he also knew in his heart of hearts that John was right. He was in no fit state to start questioning people tonight. He needed to get some rest, and then he would get back to it.

He turned back toward home and saw a figure standing in the street. They looked like they were about to cross the road, but they were staring down at him and John. And Kidd recognised them.

He knew that face, even though they had a hood up, a nearby streetlamp illuminated what was hidden there.

That can’t be… Kidd thought. The person turned away and crossed the road.

Craig Peyton.

Craig Peyton was back.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Kidd barely slept that night. He went through the motions of getting himself ready for bed, washing his face, brushing his teeth, winding down a little bit by pretending to read a book, but his brain could not focus on anything else but the face of Craig Peyton staring daggers at him from down the road.

In fairness, Kidd had been tipsy. It was very possible that he was imagining things, that the person just looked similar to Craig rather than actually being Craig. But he was so sure. He knew that face so well.

Why would Craig have come back again? After everything that happened with Andrea the last time, after the danger he’d put himself in, why would he come back?

Kidd went through all of the possible reasons in his head. Had he decided to come back after Kidd told him about what happened with Andrea? Could it have been something to do with Billy back in Southend? There were so many questions that Kidd suddenly had that he found himself reaching for his phone in the middle of the night and scrolling to the last phone number he had for Craig Peyton.

He debated calling it, he debated sending a message, he debated blocking it and removing that temptation from his life entirely because he could do without the hassle.

Whenever Craig showed up, trouble often followed. Kidd didn’t want any more trouble. He wanted his personal life to be quiet. But here Craig was, showing up again, ready to wreak havoc.

He had no proof of that, of course. He could have been imagining it after all. But what if?

And that was the train of thought that Kidd was aboard for the entire night, a circular track stopping at the same old stations over and over and over again until his alarm clock went off and there was no further chance to sleep.

So much for him getting a decent night’s sleep ahead of what would definitely be a busy day.

He got himself up, showered, pulled on a fresh suit to try and make himself feel some semblance of alive, and got himself ready to go. He made his way downstairs to see John standing in the kitchen, dressing gown on, making himself a cup of tea.

“Bloody hell, you’re off early,” John said. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kidd replied. “Couldn’t sleep, figured I’d get a jump on the day.”

“Yeah, I noticed you were tossing and turning a bit,” John replied. “Everything okay?”

Kidd hesitated. He didn’t know if it was even worth mentioning it to John. He didn’t want to rock the boat, nor did he want to make John worry about something that he may well have imagined. It might end up being a massive waste of energy. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Yeah, fine,” Kidd said. “Just a lot on my mind. I didn’t keep you up, did I?”

“Oh, God, no,” John said. “One glass of wine and I was totally knocked out. How I’m going to survive when the industry parties kick in is beyond me. I might have to pace myself.”

“Heaven forbid,” Kidd replied. “I’ll see you later, yeah? Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

They said their goodbyes, and Kidd made his way back out into the world. The coolness of the day hit him square in the face, lifting him a little bit, forcing him to wake up. It was bracing.

He walked out of his house and down the street, stopping at the corner where he was sure he’d seen Craig the night before. He didn’t know what he was expecting by standing there. That Craig would just appear again? That he would just show up and explain why he was back? If he was back?

Kidd shook his head. He was really losing his mind here. Maybe it was the stress of being back in Kingston, or back at work. Or maybe it was because Craig had come up on one of his last cases in Southend. He’d even called him for Zoe, and his friend Billy had been part of something pretty major there, could he be back for that? Was Billy going to be the next person he saw standing on a corner, waiting for him?

He walked down the Old London Road, slowing down as he walked past The Hollow Tree. There were lights on inside. He wondered if they’d been left on from the night before, on accident by whoever had been closing up, or if someone was already in there working. It was pretty early. Not even eight am. He didn’t think someone would be there yet, but if there was, what was the harm?

Kidd walked over to the window once again, looking at the picture in the window of Elliot Hayes and feeling his heart sink. What had happened to him? Why had this happened to him? There were so many questions to answer, so many things to uncover.

Someone moved inside, cleaning tables, wiping down the bar, setting out the chairs for the day. The place didn’t open until midday, why was there someone working already?

The man who was inside looked out at Kidd and shook his head, making a gesture of letting Kidd know that they weren’t open yet, that they wouldn’t be open for some time, trying to usher him on his way with a series of complex hand signals.

Kidd moved around to the front of the building and knocked on the door.

“Fuck’s sake,” he heard someone inside say.

The door creaked open, a man standing in front of him, his face absolutely unimpressed. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, his face a little puffy from where he didn’t seem to have slept. His hair was messy too, black and grey sticking up in all directions. He also appeared to be in desperate need of a shave, caught somewhere between stubble and beard where a decision needed to be made about how he was going to proceed.

“We don’t open until noon,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.

“Are you the owner?”

“I am,” he said. “And we aren’t open. Surely you can’t be that desperate for a drink.”

“I’m not,” Kidd replied.

“Then maybe you should stop bothering me then.” He moved to close the door but Kidd put a strong hand on it, stopping him. The man looked out at Kidd, narrowing his eyes. “You’re going to have a problem if you don’t take your hand off this door.”

“My name is Detective Inspector Benjamin Kidd,” Kidd said, taking out his badge and flashing it at him. “I wasn’t planning on speaking with you right now, I was going to wait until you were open, but I was walking past and saw the lights on. Figured there was no time like the present. Can I come in?”

The man hesitated, blinking a few times, mouth flapping open and closed like a confused goldfish.

“We can do this now or we can do it later. Personally, I’d prefer now because if you send me away and ask me to come back later, you’re just going to piss me off,” Kidd said. “Can I come in?”

He opened the door, stepping out of Kidd’s way. Kidd walked inside and was struck by how dingy it all was. The lights were on but they didn’t seem to penetrate the early morning dimness, the light outside barely making any difference. It was strange seeing the pub in the light, it seemed grimier somehow, filthier, no matter how much cleaning the owner was currently trying to do, he wasn’t going to even scrape the surface.

“What’s your name?” Kidd asked.

“Mallory Neal,” he replied. “Friends call me Mal.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“I’ve owned it for the past fifteen years,” he said. “I have a flat upstairs I stay in sometimes when it gets too late, hence why I’m down here now. Someone has to keep it shipshape and… well… can’t really trust anyone, can you? So I just get up when I wake up and figure it out.”

“Do you know why I’m here, Mallory?”

“No,” he said. “I assume someone has done something wrong after leaving here and you want CCTV or something like that. I can get it to you. Always happy to cooperate with your lot on stuff. We’ve got nothing to hide here.”

“Not quite,” Kidd replied. “Though I appreciate the cooperation, we will need to get some CCTV off you.” Kidd took a breath. “In the early hours of yesterday morning, Elliot Hayes was found dead on Kingston Riverside,” Kidd continued. “As I understand it, he was working here on the Monday night, so you and the patrons of your pub would have been some of the last people to see Elliot alive.”

Mallory leaned back against the bar, taking his gaze off Kidd. His eyes had gone a little wide, his mouth slackening, the news washing over him like a tidal wave.

“Bloody hell,” he croaked, the words barely leaving his mouth. “That’s awful, fuck, I mean, that’s terrible. I… I had no idea. He wasn’t due back here until Friday, I just wouldn’t have known. Fuck.”

“I’m sorry to start your day with this news, but we’re investigating his death and given the amount that he worked here, I thought you might be able to help us.”

“Of course, of course,” Mallory said, trying to pull himself together, clearing his throat, straightening himself up. He was putting on a brave face for Kidd, or at least that’s how it seemed. “What do you need to know?”

“What time did Elliot leave here on Monday night?” Kidd asked.

Mallory scrunched up his face, trying to find it in his brain. “I can’t be sure, I’d have to check the CCTV,” he said. “But he went before closing. He finished his set at ten, he might have been gone by eleven? I would say eleven.”

Kidd noted it down.

“Was Elliot in any trouble?” Kidd asked.

“Trouble?” Mal asked. “What kind of trouble?”

“I’ve heard rumblings about his life; partying, drugs, that kind of thing.”

“We don’t condone the use of drugs here,” Mallory said, quickly. “There are signs all over the place telling people that anyone selling or using will be shown the door.”

“But was Elliot involved in that.”

Mallory shrugged. “Probably,” he said. “If other people are saying it, who am I to deny it? He was a musician, that’s the kind of thing they do, artists, performers, they’re all over it. I’ve suspected a few people going on stage high as a kite in our backroom, but I can’t prove it. I haven’t seen them do it, so I can hardly throw them out.”

It was amazing to Kidd how quickly he’d gone from not condoning that kind of behaviour to not doing anything about it when it was staring him in the face. He didn’t want to make a big thing of it, but already it seemed like Mallory’s story wasn’t quite adding up.

“What was his life like?”

“Hectic,” Mallory replied. “He was either gigging here or elsewhere in town. He did Howdy’s a couple of times a month, that bar down on the riverside. And then he’d be travelling about, doing open mic gigs, trying to get his music out there.”

“A busy boy.”

“Very much so, he never really stopped,” Mallory said. “That drummer of his, Max, worked him hard, always hustling to get him the next thing.”

“Max is the reason he was so busy?”

“They both were, really,” Mal said. “But I got the impression that Max was the brains of the outfit, the one that was putting things together, trying to find them new things.”

Kidd thought about what Elliot had been planning in his notebook—the music festival. Was Max involved in that? From what Kidd could tell, it was something that Elliot was doing off his own back, not something he was sharing with his bandmate.

“Did he talk to you about a music festival?”

Mal smiled. “Yeah, he did,” he replied. “He was really into the idea, gauging interest, trying to get it to be put on in Fairfield Park, turning it into a big moment. His own mini Glastonbury.”

“Wow,” Kidd said. “Ambitious.”

Mal shrugged. “He was an ambitious lad,” he said. “He wanted us to sponsor it, but I don’t really have the money for that kind of thing. But he wanted us to do the bar there and we agreed to that much, assuming the dates all worked out.”

“So were you heavily involved? Was Max part of it?”

“Not at all,” Mal said. “He’d talk to me about it whenever Max wasn’t there, so I think it was his thing. He just wanted any advice I could give on running something like that. I’m pretty clueless on it really. Not done big events like that before, but I helped where I could.”

“Did he ever mention someone by the name of ‘P’?”

Mallory looked away from Kidd, losing himself somewhere in his own head. He really seemed to be trying to help, and Kidd appreciated it. From their introduction, Kidd hadn’t been sure Mallory would be this receptive.

“Not a clue,” he said. “From what I can remember, he’s never mentioned a ‘P.’ Who was he? An investor?”

“It seems that way,” Kidd said. “So, Elliot worked here often? He must have been popular.”

“Oh yeah,” Mal said. “Journalists started to follow him around, that’s why we gave him that Monday night slot. He was pulling people in. I didn’t realise this place could be quite so busy on a Monday night, but he got them here. It was quite impressive really. It’s a shame. Early entry to the 27 Club.”

Kidd tried not to wince at the statement. It didn’t seem particularly well thought out.

“I’ll leave you to get back to your cleaning, but one more thing,” Kidd said. “Were there people who maybe weren’t big fans of his, enemies, I don’t know, anything that might point to something like this happening?”

“Christ, I don’t think so,” Mallory said, rubbing his stubble. “Most people loved him, adored him in fact. But any kind of notoriety will produce enemies, won’t it? Jealousy? People who want what you have or maybe just don’t want you to have what you have, that kind of thing.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me if it was just someone who’d had a bit too much to drink following him out of here and then taking him out. He always had a drink after a show, sometimes more than one, he wouldn’t have been in his right mind.”

Kidd knew that wasn’t likely the case. It was all too well thought out, too carefully planned. Whoever had killed him had known exactly what they were doing. Kidd needed to find them, and fast.

“Would we be able to get that CCTV from Monday night?” Kidd asked. “Anything that you have, just to give us an idea of Elliot’s last movements.”

Mallory nodded. “Absolutely, leave me an email address and I’ll get it over to you as soon as possible,” he said. “Anything I can do to help.”

“Have you heard from Max at all?”

Mallory shook his head. “No,” he said. “But I can send him your way if he shows up.”

“Thank you,” Kidd replied. “I appreciate that.”

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

Kidd hadn’t necessarily been expecting such a productive conversation with the people at The Hollow Tree, but Mallory had been incredibly helpful and had shown a willingness to assist in their investigation, which was exactly what they needed right now. Every little bit would help.

He had seemed pretty shell-shocked that his rising star would no longer be performing there, but also there was an air of secretiveness about him, like he was keeping something from Kidd. The thing about drugs had certainly sent his antennae up. It would be something to look into.

Kidd stopped in town to grab coffee on the way in, picking up pastries and snacks for the rest of the team.

“Early riser,” Diane said as Kidd walked through the door. “Early bird catches the worm?”

“Detective who can’t sleep, mainlines coffee to survive,” Kidd replied. “How are you this morning, Diane? How is it that you are constantly here?”

“I live behind this desk,” she replied. “It’s the only way to get the good gossip.”

“Of course, how silly of me.”

“Speaking of which…” She started shuffling around her desk. Why did Kidd get the distinct impression that this wasn’t going to be good? “Lots of journalists are interested in what you’re currently investigating. They want to know about the body down by the river. I’ve already run it by Weaver, and we may need to put out a statement before I throw this phone through a window.”

“Got you,” Kidd replied. “Thank you, Diane.”

Kidd made his way to the Incident Room, shrugging off his jacket and putting the pastries somewhere nice and central before he made his way over to his desk. He fired up his computer, going through his emails before he started checking on The Hollow Tree.

Maybe there would be some kind of history there he would be able to look into, something that would be connected to whatever it was that happened to Elliot.

The team steadily arrived at around nine, greeting Kidd as they walked in, Zoe making a much bigger deal about Kidd arriving before her than was entirely necessary.

“So you’re intentionally trying to show me up now?” she said as she grabbed a pastry. “What are you doing in so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, getting to his feet to address the team. “If I could just have everyone’s attention for five minutes, that would be great,” he started. A quiet fell over the room and Kidd told them about his discussion with Mallory that had happened earlier on that morning.

“Do you think he could be involved in some way?” Zoe asked.

“He seemed pretty cooperative,” Kidd replied, “so it’s honestly hard to say. But there were a couple of things he was quite cagey about so we should keep an eye on it. He mentioned the no drugs rule in the venue, but we know that Elliot was partaking. It’s hard to know. But he seemed pretty helpful, so that’s something. We should be getting CCTV off him soon enough, that should at least give us some idea of Elliot’s final movements.”

“Still waiting on that from the council, but a couple of the restaurants have promised they will get back to me today, so I’ll keep you posted on that,” Ash said.

“Great work,” Kidd said. “Anything else?”

“One thing,” Powell said, his focus squarely on his screen. He read something quickly, parsing it for context before he looked up at his boss. “I got a response from one of the journalists.”

“Which one?”

“Lisa Moreno,” Powell replied. “She’s a local music journalist with a pretty popular blog. From what I could tell, she’d been charting his rise pretty much since he started, so she should be a good person to talk to.”

“What’s she said?”

“That she’s free to come in this morning to discuss things with you about Elliot.”

Kidd blinked. “Did you tell her about Elliot’s death?”

Powell shook his head. “I’ve not said a word about it,” he replied. “You think she knows?”

“I think she wouldn’t be quite so forthcoming if she didn’t know something,” Kidd replied. “What time did she say she was coming in?”

“She’ll be here at ten,” Powell replied. “You want me to confirm?”

“Confirm and then let’s do some research about her,” Kidd said. “Send me whatever you have. You want to sit in on the interview?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Great, let’s get cracking.”

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

Kidd and Powell spent a bit of time going through Lisa Moreno’s blog, checking out how long she had been following Elliot, and all the things that she’d written about him.

To say that she was a fan would be a huge understatement. For a blog that was supposed to focus on music, she spent an awful lot of time focusing on Elliot Hayes. Every other post seemed to be about him, or alluded to him in some way, whether it was an interview, or a list of songs that people would like if they liked Elliot Hayes, any excuse for her to talk about him, she took it.

“She’s a bit obsessed, I think,” Powell said, seemingly nervous to even say that out loud. “I mean, I understand someone being popular, but surely this is a bit much.”

“How famous was Elliot Hayes?” Kidd asked.

“He was a star on the rise, I would say,” Powell replied. “But then again, one person’s star on the rise is another person’s, ‘Who the hell is that?’ Which is another person’s superstar. It’s all in the eye of the beholder.”

“And Lisa Moreno is treating Elliot like he’s a superstar.”

“It would certainly seem that way.”

Kidd noticed that there weren’t really any mentions of Max in posts, which lined up pretty well with what Amy had said about him managing to stay out of the limelight. His name came up every now and again, and there were photos of the two together.

“Has anyone managed to track down Max Barnes?” Kidd asked. A resounding chorus of Nos came back to him. Him vanishing off the face of the earth right after his bandmate’s murder didn’t sit right with Kidd. They needed to track him down, and fast.

Lisa Moreno arrived a little bit after eleven, a large rucksack on her back, her hair chopped into a rough pixie cut and dyed a vibrant shade of pink. She had piercings on her nose, her lips, and so many on her ears that Kidd couldn’t even begin to count them. And there was a calm about her. Kidd couldn’t quite place it, but she walked into the police station like she owned the place, not like someone had just died. How much did she know?

“Lovely to meet you,” she said. “Which one of you was I emailing?”

“I’m DC Simon Powell,” Simon said, reaching out and shaking her hand.

“Lovely to put a face to the name. You were certainly persistent,” she said. “I don’t think you’d let me get away with not responding.”

Simon’s cheeks tinged the same pink as Lisa’s hair. “Just doing my job,” he said. “Thank you for offering to come in at such short notice.”

“That’s not a problem,” she said. “I’m a freelance blogger and social media influencer, my time is very much my own, and I figured that time was of the essence and you’d want to hear from me before things spiralled.”

“Spiralled?” Kidd repeated.

“Well, it’s not all been released to the media yet, has it? So there is a lot that could still go wrong here,” she said. “Not telling you how to do your job or how things are going to go or anything, but once word gets out that Elliot Hayes was found murdered on Kingston Riverside, it’s going to go mental.”

Kidd didn’t want to say that things were mental already, that they were investigating a murder case and that the phone had barely stopped ringing. But she was right. Things would only get worse once his identity was revealed, and Kidd had a sneaking suspicion that Lisa would be at the heart of whipping up that frenzy.

They made their way to a room where they could speak privately, Lisa very much making herself at home as she shrugged off her rucksack and took out her dictaphone, placing it on the table between them. She pressed the record button.

“What are you doing?” Kidd asked.

“Just recording this for posterity,” she said. “Normally I’d be using my phone, but I lost it at a gig this week. So I need to use this. It’s age old, I know, but I don’t know, there’s something a bit vintage and classic about it. Makes me feel like a proper reporter.”

“I meant, why do you think it’s okay to record this?”

“This is an interview.”

“Not that kind of interview,” Kidd said. “Turn it off.”

Lisa looked like she was about to protest, but thought better of it. She showed Kidd that she was turning off the recording and put the dictaphone back down on the table in front of them.

Kidd watched it carefully, checking to make sure the buttons were depressed, that the tape was not spinning around.

“It’s off?” Kidd asked.

“It’s off,” she said. “This is between us.”

Kidd took a breath, taking a seat opposite Lisa. “So you know that Elliot has been killed,” he said. “How did you find out?”

“That’s really what you want to waste your time on?”

“Please answer the question, Miss Moreno.”

“Fine, fine,” she replied. “I am basically Elliot’s employee at this stage. So when he wasn’t returning my calls or answering my texts, I knew something was up. I went to his flat, spoke to his housemates. They said your lot had been there earlier in the day. It’s hardly the best detective work I’ve ever done, but there we are.”

“What do you mean, you’re his employee?” Kidd asked.

Lisa nodded, pursing her lips like maybe she shouldn’t have said that. She shrugged and started to answer. “The thing that you need to understand is that Elliot is incredibly ambitious. So is Max, but Elliot… he’s had a taste of the high life and he doesn’t want to lose it. He knows what he wants and he’ll do just about anything to get it.”

“And what does he want?”

“Fame,” Lisa said flatly. “He wants to be known, he wants to be recognised, he wants his music to reach millions. That’s his goal and he will do absolutely anything to get himself there.”

“Okay,” Kidd said. “And where do you come in with all of that?”

“Well, I run a very successful blog. I have tens of thousands of people who read what I write,” she said. “And then I have followers on social media in excess of a hundred thousand people, so I am pretty much using my influence to get the word out and tell more people about Elliot.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

“Well, he’s been paying me,” she replied bluntly. “Him and Max. I think they split it, but really I don’t care. Either way, I’m getting paid. For every post that I do about Elliot, I get paid, and then if it does really well, I get a kickback. It’s all about making people aware of him. I mean, he’s incredibly talented, he deserves to be seen by as many people as possible. I’m just facilitating that.”

“For a fee.”

She shrugged. “A girl’s gotta eat,” she said. “There was a point when he tried to get rid of me, just fob me off because things got a bit too tough, but I told him that wasn’t happening.”

“You threatened him?”

“I didn’t threaten him,” she replied. “I spoke to Max about it and he wasn’t having any of it either. I’d built him up, I could tear him back down again. Ultimately, he needed me. He just didn’t realise he did. We sort of double-teamed him, both of us telling him the truth of the situation and he came around.”

