The Bonds of Blood

Book 4: DI Dani Stephens

by Rob Sinclair

Genres: Thrillers; Crime & Mystery; Crime Fiction

Synopsis

Annie and Terry Eccles seemed to have it all, until one night they are brutally murdered in their bed.

Called in to head up the case, DI Dani Stephens delves into the couple's past, quickly realising that beneath the comfortable veneer of this apparently golden family, lies uncomfortable truths.

But when Dani finds her own safety threatened, it becomes clear that someone wants those truths to remain hidden – whatever it takes...

Perfect for fans of Stuart Macbride and Peter James, this is a completely original and utterly unputdownable crime thriller from a modern master.

Release date: May 20, 2021

Publisher: Canelo Hera

Print pages: 296

Sample

PROLOGUE

 

‘Hey,’ she said, her voice soft and smooth, the perfect complement to her luscious, silky skin and her dazzling eyes which were firmly set on him as he idled towards her.

She had sunk down into an armchair, her blonde hair draped over her left shoulder, legs crossed one over the other, bare skin visible all the way up to—

‘Terry!’

His name the simple command carried a whole weight of instruction. He stopped and turned. Annie, his wife, was sitting in an armchair opposite. Her clothes were more formal than the younger woman’s more elegant and her face was made up strategically. She’d made an effort and there was no doubt she looked good, despite being a couple of decades older than the woman Terry had been heading for.

The strangest thing was the look on Annie’s face. Not as aggressive, or as angry as he’d imagined it would be in this moment. Almost curious.

‘Honey,’ he said to his wife. ‘How about getting me another drink?’

He wiggled the glass in his hand. He’d forgotten he’d had that there. He looked down to it and saw the pint was still nearly full. He took a large swig. The beer was warm and weak.

‘Looks like I’m nearly out,’ he said, yet despite the large gulp, the glass seemed even more full now, and Annie even more suspicious.

She stood up from the chair as her eyes flitted between Terry and the other woman. Then she walked off. Out of the door. To the bar?

There were still plenty of people left in the sprawling and brightly lit room, but no one other than the leggy blonde was paying any attention to Terry now.

He took another good look around. What was this place anyway?

He didn’t recognise it.

‘Come on then,’ she said, her lips moving seductively as she spoke. How did she do that?

She was on her feet, her swaying hips exaggerated as she stepped closer to him. The increased pressure in his already tight jeans was palpable, though he wasn’t apprehensive in the slightest about what the other people around him would think. Empty handed now, he wrapped his arms around her waist as she pressed up against him and tickled his neck with those amazingly soft lips.

‘No, not here,’ he said, though he realised his words weren’t even half-hearted.

‘Don’t worry, Annie won’t mind. She already knows.’

His eyes went wide for a second, but his surprise at her words didn’t last long. Sod it. Annie, if she didn’t already know, would have to find out somehow, sooner or later. Wouldn’t she? Why not now?

Why not here? Wherever the hell here was.

Where were they?

It didn’t matter. Moments later they were enjoying a deep kiss.

Her hand reached around to undo his belt.

WHOOMPH.

Terry jolted at the unexpected noise. Where’d that come from?

He didn’t pull back from the kiss.

WHOOMPH.

Louder this time. A wet, thudding sound. He jolted again. Like he was bouncing.

Whatever.

They were lying down on the floor now, her blonde hair smothering him, their bodies entwined. How could he ever say no to this woman?

‘Oh, Terry,’ she murmured.

She had said his name… except… no, that was crazy to think. WHOOMPH.

Even more focused this time. And the thud was accompanied by a murmur. Not a murmur. A moan. A groan. Of surprise. Pain.

And it was definitely Annie… Terry opened his eyes with a start.

Darkness. Not complete darkness. A shadow moving. WHOOMPH.

He was in bed. His bedroom.

‘Annie!’

Terry sprang upright, or at least he tried to. The blow to the side of his head sent him crashing back down onto the pillow.

The pillow. The bed. His bed. His home. His weary brain was still trying desperately to recalibrate.

SMACK.

Another blow to the head and Terry sank further down.

