Twisted Lies

by Angela Marsons

Genres: Mystery; Mystery Anthologies & Collections; Police Procedurals; Female Sleuths; Crime Fiction; Suspense

Synopsis

Her stomach lurches as she sits in the windowless room. He throws her phone to the ground, grinds it against the floor with the heel of his shoe and brings his face closer to hers. There was no turning back now, her life as she knew it was gone. When the lifeless body of a man is found on an industrial estate, Detective Kim Stone arrives on the scene and discovers he’s been tortured in the worst way imaginable. But as she breaks the devastating news to the victim’s wife, Diane Phipps, Kim can’t help feeling that something isn’t quite right about the woman’s reaction. Twenty-four hours later, the victim’s family disappears into thin air. Then a second body is found staked to the ground in a local nature reserve. Desperate to crack the case open quickly, Kim and her team unravel a vital clue – a fiercely guarded secret that links both victims and could cost even more lives. A secret that some police officers are also protecting. Faced with deceit from those she should be able to trust, family members who won’t talk, and local reporter, Tracy Frost, opening a can of worms on the case of a woman murdered by her husband a year ago – Kim is in deep water like never before. Kim must find the motive if she is to find the killer who is systematically targeting and torturing his victims. But can she unlock the shocking truth and stop him before he strikes again? An absolutely jaw-dropping crime thriller from the number one, multi-million-copy bestselling author of the incredibly addictive Detective Kim Stone series. What readers are saying about Twisted Lies : ‘ OMG!!! SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO US ANGELA!!!! JUST WOW!!!! Seriously love, love LOVED this book!!!!..I was on the edge of my seat, biting my nails whilst feeling my heart pounding into the silly hours of the morning.... This is one of the best books I have ever read!!!! An absolute MUST READ!!!’ Bookworm86, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘The jack, queen, king and ace of crime fiction…It keeps on delivering, and you can't stop reading it until the fantastic ending… Another mesmerizing and riveting read! I find it insulting to even rate it giving between one to five stars, because how many stars should you give to the sun?’ The World Is Ours To Read, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘I must have uttered WTF out loud and in full many times…this may just be the best one in the series so far. I read it one afternoon… I devoured the pages, and couldn't get enough.’ Rachel’s Random Reads, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘The most gripping, complicated, compelling and exciting outing for Kim Stone yet. You really won't be able to put it down.’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘You are thrown straight into the action…I was invested in this book from the first page… gripping, thrilling and the plot moves at a great pace… my favourite book of the year.’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Gripping, clever, unputdownable, thrilling and the plot moves at a great pace…I dare to say that this one is the best of the fourteen Kim Stone books…This book deserves MORE THAN FIVE STARS…’ Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘You won’t want to put it down until you’ve finished… chilling, brutal and stomach churning…I did find myself reading open mouthed as the plot begins to unfold... will make your heart beat faster and keep you hooked from the first page…Angela Marsons is undoubtedly the Queen of Crime!! Fab, fab, fab – what more can I say!!’ Stardust Book Reviews, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ WOW! Just Wow! This book has taken me on an emotional roller coaster… I’ve definitely given this book 6 out of 5.’ John’s Book Shelf, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Exceptional…I was hooked from the very first page… 1000% recommend.’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Release date: May 13, 2021

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

She sits in a room that is nothing more than a magnolia-coloured square box without windows. A small arc of spotty damp is forming in the corner to the left of the door.

The single metal chair digs into the back of her thighs. It is not built for comfort. The steel table is a simple square with smear marks wiped across it. She looks around, although there is nothing more to see, and her heart races even though she knows she’s done nothing wrong.

How long will she be here? Who will open the locked door and come to get her?

Despite the assurances she gives herself that she is safe, her hands knit together in her lap and begin squeezing each other to release the tension building there.

Her stomach lurches as she hears footsteps and then a key in the lock. She is apprehensive but eager to know what comes next.

Two men enter the room dressed in jeans and polo shirts. She has not seen either of them before. They don’t lock the door. Does that mean they are finally taking her from this room?

She looks from one to the other but doesn’t speak.

Her hands are squeezing the life out of each other beneath the table.

One man approaches while the other stays close to the door. He leans against the wall and folds his arms. Is he guarding the door in case she tries to run?

‘Give me your phone,’ says the man who has approached the table.

Unwittingly her left leg has developed a very slight tremble.

‘Is th-that really necessary?’ she asks as the quiver from her leg works its way up to her tongue.