Kidd suddenly wasn’t so keen on Lisa Moreno. Not only had she attempted to record this exchange, presumably for her blog, now she was out here taking credit for Elliot’s success. She had helped him, sure, but this just felt like a bit too much, and it wasn’t painting her in a particularly good light. At least not as far as Kidd was concerned.

And where did Max come into all of this? It seemed to Kidd like he was the one pulling all the strings, and Elliot was kind of stuck in the middle.

“So what was he going through when he tried to fob you off?” Powell asked.

“What?”

“You said he was going through things, that they got tough,” Powell said. “What was going on?”

“He was starting to feel the pressure from his fans to act a certain way,” she said. “He was getting some nasty messages from people, the kind of thing he didn’t necessarily want to hear, critiquing him, telling him how he could be better and how he should treat his fans, the people who built him. He didn’t like it.”

“Who would?”

“Well sure,” Lisa said. “But if you want to be in the public eye, then you have to understand that you’re going to be critiqued. If you want to be talked about, you can’t control what they say.”

“Did he say who they were coming from?”

“He wasn’t specific,” she said. “They were from the fans and I ended up helping him spin it into a campaign about being kind and not being that way and, I think, things died down. He didn’t really talk about it again.”

Kidd realised that Lisa was more than just a music journalist or an influencer. She was a fan, too. She was exactly like the people she claimed to be kicking back against. The only difference was that she had the access to actually make a difference, to have an impact. She was close to Elliot, and she wasn’t about to let that go, not for anybody.

“Can you tell us a little bit about The Hollow Tree?” Kidd asked.

Lisa blinked. “What about it?”

“Well, I assume you’ve been to the venue before,” Kidd said. “Elliot was a regular performer there, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was,” she said. “Not my favourite of his venues.”

“Why would that be?”

“It’s dirty,” she said. “Filthy even. I think the management needs to change and give it a full overhaul to make it less… I don’t know. The only word I can really think of is grimy. I don’t like being there. Everything just feels unclean.”

“But you still went?”

“I’m local,” she said. “And it’s the easiest way for me to see Elliot perform and get the latest information on him. My followers like when I get concert footage and this way I don’t have to pay for travel or anything, I just film it there and upload it, do a little daily vlog of me going to the venue, that kind of thing.”

“Even though you don’t like the venue.”

“I’m pretty vocal about that,” she said. “The owner isn’t so keen on me doing that, but I’m not about to lie to my followers. That would be worse.”

“So you tell them that you don’t like it?”

“I tell them to be careful,” she said. “There are some shady characters at The Hollow Tree, people dealing, people stealing, all sorts of shit happens there. I don’t feel very safe when I go.”

And there it was. People dealing. Despite what Mal had said, Kidd had a feeling that illegal activities were going on there. Either he didn’t see it happening or he deliberately turned a blind eye. If people stayed and kept drinking, maybe he didn’t care. Perhaps the signs were just for show.

“So you don’t feel safe there, but you still go?” Kidd asked.

“There are murders happening on the streets of Kingston, Detective, but you don’t see people shuttering up their homes,” she said. “Life goes on. I just… don’t engage with it. But if you want some answers as to how things were going for Elliot, The Hollow Tree is a good place to start. I dread to think of the kind of people he fell in with, working there.”

“Thank you,” Kidd said. “Is this the information you came to give us?”

“I didn’t know how far along with your investigation you were, and I think telling you about him getting threats from fans and the drug deals happening at The Hollow Tree is a bit of a scoop, don’t you think?”

Kidd raised an eyebrow. “So you’re planning some kind of article or exposé here? You want to take the bar down?”

“I’m not planning anything,” she said quickly. “Yet. But I thought it was best to come to you first. People think I’m using Elliot for clout, but it was always mutual. I’m just trying to get by, trying to make a living. I want to help his death be avenged if I can. That’s all.”

“Then we appreciate your time,” Powell said.

“Have you heard from Max in all this?” Kidd asked.

“You haven’t been able to track down Max?” Lisa asked. Even she seemed surprised by this. “So he doesn’t know?”

“No,” Kidd said. “So I take it you haven’t heard from him either?”

“I’ve not heard a peep out of him,” she said. “I thought he would be all over this. He’s always pressuring Elliot for work stuff, so if he wasn’t answering his phone, Max would be going nuts about it. I’m shocked he’s not called me.”

“Can we get his number?” Kidd asked. “It’s important that we talk to him.”

Lisa hesitated, but eventually relented and gave Powell the number.

“So he was putting a lot of pressure on Elliot, then?” Kidd asked.

“Constantly,” she replied. “I… I don’t know how much longer their partnership was going to last.”

“Why’s that?”

“Elliot was unhappy with the amount of work, the amount of pressure,” she shook her head. “Their dynamic always seemed off to me, but when I needed Max’s help, he always made sure I got the scoop on Elliot, so I wasn’t about to rock that particular boat.”

“Were they fighting?”

Another hesitation from Lisa. She had the scoop, but she didn’t seem sure on how much she should reveal, which told Kidd that there was something to be revealed at least.

“They were disagreeing,” she said. “Max wanted to take things in one direction, Elliot in another. Elliot was sorting out this festival and Max didn’t like that he was being kept out of the loop.”

“He wasn’t involved?”

“Not at all,” Lisa replied. “And with Elliot being the star and Max being in the background, Elliot was getting this attention by himself. Max wasn’t helping. He had investors and sponsors. It was all happening. And Max didn’t like not being part of that.”

She let that settle with them for a moment. The implication was heavy. Max was not being painted in a good light and, more than anything else, they needed to talk to him and get his whereabouts after their last gig. It could be pivotal. Even if he wasn’t responsible, he was likely one of the last people to see Elliot alive.

They wrapped up their conversation, Powell giving her a contact number in case anything else came up that she could think of, and they parted ways, the two detectives walking her to the door.

“You hate her,” Powell said, once she was outside and the door closed.

“I do not hate her.”

“You’re not her biggest fan,” Powell clarified.

“I think she was using him, and I think she is as much of a fan as the people who were sending him threats,” Kidd said. “She didn’t tell us what the threats were about.”

“She didn’t know.”

“She claims she didn’t know,” Kidd replied. “The attempt at recording our chat set me on edge. I don’t think I climbed down for the entire interview. I don’t trust her.”

“Fair enough,” Powell said. “But she’s made it pretty clear that we need to be paying a bit of attention to The Hollow Tree. You said he mentioned drugs while you were there.”

“He did his best to make it clear that there were no drug deals happening while he was there,” Kidd replied. “I didn’t believe it then, and I don’t believe it now.”

“What do you want to do?”

Kidd gave himself a moment, thinking it through.

“I want to keep it in our back pocket for the time being,” Kidd said. “We need to chase an autopsy report, get ourselves a proper cause of death, and we’ll go from there.”

“And Max?”

“Call that number,” Kidd said. “Call it so much he thinks his phone is going to blow up. I want him in here for a chat and I want him now.”

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

Kidd returned to the Incident Room and spoke to the rest of the team about the interview, letting Powell take the lead on what they’d got from Lisa Moreno. It hadn’t been a lot, though hearing that The Hollow Tree should be something they’re looking into at least had confirmed Kidd’s suspicions.

He made his way down to Weaver’s office, filling him in on everything so far, which he was grateful for, though Kidd couldn’t help but sense some disappointment when he said that they didn’t have anyone they could arrest yet.

“These things take time,” Kidd said. “We are just over twenty-four hours into this.”

“We are,” Weaver replied. “And the more time goes by, the less likely we are to find the culprit.”

“Give it time,” Kidd replied. “Don’t count us out just yet.”

“We’ve prepared a statement and got it sent out to keep the vultures at bay,” Weaver said. “It’s not much, name of the victim, appeal for witnesses, that kind of thing. Hopefully, it gets them off Diane’s back for a little while.”

“It’s going to make them worse,” Kidd said. “People like Lisa Moreno will see it and absolutely lose it. She’ll also be gutted she lost the exclusive.”

“Why would she not post about it?” Weaver asked. “If she had the information ahead of time, she could have had a lot of hits or views or whatever it is that she’s looking for.”

It hadn’t occurred to Kidd, but it was a fair point. She had chosen to come to them rather than posting about it and getting the accolades. Maybe she really did want to help. Or maybe she was trying to throw them off the scent by incriminating someone else. She hadn’t had many kind words for the likes of Max…

Kidd made his way out of the station, heading for a walk down the riverside to take in the crime scene once again. It hadn’t yet been overrun by people, but there were a couple of bouquets leaning against the railing where Elliot had been found. The display would only grow as more people came down to mourn.

He turned to the restaurants along the seafront, looking to see where the cameras were positioned. It was in plain sight. Once they had the CCTV, they would surely have video footage of Elliot being dumped there. Why would someone want to be seen? Unless Elliot’s death was some kind of warning.

Kidd’s blood ran cold at the thought. If it was a warning, that would mean that something bigger was at play. And he wasn’t sure if he was equipped to deal with that. He would have to be. No time for self-doubt, only time for results.

“How on earth did I know I’d find you here?”

Kidd froze at the familiar voice behind him. The morning had been so busy he’d actually managed to put it out of his mind, even just for a little while. But now he was being faced with the truth, and it was a truth he did not want to hear.

Kidd turned around and found himself face-to-face with Craig Peyton once again.

“Either because I’m really predictable,” Kidd started. “Or because you’re stalking me. Don’t tell me which, I’m not really a fan of either outcome if I’m honest.”

There was space between them, like Craig didn’t want to close the gap. Kidd certainly didn’t want to. Where Craig went, trouble seemed to follow, and he could do without any more trouble, especially from Craig or those connected to him.

“What are you doing here?” Kidd asked.

“Hardly the kind of greeting I was hoping for.”

“Welcome back. What are you doing here?” Kidd repeated.

Craig smiled. He really did have a lovely smile, a winning smile, the kind of smile that once upon a time Kidd couldn’t resist. But those days were long gone. Too much had changed, too much had come between them.

“I… I needed to come back,” he said. “I have some things I need to close up, loose ends to tie, things that I didn’t get to finish the last time I was here. Billy is doing well.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“I heard you burned down his boat.”

“He lied to you then,” Kidd replied with a chuckle. “He got into some trouble. The boat burning was a result of those things. I was caught in the crossfire.”

“Aren’t you always?”

“It seems to be my lot in life, yes,” Kidd replied. “You didn’t tell me what you were doing here.”

“Yes I did.”

“You left out the specifics.”

“I think it’s probably for the best that you don’t know,” Craig replied. “I don’t want you feeling like you have to get involved, or that you have to dive in and save me or anything like that.”

“It’s not stopped me before.”

“Well, quite,” Craig said. “That hero complex can’t be stopped a lot of the time, can it?” Craig paused, looking down at the flowers and then back up at Kidd. “I heard about what happened to Elliot Hayes.”

Kidd blinked. “You did? How?”

“I hear things,” Craig replied. “Then I saw that statement; it’s amazing how cold those things can sound. I don’t know what I expected to be honest, but the outpouring of grief online is already quite a lot. This place will be overrun.”

“I didn’t realise he was so popular.”

“A rising star.”

“You should have seen where he lived. It looked like nothing of the sort.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Craig replied. “The scene is hard. I remember it well. I used to go to The Hollow Tree a lot. I think I probably saw him play once upon a time when he was starting out, not that I remember. He might have even played at The Queen’s Arms, you never know.”

Kidd tensed. “Why are you mentioning The Queen’s Arms?” He knew it was one of Andrea’s pubs, or her husband’s. He had gone there when he was trying to protect Craig the last time he was here, when he’d gone out of his way and put himself in danger just to keep Craig safe. Thinking of it now, it felt stupid. He didn’t know what the fuck he’d been playing at.

“I’m making conversation,” Craig said with a shrug.

“It feels like you’re trying to bait me,” Kidd replied.

“I just know how dark the industry can be, that’s all,” Craig replied. “It’s rough. There are a lot of shady characters in there. You saw things at The Queen’s Arms and I’m sure while you were down in Southend, you saw all sorts of shady goings on. Mallory isn’t the kind of guy to be crossed. I know all about him.”

Kidd wanted to ask more questions. He wanted to know if Craig knew him because of the drugs, if all of this was just another connection to Andrea, as if nothing else in his life could be anything but a connection to Craig and Andrea and the scheming and the lying and⁠—

“I’ve missed you,” Craig said. “It’s nice to see that you’re okay.”

“What do you mean?” Kidd asked.

“Well, you said you were going away, taking some time out,” Craig said. “I know that isn’t really the kind of thing that you do normally, and I got a little bit worried. I’m glad I got to see you while I am here so that I can see you’re doing okay. You’re looking well.”

“Thanks,” Kidd said. “So are you. Apparently, being on the run agrees with you.”

Craig snorted. “I’ve not been on the run,” he said. “I disappeared, safe in the knowledge that I didn’t have to be on the run. Thank you for that, by the way. I was just choosing to keep a low profile so that Andrea didn’t bump me off.”

“A nice way of putting it,” Kidd said. “It’s dangerous for you to be here, Craig.”

“I know.”

“She’s got worse since you’ve been gone,” Kidd said, barrelling on like Craig hadn’t said anything. “Sanchez has been dealing with it mostly. I’ve just shown up again and feel like I’m being thrown back in the deep end.”

“She was never going to quit, you must know that,” Craig said. “She’s like a hydra, cut off one head and two more grow. Even if you managed to lock her up for it, it’s never going to be over.”

“Have to burn the whole thing to the ground,” Kidd replied.

“Something like that.”

Kidd’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out to see Zoe’s name across the front of the screen. He looked at Craig. “I need to take this.”

“It’s okay,” Craig replied. “I’ll probably see you around.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” Kidd replied.

Craig shrugged. “Try and stop me.”

Kidd answered the phone, watching as Craig walked away, back up the stairs and onto Kingston Bridge. He hated the hold that Craig had over him, hated that even the sight of him was enough to send his brain for a loop.

“Hello,” Kidd said. “What’s up? I’m on my way back.”

“Wasn’t calling to chase you, boss,” Zoe said. “Just got a call with details of the autopsy. Thought you’d want to be here to see it. Everything okay?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t it be?”

“You sound, I don’t know, stressed.”

Kidd sighed. “Dead body, Sanchez, bound to be feeling the pressure a little bit,” he replied. “I’ll be five minutes.”

He hung up the phone and looked back to where Craig had been a couple of minutes ago. He was long gone now, somewhere in town, doing goodness knows what, walking into more trouble, no doubt. The thought of it was enough to have his heart racing. He hated it. He hated everything about it. But he had a job to do. He needed to get back to the station.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

“You’re kidding,” Kidd said, unable to properly fathom what he was hearing. “One more time.”

“They found drugs in his system, an absolute cocktail of pills and powders,” Zoe said. “He’d had the shit kicked out of him, that much we could see. But there was blunt force trauma to the head that they think would have been the cause of death. Metal fragments were found in his skull that indicate it might be from a pipe or something.”

“You think he was drugged out of his head and then someone took advantage of that and beat him to death?” Kidd asked.

“Looks that way,” Zoe replied. “And then whoever it was had the pleasure of playing with his dead body and leaving it on display for everyone to see.”

“That’s sick,” Kidd said.

“Yeah,” Zoe replied.

“Like a warning,” Powell said.

It was a thought that had occurred to Kidd too. Someone out there could be trying to send a message to someone, but to whom? That was what they needed to find out. Because whoever was meant to receive that message would be in danger.

“It’s sick,” Kidd said, still distracted from the meeting with Craig.

Weaver was sitting silently at a nearby empty desk, brow furrowed in thought. This was hitting him just as much as it was hitting Kidd, that much was obvious.

“We need to move forward,” Weaver replied. “Get back to The Hollow Tree and find out exactly what is going on there because it seems… shady.”

“Agreed,” Kidd replied. “The press is going to be all over this, just in case they weren’t already.”

“What about Andrea Peyton?” Zoe said.

All eyes turned to Zoe, and Kidd realised he may have looked over at her a little too fast because her face was a picture of shock.

“What about her?” Kidd asked.

“Well, she has a history of drug running throughout Kingston. I’ve dealt with it, you’ve dealt with it. Who is to say that this isn’t some extension of all of that,” she said. “Should we be referring this to Organised Crime?” she asked, looking over at Weaver.

“They have a lot on their plate at the moment, still dealing with what we’ve already given them about Andrea and DI McMichaels, I don’t want to throw anymore at them until we have confirmation she is part of it,” Weaver said. “But it feels like it could be a strong lead, at least something that we could follow.”

“If there’s drugs, there’s money,” Powell said. “We should be following the money, maybe look into Elliot’s accounts if we can gain access.”

“Should be easy enough to get hold of that,” Weaver said. “Start looking into it, get an information request, do whatever you need to do. If we follow the money, we can find out where it’s been going and who it’s been coming from.” He turned his attention back to Kidd. “You still okay to handle this?”

“Absolutely,” Kidd said, though he wasn’t entirely sure that he could, now that Craig had appeared. He needed to tell someone, maybe he needed to talk to Sanchez about it. She would be able to offer some insight, surely. Or at least make him feel less crazy.

“The press has already started gathering outside,” Weaver said. “I knew it was going to happen, I just didn’t realise it was going to be quite this bad. Can you deal with it?”

“Can I deal with it?” Kidd repeated.

“Just fob them off, read the statement, send them on their way,” Weaver said. “We can’t have this getting out of hand and I think we’re in danger of that happening now that the press knows.”

“Elliot Hayes was a much bigger deal than we thought,” Ash said, his voice coming as such a surprise to everyone that it seemed to take them a moment to register that he had even spoken. He looked up from behind his desk, cheeks glowing a little. “It’s all over socials,” he added. “Outpourings of grief, theories about a fan killing him, about suicide, all sorts.”

“We’ve not even mentioned suicide,” Kidd said. “Why are they saying that?”

“Because people aren’t reading the statement, they’re just losing it,” Ash said. “It’s trending.”

“We need to go out and talk to them,” Weaver said. “Now.”

“Arrange a press conference,” Kidd said.

“We might have to,” Weaver replied. “They’ll have more questions, but for now, we need to get them to go away and that is your job, Kidd, so get to it.”

Kidd didn’t want to, not right now. There was too much racing around his brain, but Weaver wasn’t about to give him another choice. He grabbed a copy of the statement from his desk, making a couple of quick notes on it before he made his way to the door. He turned back to his team.

“Keep working,” he said. “If there’s anything more we can find out about drugs at The Hollow Tree, or at any of the venues that Elliot has been working at, we need to get on it. Maybe we need to look into Howdy’s. And where is that CCTV?”

“On it,” Janya said. “Got some of it coming through in the next couple of hours.”

“I spoke to Seth. He’s working on it.”

“I keep being made promises, but they’re not keeping them. If we don’t get it today, we’re knocking down doors,” Kidd said. “I’ll be back. And quickly.”

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

It was always Kidd’s least favourite thing to do, but he knew that it was a necessary evil. He just felt like he needed more time, more time to figure out what was going on, to give them some kind of direction, rather than being faced with what was likely to be a barrage of questions asking him why things hadn’t been figured out yet.

He was nervous as he stepped outside of Kingston Police Station. Several people were standing there, some he recognised, some he didn’t. Lisa Moreno was there, she was easy to pick out with her pink pixie cut, and standing right at the back, phone out in front of him, ready to film, was Joe Warrington. Maybe he wasn’t going to be quite so easy to avoid.

He pulled the statement around and started reading it to the crowd.

“Thank you so much for joining us this afternoon,” Kidd started. He could actually feel his heart hammering in his chest. He’d done this all the time in Southend, why was it any different doing it here? “This goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway, this is an ongoing investigation. We are still very much at the early stages of it, so there’s only so much I will be able to give in terms of details.” Kidd took a breath. “Two days ago, the body of Elliot Hayes was found at Kingston Riverside. He was last seen leaving The Hollow Tree at eleven pm. He appeared to have been attacked. Autopsy report tells us there were drugs in his system, but he was killed by blunt force trauma to the head before he was tied up and left in the river. Obviously, his death is being treated as suspicious. We are yet to make any arrests and are currently following any and all leads to get this solved in a timely manner. If anyone has any information, please do not hesitate to come forward. No matter how small the piece of information might seem, we are working very hard to find out what happened to Elliot Hayes and provide the family with a satisfactory outcome.”

Kidd took a breath before he took the piece of paper away from his face. Now, for the slightly less scripted part, the short note he’d made at the bottom.

“There have been a lot of rumours and conjecture surfacing online regarding the death of Elliot Hayes, coming from people who were fans and people who just have something to say,” Kidd started. “Regardless of how you felt about the young man, someone has died. I am asking everyone to be respectful. While you may have opinions on his music or the way he conducted himself, he was still someone’s brother, someone’s son, someone’s friend. Unless your information can be proven and you’re willing to bring it to us here at Kingston Police Station, I suggest you keep yourself to yourself.”

He looked at the faces of some of the members of the press. There was shock on some, confusion on others, absolute bafflement on most. Joe Warrington was standing at the back with a smirk on his face. He was enjoying watching Kidd go off script. He knew how much Kidd hated when people started spreading rumours online, and he probably thought that it was for his benefit.

It was for everyone’s benefit. Kidd wanted the truth, not some internet weirdo’s opinion on what happened to Elliot Hayes. And he needed people to stop muddying the waters.

“I will now take a few questions regarding the case,” Kidd said. “Once again, I remind you, there is only so much that I can impart, as this is an ongoing investigation.”