Wetness. That was the sensation that he felt most vividly. No smell. No taste. Just wetness. The pillow was covered. The sheet beneath him too.

WHOOMPH.

Another thwack. The bed jolted. His eyes were still adjusting to the light, but then that big shadow above him moved again. A figure, tall. It moved to the side and a shaft of light broke through from the gap between the bedroom door and the hallway and onto the bed, the glow enough to light up Annie’s face. Her face. Eyes bulbous and pleading. Mouth half open in a silent cry for help. The red of blood everywhere.

Her lips twitched. A bubble of blood burst from her mouth, but no words came. The figure brought down the weapon with another almighty clatter. Annie’s body shuddered. A helpless exhale of air escaped her lips.

The next moment the figure jumped up onto the bed. The mattress sank from the weight. Terry tried to move but his limbs felt distant. The figure held the weapon aloft. Terry’s already weary eyes followed as it hurtled towards him. The only reaction he could muster was to blink his eyes shut as contact was made.

No pain. Not exactly. The weapon was pulled up, and whacked back down again. Onto his head this time.

Onto? No, not onto. Into. Somehow he could feel it inside his head.

It stuck. His eyes twitched. His vision blurred. Blood? The figure stamped down onto Terry’s belly to yank the weapon free.

‘Fuck’s sake!’ That voice…

Terry tried desperately to place it, as though it would make a difference now.

The dripping blade of the axe hung over his head for what felt like an age.

Then came down once more. After that, there was nothing.

 

 

CHAPTER 1

March

 

Winter had been long and cold, and the temperature outside was still chilly when Dani had arrived at West Midlands Police HQ in central Birmingham shortly after seven a.m. But as Dani stepped out of the revolving doors at nine, and into a block of warm sunshine that had somehow found its way between the tall buildings surrounding her, she wondered whether perhaps spring had finally arrived.

She certainly needed it.

She headed across the road towards and then past Snowhill Station, then further along Colmore Row with St Philip’s Cathedral standing proud to her left. She took the turning onto Church Street where a hundred yards down, nestled between two office blocks, was a trendy new coffee shop she hadn’t been to before.

As she stepped inside, she was greeted with an industrial cum- shabby chic interior, and a big blackboard with some eye-watering city centre prices. A quick glance at the offerings and she realised this cafe was about as unique as the myriad other establishments around the business district. Still, the coffee smelled damn good, and the array of cakes and pastries looked even better.

Dani didn’t head to the counter to order one, though. Briana Clark was already seated in the corner of the cafe, two steaming mugs on the table in front of her.

Dani walked over, not sure whether to be pleasantly impressed or perturbed by the fact her drink had been chosen and bought for her.

‘I got you a cappuccino,’ Briana said. ‘It’s what you normally have, right?’

It was. At least on the last three occasions that Dani had met the journalist like this, though there was still something about the act of presumption that irked.

‘Thank you,’ Dani said as she briefly looked around at the near empty cafe before taking a seat. Briana smiled and pushed a pair of thick rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. With her long, straight, silky reddish hair, her svelte figure but downbeat clothes, Briana reminded Dani of one of those teen movies where the obviously already pretty geek gets bullied, until one day she has the most dramatic makeover ever by taking her glasses off and putting on some skimpy clothing. Then, all of a sudden, everyone likes her and she gets the boy.

Pretty, in an understated and effortless way, was an easier way of putting it.

Dani was jealous.

‘How’s everything going?’ Briana asked. ‘Busy. Which is both good and bad.’

Briana didn’t seem to know how to take that. Dani wasn’t even sure about it. Because of course it would be a good thing if there weren’t so many murders in the West Midlands. Wouldn’t it?

‘How’s Jason?’

Dani squirmed a little at the enquiry about her boyfriend, though Briana didn’t seem to notice.

‘He’s fine, thanks for asking. Getting stronger every day. What about you?’

‘Oh, Joey’s settling in really well at his new pre-school. He’ll be ready for the big start in September in no time.’

Dani nodded and smiled as she took a quick sip from her coffee. Hopefully that was the personal talk done with. She wasn’t really the personable type. Never had been, and was even less so these days after… no, she didn’t want to think about that right now.