She sees the hint of a smile which he quickly hides behind his emotionless face.

He is pleased she is nervous.

He holds out his hand in response to the question.

The man at the door yawns. He is either tired or bored. How many times has he done this before?

She reaches into her back pocket and takes out her phone. She hesitates as though she is handing over a part of herself.

That one device contains many things she needs to live: contacts; photos; social media; appointments; reminders.

‘Will I get it back?’ she asks, trying to force confidence into her tone.

He takes the phone from her hand, removes the SIM card and tosses the phone to his colleague, who catches it.

They have done this before. They are following a script.

The man in front of her throws the SIM card to the ground and uses the heel of his shoe to grind it against the floor. Metal and plastic split open against concrete.

Her gasp is audible as she considers what he has just destroyed.

He lays his hands palm down on the table and brings his face closer to hers.

‘It’s time for you to understand that your life as you knew it is gone.’

‘Sir, are you kidding me?’ Kim asked, looking for any trace of humour in his expression.

The response in her head had been: Have you been smoking crystal meth?, and she was momentarily relieved that her mouth had translated that thought to a more suitable response to offer to her boss, DCI Woodward.

The relief didn’t last long, as she found no hint of amusement anywhere on his face.

‘No, I’m not kidding, Stone,’ he responded.

Kim was tempted to make use of the seat he sometimes offered but she rarely took, but his last statement to her warranted it on this occasion.

She forced herself to remain standing. Her last hope was that she’d misheard.

‘Surely this is some kind of joke, because I’d swear you just said you’d sanctioned Tracy Frost spending a day with us, which obviously would mean you’d gone and lost your—’

‘We owe her, Stone,’ he said, cutting her off just in time.

Yes, she knew that. Only a couple of weeks ago, the reporter for the Dudley Star had helped them make contact with a killer who had kidnapped a six-year-old boy. She understood that some kind of thanks was in order.

‘Fine, I’ll buy the woman a coffee, take her for lunch. You could send flowers, but allowing her unrestricted access to us for an entire day is nothing short o—’

‘It’s not unrestricted. She is to remain with you and Bryant at all times.’

‘Yeah, that helps,’ Kim said as he destroyed the cunning plan of sitting her beside Stacey while she filed police statements.

‘Stone, do I need to remind you that because of her co-operation a little boy’s life was spared?’

Kim tried to quell the irritation that formed in her stomach.

‘To be fair, sir, I think we had a little something to do with that too.’

‘It’s our job; it isn’t hers.’

Good point but she wasn’t done yet.

‘But just imagine the article she could write. It could seriously damage the image and reputation of th—’

‘Stone, she can only write what she sees, so I have total trust in you to demonstrate that we are driven, compassionate and professional.’

‘You do?’ Kim asked, surprised. Maybe she should send Frost out with Bryant alone.

‘And I’ve arranged with her editor to see any article before it’s published.’

Of course he had. She should have known he wouldn’t allow Frost total control over what got printed; in gaining that control, he had removed her last argument.

She glanced at the stress ball that sat to the side of his mouse mat. He still used it in her presence sometimes, but not as often as he used to.

‘Take it,’ he said, following her gaze. ‘It’s going to be an interesting day.’

‘Why did you choose… oh, hang on, I know your game.’

‘I have no game,’ he said, feigning ignorance. ‘It’s a slow day. You have no major case on right now, so it works well for everyone.’

The bitter taste in her mouth was still hard to swallow, but it wasn’t choking her quite as much.

Her first visit of the day was to the family of Trisha Morley, a 27-year-old woman murdered by her husband just over a year earlier.

Nick Morley was a barrister who fought human rights cases and won almost every case he touched, earning him the nickname of Nick Midas. Building a case against the enigmatic man had been difficult enough, despite finding body parts of Trisha on his property.

So impeccable was his image that, despite the forensic evidence, the trial had ended in a hung jury and a mistrial had been declared.

His new trial was due to begin the following week, and Kim wanted to assure the family they were confident of getting a conviction. And she wished that were true.

The man himself had employed an expensive PR firm, and barely a day went by without some kind of article appearing in the tabloids about his generosity and good work. They were peddling the public perception train for all it was worth, and although it shouldn’t make a difference, it did.

Neither the police force nor the family of Trisha Morley had the means to compete, but a mention of the victim’s suffering and that of her family in the local news wouldn’t hurt either, she realised, glancing at the wily old fox whose expression revealed nothing. He had certainly chosen his day well.