There was a flurry of activity as hands shot up. Some people didn’t wait to be called on, shouting their questions at him, like their volume would be enough for Kidd to take notice. It did the opposite. He wasn’t about to tolerate rudeness or people calling out. He felt like a teacher.

Joe Warrington had his hand up and was waiting patiently at the back.

And he will continue to wait, Kidd thought, instead pointing to a young woman at the front of the crowd.

“Rachel Myers, Kingston Gazette,” she said, offering him a quick, thin-lipped smile. “Given that you’ve said there were drugs found in his system, should the people of Kingston be worried about a drug epidemic on their streets? Should parents be concerned about their teenagers if this type of thing is so readily available to them?”

Kidd had stories that would make her toes curl, that if he stood here and told her everything that had come out so far about Andrea Peyton, she would never leave the house again. But he needed to toe the party line here. He had an ongoing investigation, and so did his colleagues in Organised Crime. He didn’t want to make their lives harder by kicking off in front of the press.

“Thank you for your question, Rachel,” Kidd said. “I wouldn’t want them to be worried about a drug epidemic, but as always, I think it is worth having these kinds of conversations with teenagers about what activities they are engaging in. It would be fair to say that sometimes people don’t know the risks, the severity of what they are doing when they engage in such things.” Kidd paused. “I wouldn’t want parents to have any undue concern about the safety of our streets, but I would advise that they always have some idea of what their kids are up to. The last thing you want to be doing is going down to the morgue to identify your child and wishing you’d asked certain questions sooner.”

“So you’re blaming parents?” Rachel asked.

“Not at all,” Kidd replied. “I’m just suggesting that they take an interest, find out what’s happening in their teenagers’ lives, and make sure they are doing okay. A lot of the time people fall into drugs and such when things in their life aren’t going well. Talk to one another.”

“Thank you, DI Kidd, very useful,” Rachel’s voice was laced with malice, and Kidd couldn’t help but feel that ‘DI Blames Parents’ was a headline he’d see all too soon.

Joe Warrington’s hand went up again. Kidd couldn’t resist his curiosity about what he might have to say.

“Joe Warrington, Warrington’s Wonderings,” he said proudly. Kidd saw a couple of the other journalists roll their eyes. He wished Joe could see it, it was rather amusing. “Elliot Hayes was a rising star on the Kingston music scene, he was big on social media, he had a loyal fanbase, what would you say to the grieving fans right now?”

Kidd blinked. The question had nothing to do with the case. Not a damn thing. And he had to resist the urge to just move on.

“I would repeat what I already said at the end of our statement, we need to remain respectful to everyone who is suffering from this loss.”

“And what about The Hollow Tree?”

“What about it?” Kidd replied.

“Well, it was the last place he was seen. Will it be allowed to remain open and trading during the investigation?”

“We have it on good authority that Elliot Hayes left that venue and was killed afterwards,” Kidd replied. “We are gathering CCTV footage to get his last movements, but again, if anyone saw anything that they think might be useful to us, I urge you to come forward and please let us know.”

“But—”

“Even before Monday,” Kidd interrupted, not wanting Joe to be able to get another word in. He was just trying to stir up trouble, Kidd could see that much. “If you saw him over the weekend and he was acting strangely, if he said anything that seemed like it might have been out of the ordinary, please let us know. As I said, no piece of information is too small.”

He looked out at the journalists waiting for him to open the floor again to further questions, but he was done. If they needed to clear up anything else, they would call a proper press conference.

“Thank you for your time,” Kidd said. “There may be a press conference in the coming days should we have any more information that we need to share, otherwise statements will be provided to you all. Thank you very much.”

Kidd was about to head back inside when he caught sight of someone across the road. There was enough going on in his life right now that he could almost allow himself to forget that he had spoken to Craig just a short while earlier. But he seemed intent on following him.

Kidd walked away, heading back inside the station, where he was met with the severely unimpressed gaze of DS Zoe Sanchez.

“You want to tell me why Craig Peyton is staring daggers at you from across the road?”

“Don’t suppose you’ll take no for an answer on that one, huh?” Kidd asked.

“Not a chance,” she said. “Come on.”

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

Kidd and Sanchez made their way back into the station, moving down the corridors and towards the kitchen area. They seemed to be drinking more coffee on this case than on any that they’d had before. Maybe there was something in the air, maybe they just needed to remind themselves that they were awake, that this absolutely was happening, that Kidd’s past was once again coming back to haunt him.

Zoe made the coffee, ushering Kidd over to a nearby table and sitting next to him as she had done the day before.

“I figured this wouldn’t be the kind of conversation you’d want to have in front of the whole team,” Zoe said. “So how about you tell me what the fuck is going on and why you’ve been keeping it from me?”

“Okay, I haven’t been keeping it from you,” Kidd said. “This is a recent development and not one that is welcome; I feel the need to make sure you know that.”

Zoe eyed him carefully. She knew about his relationship with Craig, the turbulence of it all, and that when it all came down to it, Kidd would do anything to help Craig. He knew it wasn’t healthy, so did she, but they weren’t about to fall out over it.

“He appeared last night, and I was pretty sure I was imagining it,” Kidd said. “We had contact a bit before I left and then there was the guy down in Southend who was connected to all of this, and I had to call him to ask him things for you, remember? I thought he was done with Kingston, done with Andrea.”

“Is he not in massive amounts of danger being back here with Andrea floating about?”

“That’s what I said to him.”

“So you’ve spoken to him?” Zoe asked.

“I went to look at the crime scene,” Kidd said. “I’d actually planned to go and get some food but then I got distracted by that and then Craig and then you called, so I came back.”

“You need to eat something.”

“Okay, Mum.”

“What did Craig say?”

Kidd sighed. “He said he was tying up loose ends,” he replied.

“So, nice and vague.”

“Exactly,” Kidd replied. “Makes me nervous, because I have no idea what he’s about to do. But he seems to know something about what’s been going on here.”

“With Elliot?”

“Yeah,” Kidd replied. “He knows stuff about the music scene here. He also knows about the pubs because he used to run drugs between them, in case we’ve all forgotten.”

“Christ,” Zoe said. “So things just keep getting more and more complicated.”

“It would seem so,” Kidd replied. “I need to talk to John about it when I get home.”

Zoe winced.

“What?”

“You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yes,” Kidd said. “Keeping things from him about Craig has never served me well in the past. At the very least, he deserves to know that he’s shown up again. And that I’m going to need to talk to him.”

“That was going to be my next point,” Zoe said. “If he knows stuff, we may need to bring him in for a chat.”

“If we bring him in for a chat and Weaver gets wind of it, he might pull me off the case,” Kidd replied. “Conflict of interest and all that.”

“Then just talk to him,” Zoe said. “See if he can maybe point us in the right direction. Every little bit helps.”

“True enough,” Kidd replied.

They finished their coffee, slowly drinking it down, both of them trying to figure out exactly what their next move was going to be. Neither one seemed sure. So they kept drinking their coffee until it was gone, washed their mugs and returned them to the cupboard before heading back to the Incident Room.

“Where have you two been?” Powell asked as they walked through the door. It wasn’t the greeting Kidd was hoping for, certainly not from the likes of Powell, who was normally pretty quiet. “I thought you’d been eaten by the vultures.”

Kidd laughed. “They didn’t stand a chance,” he said. “What have you got?”

“Well,” Powell said. “All this talk of following the money had me doing just that, and I’ve stumbled upon some rather interesting information about Elliot.”

“Yes?”

“He was skint,” Powell said flatly. “Like, absolutely broke. He was borrowing money left and right, but nothing seemed to make a dent.”

It was a pattern that Kidd had seen before, where the desperate were turning to the likes of Andrea to figure out their woes, and there they were again, different name, same location, same outcome. Dead.

“What else?” Kidd asked.

“I mean, starving artist, it’s hardly a headline,” Powell said. “It’s only really been for the past six months. It seemed like it was fine before that. He was spending money on guitars, on travel, on hiring costs and security.”

“Security?”

“The festival,” Janya said. “Everything in his diary was probably about the festival. If he was booking everything out and having to pay in advance, no wonder he’s got no money.”

“His parents are pretty well off, at least based on their house,” Powell said. “But it doesn’t look like they were helping him, but there were several places where he had money coming in. One of them is from Mallory, the guy from The Hollow Tree.”

“Not altogether surprising,” Kidd said.

“That could be booking fees,” Zoe said. “He worked there a lot, had his Monday night gigs, sometimes weekends. Probably nothing to worry about on that front.”

“That’s what I figured,” Powell said. “The others are from Peter Hendricks.”

“Peter Hendricks?” Janya repeated.

“Yes.”

“Could be our ‘P,’” she said. “What is he sending Elliot money for?”

“Not really sure,” Powell said. “But after some Googling, it just seems to be some rich guy who invests in a lot of local events and stuff. No real track on where his money is coming from, retired hedge fund manager by the looks of things, but lots of investments in local things.”

“Alright,” Kidd said. “So that must be ‘P’, surely? Who else would it be?”

“But he’s just an investor,” Janya said.

Kidd raised an eyebrow. “You were expecting someone more akin to ‘M’?”

“M?”

“James Bond?”

“Christ, no,” Janya said. “I was hoping for more of a bombshell if I’m honest rather than some rich guy we have to talk to.”

Kidd smiled and turned his attention back to Powell. “Anyone else?”

“This last one, I think, is the one that will pique your interest,” Powell said. “Amy Fox.”

Kidd’s eyes widened at that. “What?”

“If you go back to the end of last year, she has been steadily sending him thousands of pounds, and I really do mean thousands,” Powell said. “I don’t know what for, but it was barely pulling him out of whatever problems he was getting himself into. Or the money was there one minute and then he’d spent it on something the next, his finances were a mess.”

“And he just kept borrowing?”

“He couldn’t seem to keep a lid on it,” Powell said. “And we know that when people get into situations like that they can get desperate, and when people get desperate, they get stupid.” Powell paused. “If Elliot had fallen in with a bad crowd, then somewhere in this information could be the person who killed him.”

Kidd thought of the names he’d given: Amy Fox, Mallory Neal, and Peter Hendricks. It was the new name that interested him; he wanted to know who he was, what he was after, and why he was investing in Elliot so heavily. What was he getting in return?

‘P’, Kidd thought. It could be a significant development.

And then there was Craig. And Andrea. If Craig was snooping around the Elliot Hayes case, then that could mean that Andrea was tied to it in some way. But why was he back? What reason did he have to be here? Kidd had some serious digging to do, and he needed to do it without getting himself into any more trouble.

‘P’ Kidd thought again. ‘Peyton.’ He felt his blood run cold at the thought. He didn’t want that to be the case. He didn’t want Elliot to be involved in all of that business with Andrea somehow.

“We’ll go and talk to Amy,” Kidd said. “I want to find out why she was sending him all that money. Janya, Ash, could you track down Peter Hendricks, and see if we can’t have a chat with him about this money and his connection to Elliot? Powell, keep digging. There has to be something in there.”

He felt like they were close. There was something else going on, Kidd just couldn’t figure out what.

CHAPTER

TWENTY

They made their way down to Kingston Riverside, stopping off at the restaurant where Amy Fox worked. Browns sat on the corner of Charter Quay, a decent restaurant with a lovely view of the river. It was rare to see it empty. Whenever Kidd walked by of an evening, there were always people out on the patio, whatever the weather.

In the middle of the afternoon, it was a lot quieter. A few people were sitting inside for lunch, but the coldness of the day had prohibited people from sitting outside. There wasn’t much to enjoy when the world was grey. Everything just felt cold.

Kidd and Sanchez stepped into the restaurant, eagle eyes looking around for a familiar face. They saw Amy behind the bar, mixing some drinks. Apparently, it was never too early in the day for a cocktail.

She didn’t look up, didn’t notice as they walked across the restaurant floor, past the host stand and over to the bar. When she saw them, she practically jumped out of her skin.

“Bloody hell,” she squeaked. “Gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here?”

“We wondered if you’d be free for another chat,” Kidd said. It wasn’t a question, he was telling rather than asking. “Some new things have come to light and we just want to get your perspective on it.

“Sure,” she breathed, swallowing. “Can I just… Can I finish these?”

“Take your time,” Kidd said. They waited while Amy finished off the cocktails. Kidd couldn’t help but notice how unsteady her hands had become, spilling some of the red liquid down the side of the glass. She muttered to herself under her breath, possibly scolding herself for spilling the drinks, possibly scolding herself for not telling the whole truth in the first place.

Amy spoke to one of her colleagues before she came out from behind the bar, nodding for the two detectives to follow her over to a quieter corner of the restaurant. She sat them down, placing her hands in her lap as the two detectives sat across from her. She really was nervous, Kidd could see that quite plainly. She hadn’t expected to hear from them again.

And she would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for that meddling Powell, Kidd thought.

“What can I help you with?” she asked.

“Why were you sending money to Elliot?”

Amy swallowed. “He needed it.”

“I’m going to need a little more than that,” Kidd said. “Because you’ve not just sent him a little extra cash here and there, you’ve sent him what amounts to thousands of pounds. Why?”

“He needed it,” she repeated. “He was desperately trying to get this festival off the ground, really trying to make something of himself and he… he’s not good at asking for help, he thinks he can just figure things out for himself, but that isn’t always the case. Much as he wants it to be, it’s always more complicated than that. You can’t always do things alone.”

“Where did you get thousands of pounds to send him?” Kidd asked.

“From work,” she said. “I picked up extra shifts, I did whatever I could to help him. I could still pay my rent. I knew what I was doing.”

She paused, taking a breath. “If you go back even further, you’d see it was happening through our whole relationship,” Amy said. “I’d send him my student loan money when he’d spent all of his. When he was still at Uni, he basically used every penny that he had to invest in his music, record songs, advertise himself, buy new equipment, and he’d skint himself. So I started to help. It wasn’t a lot at first, a couple of hundred here and there, then he left Uni and didn’t have that money coming in anymore.”

“So he asked you for more?”

“Sort of,” Amy said. “Then, when I was out of Uni, it went away for a bit, but then nine months ago, he asked for more.”

“More?”

“Yes,” she said. “He… He said it was a business proposition. He told me that he’d pay me back, that the festival was going to bring all of this money in and he’d pay me back tenfold if I invested. He wanted it to be an investment, a loan. He didn’t want a handout.”

“But the money kept running out?”

Amy nodded. “I don’t know where it was all going, and I didn’t ask,” she said. “Part of why I had to break things off is that I felt like I was just a cash cow for him. I don’t know if he really cared about me or if he was just using me to get money.” She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. “I don’t really want to think about it. I hate the thought of being used, especially by Elliot, so let me just believe that he cared about me, okay?”

“It’s alright,” Zoe said. “Take a breath. Do you need a drink or anything?”

“I’m fine,” Amy said, taking a tissue out of her pocket and blowing her nose. “It’s just been a pretty hard week, as you might imagine. I have to walk past where you found him in the mornings. It’s not… It’s not ideal.”

Kidd gave her a minute to settle down, for her breathing to return to normal.

“Did you know how in debt Elliot was?”

Amy shook her head. “I didn’t,” she said. “I just… I just wanted to help him, wanted him to get his music heard by people. This is going to sound so stupid now, but he’s so talented, he’s so good at what he does, and… he deserved it. I don’t think many people deserve success or notoriety, but I believe Elliot did. I just wanted to help.”

“So when he kept asking you for money⁠—?”

“I wasn’t upset,” she said. “I just wanted him to be okay, and I’d rather he was getting that money from me than…” She trailed off, wiping her nose, turning her gaze to the tissue she was pulling apart in her hands.

“Than, what?” Kidd asked.

She sighed. “I’m not trying to tell tales here,” she said. “I’m not trying to get anyone in any kind of trouble.”

“Tell us,” Kidd said. “If it’s something that could help us find out who killed Elliot, then it’s worth telling us.”

Still, she hesitated. Still, she seemed unsure about where she was about to take this conversation. Kidd was on the edge of his seat, he needed her to follow through on this, needed her to tell him.

“I would rather he was getting the money from me than from running drugs out of The Hollow Tree,” she said quietly, like someone might be listening. “I knew Elliot was doing drugs. He smoked weed or did gummies every now and again when we were at Uni, but a lot of people did that. It was when he started doing coke and taking pills that it all became a bit too much for me. I couldn’t be around him when he was like that. He became a different person. He became unstable.”

“You said he was running drugs from The Hollow Tree?”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” she said, shaking her head. “I just know there were times when he had more drugs in his room than he was taking, and that there were times when he didn’t need money from me. And I knew his schedule, I knew he hadn’t been working loads so… I put two and two together and maybe I’ve come out at five, I don’t know but…

“The Hollow Tree is known for that,” Amy continued after a moment. “People from Uni go there because they know they can get a fix. They know they can have a good night out and party all night long on whatever it is they give them. It’s got a reputation. And Elliot was there a lot, and off his face a lot. I don’t know… but that’s all I have for you. I promise that’s all I have.”

“And do you know who was supplying the drugs?”

“Mallory, probably,” Amy said. “He’d offered them to me when I’d been there before, but I didn’t take them because… well… My mum put the fear of God in me before I went to Uni. All it takes is one bad batch, one bad pill, or a reaction or whatever and I just… I never did it. He didn’t like that, felt like I was judging him.”

“Mallory?”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s why I didn’t go to many of the gigs there when we were together. I didn’t want to have to deal with Mallory.”

“Was he ever threatening towards you?”

“No, never,” she said. “He’s just a bit spiky. I don’t think he liked me. I think he felt like I judged him and the people that were doing drugs there. He didn’t like that.”

“About the money,” Kidd said. “How did you feel when you didn’t get it back?”

“I didn’t care,” she said. “It’s just money. And that’s a privileged thing to say, I know, but I was never giving him more money than I could afford to give him, if that makes sense.”

She shook her head, blinking back more tears. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the balled-up tissue. It probably wasn’t doing much at this stage.

“I’m glad I helped him, because if I hadn’t, maybe I would have lost him sooner than I did. At least this way I was able to help him.”

“One last question,” Kidd said. “Who is P?”

Amy blinked. “What?”

“In Elliot’s diary, he was writing a lot about meetings with ‘P’. Who is ‘P’?”

Amy looked at the two detectives blankly. This question had really caught her off guard. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Elliot never mentioned ‘P’ to me.”

“And Max,” Kidd said. “Did Max know that you were sending him money?”

Amy shrugged. “I don’t know what Max knows or doesn’t know,” she said. “He’s a bit of an enigma. I just know that… I just know that he was holding all the cards as far as their business partnership went. Elliot was under his thumb.”

“Except for the festival?”

Amy chuckled. “I think that was meant to be Elliot’s way out, his way of striking out on his own,” she said. “I guess we’ll never know now.”

They thanked her for her time and left her to go back to work.

“What do you think?” Zoe asked. “You think she’s telling the truth?”

“Against her will maybe, but yes,” Kidd said. “I don’t know why she didn’t tell us before.”

“Maybe she thought it would incriminate her,” Zoe replied. “Someone takes thousands of pounds off you and then ends up dead? It doesn’t look good whichever way you slice it.”

“So you think we should be looking into her?”

“I think we should be paying close attention to what she does next,” Zoe replied. “And if she comes up in conversation again with something else that she’s not told us, then maybe we need to think of her as a serious person of interest.”

Kidd nodded. “Agreed.” They started their walk back to the station. It wasn’t far from where they were, a stone’s throw away. “The Hollow Tree,” Kidd said. “I need to talk to Weaver about it, but I think we’re going to need to take a little trip there together.”

“You want to bust it?”

“I want to see if we can catch them in the act,” Kidd said. “There are a lot of people saying a lot of things, but I need to see it with my own two eyes and find out who is running it. If it’s Mallory…” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “If it’s Mallory, then he could be involved in Elliot’s death.”

“Okay,” Zoe said. “You go talk to Weaver. I’ll start digging into Mallory a little more.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

Janya was hot on the heels of Peter Hendricks. Once they’d found out where he used to work, it was fairly easy to track him down using Companies House. It turned out he was still running a couple of businesses, or at least appeared to be, from his home address. Janya called, and he was agreeable with them coming around to talk to him, something Janya had not necessarily been expecting.

“What, you think he would turn you down?” Ash asked as they walked through town and down towards the riverside. He lived on the top floor in one of the apartment blocks a stone’s throw away from where they had found Elliot’s body. “I can’t imagine someone being difficult when it comes to a murder investigation.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Wouldn’t that just make them look guilty?”

“I think people get scared of having something pinned on them even if they aren’t responsible,” Janya said. “And when people get scared, they do stupid things, like lie or hide things. But he seemed perfectly nice.”

“Surprised?”

“I’m always surprised when someone who used to work in finance is nice,” Janya said with a smirk.

They walked past the place where Elliot had been found just a couple of days before. Tributes were piled against the railings, flowers and cards and stuffed animals. There was a collection of people there, some of them crying, some of them taking photos, all of them staring intently at the spot where Elliot had been found. It was a heartbreaking sight.

Janya and Ash walked past and Janya felt the weight of their investigation heavy on her chest. This was something that was impacting a lot of people. Sure, anyone who passed away would have people mourning them, but this felt like it was having a direct impact on so many locals. The sooner they figured it out, the better.

After being buzzed in by Peter, they got in the lift and soared up to the fifteenth floor. When the lift doors slid apart, there was an open door waiting for them at the end, the figure of a man silhouetted by the afternoon light pouring in through the window behind him.

