Flesh and Blood (A DI Amy Winter Thriller) by Caroline Mitchell (best love novels of all time .TXT) 📗

‘Ask Mum. She minds the kids when I’m at work.’ Sharon was a midwife in her local hospital. It was a demanding job, and Donovan could sense her frustration. ‘What are you not telling me, Sharon? There’s more to it than that.’

Sharon blinked into the distance, staring but not seeing as she tried to explain. ‘I just felt bad for not telling the truth. We rushed into marriage because we both thought it was the right thing to do. I thought I could make it work.’ She shrugged. ‘But I was wrong. Chesney used to stay up all hours, wouldn’t come to bed until after I was asleep. Then he said my snoring was keeping him awake, so he moved into the computer room.’

‘Computer room?’

‘It’s a spare room, where we keep the computer and all our junk.’

‘And things got worse after that?’ Donovan continued. It didn’t take a genius to work it out.

Sharon bobbed her head in agreement. ‘We never went out, and I was too tired to cook, so we spent most evenings eating takeaways. I tried to cook healthy stuff for the kids, but . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Food was the only thing we enjoyed together. Not much of a health professional, am I?’

People found comfort in different ways, and Donovan would not judge. She spoke from a place of frustration, but tears had been shed. Becoming a single mother overnight had to be a daunting prospect. ‘How are the kids dealing with his death?’

‘They’re confused, upset. They’re only three and four. Besides,’ Sharon said, ‘Mum’s moving in until I get back on my feet.’

Donovan was glad that Sharon had someone to turn to. Her story would be checked out, but it seemed believable. She had little to gain from Chesney’s death. They lived in rented accommodation and Sharon was the primary breadwinner.

‘The thing is,’ Sharon said, ‘I think he was keeping secrets. Whatever it was, I want to know the truth.’

‘He had cannabis in his system,’ Donovan replied. ‘Did he owe anyone money?’

‘He smoked the odd bit of weed, but I wouldn’t allow it in the house. He didn’t owe anyone money as far as I know.’

Donovan narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure Sharon out. ‘Look, help me make sense of this. You’ve come in to tell me your relationship had soured. Are you sure that’s all? Chesney didn’t do anything to hurt you or the kids?’

‘Honestly, he didn’t.’ Sharon’s eyes widened. ‘I’m a nurse. I’ve bandaged up plenty of battered women. I’d never let that happen to me. Check my medical records if you like. Chesney never hurt us, and I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. All we had was indifference. When I look at my girls . . . they’re my world. But Chesney . . . well, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was seeing someone on the side.’

Donovan nodded. This was the real reason she had come to see them. ‘So you want us to find out for you? What makes you think he was unfaithful?’

‘Just a feeling,’ Sharon replied. ‘He was always disappearing, very secretive over his phone. His moods were funny. Once, I found two hundred quid in his jacket pocket, but the next day it was gone. He certainly wasn’t spending it on me.’

Donovan cast an eye over to the clock on the wall. It was time to wrap things up. ‘It’s not our job to investigate Chesney’s infidelities, but if it’s relevant to the investigation we’ll let you know. We’ll need a further statement.’ Donovan preferred Sharon’s words to go down on paper in case it was needed later. ‘One detailing your relationship.’

‘Thanks. And sorry. I didn’t mean to offload like that.’ Sharon gazed at Donovan in earnest. ‘I need to know what happened to my husband that night.’

‘We’ve got our best people on it. Hopefully we’ll have some answers soon.’ Donovan straightened in his chair as their meeting came to an end. At least now he had a better insight into Chesney’s character. But where had he been going on the night of his murder? And had someone cut his life short?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MO

‘Is it OK if I take off my boots?’ Mo undid the laces of the Converse trainers, which she had bought second-hand in a charity shop. ‘They’re chafing my heels.’ She winced, rubbing the tender skin on the back of her foot.

‘Whatever makes you comfortable.’ The therapist crossed her legs and lifted her writing pad from the table. Mo eyed her up and down, taking in her expensive-looking silk blouse teamed with a long flowing black skirt and kitten heels. Her eyes flicked to the Dolce & Gabbana watch on her wrist, then to her newly styled French plait. The office had been given a tidy-up too, with a fresh lick of paint on the walls and some new prints since her last visit. Someone’s doing well, Mo thought, but it left a sour taste. She was all for people bettering themselves, but it was her guess that Ms Harkness hadn’t suffered a day of hardship in her life. She caught Mo staring, but Mo’s gaze did not flinch.

‘We made some good progress during our last session.’ Ms Harkness cleared her throat. ‘I’d like to jump straight back in.’

Mo had given a lot of thought to today’s session. They had a lot of ground to cover and time was limited. ‘I want you to hypnotise me like you did before.’ Her pulse quickened at the thought of going back there, but it needed to be done.

‘Are you sure?’ The therapist stared over her glasses. ‘Do you feel it’s beneficial?’

‘It’s what I want.’ Mo lifted her legs on to the sofa. Her socks were clean but odd, one striped, one dotted. She’d been so distracted when she dressed this morning that she hadn’t noticed. She clasped her fingers over her stomach and closed her eyes. Revisiting the past was harder than recalling it, but she needed to go there. Perhaps she deserved the pain: a reminder of