‘So what can I do for you?’ she asked.

Briana shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’m guessing you saw the paper yesterday.’

Dani had. There was always a copy in the office of the latest Birmingham Mail – the city’s evening tabloid – and it wasn’t at all unusual for the front-page story to be related to the work of the Homicide team. Even though Dani herself hadn’t been mentioned in the story, yesterday’s headline had nearly made her head explode when she’d first spotted it. A38 VICTIM’S HISTORY OF VIOLENCE. Not so much a hatchet job as a sensationalist piece of propaganda that was sure to add a ton weight to the defence’s position.

‘I did,’ Dani said.

Briana looked down at the table. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘It’s fine,’ Dani said, not really feeling it. ‘But it might have been more helpful if you’d held back until after you’d spoken to me.’

‘I tried, honestly, but… slow news days, and all that. And I did try to speak to you—’

Dani waved the excuses away. ‘It’s done now.’ ‘So…’

‘So what?’

‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’

Dani shook her head, doing a bad job of hiding her agitation. She was trying to remain calm and courteous here. She quite liked Briana. Of all the journalists she dealt with, Briana seemed to have the most common sense, the most decency, and the most favourable view of the Police Force. All of that was why Dani was willing to have these little tête-à-têtes. Well, and because her boss, DCI McNair, had suggested it was about time Dani made and maintained such acquaintances, not just in the press but all over. But whether that was more to help build Dani’s profile in order for her to be groomed for higher things, or to help protect McNair when things went wrong, Dani still wasn’t quite sure.

She liked Briana. Yet to Dani the relationship still felt so one-sided. What was she actually gaining from this? The problem was, she was naturally wary of any journalist these days. Largely because she herself had had her name and her life dragged through the papers more than once in the past. Most painfully, a few years ago when she’d been caught up in a murder investigation which had ended with her twin brother, Ben, the chief suspect. Ben, who later attempted to murder both Dani and his second wife Gemma, in order to hide his other crimes.

Dani sighed. Briana looked bemused, but how to explain that it remained difficult to spend more than five waking minutes without somehow being reminded of her murderous brother?

Ben was now locked up for life. Dani had suffered permanent brain damage from the attack. She was a traumatic brain injury – TBI – survivor, though her survival had come at a cost. Firstly, in the negative press against her and her family, but most significantly in the permanent changes to her personality caused by the irreparable damage to her frontal lobes. She wasn’t the same Dani as before. She was more angry, more on edge, more irritable, more selfish and less empathetic. Though she tried as hard as she could to hide those now natural traits. Like right now.

‘Dani?’ Briana prompted.

‘Sorry,’ Dani said, coming out of her thoughts. ‘I can’t tell you much, I’m afraid. It’s too early.’

Briana seemed genuinely disappointed by that. As though a cappuccino was the surefire way to Dani’s heart and soul, and having played her trump card she was now out of ideas.

‘Will Clinton Harrison be charged with murder?’ she asked. ‘He’s been arrested on suspicion of murder.’

Briana’s perky exterior dropped fractionally with each of Dani’s vague and diverting answers.

‘A lot of people are saying what he did was justified,’ Briana continued. ‘That they would have done the same thing in his position. What do you think?’

‘That’s not for me to decide.’ ‘But you must have an opinion.’

‘And you must know by now I’m not going to give it to you if I don’t want to.’

‘Which tells me a lot,’ Briana said, sitting back in her seat. She looked more confident all of a sudden, like a barrister who’d just cornered a troublesome witness. ‘Because plenty of times I’ve seen you denounce people you’ve arrested and charged. You tell the press things like another killer is off our streets, long before the jury’s announced their verdict, before trial even. But you’re obviously holding back with Harrison.’

‘Because what happened on the A38 was an absolutely exceptional circumstance. And I’m sure you’ll appreciate it’s barely twenty-four hours after the event.’

Briana held Dani’s eye now. A challenging look. Dani didn’t appreciate it. This was the first time she’d felt like this with Briana. As though she were under the cosh. Why now? Especially after the friendly set-up.

‘And what about Dylan Roberts?’ Briana said.