“Detectives,” he said as they got closer. “You made good time.”

“The station isn’t too far from here,” Janya said as she approached. “In fact, I’d wager you’d have been able to see us coming if you’d looked out the window.”

He laughed. “My view isn’t that good,” he replied. “My eyesight certainly isn’t.”

They followed Peter into the apartment, and Janya was immediately floored by how bright and spacious it was. The windows were floor to ceiling, meaning that even in the cold winter sun, everything looked light and bright and airy. They walked straight into an open-plan living room, kitchen, and dining room. The lack of separation in the space made everything look so much bigger.

Peter Hendricks had gone over to the kitchen. It was almost like he couldn’t stand still, pacing back and forth while the kettle boiled. He was in a smart pair of trousers, a crisp blue shirt, the top two buttons undone to show a smattering of chest hair. He didn’t look old enough to have retired, but perhaps that was the reward of working in finance. He’d made his money, and got out with enough time to actually enjoy it.

“Tea?” he asked, looking over at the two detectives. He had the bluest eyes Janya had ever seen, bright and sparkling.

“Yes, please,” Janya said.

“Go on,” Ash said.

Janya looked at him. “I thought you didn’t like tea.”

“You said caffeine was the key to survival,” he said. “I’m ready to go all in on tea, at least.”

“Good lad,” she replied.

They waited while he made the tea, handing them each steaming mugs before he picked up his own and directed them over to the dining table. He gave them coasters, not wanting to damage the shiny wooden top. It was obvious to Janya that he took care of himself and his surroundings. They just needed to get to the bottom of his involvement with Elliot Hayes.

“I don’t know if you know why we’ve been in touch today, Mr Hendricks,” Janya said.

Peter looked nonplussed, taking a sip of his tea and then wincing at the heat of it. There was a nervousness about him, Janya could feel it radiating off of him.

“No clue,” he said. “But if I can help, I’m more than happy to.”

“The body of Elliot Hayes was found at Kingston Riverside on Tuesday morning,” Janya started. “We’re treating it as suspicious, and we know you had a connection with Elliot. We just wanted to clear a few things up before we moved on.”

Peter blinked, confusion crossing his face. Janya watched as he processed the information, taking his eyes away from them and staring towards the windows. He could look down from here and likely see the riverside. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to see the exact place that Elliot was found, but he wouldn’t be far off. It wasn’t far from his apartment. He knew that meant he was at least being considered for this.

“Wh-wh-what did you want to clear up?” he started, pulling his focus back to the detectives.

“So you knew Elliot Hayes?” Janya asked. First test.

“Yes, I did,” he replied. “He was a young, local musician, worked all over, if I’m not mistaken. I saw him a few times at The Hollow Tree.”

“You’ve been to The Hollow Tree?”

“I like music,” he said, almost sheepishly. “It’s one of the best places to go and see live music here, at least as far as I’m concerned.” He cleared his throat. “It might not be to everyone’s tastes, it can be a bit down and dirty, but often they have good bands on. Elliot performed there a lot.”

“So you liked Elliot?”

“I supported him as best I could,” he said. “He was ambitious. He had a lot to offer. The kind of person who just had that innate star quality.”

“What do you mean by ‘supported him’?” Janya asked.

Peter locked eyes with Janya. He knew he was being tested, that they knew more than they had come to him with.

“Elliot was setting up a festival of Kingston music for this summer, or at least that was the aim,” Peter said, sitting back in his chair. His voice changed, moving from a slightly more familiar tone to one slightly more businesslike, stronger, fiercer. Janya could practically hear the wall going up between them. “I heard him talking about it at one of his gigs a year or so ago, he mentioned it while he was on stage. I have a lot of money, as you can see,” He gestured around, a smug, self-satisfied grin snaking across his face. It was amazing how quickly Janya had started to dislike this man. “And with that money comes the ability to do some good in the world as well as provide myself with a very nice life. So I approached him about it.”

“And what happened?”

“We had meetings,” he said quickly. “He presented his ideas, I helped him develop them as best I could, and then I put him in touch with contacts that I have so that those ideas could be further developed.”

“And you gave him money?”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, then let out a breath through his nose, fixing Janya with a pitying look, like what she was asking was a stupid question, like she was perhaps tugging at the wrong thread. Janya decided right then that she didn’t like him.

“It’s a shame that this is why you’ve come to talk to me,” Peter said. “Because I know what you’re implying.”

“What am I implying, Mr Hendricks?” Janya asked, watching him curiously. “Tell me, please.”

“You’re implying that I was upset in some way about my investment or that he’s done something I didn’t like and so I’ve gotten rid of him.”

Janya raised an eyebrow. “Mr Hendricks, you’ve come to that conclusion all by yourself,” she replied. “I am simply trying to get a sense of Elliot’s life, the people that he was connected to. It came to light just today that the two of you are connected. I’m just here to get the facts in order.”

“The facts?” he repeated.

“Yes, Mr Hendricks, the facts,” she replied.

“Fine,” he said, that smirk still on his face. “Well, yes, I gave him money. He told me how much money he was putting into it and I became an investor; that’s not a crime. We had terms, my money was going to come back out of the festival when it was a success. And yes, I said when. I’m an optimist. It’s a shame to hear of his passing.”

“Because you’ve lost your investment?”

“Well, quite,” he replied. “And Elliot was a very bright young man, he had a big future ahead of him. It’s possible that someone else may take up the mantle and continue the work on the festival, but I’m not sure how likely that would be. Or that it would have the same draw. A shame.”

Peter turned his gaze to the window, like he was looking out at the very part of the riverside where Elliot was left. He seemed sad, wistful, and Janya couldn’t decide if it was because of Elliot’s passing or because he was seeing his investment vanish into the water with him.

“When was the last time you saw Elliot?” Janya asked.

“I saw him on Friday evening,” Peter said. “We had a meeting in the afternoon and then he was performing at The Hollow Tree, so I thought I would go down and check up on my investment.”

“Did you see him performing on Monday night?”

“I did not,” he replied.

“Where were you on Monday night?”

“I had meetings with some of my other investments in Central London, and then I came back here,” he said. “And before you chime in with anyone being able to corroborate that, there is CCTV on the building that will show me coming inside and not leaving again.” He took a sip of his tea, the temperature much cooler now. He savoured it, sinking back into his chair, apparently pleased with what he had just said. “Is there anything else I’m able to help you with?”

“Elliot was working on this on his own, wasn’t he?” Janya asked.

It was Peter’s turn to raise an eyebrow at Janya. “I assume you’re referring to the drummer,” he replied.

“Max.”

“Yes, Max,” Peter said. “He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, is he?”

“Is that your opinion?”

“He didn’t like me much,” Peter said. “Thought I was taking Elliot away from him, or trying to, at least.”

“And were you?”

“Elliot was the star,” Peter said. “Max needed Elliot more than Elliot needed him at this stage. He’d turned the lad into a star and didn’t like it when Elliot wanted to strike out on his own.”

“Did you speak to Max?”

“He spoke to me,” Peter said. “But once he realised Elliot was spearheading this, he left me alone. He knew there wasn’t anything he could do. He was going to lose his meal ticket because Elliot had realised he didn’t need Max anymore.” Peter paused. “Anything else?”

Janya took a moment. “I think that’s all for the time being,” she replied. “We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.”

Peter smiled. “I look forward to it.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

“This is really what you want to do?” Weaver asked, sitting back in his chair, eyeing Kidd carefully. “I think we need to wait until we have the CCTV from them before we start kicking off.”

“I agree,” Kidd replied. “But I want to set this in motion as early as possible so that we can make a move if we need to.”

“Entirely understandable,” Weaver said. “I will put in all the necessary calls and you can keep me posted if and when we need to set it up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Kidd said. He was about to get up from his chair when something in how Weaver was looking at him gave him pause. “Problem?”

“Not at all,” Weaver replied. “Just want to check in and make sure you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“First case back, Kidd, this is me trying to be a good boss, don’t make it a big deal,” Weaver said, his voice coming out gruff, almost like he was embarrassed. “How is it going?”

“Well, it’s my first case back here, but not the first case I’ve done since I left.”

“I know, Kidd,” Weaver replied. “But you’re back here for the first time in a while and there are a lot of memories here, ghosts and such. I just want to make sure that you’re okay, and that if you’re not, I’m doing all I can to make sure you’re getting the help you need.”

Kidd smiled at him. DCI Patrick Weaver was not one for displays of affection or kindness. He was very by the book, very hard-lined, so this was practically a hug. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but he also didn’t want it to go entirely unacknowledged.

“Thank you, sir, I appreciate that,” Kidd replied. “Everything is good for the time being. We seem to be making some headway on the case, and I imagine when the CCTV starts coming through and we can start piecing together Elliot’s last movements, we’ll figure out who did this.”

“Sounds good,” Weaver replied. “You let me know if anything changes.”

Kidd made his way back to the Incident Room where Janya and Ash were already waiting for him. They all filled each other in on what they’d found at their separate interviews, how the stories were lining up, with things being added to the big board like a rather too glamorous-looking headshot of Peter Hendricks.

“Where the bloody hell did you find this?” Kidd asked Powell, tapping the picture. “He looks like he’s about to sell me something. God he looks so smarmy.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Janya replied. “Actually, it’s the perfect picture. I think it captures him quite well.”

“So you hate him?” Kidd asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t say we’re going to be best friends,” Janya replied. “But he seemed genuine in wanting to help the community, at least.”

“He seemed more worried about his investment than he did about Elliot,” Ash said. “But even then, he didn’t seem that worried about his investment. He just seemed… I don’t know, pretty nonplussed about it all. He seemed sad about Elliot’s death, but he obviously has enough money that losing out on his investment isn’t a big deal to him.”

“So, it sounds like,” Kidd began, “what he was doing for Elliot was actually coming from a good place, rather than being some nefarious scheme.”

“Could be a tax write-off,” Powell said. “Investment like that would take a chunk of money off a tax bill.”

“Sure,” Kidd said. “But that’s not illegal.”

“Only if he killed him,” Powell said.

It was a thought, and it was enough to keep him on the board. But he had an alibi, one he could likely prove. Much as he’d told Weaver they were making good progress, he wasn’t any closer to an arrest. And he needed one right now. He needed it bad.

“Any word on Max?”

“He’s not picking up his phone,” Powell replied. “Do you want me to put out a BOLO? Maybe circulate a picture among the PCs? See if we can’t get someone to find him on the street and bring him in?”

Kidd considered it. At this point, it seemed like Max was actively avoiding them, and if he was avoiding them, it was likely he had something to hide.

“Do it,” Kidd said. “One way or another, we’re going to talk to this lad. We have to.”

Kidd walked through his front door with one thing on his mind, and one thing only. He needed to tell John about Craig.

They’d had several conversations about Craig over the course of their relationship, to varying degrees of success. Kidd didn’t want to rock the boat, not really. They’d just come back from their little jaunt around the UK, and things felt like they were clicking along quite nicely, but if he kept it from him, he knew it would blow up in his face.

If there was one thing that was entirely certain in Kidd’s life, it was that secrets had a habit of coming out, no matter how well you thought you’d hidden them. He didn’t want to keep things from John. He didn’t want to ruin things.

He hung his jacket up and made his way through to the kitchen, putting on the kettle for a cup of tea. John would be home soon, having been in the office today, and he wanted a little bit of time to steady himself before he broke the news. Tea would help. Tea always helped.

“Evening!” John called out as he stepped into the house, the door closing with a slam behind him. “I think we need to go away again. I’m already sick of being back in the office. I also think I’m going to need to go to my flat and pick up some more things because I’m here all the time.”

“Do you need help?”

“I’ll swing by on my way back from work tomorrow,” he said. “How was your day?”

“Eventful,” Kidd replied, heading into the kitchen. John was taking off his coat, dropping his bag on the floor, Kidd could see the weight of the day on him. He really wasn’t enjoying his back-to-office life, and Kidd couldn’t blame him. His work sounded like just as much of a nightmare as his. Just with less death. Any death he had to deal with was written on the page. “Tea?”

“God, yes,” John said. “Order in for dinner?”

“You read my mind,” Kidd replied.

“I’ll do it before I take a shower, then it will probably be here by the time I’m done,” he said, stepping into the kitchen and giving Kidd a quick kiss. “You seem tense.”

“I’m always tense.”

“I know you’re always tense, I just mean more tense than normal,” John replied. “What’s going on? Your day that bad?”

There wasn’t going to be an easy way to say it, no way to tell him that would soften the blow. He needed to tear it off like a plaster.

“I saw Craig today,” Kidd said.

John stepped away from him, eyes narrowed, face twisted in confusion and Kidd suddenly realised it required more explanation than that because, as far as John was aware, Craig had vanished several months ago, never to be seen or heard from again.

“He just showed up,” Kidd said. “I thought I saw him last night, actually, when we were outside The Hollow Tree, but figured it was just me seeing things, but… then he just appeared.”

“That explains why you didn’t sleep last night,” John said. “You can’t be okay with all that going on.”

“Not one bit,” Kidd replied. “But I wanted to tell you, because if I didn’t tell you he’d end up showing up unannounced somewhere and then I’d have some serious explaining to do.”

“Smart,” John replied. “So you saw him.”

“He sort of crept up on me while I was at a crime scene,” Kidd replied. “And… well… he said he’s back here to tie up some loose ends. Unfinished business and all that.”

“Sounds like he’s in trouble.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Sounds like you need to keep away from it if you can,” John said, but apparently something on Kidd’s face gave him away. “But you’re not going to do that, are you?”

“He’s tying up loose ends and… I don’t know, something about that concerns me.”

“Okay.”

“And he knows things about Elliot and the music scene in Kingston.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Do you think he might be involved?”

“No,” Kidd replied, though he wasn’t sure if it was that he didn’t believe it or that he didn’t want to believe it. “But he knows things, and the connection with Andrea means he may have some vital information.”

“So you’re going to be talking to him about this case at some point?”

Kidd hesitated. He didn’t really want to pull Craig into this, because it raised more questions with Weaver than he would like. But he also knew that Craig could potentially be helpful. He was caught.

“I don’t know,” Kidd said. “But I wanted to tell you because I wanted you to know that you have nothing to worry about. I didn’t want you to be blindsided.”

John nodded. “I feel pretty blindsided by you telling me, to be honest,” he said. “But I’m glad you did. That’s something, at least.”

He took a breath, running a hand through his hair. The kettle boiled, clicking off, sending steam up into the air around them, bathing in the silence, neither one of them sure what to say next.

“I know you’re telling me that I have nothing to worry about,” John started. “And I want to believe you, it’s just that whenever something comes up around Craig, you always seem to go out of your way to help and end up getting caught in the crossfire.”

“I know.”

“And that makes me worry,” John said. “I’m always going to worry when it comes to Craig Peyton.”

Kidd nodded. “I understand that.”

“What do you want for dinner?”

Kidd blinked. “What?”

“I said I was going to order dinner and take a shower and I’m hungry, so… What do you want for dinner?”

The conversation was over. John had said his piece, and that was that. Kidd didn’t mind that they were done talking about it, but he did mind that John would worry. He didn’t want that.

“Whatever,” Kidd said. “I’m easy, whatever you want.”

“Okay,” John said. “I’ll order it and be down in a bit.”

He watched as John walked away, listening to him as he went upstairs and into the bathroom. The silence made Kidd feel uncomfortable, and he wondered whether he’d done the right thing. It was one thing for him to be worried about Craig being back, and what his involvement was in the case, but he didn’t want John worrying about that too.

Too late for that, he thought, pulling two mugs out of the cupboard. Far too late for that.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

They spent their evening dancing around the subject as best they could. Kidd could feel the presence of it in the room, like it was always there, lingering in the corner, trying to push its way into the conversation, but they just ignored it.

Kidd didn’t know if John was feeling it too, but the tension was almost too much for Kidd to deal with. He just wanted to talk about it, wanted to reassure John that things were going to be okay, that Craig showing up again didn’t impact the two of them at all. But he knew that he couldn’t make that promise. Because whenever Craig showed up, or even the idea of Craig showed up, there always seemed to be something.

John tidied up after they had dinner, washing up the plates, the glasses, wiping down the countertops. Kidd dried everything, putting it back in the cupboards, the two of them making the kitchen spotless while the TV continued to play in the background.

“I’m going to head back to mine tonight,” John said. “I don’t have clothes here for tomorrow. I knew I should have stopped off before I came home.”

“You want me to come with you and pick some things up?” Kidd asked.

John smiled. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “I’ll just stay there. It’s probably easier that way.”

“Okay,” Kidd said, not wanting to start an argument, not wanting to cause any issues between them. It was normal for John to spend a couple of days with him and then a couple of days back at his own flat. They were living so in and out of each other’s pockets that it was hard to keep track sometimes. But it would be the first time he’d properly been back since they got back from their trip. And that felt significant in ways that Kidd didn’t like.

John made his way to the door, grabbing his things and saying goodbye, and Kidd just watched him go, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

He knew that he’d done the right thing, and he couldn’t blame John for reacting the way he was, but it didn’t make it hurt any less that he felt he needed to leave.

Kidd settled back in front of the TV, putting on something that he’d watched before and just letting it wash over him as the time ticked by in his big, silent house. He was right about one thing, where Craig went, trouble followed. Tonight was the direct result of his return. It hadn’t been chaos and fire, it had been quiet and calm. And in a lot of ways, that made everything a hundred times worse.

Kidd awoke the following day, not particularly well rested. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa at some point and steadily made his way upstairs to brush his teeth and throw himself into bed, but he was fitful all night. He kept waking up thinking he could hear a noise in the house, or wondering where John had got to, and it was enough to stop him from sleeping through the night.

It felt embarrassing to think that a complete non-argument with his partner had resulted in this. He had never been that kind of person. He used to be so good at shutting off those feelings. Not anymore. He’d become more open, and in doing so, had left himself open to this kind of hurt. Those were the pitfalls.

Kidd dragged himself out of bed and forced himself into his running gear. He’d not run for a couple of days, the hazards of a case starting, and he’d told himself that he wasn’t going to let that impact him this year. He needed to keep on top of his fitness or he was going to end up with another pain in the arse fitness test that would nearly kill him when the time rolled around.

He ran his usual route, through town and down by the river. He passed the memorial for Elliot Hayes, which had grown significantly since he was there the previous day, and continued along until his legs couldn’t carry him any further. He doubled over in front of the river, staring out at it, knowing there were no answers on the water, but at least there was some peace, some tranquillity.

He walked a little further down, hands on the back of his head, trying to pull air into his lungs. He walked past Howdy’s, the honky-tonk music bar along the riverfront. There was a picture of Elliot in the window, a memorial service had been arranged for the following week with musicians playing at it. He wondered why such posters hadn’t been in the window of The Hollow Tree. Or, if they had been, he hadn’t seen them.

He turned back, walking the same route he’d just run, breathing in the cold, winter air, trying to invigorate himself, waiting for his heart rate to slow post-run. But even once that had faded, he found himself unable to stop the anxious pitter-patter of his heart. Anxiety was a beast, and he was afflicted.

He walked past The Hollow Tree. There were no signs for the memorial service there. Perhaps it was something specific to Howdy’s. Perhaps The Hollow Tree didn’t care as much about Elliot as they claimed to. He wondered what they would do the following Monday when Elliot wasn’t there to entertain the crowds. Who would take his place? Kidd couldn’t help but wonder if it was something worth keeping an eye on. Just in case.

Kidd made his way back to his house, showered and got himself ready for work, once again having to walk past The Hollow Tree and Elliot’s memorial just to get to the station. Here was the other problem with living so close to where you worked. Everywhere you went, you were reminded of your case. Even afterwards, there would be things that Kidd saw, recognised, that would take him back to this exact moment. Things in Southend had felt easier. There were fewer ghosts there. Weaver was right.

Never thought I would think that, Kidd thought.

He got to the Incident Room and got himself set up for the day, replying to the emails that had come in overnight, forcing some kind of joy into his voice when he greeted the rest of his team as they entered.

“Fucking finally!” Powell exclaimed from his desk. He had barely taken his coat off, but something had clearly perked him up. “CCTV from The Hollow Tree, I was starting to wonder if they were holding out on me and I was going to have to go and get it myself.”

“Let us know when you’ve had a chance to go through it,” Kidd said, a sudden rush of excitement running through his body. A new lead. There would be something in there, there had to be.

“And I’ve got the one from the riverside,” Janya said, clicking through her email.

He waited. Everyone waited, looking past their computer screens to see what either of them would come up with, if anything. Who was going to get there first?

“Got it,” Janya said, looking over at Powell, a smirk on her face. She was definitely pleased with herself for having beaten him to it. She squinted at the screen, clicking a few more times, getting to the right part. “This isn’t great, I won’t lie.”

“Who is it from?” Kidd asked.

“Bill’s,” she replied. “And then the Lebanese place on the corner.”

“I like it there,” Powell said.

“Well, the quality of their CCTV is shocking. Maybe tell them that next time you go in,” she replied. “Come take a look.”

Kidd made his way over to her desk, pulling up a chair and watching intently. He watched as a figure came onto the screen, dressed head to toe in dark clothing, a hood pulled up, their back to the camera.

“Where did they come from?” Kidd asked. Janya scrubbed back. “They came from underneath the bridge, through the little tunnel,” Kidd said, answering his own question, watching the video backwards.