‘Okay, have it your own way, but I’m not going to be nice to her and she’s not getting to sit up front.’

She headed towards the door and then turned back.

She reached over and grabbed the stress ball.

‘And you can bet your ass I’m gonna need this.’

‘We’re doing what?’ Bryant asked as she shared the good news back in the squad room.

‘Taking a reporter for a day trip.’

‘But why that particular reporter?’ he asked of Tracy Frost.

‘Because we owe her apparently.’

He thought for a second and then nodded either his understanding or his agreement.

Oh, there were times she wished she could be a bit more like Bryant. Her level-headed and pragmatic partner had the ability to adjust to a new situation quickly, but inside she was still seething from having Tracy Frost foisted upon them.

‘And I caught that look,’ she said to the other two members of her team.

Both DC Stacey Wood and DS Penn knew of the thorny relationship between herself and the reporter.

‘Not sure what you’re looking so smug about; you two are taking her for lunch.’

If they made it as far as lunchtime without her murdering the woman, she was pretty sure both she and Bryant would need the break.

‘No probs, boss,’ Stacey said, offering the bright smile that had been glued to her face since her recent nuptials.

Kim got the feeling she could throw anything at Stacey right now and it would bounce right off her. The thought reminded her of the long overdue conversation she’d been meaning to have.

‘Stace, remind me later, once we get rid of Frost, that you and I need to have a quick chat.’

A soft cloud crossed the bright horizon of the officer’s expression.

‘Nothing wrong,’ she quickly reassured her colleague. Despite her growing ability and self-confidence over the years, Stacey still worried that she’d made some kind of mistake.

‘Okay, Bryant, we’re up,’ Kim said as a movement out the window caught her eye. Frost’s white Audi TT had just pulled into a visitor’s parking space.

‘Already looking forward to it,’ he said, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair.

She grabbed hers as they passed the spare desk.

‘So how are you going to convince this family that we’re going to get a conviction this time?’ her colleague asked as they headed down the stairs.

‘I’ll let you know when the words come out my mouth,’ she answered honestly.

‘Even my missus said it was difficult to believe he’d done it after reading one of the latest articles.’

‘Then we’d best be glad your missus isn’t on the jury next week.’

But that was the problem. Jenny Bryant was one of the most objective and decent people Kim had ever come across. If even she doubted his guilt, it did not bode well for the forthcoming trial.

One problem at a time, she resolved, stepping out of the front door of the station.

Frost hastily threw a half-smoked cigarette to the ground and stamped on it, right beside the ‘No Smoking’ sign.

‘Hey, Inspector, thought you’d keep me waiting longer than this,’ Frost said, straightening her navy trouser suit.

Yeah, ten to fifteen years if it had been up to me, Kim thought.

‘Frost, you should know right off the bat that—’

‘You disagree with this, that I’m to do whatever you say and not get in your way at any point.’

‘Yeah, there’s more. Don’t look at people, don’t engage them, don’t scribble noisily in your little notebook. Don’t eat or drink in Bryant’s car. Don’t annoy m—’

‘So, basically, pretend I’m not even here.’

‘Exactly, and I have only one more rule, which is that you’re not allowed to speak, at all, ever,’ Kim said, Frost teetering behind them as they headed towards Bryant’s Astra Estate.

‘Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.’

‘Worth a shot,’ Kim said to Bryant across the car roof as he opened the driver’s door.

Frost’s four-inch stiletto heel caught between two paving slabs as she eased herself into the back seat.

‘Frost, why the hell do you…? Oh never mind,’ she said, closing her own door.

The question died in her mouth when she remembered that Frost had one leg shorter than the other, something for which she knew Frost had been mercilessly bullied at school. Now people thought her unnatural gait was due to the high heels she wore. And that was her intention.

Frost shimmied to the centre of the back seat so she could see through the middle of them.

A high-pitched squeak sounded from behind.

‘What the…?’

‘Dog’s toy,’ Bryant answered. ‘Just toss it on the floor,’ he advised Frost before looking Kim’s way and shrugging. ‘I didn’t know we were gonna have company.’

Kim sighed heavily. It was going to be a long bloody day.

‘Reminds me of one of the Lethal Weapon films,’ Frost said with humour in her voice. ‘I just need to know if I’m Riggs or Murtaugh.’

‘Danny DeVito,’ Kim and Bryant said together.