‘He’s dead. And your paper has already smeared him as being a bad guy who probably deserved it. So what exactly are you asking?’

‘Were you aware of his criminal past?’

‘Me personally? No. I’m a Homicide detective. Roberts has never been involved in one of my investigations before. But yes, I’m now aware he had a criminal record. Do I think that meant he deserved to be beaten to death? No, I don’t. Do you?’

‘Me? I… er…’

‘You don’t know? Then I’m really not sure what the purpose of your headline and your story was yesterday.’

Briana looked a little offended by that. Dani picked up her drink and took a couple of hot mouthfuls, trying to get to the bottom of the cup as quickly as she could. Her tongue and the roof of her mouth stung but she battled through.

‘You have something else to get to?’ Briana asked.

Dani looked at her watch. She did, but not for forty minutes, though Briana seemed to be giving her an invitation to leave. As though she too had had enough this time.

‘Yeah,’ Dani said, finishing her coffee at the fourth attempt and doing her best to hide the pain.

‘I am sorry,’ Briana said as Dani got to her feet. ‘It’s fine. But please, next time—’

‘I’ll definitely speak to you first. But… I hope you’ll do the same for me too? There’s a lot of public interest in this one.’

Dani paused, but then nodded. Perhaps Briana wasn’t really asking for much. ‘Speak to you soon.’

*    *    *

Five minutes later Dani was re-entering HQ. She still had half an hour before the scheduled meeting with Clinton Harrison and his lawyer. In only a few hours Dani and her team would have to decide whether they were charging him with murder – and if not, with what?

The open-plan office space taken up by the Homicide team was about as busy as ever, with nearly a dozen heads sticking up over the desk dividers. DS Easton – Dani’s go-to sergeant and the closest thing she had to a classic partner – spotted Dani as she headed to her own desk and he was soon by her side, looking bright and breezy.

‘How’d it go?’ he asked.

Dani rolled her eyes in response. ‘Are we—’ He held up his hand to stop her.

‘Yes, we’re all set, but first, Boss wants to see you.’ He indicated over to DCI McNair’s closed door. ‘Anything I should be worried about?’ Dani asked.

‘She didn’t say. But on the pissed-off scale I’d say she’s only about three.’

‘Out of—’

‘Out of more than three.’ ‘Good start.’

Dani took off her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair before heading over to McNair’s office. She knocked on the door. ‘Come in.’

Dani opened the door, stepped inside, then shut it behind her. McNair, glasses perched on the end of her nose, was sitting on the edge of her seat staring at her computer screen. McNair was formally dressed – as ever – in a plain-looking grey suit. Her short but neatly styled brown hair, her glasses and her overly stiff appearance reminded Dani of a stereotypical schoolmistress from years gone by. She was about as strict too. Many referred to her as a ballbreaker. Dani, even though she hated that sexist term, had thought of McNair as that plenty of times in the past, though the longer she worked with the DCI and the more experienced and senior Dani herself became, the more she realised McNair was a strong but fair copper. And the more Dani realised that she was probably a lot more like McNair than she’d ever care to admit.

Dani’s eyes rested on the copy of the Birmingham Mail on the desk, the paper folded in such a way as to clearly show the front-page headline. Obviously.

Dani looked up from the paper and caught McNair’s eye. Mc-Nair gave her a look as though she’d spotted her child rooting in the sweetie jar without permission.

‘Yes, about that,’ she said. ‘Come and sit down.’ Dani did so.

‘I understand you met with this Briana Clark just now,’ McNair said, as she tapped the journalist’s byline on the paper.

‘Basically, so she could apologise for that,’ Dani said, indicating the same.

‘A bit late.’

‘Which is pretty much what I told her.’

‘So you didn’t know they were running this beforehand?’ ‘She tried to speak to me yesterday but we never managed it.’

McNair gave Dani a dubious look, like she wasn’t sure whose fault the failed communication was. Neither was Dani.

Then McNair sighed and sat back in her chair.

‘And you’re speaking with Harrison at ten?’ she said. ‘That’s the plan.’

‘His lawyer has no doubt seen the paper by now.’ ‘It would be weird if he hadn’t.’