“Looks that way,” Janya replied. “Look, they come along here, clearly struggling and then—” She clicked a few times, changing which window was largest on her screen, showing a different angle of the riverside, the part overlooking where they had found Elliot. “Then he ties him and dumps him.”

Kidd watched as the ropes were put around Elliot’s wrists, around his ankles, tied onto the railings, and watched as he was pushed into the water. You could see some of the spray go up as he hit the water. And Kidd felt his stomach drop. It was so heartless, so disgusting, and yet it brought them no closer to an answer.

Their suspect looked around, clocking the camera outside Bill’s before he started back the way he’d come. Janya switched the windows back, showing him as he disappeared back under the bridge.

“We’re going to need something from the other side then,” Kidd said, knowing what was on the other side of that tunnel. He didn’t want to mention the club that belonged to Andrea, but at least he knew of another option. “John Lewis will have plenty of CCTV. They might be able to help us out.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Janya replied.

“Powell, you’re up,” Kidd said. “What have you got?”

“I’ve got a crowd of people in a pub, none of whom I recognise,” Powell replied. “You’re more than welcome to scrub through, but this looks like it’s going to be a dead end.”

Kidd made his way over to Powell’s desk, leaving Janya to her phone call with John Lewis. It seemed like she’d already been placed on hold. At least it appeared that way by the exasperated look on her face.

Powell scrubbed through the footage from The Hollow Tree on Monday night, clocking Elliot walking in at six pm, having a short conversation with Mallory behind the bar. There was laughter, some jokes being exchanged, they high-fived across the bar, everything seemed fine.

They kept going. Powell switched to a different window, showing Elliot performing in the backroom of the bar. The room was packed out, people sandwiched in every corner just to watch him perform. There were other acts, people who came on and did sets between Elliot’s numbers, but mostly it was him.

They switched back to the front room when Elliot was finished, watching as someone approached him along with a person Kidd assumed was Max. They were tall, with dark hair, wearing a band t-shirt with a denim jacket, and a pair of dark jeans. He started talking to Elliot, getting quite close to him, saying things in his ear, and then it seemed to get heated. Voices were raised, people around the bar turning to watch. Max stepped in and tried to get between them, but this person was adamant that they were going to talk to Elliot. The bartender stepped out from behind the bar to break it up. The person who had been shouting at Elliot left.

“Can you lot come over here and have a look at this?” Kidd asked. “I don’t recognise him, wonder if any of you might.”

They scrubbed back, played it again for the rest of the team, but no one was any the wiser.

Kidd looked behind the bar. Mallory was nowhere to be seen. He likely had no idea this had happened. He wondered if he saw it now, if he’d be able to tell them who that was.

They had a person of interest.

“Screenshot it,” Kidd said. “We’ll put it out, see if anyone comes forward with who it is.”

Kidd watched as the person was forced to leave and waited while Elliot sat down and had a quiet drink with Max, the two of them talking for a while. And then left.

Eleven pm, Kidd thought. Just as Mallory had said.

Kidd was about to get Powell to switch it off when he saw a figure leave the bar shortly after Elliot.

“Pause it,” Kidd said.

Powell did as he was told, pausing the video. And Kidd could hardly believe his eyes.

Craig.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

“You’ve got to talk to him.” They were the first words that Sanchez said to him when they walked out of the Incident Room to go and get coffee for the team. Janya was still trying to get hold of the security team at John Lewis. Powell was setting up what they needed to put out a call to find out who had been arguing with Elliot at The Hollow Tree that night.

“I know,” Kidd said. “I just… I told John last night.”

“And?”

“And he didn’t take it all that well,” Kidd replied. “He wasn’t angry or anything like that, he just left.”

“He left?”

“He went home,” Kidd said. “Shouldn’t be reading into that quite so much, he does have his own flat after all, but it just felt… pointed.”

“Well, he’s bound to be upset, Kidd,” Zoe said. “You’ve been holding a candle for Craig for goodness knows how long and you always drop everything when he’s around and do whatever you can to help him. That’s bound to make him feel a little bit insecure.”

“But I told him he has nothing to worry about.”

“Which is exactly what you say to someone when they have something to worry about,” Zoe said. “I wouldn’t overthink it, though that doesn’t really seem your style, but just give him time. He’ll come around. But you do need to talk to Craig.”

“I know,” Kidd said. “He didn’t tell me he was there the night Elliot died, which means there’s a reason he’s keeping it from me.”

“Not necessarily,” Zoe said. “But it certainly doesn’t look good.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Kidd said. “Whenever he comes back, trouble always follows.”

“The common denominator is you, Kidd, I hate to say it,” Zoe replied. “You’re a magnet for it.”

“Thanks, Zoe, I appreciate that,” Kidd replied. “I just wish he’d come to me to talk about it. It’s possible he hasn’t because there’s nothing to say but… it doesn’t look good.”

“Agreed.”

There was a knock on the door to the little kitchen area, DC Hale poking his head around the door. He looked nervous, like he didn’t want to interrupt whatever discussion the two of them were having. Kidd wondered how much he had heard, how long he had been standing there before he had the confidence to knock and interrupt them.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he said. “But I just got a call from Diane on the front desk.”

“Already making inroads with Diane,” Kidd said. “I’m impressed. If she likes you, you’ll go far.”

Ash laughed, looking a little sheepish all of a sudden. Perhaps Diane had already been turning on the charm. DC Hale was handsome and young, just her type.

“What can I do for you, Ash?” Kidd asked.

“Oh yeah, Diane called,” he said. “There’s someone to talk to you at the front reception. She said it was urgent.”

Kidd and Sanchez made their way to the reception area, where they found Diane wasn’t in her usual spot behind the desk. She was sitting next to a girl, her arm around her, a box of tissues in her hand.

“It’s going to be alright,” she said quietly. “We’ll get it sorted. There’s no need to cry.”

“Diane,” Kidd said tentatively.

She looked up, and so did the girl she was holding onto so tightly. Kidd recognised her immediately as Amy Fox.

“Oh, good,” Diane said before turning her focus once more to Amy. “DI Kidd and DS Sanchez are here. You remember them, don’t you? They’ll be able to make sure you’re alright, nothing to worry about at all.”

She got to her feet, Amy following suit, and Kidd got a proper look at her. Her eyes were red, her hair wild about her head like she’d not brushed it that morning. She was shaking, shaking wildly, like Diane had been the only thing to stop her from vibrating right off the chair.

“Amy, what’s happened?” Kidd asked. “Is everything okay?”

It was a stupid question. Clearly, there was nothing okay about the way that Amy was feeling right now, but he needed the details. She didn’t say anything, she just reached out and handed him a note.

As Kidd read it, he felt the blood drain from his face.

“Come with us,” he said, taking her further into the station.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

You need to stop cooperating with the police, unless you want to meet the same fate as Elliot. Stop helping them. Stop talking to them. We are watching.

Kidd read it again and again. There was no discernible detail, nothing that pointed them in any specific direction. It was deliberately vague, and he hated that. It may have frightened Amy, but it was a cowardly way to do it. They wouldn’t dare be this threatening out in the open, or in person, to her face, no. Instead, they post a note through her door and leave her shaken and frightened. It made Kidd sick.

“When did it arrive?” Kidd asked.

“I got it this morning,” she said. “It had been posted through my door. I don’t know when it was put there. I just… Christ, I don’t know. It’s scary. I didn’t know what to do, I was just in my house crying and panicking so I called my mum and my mum told me to come here and tell you about it because you’d be able to help and…” She looked up at the two detectives, eyes wet and pleading. Amy was desperate. “And you can help me, can’t you? Can you protect me from whoever sent this?”

“We can do our best,” Kidd said. “Is there CCTV on your building? Or anyone in your building that has a doorbell camera, something that might be able to tell us who left this at your door?”

She shook her head. “We don’t have CCTV on the house, or a doorbell camera, or anything like that. The neighbours might, but I don’t know if they’d see it.”

“Where do you live?”

“Right near the Penrhyn Road campus of Kingston Uni,” she said. “It’s a pretty busy stretch of road, feels like it’s never quiet. I can ask them if they have doorbell cameras, but I don’t know if we’d even know.”

She started to cry again, great sobs that were wracking her body. Zoe sat beside her, putting an arm around her, trying to help her calm down. She offered her tea, which Kidd gladly went and got for her. By the time he was back, Zoe had managed to get her to stop crying. She was breathing deeply, and Kidd knew that she was on the edge of another breakdown and didn’t want to push her too hard.

“It’s all just become rather a lot,” she said. “I think it took me a bit of time to realise that Elliot was gone, and how much I’ve lost.”

“In what way?”

“I always thought he’d come around eventually,” she said. “That he would… I don’t know, come to his senses and stop doing the drugs, stop hanging out with Mallory, that he’d get himself together and we could be together. But all of that’s gone now. That’s never coming back. And that’s hard to deal with. That really sucks.” She took a shuddering breath, and Zoe passed her the tissue box. She waved a hand. “I’m okay, I promise I’m okay.”

Kidd tried to think where this would have come from. She had been cooperating in the sense that she’d told them about the drug running, about Elliot’s life, about Mallory. Would they have noticed that she was talking to them and been so scared that they would have sent her a message like this? Why would they do that unless they had something to hide? Something more.

“What gave you the impression that Elliot would come around eventually?” Kidd asked.

Amy looked up, blinked, confusion crossing her soft features. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you said that you thought he’d change his mind, thought he’d find a way out,” Kidd said. “As far as I can tell from what you’ve told us, there was never any indication that he was going to do that. Unless he said something to you that gave you that impression.”

Amy seemed to hesitate at that, a hundred or so thoughts rushing through her mind. Kidd could practically see her sifting through them as she tried to figure out what to tell him.

“Amy,” Kidd said, his voice a warning.

“He didn’t say anything, really,” she replied. “He talked about getting out, about getting clear of his debt and… and moving on. That’s what the festival was really. I don’t think that constituted a plan, as such. I just… I think it gave me hope. And hope is a terrible thing sometimes.”

“It can be,” Kidd replied. “What did he say, exactly?”

“Just about finding a way out of how things were,” she replied. “He didn’t like what he was doing, the long hours he was working, the risks he was taking, but… he was doing it for his art, doing it because of what he loved. But he wanted things to be simpler, for him to be able to just do the art part instead of the underhanded, criminal stuff.” She snorted and shook her head. “I make it sound so small, like he wasn’t breaking the law.”

Kidd waited while she took a sip of her tea, remembering all the times he had heard this story before, about the people trying to get themselves out of these horrible scenarios, and how it never ended well for them. Kidd couldn’t help but wonder just how deep all of this ran, and he knew there was at least one person who might have some answers.

“We’ll keep you safe,” Kidd said. “Sanchez will stay with you, set you up at a safe house until this has blown over.”

“Thank you,” Amy said. “I… I don’t want to be a bother. I just didn’t know where to turn.”

“It’s okay,” Kidd said. “You did the right thing.” He locked eyes with Zoe. “I just have to make a phone call.”

Kidd walked out of the meeting room, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He dialled a number he’d not dialled for a very long time. They answered on the second ring.

“I wondered when I’d be hearing from you again.”

“I need you to meet me,” Kidd said. “Now.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

Kidd made his way into town, waiting in Market Square for Craig. How much time had he spent over the years waiting for Craig? And here he was again, but this time, he needed answers.

He saw Craig before Craig saw him. He looked well, fresh, like he was actually managing to sleep while all of this was going on. When he caught Kidd’s eye he smiled, and Kidd felt a jolt go through him, a memory of how things used to be. When he’d wait for Craig after they’d both finished work; when they’d go somewhere for dinner or drinks; when their lives were completely intertwined rather than two ships barely passing in the night.

“Morning,” Craig said before checking his watch. “Yes, morning, just about. What can I do for you? You sounded very serious on the phone.”

“I always sound serious,” Kidd replied.

“Alright, Batman,” Craig replied. “You want to go somewhere and get coffee so we’re not out in the cold.”

“Cold is fine,” Kidd said. “Let’s go find somewhere a little more private.”

They made their way out of Market Square, back towards The Bentall Centre, Kidd making the turn to take them into the churchyard. It was usually filled with homeless people, or day-drinkers getting their fix, but right now it was all just pigeons on the grass, trying to find scraps. They flew up and into the cloudy grey sky as Kidd and Craig walked inside.

“How ominous,” Craig said. He was trying to fill the silence. There was some comfort in the fact that Craig didn’t seem to have any idea why Kidd had wanted to see him. He didn’t have time to prepare answers or find ways to wrongfoot him.

They sat on a bench, Kidd turning his body to face Craig. Craig was sitting practically at the other end, almost like he couldn’t bring himself to be close to Kidd. At least he knew he was in trouble.

“So,” Craig started, still desperate to fill the silence. “What can I do for you?”

“You can start by telling me why you were at The Hollow Tree the night Elliot Hayes was killed,” Kidd said, locking eyes with Craig, holding firm. He wasn’t about to let him dance around this. He needed answers, and he needed them now.

“I was there to watch the music.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Craig,” Kidd snapped. “We talked yesterday and you’re telling me at no point did you think it was appropriate to tell me you were there the night that he died?”

“I didn’t want to muddy the waters.”

“Consider them fucking filthy,” Kidd said. “What were you doing there?”

“I’m a fan, I told you that,” Craig said. “I had gone there to watch the music, to enjoy the atmosphere, why wouldn’t I be there?”

“You followed him out.”

“The bar was closing.”

“Craig.”

“Ben,” he said firmly. “Are you trying to tell me that you think I killed Elliot Hayes?” There was a softness to the way he said it, a way his voice had gone all musical, lilting, that immediately made Kidd stop believing anything coming out of his mouth. It was like he was putting on a performance, and Kidd wasn’t there to be played.

“I’m trying to find out what it is you know and what the hell you’re doing here.”

“You want to know what I know?” Craig asked. He lowered his voice. “Are you sure?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Because it’s a door that once opened can’t be closed,” Craig said.

“Go on,” Kidd said.

“Andrea owns The Hollow Tree,” Craig said bluntly. “If you go back through the ownership details, if you dig around and look through all of the details, you can trace it all back to her. Shell companies upon shell companies, but she is there, she owns it. It’s just another hub.”

“Another hub?”

“For her empire,” Craig clarified. “I think you were already onto that, probably, but I’m just confirming it for you because… well… I guess you now have some idea how you can proceed.”

“Then why the fuck are you hanging out there? Are you trying to get yourself in more trouble? Are you trying to antagonise her?”

“I didn’t really see it like that,” Craig said. “I just wanted to freak her out a little bit, to have a little fun. She wouldn’t dare touch me.” He paused. “Part of me tying up my loose ends is getting the money that I am owed, so I can really get the fuck out of here, and The Hollow Tree owes me. Mallory owes me.”

“Craig—”

“What? When you saw me you looked like you’d seen a ghost, imagine how Andrea’s going to feel,” Craig said.

“What are you doing here?” Kidd asked. “You’ve come back, out of nowhere, you’re slap bang in the middle of my case, and I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I’m just here to tie up loose ends,” Craig said. “I don’t want to concern you with it. If I tell you why I’m here, then you’ll feel the need to get involved because you can’t help yourself, and I don’t want you getting in any more trouble. Not if I can help it.”

“You being here is putting me in trouble,” Kidd mumbled, sitting back against the bench. He stared out at the patch of grass. The pigeons had come back, gathering amongst the mud and dirt to try and find any scraps that they could. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“That’s none of your concern,” Craig said. “I’m here to tie up my loose ends, and then I’ll be on my way. You won’t have to see or think about me ever again.”

Kidd looked over at him. “We both know that’s not true,” he replied. He took a breath, keeping his eyes locked on Craig’s. “I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that you had nothing to do with the death of Elliot Hayes.”

Craig looked him dead in the eyes, not blinking, not daring to. “I had nothing to do with the death of Elliot Hayes.”

Kidd didn’t believe him, but he nodded as if he did. Until this case was wrapped up, Craig would be under suspicion, especially now that Andrea was involved. This had all become so much messier than he had expected.

“I have to get back to the station,” Kidd said, getting to his feet and pulling his jacket tightly around himself.

“Be careful,” Craig said.

Kidd looked back at him. Craig hadn’t moved.

“You too,” he replied.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

Kidd couldn’t stop that hollow feeling in his chest as he made his way back towards the station. He walked by the river and looked out across the water, walked the route that Elliot would have taken, trying to figure out if they’d missed anything, if there was something they’d not seen.

There was movement outside the club right near John Lewis, the one that Craig had got into trouble at all those years ago, the club that Andrea owned, people hanging around. Kidd couldn’t tell if they were people who worked there, or just people looking for somewhere to smoke that was a little way off the beaten path. They nodded at him. He nodded back. He turned and walked back towards the station. Nothing felt safe anymore. Not a damn thing.

He was tempted to go to The Queens Arms and talk to her, or go to The Hollow Tree and confront Mallory. There were so many places she could be hiding, so many places that she had her claws in. How many more were there?

Sanchez was waiting for him in the reception area when he returned, apparently deep in conversation with Diane. When she saw him crossing the road, she excused herself and stepped outside, joining him in front of the station.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Is Amy okay?” Kidd asked. That felt like the most important thing at that moment.

“She’s going to be,” Zoe said. “She’s still here for the time being, but we’re managed to sort her somewhere to stay tonight and she’s going to be taken to her house to pick up some things, and then to a safe house. She’ll be fine.”

“Good.”

“What happened?” she asked again, eyes fixed on him.

“Craig had nothing to do with it,” Kidd said. “Or so he says. But Andrea owns the pub.”

“Fuck.”

“Quite,” Kidd said. “If we trace the ownership back, apparently we’ll find that it belongs to her. Shell companies, he said. So it might take us a while, but it is hers. And she is using it as another hub. Which means that Elliot might be another one of her victims.”

“So we know who is responsible then?” Zoe said. “Case closed.”

Kidd shook his head. “We’ll have a nightmare proving that she has anything to do with it, and you know how it will go,” he said. “She will deny, and then we are back at square one. She is far enough removed from it that she’s barely there. There are smaller players involved here, and they’re the ones who are responsible for Elliot’s death, and those are the people we need to bring to justice.”

“But Ben,” Zoe said. “You’re going up against her if you do this, you know that right? You’re putting yourself right back in the firing line.”

“She doesn’t know that I know,” Kidd said. “But we have confirmation from Amy about the drugs being trafficked through there, that Elliot was part of it, now we just need to catch them in the act and shut the place down.”

“What do we do?” she asked.

“We pull the trigger on the raid,” Kidd said. “Tonight.”

Kidd went to Weaver and gave him the details that he needed to set things in motion. As the day wore on, police were assigned nearby, some of them armed, enough vans in the vicinity to make arrests should they need to.

Kidd gave a briefing to the rest of the team, he warned them about what they were walking into, that there was every possibility they could walk out of there with nothing at all, but Kidd was hopeful that they would find a reason to bring people in for it. And once they did, they would get closer to who killed Elliot Hayes.

Even in Kidd’s mind, it felt like a bit of a long shot, but it was also something of a warning that maybe Andrea wasn’t quite as powerful as she thought she was. This would be a turning point for them, it would have to be.

They waited until evening fell, until night drew in, and they made their way to The Hollow Tree. The plan was to blend in, to appear that they were there for the music, to be part of the scene.

They staggered their arrivals. Janya and Ash went in first, with Powell and Sanchez arriving together. Kidd waited until Sanchez let him know that Mallory was nowhere to be seen before he stepped inside.

The place was packed, absolutely heaving, which was maybe to be expected as they reached the end of the week, and the music was deafening. Kidd left everyone to it, they knew what to do, and now it was time for him to figure out what he was looking for.

He walked around, sliding past people, making his way over to the bar. He ordered a non-alcoholic cider. He wasn’t about to start drinking on the job, but if he wanted to blend in, he needed to at least look like he was.

The door opened, and a familiar face walked inside. Lisa Moreno stood on her tiptoes and looked across the bar, like she was trying to track down her friends. She took a double take when she saw Kidd and then looked at him carefully, raising an eyebrow at him. She started through the crowd, but detoured to the bar first.

Priorities, Kidd thought.

He watched the conversation, shouted across the bar. No one was going to have a voice after tonight, there was absolutely no chance. He watched as a phone was brought out and handed to Lisa. She thanked profusely, looking like she was about to offer them her firstborn as payment.

“Well, well, well, just couldn’t stay away,” Lisa said as she got to Kidd, phone still in hand. She took a sanitising spray out of her pocket and sprayed it across the front and back of the phone, rubbing it with the bottom of her shirt before she pulled out a power bank and a cable, plugging it in, and slipping it into her pocket. She tapped it, like a reminder that it was still there.

“So, this is where you lost your phone?”

“Monday night,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Of all the times to lose it. And it’s absolutely dead, pretty sure there’s a dent in the side as well. Must have fallen out of my pocket. Just glad to have it back.” She eyed him carefully. “What are you doing here? I assume you’re not here to see Stone Souls.”

Kidd blinked. “Who?”

Lisa laughed. “The band that’s playing tonight,” she said. “If you’re going to do undercover shit, you might want to do a little more research.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kidd replied. “I’m just here for a drink. I don’t mind who’s playing; I just love music.”

She nodded to him sagely, like he’d given her a satisfactory answer. Not that it really mattered what she thought.

“You here alone?”

“Of course,” Kidd said.

“Right,” she replied. “You any closer to⁠—”

Kidd shook his head. He wasn’t about to discuss that here, not with her, not with anyone. She seemed to understand that, nodding and looking around.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” she said. “Have a good one.”