‘Oh, proper little double act, eh?’ Frost said, snapping her seat belt into place.

Bryant started the car and pulled off towards the car park exit.

‘May as well get down to business,’ Frost said, rummaging in her Hermès bag. ‘I’m going to nee—’

‘Bryant,’ Kim said, turning to her colleague. ‘Did you just hear Frost try to tell us how this was going to work?’

She didn’t bother to wait for his answer before half turning in her seat.

‘Right, Frost, what you need is of little— actually, it’s of no importance to us. We are under instruction to let you tag along for no more than eight hours, excluding lunch and coffee breaks, so let’s call it six cos I’m feeling generous today, during which time you are to be all three wise monkeys and you shall see, hear and speak no evil. The last will be a challenge for you, but suck it up, buttercup. If for one minute you obstruct, interfere or impede anything we do, I’ll happily fly-tip you out of this vehicle and leave you on the side of the road. If you say one thing that annoys, irritates—’

‘Yeah, bored of the rules speech now, Stone. Just tell me where we’re going first.’

Kim took the stress ball from her pocket and gave it a quick squeeze.

Having to answer any question posed by Frost was galling to her. On a normal day she had the luxury of insulting the woman and walking away.

Sensing her annoyance, Bryant offered a response.

‘We’re going to see the family of Trisha Morley.’

‘The wife of Nick Morley whose retrial starts next week?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘Why?’ Frost asked.

Kim squeezed the ball again.

‘Because we want to assure the family that we’re doing everything we can to secure a conviction for the murder of Trisha.’

‘Yeah, I get that given the press coverage. They must be expecting him to get a sainthood instead of a prison sentence, considering his propaganda campaign. But why you? It wasn’t your case.’

‘There are reasons,’ Kim said.

‘Which are?’ she pushed.

‘None of your business.’

‘Okay,’ Frost said as she started scribbling in her notebook.

The action made Kim nervous. They had given her nothing.

Kim turned in her chair and glared. ‘What are you writing?’

Frost met her gaze. ‘Look, by the end of the day I’m gonna be writing an article. Strangely, my editor expects it, and if you’re not going to share anything with me, I’m going to have to make shit up.’

Kim felt the growl begin to form in her throat, but she pushed it back down.

‘Okay, the family doesn’t have a great deal of faith in the Brierley Hill team, but you can’t use that.’

‘Why have they got no faith? Is it because, despite all the evidence, the team failed to get a conviction the first time?’

Kim stole a glance at Bryant. ‘You’d have to ask them that.’

Yes, that was exactly the reason, but Kim wasn’t going to confirm it. The whole case around Trisha Morley had been a fiasco from start to finish, and Kim was glad her team had played no part in it. Her attendance was a favour to Brierley Hill and the press comms team. Trisha’s sister had been vocal about their shortcomings.

Suddenly Frost laughed out loud. ‘Ha, Detective Inspector Stone being sent on a PR exercise. Jesus, I could run with that angle alone for at least a week.’

Kim watched her knuckles turn white around the stress ball, and a muscle was jumping in Bryant’s jawline.

He glanced her way and a silent conversation took place.

Kim: Have we got this all day?

Bryant: Pretty much.

Kim: Permission to kill her?

Bryant: Not yet but maybe later.

Kim stared forward and stifled her irritation at the woman’s presence and knew that her colleague was trying to do the same thing.

‘Okay, so what’s th—?’

‘Frost, shut the fuck up,’ the two of them said together.

Bryant pulled up at the modest childhood home of Trisha Morley. Kim continued to consider the notion of herself being sent on a PR exercise; for once she was able to understand Frost’s mirth.

‘It’s a long way from Romsley,’ Frost observed, echoing all their thoughts.

They all knew the house Trisha had shared with her husband on St Kenelms Road, in the wealthiest part of Halesowen, was a property in the one million pounds plus bracket.

Just as they all knew that money had come from Nick Morley alone.

Trisha’s life had jumped from one end to the other of the lifestyle spectrum. The house they now stood before was a deteriorating mid-terrace in a street about a quarter mile from Dudley Castle.

The door of which was opened by a woman Kim guessed to be Trisha’s older sister.

‘Penny Colgan?’ Kim asked, extending her arm.

Penny nodded and shook it briefly before looking to the others.

‘My colleague, DS Bryant and Tracy Frost from the Dudley—’

‘She’s not coming in.’

