Cold Blood Jane Heafield (the little red hen ebook TXT) 📖

Joe he could have the new UFC game, and son and father could play it all evening. He could barely meet his son’s eyes, knowing the secret he held from the boy. The quadruple murder in Lampton was already a big story across the internet, but the media had scant details thus far and Bennet hadn’t found Lorraine’s name mentioned. Or his own. The major news outlets would save it for their scheduled programmes and publications later today and tomorrow morning. At the moment Bennet had time to work out the best way to tell Joe about his mother’s murder. But he would have to keep the boy in a bubble until then.

While the purchase downloaded, Joe did his homework in his room and Bennet went downstairs to try to get the hang of Backup Buddy, a mental health support app for South Yorkshire Police. Hunter had certainly been busy, having already allocated Bennet a meeting tomorrow afternoon with a member of TriM – the Trauma Risk Management team. The lady had emailed him half an hour ago to say he should download the app. It had advice on coping strategies, stories from other officers who’d gotten through heartache, and numbers and emails of people who could help. He tried an audio segment on meditation, but it only increased his urgency to do… something else. He closed the app and called the number the TriM representative had put on the email. It went to voicemail.

What if I was right now about to jump off a bridge? he almost yelled at the phone, before he was urged to leave his message. ‘Joan? DCI Liam Bennet. I’m supposed to meet you tomorrow. I just wanted to know if I could pay you privately to talk to my son. He needs this more than I do. Call me back as soon as you get this.’

Next, he called DCS Hunter. Again he got voicemail and left a message: ‘Boss, I can’t sit around, I’ll just dwell on things. Take me off compassionate leave. Make it adjusted duty and I’ll work from home.’

His next call was to Liz Miller.

The detective was still in Spain, still hanging around waiting for her target to do something juicy so he could be arrested. Bennet didn’t even allow her to speak before he launched into a synopsis of his day and finished with his current setting: waiting for the optimum moment to deliver crushing news to his son.

‘Sooner the better,’ she said. ‘Before he hears it on Facebook.’

Bennet had worried his kid might come across a news banner ad embedded in a website. He hadn’t considered social media. ‘I’ll make an excuse to get his phone away from him.’

‘Good luck with it. I hope he’s okay.’

‘He will be,’ Bennet said, with no clue if he was going to be right.

‘And what about you? Is adjusted duty the right thing? Perhaps you should take the compassionate leave. Maybe go on holiday.’

Hunter had suggested the same thing, because Lorraine’s murder was going to be in the air for a while. ‘I’ll be okay. I mean I am okay. I don’t need leave. They don’t understand. I’m not traumatised. I’m not burned out.’

‘You might be and not know it. Take the advice and stay away. Don’t even take phone calls about your cases.’

It sounded like she was saying he was in denial. ‘It isn’t about me. Lorraine was long gone from my life.’

‘Are you sure?’

No, he wasn’t. ‘This is about Joe. He’s just lost his mum, and he can’t remember her because he was too young. And now he’ll never meet her. Hell, he doesn’t even know yet. He’s up there in his room, oblivious to the fact that his world has just been crushed. And I’m sitting here with that knowledge.’

‘You’re angry.’

‘The anger is because I caused this. I knew where Joe’s mother lived, and did nothing to reunite the two of them. If I’d gone after Lorraine earlier, years ago, when I should have, this would have been avoided. Or, if not, then at least Joe would have met her.’

‘You couldn’t know. It was the right thing to do at the time.’

‘And I’m pissed off that I held back. I know it wasn’t police business, but I could have pretended it was and got answers sooner, and this could have been avoided.’

‘But there was no investigation, she wasn’t reported missing, so the police couldn’t have done anything.’

‘Then that’s part of the problem too. Rules. I’m getting sick of having my hands tied. So sick that I… I did something bad.’

‘What?’

‘She was my son’s mother, and I couldn’t… waiting for people… forms to fill in… permission… I hate it all and I couldn’t…’

‘Liam, I don’t understand. Are you saying you broke a rule?’

‘I’ve changed. I was the straight-laced man, known for it. But that’s not me anymore. Maybe it never was. Remember Pond Street?’

‘Liam, this doesn’t make sense. “Never was?” Did you do something wrong? If you did something wrong, it’s understandable. You’d just found Joe’s mother dead and–’

‘No. No. Pond Street. I took a suspect to a crime scene, remember? No solicitor, no recorded interview. That was wrong. There was no dead mother of my son back then.’

‘Liam, stop. You’re doubting yourself and you shouldn’t. You’re a good man, a fine police officer. But with all this, I think you need help.’

He didn’t agree, but it would do no good to make Liz worry about him. ‘You’re right. I’m attending an appointment tomorrow, and hopefully that will… let’s say cheer me up. Get me straight. Look, I need to go see Joe. I’ll call you tomorrow maybe.’

He didn’t need help at all. And he wasn’t really concerned about getting in trouble for police misconduct. He was worried about the kind of man he’d become. Even now, knowing he had heartbreaking news to give Joe, he couldn’t shake the anger he felt towards himself. He had failed Lorraine and Joe, and he had failed the Turtons. Trying to be a good