She disappeared into the crowd, making her way back over to the bar. Kidd found himself looking around again, trying to find a familiar face, someone who might be able to tell him what was going on.

A familiar face walked through the door. Kidd remembered them from the big board in the incident room, but as far as he knew they weren’t being thought of as POI. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.

JANYA

Elliot’s roommate. Levi.

Kidd blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. They’d not really paid the roommates all that much attention after that initial interview, but what was he doing there?

KIDD

Keep an eye on him

He made his way through the bar, spying out people, spying out faces. Someone called from the backroom that the band would be starting shortly and people started to make their way over. There was breathing room around the bar now, a little bit at least. Not everyone was here to see Stone Souls, but enough of them were that Kidd suddenly didn’t feel he could hide quite so well.

He moved along the bar, heading towards where the backroom was. And then he saw it happen. He ducked behind a few people and watched as Mallory spoke to someone, Kidd couldn’t make out their face, not from there at least. Too many people in the way.

He watched as a small package of powder was pulled out of Mallory’s pocket and cash was exchanged. Mallory looked over his shoulder once, twice, a third time, but didn’t catch sight of Kidd. Had he seen him, it would have been over.

It wasn’t subtle, but maybe Mallory had become sloppy. Kidd was about to make the move when he saw Sanchez step in, a hand clapping down on Mallory’s shoulder. She reached across to the walkie-talkie hidden in her jacket, saying something Kidd couldn’t quite hear, and the entire room seemed to erupt into chaos.

Officers burst through the doors, taking hold of Mallory and the person he was dealing to. He saw him. Levi was being dragged away by the uniformed officers. He caught Mallory’s eye as he walked past, the man’s face a picture of shock, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, what he was experiencing.

Kidd watched as the officers cleared everyone out, searching people as they left if they could get hold of them, many of them took off down the street, running into the distance. How many of them were carrying? How many of them would have been brought in too had they managed to get hold of them?

Kidd stepped outside, watching as people left or as they were escorted out and into the back of police vans. He saw Lisa being checked before she stepped out onto the street.

“For Christ’s sake, you couldn’t wait until after the band had been on?” she said, though there was a hint of laughter in her voice, a glint in her eye. She wasn’t mad.

“Gives you something to report on,” Kidd said. “And at least you got your phone back.”

“Thank goodness,” she said. “Absolutely lost without it. I’ll see you around.”

“Sorry, Kidd, had to get in there first,” Sanchez said as she appeared next to him. “This what you wanted?”

“Somewhat,” Kidd said. “The roommate is an interesting development.”

“That’s Levi,” Zoe said. “Janya said there was something off about them. Now I guess we have to find out exactly what’s going on.”

“It’s going to be a long night,” Kidd replied. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

DC Janya Ravel felt somewhat vindicated by Levi’s arrest. Her intuition had told her that there was something off about it all, and now that he was waiting to be interviewed, she was the cat who got the cream. They needed to wait for the drugs to be tested, but for someone who said that they’d never been to The Hollow Tree before, for someone who had never set foot in it as far as he remembered, he certainly seemed familiar with the owner.

Levi Sinclair’s story wasn’t adding up, and Janya wanted to clear a few things up.

Kidd even assigned her the interview while he waited for Mallory’s legal representative to arrive. She was ready to sink her teeth into this one. She made her way to the interview room, DC Hale in tow, notebook poised and at the ready.

When she walked into the room, she wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. He’d been quite confident when she’d spoken to him at his own apartment, but now that he was here, he looked like he’d shrunk a few inches. His shoulders were rounded in his chair, his face downcast, he didn’t even look up when the two detectives walked into the room.

His legal representative was not one that Janya recognised, someone who’d been assigned to him rather than someone he’d called.

“Good evening,” Janya said. “Levi Sinclair, that’s your full name, right?”

Levi looked to his legal representative and waited for a nod before he turned back to Janya.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s my name.”

Was he just checking whether or not to ‘no comment’ his own name? Janya thought. They were already off to a very strange start.

She sat down across from him and started the recording, introducing herself and DC Hale for the tape. Levi wouldn’t look at her, he just stared down at his hands, and Janya couldn’t help but feel she was about to have a pretty difficult interview.

“Mr Sinclair, you’ve been arrested tonight on suspicion of possession of a Class A substance,” Janya started. “We are waiting for the white powder that you bought to come back from the lab before we can really get into the nitty-gritty of that, but I have a few other questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“No comment,” he mumbled. Janya was barely even able to hear it, just a jumble of words tumbling from his lips.

“You’re going to need to speak up, Levi. The tape can only pick up so much.”

“No comment,” he said again, slower this time, more clearly. He didn’t look at her still, eyes on his hands. Janya didn’t like this at all. Not one bit.

“When I spoke to you a couple of days ago, you told me that you’d never been to The Hollow Tree before,” she said. “Is that right?”

“No comment.”

“Well, you can ‘no comment’ it all you like, Levi, that’s what my colleague has written down here,” Janya said. “Isn’t that right, DC Hale?”

“That’s what I heard,” he said.

“Thank you,” she replied. “You certainly seemed familiar with the owner tonight, Mr Sinclair. How long have you known Mallory?”

“No comment.”

“Levi, this no-comment interview isn’t going to help you out here,” she said. “We are still in the middle of a very important investigation into the death of your former roommate. You’ve been found where you said you’d never been, where Elliot was last seen, buying what we suspect to be drugs, from someone you claimed to have never met before. You have to understand why this looks incredibly dodgy to us.”

Levi looked up for the first time in the interview, his eyes misty. “I… I was just doing what I was told to do,” he said. “I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t want to be there, I just… I had to.”

“Why did you have to?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he said quietly. “If I talk about this and he finds out…”

“If who finds out, Levi, tell us,” Janya said.

“Any of them,” he said. “If Mallory finds out, if Jeff finds out, I’ll be in trouble. I… I didn’t want to do it, you have to believe me.”

“Why would you be in trouble with Jeff?” she asked.

“He was the one who sent me there,” he said. “I didn’t want to go. I told him I didn’t want to do it, but he said he had somewhere to be and Elliot wasn’t around to do it, so… it was Jeff. It’s Jeff you need to be talking to, but you can’t tell him that I told you. It’s Jeff.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

Kidd was getting sick of waiting for Mallory’s legal counsel to arrive. They’d called and called but they were stuck dealing with a different case over in Acton and were taking their sweet time to get things finished. Powell was on the phone while Ash was in the interview with Janya. Kidd felt like he was twiddling his thumbs and he hated it. He hated feeling like he couldn’t do anything.

“You think he’s stalling?” Zoe asked.

“I think he might be,” Kidd replied. “But we can charge him with possession and with dealing. It’s just whether or not we get to have an interview with him first so he can drop any other names our way. He can stall all he wants, but we’ve got him on something at least.”

“Just not the death of Elliot Hayes,” Zoe said.

“Not yet,” Kidd replied.

Powell slammed the receiver of his desk phone down so hard Kidd jumped. He got to his feet, eyes blazing.

“What?” Kidd said. “What? Powell, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“Max,” he said. “Max has been seen at Howdy’s for Elliot’s memorial.”

It had taken them a while, but this could be the breakthrough they had been waiting for.

“Get officers down there now,” Kidd barked. “I want him interviewed as soon as humanly possible. If we can’t get him quick access to legal representation, I’m going to flip my lid.”

His phone rang on his desk.

“Who’s that?”

“Unknown number,” Kidd said.

“Answer it,” Zoe replied.

Kidd didn’t want to. The only person he could think of who would be calling him from an unknown number would be Craig, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more from him. Had he been there tonight? Kidd hadn’t seen him. But he might have been hiding somewhere in the crowd, there had been so many people crammed into that venue.

“Kidd,” Zoe snapped.

Kidd answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Bloody hell, you took your time,” the voice on the end of the phone said. It was not the voice he’d been expecting.

Andrea.

Andrea Peyton.

“Well, I’ve got a case to solve,” Kidd said, leaning on his desk. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Plenty,” she replied. “I’m waiting outside for you. Come alone or you won’t be going back at all.”

She hung up, leaving Kidd staring at the handset.

“Who was it?” Zoe asked.

“Andrea,” Kidd said. “She’s outside.”

“Kidd—”

“Don’t.”

“What do you mean ‘don’t’? You can’t go out there,” she said.

“She wants to talk,” Kidd said. “What’s the harm in talking to her?”

“You could end up in a body bag, that’s what the harm is,” Zoe said. “Talking to Craig was one thing, dancing with the devil is another.”

“I’ll tell her you said that,” Kidd replied.

“I’m begging you to not go out there,” Zoe said. “It’s dangerous. You know it’s dangerous. You can’t do this.”

“She’s not going to do anything to me outside the station,” Kidd said. “She wouldn’t be that stupid. She wants to talk. So we’re going to talk.” He took a moment. “She said to come alone. Please don’t follow me.”

Zoe went to protest, but thought better of it. She went back to her desk and sat down, turning her attention back to whatever was on her screen. She didn’t like this, and she was making it very clear that she didn’t like it. But Kidd knew what he needed to do.

Janya could hardly believe what she was hearing. “You’re blaming your roommate?” she asked. “That seems a bit convenient, given that you’re the one who is here, and he was nowhere to be seen tonight.”

He looked to his legal counsel and then back at Janya. She couldn’t help but feel like he was running out of options, like he had played that card thinking it would save him, but it had actually made things worse.

“I’m going to need you to start clearing things up and telling the truth or this is not going to end well for you, Levi,” Janya said. “Why are you pulling Jeff into this?”

“Because… because this is as much his fault as it is mine,” he said.

“I’m going to need more than that,” Janya replied. “Why did Jeff tell you that you had to come tonight?”

“The only reason I was there tonight was because he wasn’t available.”

Janya was doing her best not to sigh at him. It was like he was talking in circles.

“What are you talking about?” Janya asked. “Levi, you are in trouble for potential possession of a Class A substance, why are you bringing up your housemate? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Because I’ve never done it before,” he said. “This is my first time, I swear, I’ve never done it. It was always Jeff who was doing shit like that, sometimes Elliot, but mostly Jeff. I told you, I work in bars, in coffee shops, I don’t do that, I’m not responsible.”

“So, why were you there tonight?”

“Jeff couldn’t go,” he said. “And he… he made it very clear that I needed to go and do it for him or I was going to get in trouble.”

“How were you going to get in trouble?”

“He threatened me,” Levi said, his voice small. “He’s left me out of all of this up until now, but for some reason, he needed me to do it tonight. I got the impression that Elliot used to do stuff for him at The Hollow Tree. I heard them fighting about it once, and now he’s gone, it was all down to me.”

“And why did he even think to get you involved?” Janya asked.

Levi hesitated at this. “I… I caught him snooping around,” he said. “After your lot came and cleared Elliot’s bedroom, searched it, swabbed it, all of that stuff, he… he was looking in there, looking through Elliot’s things.”

“Why was he doing that?”

“He said that he needed information, and I asked him what but he wouldn’t tell me,” Levi said. “And I told him he shouldn’t be looking through Elliot’s stuff, that his parents were going to come and clear it out, and then we needed to find another roommate. But he didn’t like that. He just went ballistic at me. Started yelling about what Elliot knew and how I knew too and I needed to be careful. I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“What did he say to you?”

“That I should keep my nose out if I knew what was good for me,” Levi said. “But then he told me that I needed to go and see Mallory tonight, needed to pick something up for him. He gave me the cash, and I told him I didn’t want it. I told him I didn’t want to go, but he said that I owed him. And that I just had to do it this once, while he went and had a meeting.”

“A meeting?” Janya asked. “A meeting with whom?”

“I don’t know,” Levi said. “He didn’t say. He just said he had somewhere else he needed to be, and that I had to do it.”

“We’re going to take it back to the beginning, Levi,” Janya said. “I want to know everything that has been going on in that flat with Jeff, with Elliot, with the drugs. Start at the beginning, leave nothing out.”

Levi took a deep breath, and then he started to talk.

CHAPTER

THIRTY

Kidd made his way out of the station and into the frigid night. He looked around—across the road, down the street, trying to spot Andrea. And then a figure waved. She was waiting outside The Rose Theatre, sitting on a nearby wall, hands stuffed in her pockets.

Kidd went over to her. He was aware of the cameras that were around the place, the ones outside the theatre, outside the front of the police station, she wasn’t about to do anything here, but he was more concerned that he was standing here talking to someone who was currently under investigation. Neither one of them had the upper hand.

“It’s Baltic,” Andrea said. “Only time I can remember it being worse was when we were down on the coast.”

“Are you trying to soften me up with fond memories?” Kidd asked. “I wouldn’t bother.”

“Alright then, I’ll cut to the chase, shall I?” She took her hands out of her pockets and Kidd felt himself tense, like she was about to uncover a weapon. Instead, she just moved her hair out of her face. “Someone is skittish.”

“Someone else is stalling,” Kidd said. “What do you want?”

“So impatient,” she said, scrunching up her face at him. “And so rude about it too. I just wanted to talk.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Kidd replied. “Please, just tell me what you want from me so I can be on my way.”

“I’m going to need you to take a step away from The Hollow Tree,” she said.

“You do?”

“Yes,” she replied. “You’re digging yourself deep into a hole here, Kidd, and I don’t want us to have a falling out. At least not if I can help it.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Andrea, I’d say that was a threat.”

Andrea smiled. “Then, isn’t it a good thing you don’t know any better,” she said. “It’s not a threat, Kidd. It’s just a bit of friendly advice. I have a business to run, I have people who work for me at The Hollow Tree, and I think you know quite well what happens to people when they cross me and get in my way. I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”

“That one was definitely a threat.”

“Well, aren’t we perceptive,” she said. “I’m being serious, Ben.”

“And so am I,” Kidd replied. “I’m investigating the death of Elliot Hayes. I don’t know what exactly you have to do with it, but I do know that he worked at The Hollow Tree and there are drugs involved. That connection is coming, and when it does, I’ll come knocking.”

Andrea blinked. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” she said, and there was the briefest flicker where Kidd actually thought she was being serious. “I’ve never heard of Elliot Hayes. What is he? One of Mallory’s bartenders?”

“You know who he is.”

“I surely don’t,” Andrea replied. She took a breath, the cold air blowing out in front of her like she was some kind of dragon. “Look, I know it would be really easy for you to look at whatever it is that’s going on and pin it on me like I’m some kind of monster, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. Hand on heart, this is the first time I have ever heard the name Elliot Hayes.”

Kidd watched her carefully, trying to find a tell, trying to see if she was actually telling him the truth, but she was unreadable. All the time that they’d spent together when they’d been looking for Craig, she had been keeping things from him. Who was to say that she wasn’t keeping things from him now? She’d lied to him before, quite convincingly in fact, when Craig had last been in town. But this time… this time it was different.

Andrea Peyton had no idea who Elliot Hayes was, and Kidd’s theory about her being involved in it was suddenly out of the window. Unless she was lying. Kidd’s head was spinning.

“I’m just here to tell you to leave The Hollow Tree out of this,” she said. “Or there will be consequences.”

Kidd sighed. He wasn’t one to take idle threats lightly, and clearly she didn’t have anything of use to him, at least not that she was willing to share. The Elliot revelation was something, though. That could be key. He needed to switch focus.

“Andrea, if that’s all you have to say to me, I’m just going to get back to my job,” Kidd said. “I’ve got an interview to do.”

“I’m not done with you yet.”

“Well, I’m done with you.” Kidd made to walk away.

“Where is Craig?” she asked.

Kidd stopped, turned, and watched her carefully in the dark.

“That got your attention, didn’t it?”

“What makes you think I know where he is?”

“He’s back,” she said. “My people have seen him skulking around. I want to know what he’s doing here. I want to know where he is, so that I can have a conversation with him. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen my dear brother.”

“The dear brother that you forced to work for you and then tried to frame for murder,” Kidd replied. “And then tried to track down so you could exact your revenge? Andrea, it’s practically Shakespearean, he’s hardly your dear brother.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, Andrea, it’s not,” Kidd replied. “I know he’s back, I’ve spoken to him, but you know Craig, he plays his cards pretty close to his chest and he has no interest in telling me what he’s doing here and, frankly, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Because if you know, you’ll want to help.”

“Exactly,” Kidd replied. “And I’ve got myself into enough scrapes for Craig Peyton in my time. So no, I don’t know where he is. I’m keeping out of it.”

She smiled, her mouth a thin line. “That’s something I can get on board with.”

“I’m sure,” Kidd replied. “Goodbye, Andrea.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

Kidd made his way back inside, DS Sanchez immediately collaring him in the hallway when he arrived. It was clear to him that she had been watching from the corridor, out of sight, or at the very least, out of sight of Andrea. If anything had happened to him, she would have been ready to pounce.

Kidd would never have asked her to do something like that, putting herself at risk for him, but he was grateful nevertheless. It was always good to know that despite all of his fucking about, she still had his back.

“What happened?” she asked. “It looked intense.”

“You could see it from here?”

“I have very good eyesight,” she said. “And you decided to stand right near some streetlights, which made it a little easier for me. What did she say?”

Kidd sighed. He was still processing it.

“She wanted to know where Craig was.”

“Did you tell her?” Sanchez asked.

“Of course not,” Kidd replied. “Well, actually, there was nothing to tell. I’ve been keeping my distance, remember? So I have no idea where he is or where he’s staying. I barely know what he’s here for. I don’t want to know.”

“Without sounding like a total dick here, I think that’s for the best,” she said. “Where he goes, trouble follows, and I think after what happened last time, you need to do your best to keep out of it.”

“Agreed,” Kidd replied. “She also has no idea who Elliot is.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s what I said,” Kidd replied, looking behind him, back outside where Andrea had been sitting. She wasn’t there. It was an empty space, but he still felt like he could feel her eyes on him. It wasn’t a good feeling. “But she is adamant that she has no clue who he is.”

“So his death has nothing to do with her?”

“Apparently not,” Kidd said. “Though she does own The Hollow Tree, and she told me to steer clear.”

“Oh, that’s kind of her.”

“She basically threatened me,” Kidd continued. “She warned me that there would be consequences if I pursued it.”

Zoe thought about it for a moment, letting the information land. She nodded, face tight. “That’s unnerving.”

“Yes.”

“But we have to keep going,” Zoe said. “I’m sorry, I know she’s made a threat to your life but⁠—”

“I have no intention of stopping,” Kidd said with a bit more conviction than he truly felt. “She can’t scare me out of doing my job. If I’m honest, I think she was pretty stupid to even try that tactic. I think she was more here for intel on Craig than anything. But… we can’t stop.”

“So, what do you want to do?” Zoe asked.

Kidd thought about it for a moment, trying to push that sick feeling in his stomach down, down, down, as far as it would go. He’d had threats on his life before, idle threats from criminals who’d claimed they’d have revenge, people who said he would pay, but Andrea was the kind of person who could follow through on such threats and get away with it. She’d gotten away with so much so far. It was a hard pill to swallow that he could be in the firing line.

“We need to carry on as if I’ve not just had a conversation that could spell the end of me,” he said darkly. “Is Max here?”

“He is,” Zoe replied. “And Mallory’s legal representative has shown up. He’s exhausted, whatever has been going on in Acton has him looking like an absolute wreck.”

“We’re all exhausted,” Kidd said firmly, checking his watch. Ten pm. It was getting on a bit, but they were so close, and they needed to keep moving on all of this if they could. It was essential. “Get them both ready for interview. I’ll take Max, you take Mallory. Let’s see what we can come up with.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

To say that Max Barnes looked panicked would be the understatement of the century. From the moment Kidd walked into the interview room he was jittery, eyes darting around, leg bouncing so severely that before they’d even started the interview Kidd had to tell him to calm it down. It was jogging the table, and the constant movement was driving him crackers.

Kidd started the interview, introducing himself, Max and his legal representative for the purposes of the tape before he continued. Max wouldn’t even look at him, hands clutched around a bottle of water. The plastic crackled and cut right through Kidd’s head. This lad was trying to fuck with him, surely.

“We have been looking for you for several days, Mr Barnes, thank you so much for coming in,” Kidd started.

“You didn’t give me much choice,” he said, voice coming out a little pissed off. “I got dragged off by one of your lot in uniform. I’m hardly here voluntarily.”

“Which is what is interesting to me, Mr Barnes,” Kidd said. “Because your friend has been killed, we’ve been trying to contact you, and at every turn, we have been blocked and unable to find you.”

“Alright.”

“Does that not strike you as odd?”

“No,” Max snapped. “I didn’t kill him. Why the bloody hell would it matter if you spoke to me?”

“What my client is trying to say is that given his innocence, he felt no need to reach out to you or any of your fellow officers.” So the legal rep was really trying to earn his money, it seemed.

“Thank you for the clarification,” Kidd replied sharply before turning his attention back to Max. “The thing is, Max, we found it more than a little suspicious that right when we really could have used your input, you avoided us. Surely, us blowing up your phone was enough to tell you that we wanted to have a word.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to discuss the death of your friend, bandmate, and business partner?”

“Yes.” Max’s voice was sharp. “I don’t want anything to do with this. You said it yourself, my best friend and bandmate was found murdered by the side of the river. I don’t know what the fuck that means.” His breathing was growing heavy. “I don’t know if it was some kind of warning, if it meant that I was next. The best thing for me to do was lay low, to not answer unknown numbers, calling me at all hours of the day. What did you think I was going to do?”