The office fell silent. Dani got the impression McNair expected her to say something else.

‘We’ll just have to wait and see how it plays out,’ Dani said.

McNair humphed. ‘Because when has winging it ever backfired?’

‘That’s not quite what I meant.’

McNair waved that away. ‘Tell me everything you know so far. I was trying to find the footage on here but the damn thing won’t let me into anything.’

She slammed the mouse onto the table in retaliation for the computer’s apparent obstinance.

‘Is it OK if I bring Grayling in?’ McNair nodded.

A minute later DC Grayling – the youngest member of the team, but certainly not the least capable – was hovering over McNair’s desk as she set her laptop down for both Dani and McNair to see. Claire Grayling, in her mid-twenties, jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair and general attitude laidback – though not unprofessionally so – was so far removed from McNair in both appearance and attitude that it was amazing they could function effectively as part of the same team. They could, because both were abundantly competent in their roles. Grayling was just far more technologically adept than the boss.

‘You were looking for the video footage?’ Grayling said. ‘We have quite a combination. CCTV from various angles, particularly in the build-up and aftermath, but not so much for the incident itself. Then we have seven mobile phone videos of varying quality and lengths that we’ve gathered so far. No single video covers everything, though, so it’s a bit of a patchwork in terms of trying to look at events from start to finish.’

‘Just start with whatever’s best,’ McNair said.

‘Let me try,’ Grayling responded. She typed away furiously on the keyboard, opening folders and files. The screen flickered as a combination of videos popped up. Grayling then chose one and hit play. ‘This is a good place to start.’

‘Where is that?’ McNair said, eyes narrowing as she stared at the screen.

‘Halton Street. It’s just off the A38, not far from Fort Dunlop. About half a mile from… where it happened. This is the first capture we have – or have found at least – of Harrison and his son.’

They watched the five-second clip over and over, Dani with a strange feeling of grim inevitability. Clinton Harrison’s older son, Tyler, was twelve years old. He and his dad had been out on what would have been an eleven-mile cycle, but had made less than two.

‘Then this one shows Dylan Roberts, approaching the junction just around the corner from there. He’s in the blue van.’

‘A Mercedes Sprinter,’ Dani added. ‘And he was alone?’ McNair asked. ‘Yes,’ Dani said.

‘Where was he going?’

Dani looked to Grayling. ‘It’s one of the things we’re still trying to piece together.’

Another humph from McNair. ‘There’s no indication Harrison and Roberts knew each other?’

‘Nothing yet.’

‘OK, so what next?’ McNair said.

All eyes returned to the screen. ‘This is less than two minutes later,’ Grayling said. ‘A little further up the A38, about a mile away from Spaghetti Junction. That’s Roberts’ Sprinter in the foreground.

You can just make out Tyler Harrison on his bike in the left-hand lane, right at the top. Clinton was a few yards further ahead, out of shot.’

Grayling sighed. ‘Now this is where it gets more sketchy. The actual incident was in a CCTV black spot, by all of two yards. So we can see the build-up of traffic. We see people on their feet, rushing to the scene. We even see some of the people who were filming on their phones.’

‘Any who we haven’t tracked down yet?’ McNair asked.

‘At least four. But no CCTV of the scene itself. Just mobile phone footage of the immediate aftermath.’

‘OK, show me.’

‘I have to say, if you haven’t seen this already, it’s…’

Grayling didn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence. Mc-Nair blinked sombrely at the incomplete warning. If a blink could be such a thing. Dani’s heart thudded hard in her chest as the next video opened. She’d seen this one. She wished she hadn’t.

Grayling turned the volume up a couple of notches and the shouts and calls and screams – surprise, shock, terror – filled the room. The initial grainy image cleared to show a scene of carnage and horror. Vehicles at a stop all over. The blue Sprinter van took up much of the screen.

Dani’s eyes flitted to the bike in the bottom right-hand corner. The child’s bike, the metal and rubber torn and twisted almost beyond recognition. The gleaming silver frame, and the tarmac all around, glistened red with blood. The crumpled body of Tyler Harrison lay unmoving next to it. Only his bedraggled feet and legs were in view, the rest of him off-screen. Thankfully. Dani had seen footage from the other angles too. Had seen what was left of poor Tyler. She’d nearly thrown up at that.

