Fatal Secrets

FATAL SECRETS ANITA WALLER To my dad, Ernest Havenhand, 1922–1975, who taught me to read and gave me my love of books If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, ACT 3 SCENE 1, SHYLOCK CONTENTS Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Epilogue Acknowledgments More from Anita Waller Previously published works: About the Author About Boldwood Books The Murder List PROLOGUE JANUARY 2013, A LAYBY ON THE A57 DI Dave Forrester’s radio crackled into life. ‘Mondeo pulled into layby just before M1 slip road. Shall we carry on?’ He knew the two occupants of the squad car had been the first to catch sight of the Mondeo, but he didn’t want inexperience causing problems. They were foot soldiers, not CID. ‘Thanks, lads,’ was his swift response. ‘Just drive past him and wait up near the roundabout; we’re one minute away. I’ll pull in behind him in the layby. Keep your eyes open and follow him if he drives off and passes you; we can’t lose this bastard.’ Dave increased his speed, and DS Johnny Keane grabbed 1 NINE YEARS LATER That Saturday in March 2022, the twelfth to be exact, was memorable for many reasons. Cambridge United had travelled up the A1 for a League One match against Sheffield Wednesday, and DI Matt Forrester and his sister Hermia had both managed to make use of their season tickets without work interfering to stop them; their seats were adjoining on the Hillsborough Kop, and he hoped it would be an excellent game. Hillsborough stadium looked magnificent as always, and Matt turned with a smile on his face as he sensed Hermia’s arrival. ‘Hey, sis, cut it a bit fine.’ She gave a slight nod and lowered her seat. ‘Dropped some flowers off