“I thought you might come to us if you had such concerns,” Kidd said. “We could have helped you.”

“Your lot never helps with anything,” Max spat. “My mum was killed years ago when I was only a boy and you did nothing to help her. The killer is probably still out there living his life, and I’m here without my mum. You think I’ll trust you and what you do after all of that?”

Kidd understood. He didn’t know the case, he had no idea what Max had been through and he knew that in the space of this interview, he wouldn’t be able to convince him that the police were trustworthy. That wasn’t what he was here for, after all. He was here to find out what happened to Elliot, and if anyone was going to know anything, his apparent best friend was going to know something.

“I’m sorry for what happened to your mum,” Kidd said. “I don’t doubt that mistakes were made and things were not resolved in a satisfying manner. But we are not here to talk about that. I want to make sure that what I am doing is the very best thing for Elliot. And in order to do that, I need you to talk to me as freely and as openly as possible, okay?”

Max considered it for a moment. Kidd’s words seemed to calm him somewhat. The leg-bouncing stopped, the crackling of the plastic bottle stopped, and for the first time during the interview Max’s eyes found Kidd’s, and Kidd saw someone who was just scared. He might have been playing the big man, but he was a scared little boy and Kidd needed to do everything he could to help him.

“Okay,” Max said. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know about your relationship with Elliot,” Kidd said. “I’ve heard a lot of stories over the past few days, and the only person I haven’t heard it from is you. So please, tell me.”

“What have you heard?” Max asked. “You’ve had people in here talking shit about me?”

“Hardly,” Kidd said with a smile. “They’ve just been giving their perspective. So now, I want yours.”

Max sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t like the idea of people talking about him negatively. Maybe he didn’t like the idea of people talking about him at all. That would certainly explain why he was so keen to be kept out of the public eye, while Elliot was thrust into the limelight.

“We met at Uni,” Max started. “We got on like a house on fire. I wanted to be in a band, Elliot wanted to make music, it was a match made in heaven. So we started. Elliot was a brilliant writer, pulling out lyrics that you could only dream of, and I had this dream, this vision for the pair of us, and he seemed to be on board with it all.”

“Seemed to be?”

“He had his doubts,” Max said. “Elliot wanted the fame, the notoriety, he wanted people to hear his music. He used to say his dream was to be walking somewhere and to hear a busker singing his songs. Such a weird little dream, but I think he saw that as a status symbol. Like if the budding musicians are playing his songs, then he’d reached his potential. So we started gigging together.

“It was just small stuff at first, empty bars, open mic nights, but then it started to build because Elliot is brilliant and I think we just caught the wave for him at just the right time,” Max continued. “And I came up with a plan. I spoke to Lisa Moreno, who had been following us for quite a while, and we paid her to make content for us, to hype us up to her followers and stuff. And it worked. We started to get traction, to build a following. But I knew the interest was in Elliot.”

“You knew it was him or you wanted it to be him?” Kidd probed.

“A little of both, I think,” Max replied. “He was the front man, so he had the focus. And I was happy to be in the background, happy to sort out all the shit Elliot didn’t want to do so he could keep writing the songs and playing the music. It just made sense.”

“We were told that Elliot wanted out at some point?”

Max sighed. “It got to be too much,” he said. “Elliot’s socials went absolutely mental, and he was getting messages from people, not all of them nice. Nothing vicious or anything like that, just people telling him how he should behave. He shouldn’t be drinking because he has young followers, he shouldn’t swear in his songs, he shouldn’t be seen as messy in any way, the morality police. It was all a bit of a mess. He wanted to just stop altogether.”

“And you wouldn’t let him.”

“We’d come so far,” Max said, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Kidd. “We were gaining traction. To stop right when we were climbing felt like it would be suicide.”

“So you forced him to keep going?”

“No one forced him to do anything,” Max said firmly. “I just… I spoke to Lisa about it, and she said that they could spin it, turn it into a campaign, and clean up his image at the same time as getting these people off his back.”

“Did he go for it?”

“Not at first,” Max replied. “But I reminded him of why he was doing this, of the dreams that he had, and then he fell in line. And Lisa’s plan worked. Not only did it get those idiots off his back, anyone who even tried being mean to Elliot were shouted down by the fans—the fans had his back. It was genius. It kept his image clean despite the drinking, despite the swearing.”

“Despite the drugs?” Kidd offered.

He watched as the words hit Max. Maybe he didn’t think they’d found out about that. But the pile of drugs at Elliot’s apartment, plus everything they’d been hearing from the likes of Lisa and Amy, made it the focal point of Elliot’s story, at least as far as Kidd had been concerned.

“The drugs.”

“Max, we’re not trying to get you in trouble here,” Kidd said. “You talked about his clean image, and the drugs can’t have been an easy thing to keep under wraps.”

“They weren’t,” Max said. “And I tried to tell him to let it go, that he didn’t need to party that hard, but the more he did, the more he needed to do. It was a cycle. And with the festival coming up…” Max shook his head. “That felt like the kind of thing that we wouldn’t be able to just explain away. We needed to get rid of it entirely, or get ahead of it.”

“Tell us more about the festival,” Kidd said. “He was working with Peter Hendricks on it?”

“He was,” Max said. “And that man is a fucking monster.”

Kidd blinked. It was the strongest opinion they’d had against Peter since they started their investigation. “He is?”

“He is,” Max said. “I’m sure he’ll go to his grave claiming he was looking out for Elliot, but he only cared about himself.”

Kidd sat forward in his chair. Things were about to get interesting.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

“Idon’t know when it started,” Levi said. “But I knew that it was happening. I knew all about it, I just… I didn’t want any part of it. Not if I could help it.”

Janya waited for him to keep going. The information he had seemed key, it seemed essential, and she needed him to focus and tell them what was going on.

“Jeff has been running drugs around town for as long as I can remember,” Levi said. “He always needed the extra money and, for the most part, he kept himself to himself.”

“You said Elliot was involved?”

“I said he had been, yeah,” Levi replied. “He’d needed some extra cash and Jeff gave him a couple of jobs to do himself.”

“Was he doing it a lot?”

Levi shook his head. “Only when Jeff wasn’t available,” he replied. “He also kept his mouth shut when Jeff went to The Hollow Tree to do his deals. I don’t think he really knew Mallory was involved. I don’t know… There was an innocence to Elliot sometimes. He didn’t see things.”

“What didn’t he see?”

Levi swallowed. “He didn’t see that Jeff was kind of taking advantage of him in all of this,” he said. “He was taking a cut. I knew he was because… well…”

“What, Levi?” Janya asked. She felt like she was being given the runaround, that he had more to say, but he just wouldn’t bloody say it.

“I heard them arguing about it once, Jeff said that if Elliot didn’t want to be properly involved in any of it, then Jeff needed some of the money. They fought a lot.”

“I thought you didn’t really know each other.”

“That’s what Jeff said,” Levi replied. “He said it, and I wasn’t about to correct him in front of two detectives. That would have been suicide, and it would have made him look guilty.”

“You think he’s guilty of something?”

“I think he’s guilty of plenty of things,” Levi replied. “When he lied to you, it started to make me question things. And he’s been acting strange. I don’t know. He’s been skittish.”

“In what way?”

“He’s wanted to know where I was, what I’m doing,” Levi said. “Whenever someone is at the door, he has a massive panic attack about it and doesn’t want us to answer it. He goes out at odd hours, but I guess that’s the drug thing.”

They needed to talk to Jeff again. His involvement in all of this was far more than any of them had guessed. Janya suddenly wished she’d pressed harder in that initial interview, wished that she’d tried to get more information from him, but what reason did she have to not believe him? He’d said he didn’t really know Elliot. She couldn’t have just outright called him a liar on a hunch.

“Is there anyone else that Jeff is connected with that he could have been meeting tonight?” Janya asked. “Any names that have come up in conversation?”

Levi thought about it for a moment, scrunching his face up, trying to help, so desperately trying to help.

“Peter,” Levi said. “He was going to meet with Peter.”

Jane’s face paled.

“Does that name mean something to you?” Levi asked.

“Yes,” Janya said darkly. “Thank you, Levi. Interview terminated.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FOUR

Detective Sergeant Zoe Sanchez stared at Mallory Neal from across the table. The interview had been pretty fruitless so far. She’d asked him about the drugs, where he’d gotten them, who he was dealing them to, who else was dealing drugs out of The Hollow Tree, but he’d completely clammed up. The person who Kidd had spoken to just a few short days ago seemed to have vanished and been replaced by someone who had absolutely no intention of helping them find out anything more.

Zoe hated a ‘no comment’ interview. They wound her up.

“I’m not trying to catch you out here, Mallory,” she said. “I am just trying to find out what has been going on at your establishment.”

He didn’t answer. There was no question, no real reason for him to say a word. Zoe wanted to throw her cup of tea at him.

“Just saying ‘no comment’ to everything isn’t going to help you in the long run,” Zoe said. “We witnessed you dealing, and as soon as we get the test results back, that’s the end of it all. I’m giving you a chance to tell us your side of things, maybe even to clear your name if there’s someone else pulling the strings.”

Mallory was still unfazed. It was what she’d expected. There were only two ways that this interview was going to go: he was either going to take the full blame for it to protect Andrea or he was going to clam up. She hadn’t been hoping for much, but she’d at least been hoping for a conversation.

“Let’s try a different tact,” Zoe said. “Where were you at around eleven-thirty on Monday night?”

Mallory blinked. Apparently, this hadn’t been a question he had been expecting, certainly not one that he had discussed with his legal representative because the oily-looking man he was sitting with just shrugged and turned his focus back to Zoe.

Worth every penny, Zoe thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Mallory?” Zoe asked.

“I was in the pub until late,” Mallory said. Zoe wanted to jump out of her chair and cheer because he was actually speaking. She felt like she’d worked a miracle. “The CCTV will show that I was there. I was cleaning up. I don’t really fancy paying a cleaner so I just do it myself. That’s how your boss came to see me there so early a couple of days after.”

“You were there all night?”

“I stayed there,” he said. “I don’t really go home to the wife anymore. I just have a kip upstairs. No point when I’m going to be there to clean and open up the next morning.”

“So you were there all night?”

“Yes,” he said. “It will all be on the CCTV. You should already have it. If you don’t, I can send it over to you.” He sighed. “I have no idea what happened to the lad, and that’s the truth. I…I’m gutted for him, I am. He was a good kid, he was a talented musician, and it felt like he was going places. But… things change, I suppose.” He took a moment, eyes focused on the table. For the briefest of moments, Zoe thought he was about to burst into tears. He looked back at her, eyes a little glassy. “I had nothing to do with it. I’m gutted for him, I really am.”

Zoe had already asked about Elliot’s involvement with the drugs, how much he’d had to do with it all, and Mal had responded with ‘no comment’ so she wasn’t about to open that door again, not when she’d just got him talking.

“What do you know about Peter Hendricks?” Zoe asked.

Mallory blinked, confusion etched across his face. “I don’t know,” he said. “He was helping fund the festival, wasn’t he?”

“You don’t know him?”

Mallory shook his head. “Not at all. Should I?”

I don’t know, Zoe thought. Someone should.

“He was screwing Elliot over, big time,” Max said.

“What makes you say that?” Kidd asked.

“The festival was… It was a bit of a bone of contention between us,” Max said. “I didn’t want him to be distracted by it, but Elliot loved it. He loved the idea of bringing his music to Kingston in a big way like that, and getting to platform other artists. That’s what our Monday show was about at The Hollow Tree. We’d do material and other acts would do sets in between. He wanted to pay it all forward.”

“And you didn’t?”

“I wanted us to focus on what we were doing for a while longer,” Max said. “We’ve spent so much time and effort getting ourselves to where we are, I didn’t want us to lose our momentum in favour of catapulting someone else to success.”

“Okay,” Kidd said. “But Elliot wanted to continue with it?”

“He was determined, so I just let him get on with it,” Max said. “If I’d been more involved, maybe things wouldn’t have got quite so bad.”

“Because of Elliot’s finances?”

“Exactly,” Max said. “He started doing stupid things. He started running drugs to pick up some extra cash, and when I found out about that, I hit the fucking roof. We’d spent so much time on his image and he was putting it all in jeopardy when I could have helped him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I tried, but he said he was fine and it was sorted,” Max said. “So I… I went to Peter.”

“You went to Peter?”

“I knew he was giving him money for the festival and I thought that maybe if I told him about it, he would be able to talk some sense into Elliot.” Max shook his head. “Instead, he used it to screw Elliot out of even more money.”

“How so?”

“He threatened Elliot with going public, ruining his image, ruining any chances he had of success by telling everyone about it,” Max said. “It wouldn’t have done that, it would have been a PR nightmare, but we could have sorted it, but Elliot didn’t believe that. He did whatever Peter told him to do, like giving him more and more of a share of the profits from the festival. Elliot was going to be virtually doing it for nothing. He was so trapped under Peter’s thumb that he didn’t know what to do or where to turn.”

“So what did he do?”

“He turned to Lisa Moreno,” Max replied. “They were going to get ahead of Peter, go public with it all.”

“They were?”

“They were going to try and set Elliot free,” Max said. “They were sorting it all out, getting the articles written, the interviews, all of it, and then suddenly…” Max shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know if Peter found out, but… now Elliot’s gone, and while his investment is gone too, that’s a hell of write-off for Peter.”

Kidd considered it. They needed to talk to Lisa again. Why had she kept all this from them? Maybe she feared for her life as much as Max had with everything that was going on. Maybe she didn’t want to be the next one tied up and left for dead on the riverside.

Since Elliot was dead, of course, then maybe that meant that any plans to expose it were gone. Would she dare doing it alone?

He took an alibi from Max, one that could be proven by his housemate. He had gone straight home after the gig, he didn’t hear about Elliot until the other day, and he had been at home ever since.

“I went to the memorial because I wanted to pay my respects,” he said. “That was more important than my safety.”

Kidd wrapped things up and made his way out of the interview room, already dialling Lisa’s number as he headed back to join the rest of the team.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FIVE

The Incident Room was a hive of activity when he got back to it. Everyone’s eyes were on him the second he stepped inside. Even Weaver was there, waiting for his return.

“What?” Kidd barked, the entire team staring daggers at him, like he was supposed to have read their minds and already know the next move.

“Who are you calling?” Zoe asked. He couldn’t help but feel there was a slight edge of panic in her voice, like she maybe thought he was calling Craig or Andrea.

“Lisa,” Kidd replied. “Max mentioned she and Elliot were planning something against Peter Hendricks and I know it’s late, but she’s not answering her phone.” He dialled again. Still nothing. He was starting to worry now. They needed to keep moving, they needed to crack on. He told them about his conversation with Max, with Powell still clicking away to one side as he got them all caught up.

“So Max is innocent?” Weaver asked.

“It would seem so,” Kidd replied. “Innocent and terrified for his life, in case he was next.”

He looked to the rest of his team, waiting for them to reciprocate and fill him in on what they’d learned.

Sanchez went first, telling Kidd about how Mallory ‘no commented’ his way through the interview, about him not knowing who Peter Hendricks was.

“Is he out of the frame?” Ash asked. “It doesn’t seem right that he’d be out of the frame.”

“Out of the frame for the murder maybe, but not for the drugs,” Kidd said. “Janya, what have you got?”

She filled them in on Levi’s story, on the connection between Jeff and Elliot dealing the drugs together, on Peter Hendricks somehow coming into the mix. Levi wasn’t responsible for the death of Elliot either, but he had certainly gone some way to divert their attention away from Jeff, and Kidd didn’t like that.

“He was scared,” Janya said. “I think he didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Jeff, so when he said he had no idea, he just went along with it.”

“That’s his story,” Kidd said.

“I buy it,” Janya replied. “If I think back to that first chat with them, Jeff guided everything, he was the one who was answering all the questions. It wouldn’t have mattered if Levi wasn’t there because Jeff did all the talking.”

“So Jeff is responsible?”

“Jeff knows more than he was letting on and was covering his tracks,” Janya said. “Why else would he be going to a meeting with Peter Hendricks tonight?”

Kidd’s eyes bulged. “He is?”

“According to Levi, that’s where he was going,” Janya said.

“So we go there too,” Weaver said. “Assuming they’re still there, we go and we…”

“We what?” Kidd asked. “We’ve got suspicions and hunches, but we don’t have evidence that either one of them killed Elliot.”

“Hold that thought,” Powell said, looking up from his screen. “Might be worth coming over and taking a look at this.”

The team gathered around DC Powell’s computer, watching as he scrubbed back through CCTV, taking them to the beginning of whatever clip he had been watching.

“Where is this from?” Kidd asked.

“The back of John Lewis,” Powell replied. “This came in while we were out at The Hollow Tree, and then we were tracking down legal reps, and Max, and… sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Kidd replied, not unkindly. “You’ve found something, that’s what’s important.”

He pressed play, and they watched as two figures walked onto the screen. One of them was unmistakably Elliot, the other one was dressed head to toe in black. They had their hood up, and seemed to be trying to hide from whatever cameras were around.

Suddenly, the figure swung at Elliot, hitting him in the back of the head, knocking him forward, but not to the ground.

Hoodie jumped on Elliot, swinging fists, smacking him in the face over and over again.

Elliot managed to find some strength, bringing his knee up between his assailant’s legs. Elliot tried to run away from the bridge, towards Peter’s apartment.

The figure got back to their feet, hood now down, face on full display.

“Got him,” Kidd said.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SIX

At Weaver’s word, uniformed officers were sent to Levi’s apartment. They broke down the door, they searched inside, scouring every bedroom, every corner of the place until they were certain that no one was there.

A photo was put out to any officers still on their beat, just in case their hunch was wrong. Kidd was sure that it wasn’t. He dialled Lisa’s number again. Still nothing. Now would have been a really good time for her to pick up her phone and tell him that she was alright. The next best time was about ten missed calls ago.

Kidd waited while officers went to her place of residence, while they spoke to her housemates, while they discovered that Lisa hadn’t come home from the concert that night. The hunches in Kidd’s mind were straightening out into theories, and those theories had his heart hammering in his chest.

They got in an unmarked van and drove down towards the riverside, towards Peter Hendricks’ apartment building. Uniformed officers were positioned nearby and outside, waiting for them to come down. Weaver had firearms officers there too, just in case things went south.

They already have, Kidd thought.

Kidd made his way inside, DS Sanchez and DC Ravel alongside him. Weaver and Powell stayed downstairs, watching the exits, and monitoring things from outside. After all, they weren’t sure that they were here, and the last thing they wanted to do was have them slip through their net.

The lift hummed slowly as they made their way upstairs to the top floor, Kidd’s stomach flipping as they made their way up. It dinged. They stepped out and started along the corridor, all the way to the end, to Peter Hendricks’ door.

Kidd knocked.

It seemed a little too polite for this time of night, a little too careful. Kidd listened for movement from inside, if anyone was coming towards the door. One way or another, he needed to speak to Peter Hendricks tonight, no matter the hour. It had to be tonight.

He knocked again.

Nothing.

Kidd stepped back, letting the uniformed officers do their thing. They battered the door—once, twice, three times—until it cracked and snapped off its hinges, the three of them rushing inside to a chorus of, “Get back! Get back!”

Kidd followed them inside and took in the scene before him.

An empty apartment.

“Where are they?” Kidd breathed. “Where the fuck are they?”

“Boss,” Janya was at the window, staring down at the riverside.

There were three people outside the back of John Lewis, one of them trying to get away while another was restraining them, dragging them towards the tunnel under the bridge, dragging them towards the river.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Kidd barked. “Come on.”

He hurried back towards the lift, the uniformed officers informing the people waiting downstairs what was happening, telling them to approach with caution. Kidd sprinted out of the lift and onto the street, dashing out of the building and hurtling down the riverside at breakneck speed to the figures he could see up ahead.

The officers were on them before Kidd could get there. The struggling person pulled away and to one side while the other, the one who had been doing the restraining, stood stock still next to the riverside.

Kidd was out of breath, chest heaving, desperately trying to pull the breath into his lungs. He was hot, sweat bursting from his forehead and running down his spine, he was soaked; it was unpleasant, to say the least.

He caught sight of Jeff being restrained by the police off to one side, being cuffed, being pulled away, and so it was just Peter Hendricks left, holding Lisa Moreno, much closer to the water than Kidd would have liked.

Lisa looked more than a little worse for wear. Her makeup was streaked down her face, a cut on her forehead, a split lip. They’d put her through it, and what was this supposed to be? Some final hurrah? Tying up loose ends?

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Peter said, eyes wide, crazed. He kept looking around, like at any moment someone was going to jump forward and try and take him out. “You the investigating officer?”

“I didn’t come here for small talk, Peter,” Kidd replied, trying to still his humming heart and keep his cool. “Look at what you’re doing here,” he continued. “You know this isn’t right, Peter, you know that. This has all gone too far.”

“This wasn’t what I wanted,” he said. “Elliot was going to ruin me.”

“The way you were threatening to ruin him?”

“It was business.”

“What I was doing was business!” Lisa shouted.

Peter’s arm pulled her closer, circling her throat. She choked a little.

“Peter, you need to let this go,” Kidd said. “This has gone too far, and believe me when I say there is no way out of this, that ends well. We have you surrounded. Please, just let Lisa go. Don’t do anything else stupid.”

The mention of him doing something stupid seemed to set off a flare in his head, like it was exactly what he was waiting to hear. Kidd could practically hear the cogs whirring as he slowly released his grip on Lisa, like he was maybe about to let her get away.