There was a shriek of terror from a female bystander and Dani’s eyes switched back to the mêlée. Roberts on the ground, himself unmoving now, and covered in his own blood. Harrison, all six feet five of him, musclebound, raging and sobbing and out of control, stood over Roberts as he rained down blows on his victim’s head with the heel of his shoe.

One, two, three bystanders tried and failed to haul Harrison away, to no avail, before he eventually seemed to see sense himself.

The video came to an end with only Roberts and Tyler on screen. ‘There’s another one.’

McNair held up her hand. ‘No, I get the picture.’

Her face was paler than before. Like for so many others who’d seen this, Dani wondered if it was the horror of Tyler’s death that had affected her so much, rather than the savage beating that had ended Roberts’ life. And it was surely the horror of Tyler’s death which had led to his father’s violent outburst. Wasn’t it?

‘Paramedics attended Roberts as soon as they arrived on the scene,’ Dani said. ‘He was still breathing but was dead before they got him into the ambulance. Harrison remained there the whole time, by

Tyler’s side.’

Dani shivered at her own words. What must the father have been going through in those moments as he held his son’s mangled body in his hands?

She glanced to the clock. Ten minutes to ten. She’d rarely been so reluctant to interview a murder suspect before.

‘Have we got a clear account of what actually happened to Tyler to prompt this?’

‘Four witness statements so far from other drivers, all giving a more or less consistent account,’ Grayling said. ‘There’ll certainly be more to come too. What we’ve been told is Roberts was speeding on the A38, had been for a few miles along the dual carriageway. It’s 40 mph along most of that stretch, with traffic lights every couple of hundred yards. He was said to be driving erratically, cutting in and out of lanes at each set of lights to beat the traffic. But it sounds like the collision was… I don’t know.’

‘What?

‘Accidental. But potentially still caused by dangerous driving. What we’ve heard is that Roberts had just pulled into the outside lane, where the Harrisons were cycling. They were only going to be on the main road for less than a quarter of a mile. Roberts was accelerating to go past them when Tyler’s bike swerved. It’s not clear why. A pothole. A drain cover. The Sprinter nudged the back end and sent Tyler over the handlebars. Roberts did brake,  apparently, but… obviously we can’t see exactly, but somehow Tyler got stuck under the wheels and…’

Grayling trailed off, but the gory images were ingrained. McNair let out a long and sorrowful sigh. ‘And we’ve just seen the rest.’

The room fell silent for a few moments. Dani’s brain whirred. McNair looked to her. ‘We need to keep our emotions out of this.

This was a horrible, tragic event, but don’t get caught up in that. We have to remain objective. Clinton Harrison killed a man in cold blood. We need to not lose sight of that, even if we think the motive is clear cut.’

Dani and Grayling both nodded.

‘We’ll look into both men,’ Dani said. ‘Explore whether there’s any connection at all.’

‘And I do want to figure out where Roberts was going or coming from in such a hurry. Aside from the Clinton Harrison issue, at the very least there’ll be an inquiry into his son’s death. Make sure we know exactly what happened. I haven’t spoken to the CPS yet, but however much anyone feels sorry for Clinton, from what you’ve just shown me I don’t see how we could do anything other than charge him with murder.’

There was a knock on the door. All three of them turned as the door inched open and Easton poked his head inside.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Talk about timing.’ ‘What is it?’

‘I’ve just had a call from uniform at a scene in Sutton Coldfield.

Suspected double murder.’

Dani’s heart raced as all eyes turned to her. Was that at the mention of Sutton Coldfield?

She glanced to the clock again. Five minutes to ten. ‘I’m happy to attend on my own,’ Easton said, ‘but—’ ‘There’s no other DI available?’ McNair said.

Easton shook his head.

Dani looked to her boss. Could McNair read her mind?

‘You know what?’ McNair said. ‘Let me deal and Grayling deal with Harrison.’

Rarely had Dani felt so relieved to be informed of a new murder.

What had she said to Briana earlier about being busy?

Moments later, she and Easton were heading for her car.