Kim was tempted to agree with her, but for once felt obliged to defend the woman, not least because she knew what Woody was hoping to achieve by Frost being in on the meeting.

‘She’s here for us not you. To my knowledge, she hasn’t written anything positive about Nick Morley.’

Frost shook her head in agreement. ‘I haven’t.’

Penny hesitated then stepped aside for them to enter.

‘Mum’s getting ready to go out,’ Penny said, closing the door behind them.

‘How is she?’ Kim asked as the three of them tried to navigate the small room littered with toys.

‘Sorry,’ Penny said, grabbing everything she could and throwing it into a corner. She lowered herself to the floor as the three of them took a seat on the L-shaped sofa.

It was Kim’s understanding that Penny had given up her one-bed council flat to move back in with her mother when Trisha had first gone missing. Trisha and Penny’s father had died not long after Trisha had married Morley.

‘Will she be attending the new trial?’

‘No,’ Penny said. ‘We can’t sit through that again. It almost destroyed her the first time,’ she said, raising her eyes to the floorboards above that seemed to creak on cue. ‘She’s found some kind of routine that helps her get through the day. She plays with Riley; goes to the park most mornings; fusses over me… and God forbid the jury reaches—’

Penny stopped speaking as her mother came into the room.

‘Oh… hello…’

Kim stood. ‘Mrs Colgan, we’re—’

‘Police officers, yes, I can tell that,’ she said, although her gaze lingered on Frost.

‘She’s not important,’ Kim said, not realising how those words were going to sound outside of her head.

Laura Colgan shrugged, as though none of it was important, as she reached for her jacket.

‘Mrs Colgan, may we just trouble you for a few minutes?’

Laura shook her head. ‘I’m sorry but no,’ she said, circling a scarf around her neck. ‘There’s nothing you can say that will help me. I have to go.’

Kim could think of no reason to try and persuade her to stay when she really didn’t want to.

‘I’m sorry,’ Penny said as her mother left the house. ‘But she doesn’t have trust in any of you people anymore. She’s getting ready for the bastard to walk free in a few days, and there’s nothing we as a family can do about it.’

Kim caught the unsaid implication that other people could have done more.

‘We have every confidence that—’

‘Please,’ Penny said, holding up her hand. ‘Don’t make assurances that you’re powerless to keep. No one can predict what the jury is going to do. I just wish they could have known her,’ Penny said. ‘I wish you could all have known her. She’s been reduced to a statistic, a domestic violence victim, a poster child for every do-gooder to wave as an example of what might happen if you don’t get out of an abusive relationship. Everyone speaks of the shell she became, but there was so much more to her than the punch bag he turned her into.’

Kim said nothing as the woman glanced at the photo of the two of them hanging over the fireplace.

‘Look at her,’ Penny said. ‘She was beautiful, alive, vital.’

Kim had no argument. It was a posed photograph of the two of them, with Trisha probably late teens.

The similarity between the two of them was obvious, but it was as though the gods had taken more time arranging the features on Trisha’s face. The lips were slightly fuller, the blue eyes slightly brighter and the cheekbones just a little higher. Subtle differences that made a great impact.

‘No one cares that she hated spicy foods or that she always insisted on putting vinegar on chips before the salt, insisting that it made more chemical sense.’

Kim was happy to listen, as she had no idea what more she could do for this family. She had come to reassure them, but they didn’t want to hear that. It was as though they had resigned themselves to the worst possible outcome, and some part of her wondered if she was doing them some kind of disservice in trying to change their minds, when they were absolutely right that she could not guarantee a conviction. She only wished she could.

‘Okay, Ms Colgan, we’ll intrude no more,’ Kim said, rising. ‘But if there’s anything you need, give us a call.’ She handed the woman a card from her jacket pocket and headed for the front door.

Frost scrabbled her belongings together and offered a condolence before the front door was closed behind them.

‘Well, that was a waste of time, wasn’t it?’ Frost huffed as she waited for Bryant to unlock the car doors.

‘Told you already, Frost, you’re not getting any major headlines from us today.’

‘Yeah, it’s hardly front-page news that your perception skills in there were not the best…’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Kim snapped, reaching for the stress ball. ‘You saw for yourself how they were both feeling. There was nothing more we could do to help.’

‘Yes there was, but you just didn’t see it. Penny Colgan just wanted to talk about her sister. She wanted you to know and for herself to remember the person Trisha had been. She wanted you to know the woman and not the victim.’

Bryant said nothing, which. . .