Peter seemed to have other ideas.

He gripped her tighter than he had before, pulling her past him, and throwing her towards the water before he broke into a run to try and make his escape.

“Fuck’s sake.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SEVEN

Kidd threw off his coat and hurried towards the water, watching as Lisa hit the water, went under, bobbed up again, and was pulled downstream. She was trying to swim, fighting against the current, trying desperately to get back to shore.

He didn’t waste a second, didn’t listen to the people shouting around him to grab a life ring, to not do anything stupid. Kidd did the first thing that came to mind, and the first thing that came to mind was to throw himself into the water to save Lisa.

The water was cold, so cold that it practically knocked the breath out of him as he dived in, struggling against the tide to get over to Lisa.

She hadn’t been expecting it, the cold, the rushing water, none of it. She was coughing and spluttering, trying desperately to keep her head above the water.

Kidd swam as quickly as he could, his clothes certainly not the best fit for swimming, the suit trousers sodden, the shoes now full of water and weighing him down, but he had to keep going. He should have listened to the people on land, but if he’d listened, he might have lost her, and Kidd couldn’t lose another one, not now, not when he had managed to get to her before Peter or Jeff could hurt her.

He struggled through the water, grabbing hold of Lisa, keeping her above water. She looked pale, terrified. Kidd could hardly blame her for any of that. He slowly brought her back towards the shore, one of the uniformed officers tossing a life ring over to them.

Kidd caught it, helping Lisa hold on to it, and continued back towards the nearest set of stairs. They helped her out, and Kidd got out of the water just in time to see Peter Hendricks on the ground, handcuffed, face pressed into the concrete.

Kidd didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d thrown Lisa into the water. Maybe he’d thought it would distract them long enough that he could get away, but there were enough of them there that he hadn’t stood a chance. It had been the last ditch effort of a very desperate man, that much Kidd could see. But he had no sympathy, not one bit. Peter had brought this ending upon himself after all.

And that’s what this was. An ending. Thank goodness.

“You’re a complete idiot, do you know that?” Zoe said, sitting next to Kidd on the side of the river. They had called paramedics to take a look at Lisa, to take a look at Kidd and make sure he was okay, even though Sanchez made it very clear that Kidd’s problems were mental rather than physical.

“Oh yes, I am aware,” he replied.

“You are soaked to the skin.”

“I am.”

“You must be fucking freezing.”

“I am.”

Zoe sighed. “Well done, though,” she said. “Not everyone would have done that, you might have saved her life.”

“Well, she’s still alive, so I’d definitely say that I saved her life.”

“I’m just saying we might have been able to do it without you having to throw yourself into the Thames,” she said. She sighed. “We still need to find out what happened.”

“I know.”

“Peter kind of gave himself up there,” Zoe said.

“Sort of,” Kidd replied. “But not enough that we could convict him. We’re going to need to speak to everybody: Lisa, Jeff, Peter. I can’t imagine Peter is going to give us much to go on, I think he’s going to try to find a way out of it.”

“He won’t get out of it,” Zoe said. “I can’t imagine you’ll let him. Especially now you’re soaking wet and pissed off.”

Kidd laughed. She had a point.

He got to his feet and made his way over to the ambulance that was parked down by Peter’s apartment building. Lisa was sitting on the back of it being checked over by a paramedic who looked like they were at the end of a very long day.

“My hero,” Lisa said dryly as she caught Kidd’s eye. “You come over here to get your medal or something?”

“I’ve come over to make sure you’re okay.”

“Bumps and bruises,” she said, wincing as the paramedic pressed a bandage on the cut she had on her forehead. “Nothing that won’t heal with time.”

“How did you get caught up in all this tonight?” Kidd asked. “Last I checked, you were heading home after you’d managed to get your phone back. How did you end up here?”

Lisa hesitated, taking her eyes away from Kidd, almost like she was too embarrassed to admit exactly what had happened. It only made Kidd more curious.

“I… I got a voicemail from Elliot the night he died,” she said sheepishly. “I’d seen him at the show, that’s when I lost my phone at The Hollow Tree. He tried to call me when he got back to his flat. He told me that Jeff was acting weird, asking him to go and do a job and he didn’t want to and…” She shook her head. “I don’t know, knowing things were the way they were, knowing the information we had on Peter that we were going to put out to the press, I wanted to confront Peter. So I came here and was met by both of them.”

“And then?”

“They dragged me inside, gagged me, tied me up, and then they were talking about what they were going to do to me, basically admitting to everything the two of them had done.”

“What had they done?”

“Conspired to get rid of Elliot,” Lisa said. “It was heartbreaking. I… I’d thought it had something to do with the drugs. That he’d pissed off the wrong person. That’s how they’d wanted it to look maybe, I don’t know. I spoke to Peter, he’d acted so heartbroken, but he’d been sitting there, knowing what had happened, knowing that he’d had him killed.” She shook her head. “The man is mental.”

“Not necessarily how I’d put it, but I’m not about to argue,” Kidd said. “I’m sorry you had to go through this tonight.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, pulling her waterlogged phone out of her pocket. “If you can manage to get this working again, you can have the voicemail. And you can have the recording I took tonight, too.”

Kidd blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I recorded it all,” she said. “You know me, not about to go into an interview without my secret weapon.” Kidd remembered that first day that they’d met her, when she’d tried to record their interview. He couldn’t help but marvel at her forward thinking. “But it’s fucked now, it won’t even turn on.”

“It’s okay,” Kidd said as she handed it to him. “Someone smarter than me will be able to figure it out. You take care of yourself. We’ll be in touch to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re offered help, take it,” Kidd said. “You never know when you might need it.”

Kidd headed back over to Sanchez, squelching with every single step. Zoe could barely keep the smile off her face.

“You ready to go?” she asked as he approached.

“Ready as I can be.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-EIGHT

The night had been long, and it only seemed to be getting longer as they got back to the station and started preparing for interviews. Kidd had to change into clothes that he’d had stored in a locker for goodness knew how long. They smelled musty, like they’d been in there for years, but it was better than him squelching around the station, even if wearing jeans and a t-shirt for interviews felt too casual.

It was gone midnight by the time a legal representative arrived for Jeff, and Kidd was on his last legs. He’d barely slept for the past couple of nights because of Craig showing up, because of his argument with John, and having to work through the night was definitely something he could have done without. But it was necessary. He wanted it all wrapped up. He wanted to be able to sleep tonight knowing that he had done everything that he possibly could.

Jeff looked as bad as Kidd felt. His hair was a mess, his nose was bloody from where he’d hit the ground after a PC had tackled him. The fact that Jeff was even being allowed to be interviewed was mostly because he wanted to get it out of the way. He was ready to talk, and Kidd was grateful for that. It meant that he wouldn’t have to work too hard to get what he needed.

Kidd did the usual introductions, Jeff sitting back in his chair, casual, accepting his fate it seemed. Kidd found himself waiting for the twist, waiting for the gotcha moment, but after everything he’d heard so far, he wasn’t so sure it was coming.

“What happened with Elliot Hayes?” Kidd asked. It was a simple enough question, but it encompassed so much.

“Where shall I start?”

“At the beginning,” Kidd said. “I’ll interrupt if I have questions.”

Jeff cleared his throat, adjusting himself in the seat, making himself more comfortable maybe.

“I was desperate,” he said, simply. He told Kidd how he didn’t make a lot of money as a painter, his day job wasn’t helping, how the bills were piling up, and he just couldn’t handle the debts. So, he’d started doing little odd jobs on the side, anything he could pick up, but it still wasn’t enough. So he needed to do more.

“And running drugs was the answer?”

“It was for me,” he replied. “I did what I had to do so that I could survive, okay? I don’t expect you to understand or get it, but I did it, okay?”

“And with Elliot?”

Jeff hesitated. “He would help me out now and again,” he said. “He was struggling too and he needed a bit of pocket money here and there to get by.”

“So you hooked him up with Andrea Peyton?”

Jeff paused, hesitated, and didn’t know what to say next. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he said. “But no, I didn’t tell him who I was working for. I just… freelanced it out to him. For a fee.”

“For a fee?”

“I had to take a cut, I still needed the money, and that way I could do more,” Jeff said with a shrug. “It was like a side hustle to the side hustle. So he wasn’t getting properly involved with it, which suited him because the idea of it made him incredibly nervous, and I still got a bit of money. Everybody was winning.”

“I think maybe winning is a strong way of putting it,” Kidd said. “But please, continue.”

“I knew he was working on this festival idea, knew he was getting money from some sugar daddy,” Jeff said, the bitterness practically dripping from his words. He shrugged. “I heard them arguing one day. Peter came over and he started properly getting at Elliot. He’d found out that Elliot was planning on going public with the drug running, because Peter had been blackmailing him so he wouldn’t be able to do it anymore. Peter didn’t like that. He kicked off about it, told Elliot he couldn’t do that, but Elliot seemed determined.”

“Determined?”

“The way he had managed to spin it in his head, was that he would be open and honest about it and suddenly the world would love him and everything would be fine,” Jeff said, rolling his eyes. “Elliot lived in his own world. He thought it would be easy, but it was enough to spook Peter. But Peter’s reputation was on the line as a businessman, as an investor, and he didn’t like that. He’d already sunk a lot of money into the project, and he was standing to lose that as well as his reputation.”

“Then why kill Elliot?”

“Because then he loses the money but keeps the rep,” Jeff said like it was the simplest thing in the world. “And with his squeaky clean reputation, he could continue to do what he was doing. He was going to keep the festival going, do it in Elliot’s memory, which I think is slimy, but who am I to judge?”

“Well you’re the one that killed Elliot,” Kidd said. “So I would agree with that.”

Jeff swallowed. “Yes, yes I did.”

Kidd watched Jeff’s body language, the way he was looking at Kidd, the way he just couldn’t seem to sit still, constantly shifting, finding a new position, a new way of appearing confident.

Kidd realised it was all a front. He was playing a part. He was trying to be the cold-hearted killer when actually he was sitting there, having to lay out exactly what he had done, and he was hearing it all back, like it was being played out in front of him on a big monitor. He’d fucked up, and he was slowly coming to realise just how much.

“So what happened after the argument with Peter and Elliot?”

“I followed him,” Jeff said. “I followed Peter out of our flat and back to his, collaring him at the door and telling him everything I’d heard.” He chuckled. “Peter didn’t like that. His face went white as a sheet, I thought he was going to have a pop at me, but I don’t think Peter really has that in him.”

“You don’t?”

Jeff shook his head. “He’d rather hire someone else to do it than get his hands dirty,” he said. “So he took me upstairs and we talked and he said he wanted to get rid of Elliot but he didn’t know how, he needed him out of the way. I told him I’d do it for a price.”

“And he took you up on that?”

“He didn’t want to get his hands dirty,” Jeff said. “We planned it all out, figured out exactly how we were going to get it all done. We made sure that someone would have a pop at him in The Hollow Tree to unnerve him a little, then I met him outside the flat and told him I needed his help and…” He shrugged. “And then I did it.”

“Did what?”

“I killed him,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I was being paid.”

“Why did you do it the way you did it?” Kidd clarified. “You left him out in the open, you could have done anything to him and you just left him at the riverside.”

“And still it took you fucking ages to figure it out,” Jeff said.

“Why?”

“When Peter and I talked, we talked about the drug running,” Jeff said. “I knew that people had been killed for what they’d done, or at the very least had gone missing. And I figured if we could make it look like some gang thing, make it look fucked up enough, then your lot would hear about the drugs and put two and two together.”

“But we didn’t.”

“You did for a bit,” Jeff said with a smirk. “And I thought we’d got away with it but… here I am.”

“You beat the shit out of your own friend for money?”

“For a lot of money,” Jeff replied. “And he wasn’t my friend, he was my roommate at most. I didn’t know the guy, not really. I made it look like he’d got on the wrong side of the wrong person, I planted the drugs on him so that you would look at it as a drug thing, and I hung him up by the riverside because Peter liked the theatre of it all.” Jeff shook his head. “He said it would make it look like a warning, and if it looked like a warning, then you’d think it was a gang thing.”

Jeff shook his head. “If we were going to do it again I’d have just killed him and buried him somewhere, thrown his body into a ditch, the river, whatever. Peter fucked this up.”

“And now you’re going to pay for it.”

Jeff smirked. “We both are,” he said. “I’m not going down for this alone.”

Kidd took a breath. He was right. This was going to be something both Jeff and Peter went down for.

They’d found who was responsible, but Kidd wasn’t satisfied. The ghost of Elliot Hayes was hanging around his neck, he would never be fully satisfied.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-NINE

Kidd made his way towards his house, feeling like the eyes of the world were on him as he walked through town, even though it was empty. It was gone four am, the world was dark and cold, barely anyone was out and about, and Kidd thanked his lucky stars for that.

The case was done, it was wrapped up, but the larger things at play were enough to leave him feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

He messaged John to let him know what was happening, but he didn’t receive a response. He messaged him again to let him know that he was on his way home. He didn’t expect him to be there, or to wait up for him, but he had to be worried.

Kidd hoped he had been worried, or maybe he was letting him go. It was hard to tell.

They’d interviewed Peter as soon as his legal representative had arrived. He had spent a lot of time ‘no commenting’ his way through the interview, but once he found out that Jeff had spilled the beans, he started to talk.

Peter had admitted to his part in Elliot’s death, and they had Jeff’s DNA to prove it all. Not that anyone thought Jeff was covering things up at this stage, it was just to make it clear beyond all reasonable doubt.

It was amazing what people would do when they were desperate. Jeff needed the money, and he saw a way to potentially get it out of Peter, who was more than happy to provide it if it meant it was going to keep himself safe.

Peter thought he was above it all, that’s what Kidd thought, but then he’d crumbled under the pressure.

He walked through town, past the riverside where Elliot had been found earlier that week. The flowers were wilting, the note cards were curling at the edges, the moisture in the air making the ink run. Soon it would be cleared away, soon it would be forgotten, at least for the people in the immediate vicinity. There were people who would carry that loss forever though.

He walked past The Hollow Tree where he had been just a few short hours ago. There were police officers standing around it, blue lights flashing, tape flapping in the breeze. Kidd offered them a wave as he walked past, somewhat apologetically because he was the reason they were having to stand there so late into the night.

He wondered what would happen to it. Would they find proof that it was Andrea’s? Would they seize it from her? Would she just get rid of it? He didn’t know how her mind worked, and that was what made all of this so terrifying, so unpredictable.

Was it a comfort that this case wasn’t necessarily about her? Maybe. It meant that her reach wasn’t all-powerful, all-knowing, all-encompassing. But still. She was there.

And then he stopped.

In the same place he had seen him a few short nights ago, a stone’s throw from Kidd’s house, he saw Craig Peyton. The difference this time was that he was actually waiting for him, and there was a duffel bag at his side. He was leaving once again, it seemed. How long had he been waiting there? Had he gone to the house first? Or was this his early start?

“Going somewhere nice?” Kidd asked.

“Do you really want to know?”

Kidd shook his head. “You know what? I really don’t,” Kidd replied. “Wherever it is, keep yourself safe.”

“I will,” he said. “You’re out early.”

“Late,” Kidd replied. “Tying up loose ends.”

“Ah, relatable,” Craig replied.

“Good,” Kidd said. “Sorry if you thought I was accusing you of killing Elliot.”

“It’s okay.”

“You show up unannounced⁠—”

“I was hardly going to announce it to you.”

“So you could have the drama of floating into my life like some kind of ghost?” Kidd asked.

“Something like that,” Craig replied with a smirk.

“I’m just saying,” Kidd said. “You show up unannounced and are involved in the case in some way, I’ve got Andrea at my back wanting to know where you are.”

“You could have told her.”

“I didn’t know where you were,” Kidd said. “I didn’t lie to her. But that’s a reason to not tell me where you’re going. You didn’t tell me last time, don’t tell me this time. I don’t want you getting in any kind of trouble because of me. And vice versa.”

Craig blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want any part of whatever unfinished business you’ve got going on,” Kidd said. “That’s the last thing I want. So… next time, if there’s going to be a next time, just keep me out of it.”

Craig seemed a little surprised by this and Kidd couldn’t help but wonder what he thought he was going to be getting out of this conversation. Did he want forgiveness? Did he want Kidd to go with him? That had been the suggestion last time, hadn’t it? When he’d left all those months ago, he’d wanted Kidd to drop everything and go on the run with him. But things had changed. Everything had shifted. Kidd had a life here, a life he was pretty happy with, all things considered. He didn’t need Craig anymore. He was ready to draw a line under it. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“Okay,” Craig said. “I guess this is goodbye then.”

“Did you tie up your loose ends?” Kidd asked.

Craig smiled. “Yes, I did,” he replied. “And more besides. I got my money before you busted the place; I’m all set. I won’t need to come back.”

He stepped forward and went in to hug Kidd. Kidd pulled him in, holding him close, knowing, or at least hoping, that this would be the last time they said goodbye to one another. This truly was the end. It had to be.

“Safe travels,” Kidd said.

“Good luck,” Craig replied.

Craig picked up his duffel bag and started towards town. Kidd didn’t know where he was going, probably to the train station, maybe to get an Uber or a taxi from somewhere. But he didn’t want to know. He wanted him out of his life, and if you’d told him that a year ago, he would have called you crazy.

Kidd started back towards his house. He took out his key and opened the front door. The light was on in the dining room at the back of the house. He heard shuffling, the sound of footsteps as an exhausted John McAdams came around the corner. He turned on the kitchen light.

“Did you see him?” John asked.

“What?”

“Craig,” John said. “He came over.”

“When?”

“Half an hour ago,” John said.

“It’s five am.”

“It is,” John said. “I told him to wait inside but he didn’t want to. Said he didn’t feel comfortable doing that… like I felt comfortable with him doing that, I was just trying to be nice.”

“Have you not slept?”

“You weren’t home and I was worried,” John said. “There were police outside The Hollow Tree when I was on my way home and I figured something had happened. I didn’t know if it was right to message you.”

“I wish you had.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “At least I knew you were alive.”

“Just about,” Kidd replied. They were standing at opposite ends of the kitchen, neither one of them apparently willing to close the space.

“So is that the end?” John asked.

He looked so hurt, and Kidd couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d seen. If he’d been looking out the window, he would have seen them hug. That would explain why he looked like he was about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Yes,” Kidd said. “He’s going, he won’t be coming back.”

“I thought he said that last time,” John replied. “And here we are again, doing the same dance.”

“I don’t want to fight with you about this.”

“And I don’t want to keep doubting our relationship every time he comes up,” John said. “If it’s not him, it’s one of his friends, or even his sister, I don’t know where I stand sometimes in your rankings.”

“You’re top of the list.”

“Then you need to start making me feel like it,” John said. “Because I do feel that, a lot of the time, but then he shows up it’s like I don’t even matter. You derail everything for him. He shows up and… and just his presence threatens to spoil what we have.”

“I know,” Kidd said. “I don’t want that either. Believe me, I really don’t.”

“Okay,” John said. “I want all of you, Ben. I don’t want to share you with a past that just won’t stay away.”

“I know that,” Kidd said. “I want you, too. All of you. I don’t want him; I’ve not wanted him for a long time. When we were first going out, I wanted to know he was safe, I wanted to know that he was doing okay and, yes, that made things complicated for us. And then when we were away, it reared its ugly head again, and I am trying so hard to not let it get in the way of us, I really am.” Kidd sighed. “My life is just complicated.”

“I know,” John said. “I don’t think I really knew what I was letting myself in for.”

Kidd didn’t know what to say to that. The implication was, of course, that maybe he would have chosen not to be with Kidd if he’d have known all of the drama that would ensue. But he didn’t want to tug at that thread. He was worried that if he gave John an out, he would take it, and Kidd would be left all alone again. He didn’t want that. He really didn’t want that, especially if it meant losing John.

“I can’t promise you no drama,” Kidd said, stepping towards him, tentatively, not wanting to spook him, like he was approaching a wild animal. “But how about low drama? Or lower drama?”

“I don’t think you can promise me low drama, Ben,” John said. “Have you met yourself? You attract it.”

“I know,” Kidd said. “But I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire of it.”

“Me either.”

Kidd pulled him into a hug and they stood there in the kitchen of his house for some time.

Cars whizzed by on the main road, the rain continued to drizzle outside, and Kidd and John just held one another, like they were the only thing keeping each other upright.

Kidd didn’t know where things were going. He had no idea what was going to happen next. Life felt unsteady, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. But he had John, and that made all the difference.

At least they had each other.

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DI BENJAMIN KIDD WILL RETURN IN

UNLUCKY FOR SOME

(Coming 2025)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Here we are again, book twelve in the Kidd series. It’s hard to believe that just over four years ago I was publishing the first of these books and now there are twelve in this series and five in a spin off. And I have no plans to stop.

Thanks again to Andrew for another incredible cover, I really love this one - it’s a view I know very well so to have it displayed on one of my book covers is amazing.

If you’re still reading these, whether you were there from day one or have only just found me, thank you so much. You have no idea how much it means to me.

Until next time…

GS x

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

GS Rhodes has been writing for as long as he can remember, scribbling stories on spare bits of paper and hoping to one day share those stories with the world. The DI Benjamin Kidd series is GS Rhodes first foray into crime writing, combining a love of where he has lived for a lot of his life with his love of a good mystery. Now well into this series, he is also writing a spin-off featuring DS Zoe Sanchez in the starring role, starting with Deadly Tears.