Mel Sherratt - Hush Hush

Published by Avon an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street,

London, SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018

Copyright © Mel Sherratt 2018

Cover photograph: Stoke Canal Scene © Alan Tunnicliffe/Shutterstock

Cover photograph: Running Woman © Henry Steadman

Cover design © Henry Steadman

Mel Sherratt asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008271046

Ebook Edition © October 2018 ISBN: 9780008271053

Version: 2018-10-23

‘An absolute masterpiece. Twisty, turny and full of surprises!’

Angela Marsons

‘Mel Sherratt’s books are as smart and edgy as her heroines’

Cara Hunter

‘Mel Sherratt is the new queen of gritty police procedurals’

C.L. Taylor

‘Twists and turns and delivers a satisfying shot of tension’

Rachel Abbott

‘Heart-stoppingly tense. I love Mel Sherratt’s writing’

Angela Clarke

‘Gripped me from the first page and didn’t let go until the heart-stopping conclusion!’

Robert Bryndza

‘A writer to watch out for’

Mandasue Heller

‘Uncompromising, powerful and very real – an important new voice’

David Mark

‘Mel’s vivid imagination really brings her characters to life’

Kerry Wilkinson

‘Mel Sherratt is a unique voice in detective fiction’

Mail on Sunday

To Chris and Alison,

for always believing in me.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Mel Sherratt

Dedication

March 2017

Chapter One: August 2018

Chapter Two: September 2018

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Chapter Seventy

Chapter Seventy-One

Chapter Seventy-Two

Chapter Seventy-Three

Chapter Seventy-Four

Chapter Seventy-Five

Chapter Seventy-Six

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Chapter Eighty

Acknowledgments

Author Note

Read More

About the Author

Also by Mel Sherratt

About the Publisher

George Steele came out of The Potter’s, leaving the noise of the rowdy party still going on behind him. Outside, it was fresh, the hint of warmer weather around the corner.

It was nearing midnight as he began to walk home. He had planned on only having one more for the road, but that was two hours ago, and now he was struggling to stand up.

He wondered if Kathleen had left him anything to eat. He could murder something hot inside him. If she hadn’t, he would wake her. She could cook him something. He salivated at the thought of a bacon butty.

It was a short walk down a country lane and along a small path. Sober, it took him half as long as it did when he was legless. He snorted to himself as he stumbled to his right. It would take him all night, zigzagging the road as he was.

His phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket. He brought it near to his face, trying to see who was calling him, but he couldn’t read the screen, so he let it ring out. At this time of night, it would only be someone looking to cause trouble. He was sick and tired of people after a piece of him. Always wanting to fight with him, anger him, disrespect him. He couldn’t even rely on his useless sons to sort anything out. They just weren’t up to his standard when it came to what he expected of his family. And as for his silly daughter … He didn’t have the words for how pathetic she was.

He was at the path now, minutes from home. The house stood on four acres of land, the room he’d had so much fun with hidden away at the bottom of the garden. It had been passed down to him by his parents, the only thing they’d given him he’d ever been glad of. How he had hated his father and the time spent with him there, at the hands of a monster. Still, at least it meant he’d known how to get the best out of his own family too.

George didn’t hear a sound as someone crept up behind him. A crack to the head made him stumble forward. Another and he dropped to his knees. He turned around and was greeted with a whack in the face. Unable to see who it was in the dark, he tried to crawl away on all fours, but a kick to the stomach had him coughing. He held up a hand – each hit was followed by a pause.

‘Wait!’ he cried, catching his breath, sitting up on his haunches. ‘Whoever has sent you to do this, I’ll double your money.’ He winced in agony as pain pulsed through his body. ‘Because when I find out, be prepared to get a lot worse than you’re giving me now.’

A hit to the side of his face and colours exploded inside his head. He dropped to the floor again.