Mary-Jane Riley - The Bad Things - A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns

Mary-Jane Riley

an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

This is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, living or dead, real events, businesses, organizations and localities are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. All names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

Killer Reads

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published by HarperCollins Publishers 2015

Copyright © Mary-Jane Riley 2015

Mary-Jane Riley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

Cover layout design by Micaela Alcaino © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2017

Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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 e-books

Ebook Edition © AUGUST 2015 ISBN: 9780008153779

Version 2017-12-08

For Kim, Edward, Peter and Esme

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO

NOW

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

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

THEN

Read on extract from After She Fell

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher

The stench was overpowering. Katie squatted on her haunches and pulled at the zip. The material tore; the metal teeth nicked her finger. Thoughts flashed through her mind: should she wait? Could this be evidence? She lifted the lid. The sightless, decaying eyes of a child stared up at her. The little boy, for it must have been a boy, was dressed in blue Thomas the Tank Engine pyjamas. His legs had been folded beneath his body so that he fitted neatly into the space. It rather looked, thought Katie, as if he’d been packed up, ready for death.

The day Alex Devlin’s life imploded for the second time was one of those bleak February days in Suffolk when the light never got above murky and spring seemed months away. Outside, whey-faced men and women were hunched inside their coats, trying to get their business done and move on. Shopping, working, maybe just passing the time in a warm coffee shop on the High Street. The streets of Sole Bay could be unforgiving.

Standing in the kitchen of her little terraced house with her third cup of coffee of the day, Alex rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the tension in them. She turned on the radio, hoping some background noise would help her relax.

‘And now the news with Susan Rae.’

She hoped the couple of hours’ work she’d put in polishing her news feature about an undercover policeman who’d infiltrated the murky world of Eastern European organized crime had been worth the early start. She’d been awake since four – Christ, always four; that time of night when everything seems to be at its worst – doing her usual bout of worrying about her sixteen-year-old and how she could make ends meet. Two hours of tossing and turning had been enough, and that was when she’d decided to get up and get on with some work.

‘Five people have died in a multiple-vehicle accident on the M25. It happened during the rush hour in thick fog…’

Now she wanted a few minutes to herself before Gus blew in moaning and groaning.

Too late.

‘So?’ He glared at her, mouth a sulky pout and arms crossed, his slightly aggressive ‘whatever’ stance perfected.

It was as if the night, the dark, the four a.m. worrying hadn’t happened; her son was carrying on the argument that had begun the evening before. Alex hoped he’d forgotten about it. Some hope.

She rubbed her temples, fighting against the headache that was slowly but inevitably building, pulsing behind one eye. ‘Choose your battles’ had been her mantra for the past two years, since her adorable boy with his blonde curls and loving cuddles had turned into a sullen teenager – all grunts and hormones.

‘The Ukrainian opposition in Kiev say they have pulled out of the City Hall they have been occupying for the…’

‘So no you can’t go skiing with the school. I’m sorry. Nothing’s changed overnight.’ Alex said it as gently as she could. She would have loved him to go; of course she would if she had the money. Cash was tight, work not exactly coming in thick and fast. But it wasn’t just the money. She had real difficulty letting her son go and allowing him to spread his wings. He knew it and resented her for it.

‘Why not?’

Alex turned away and opened the fridge, taking out a bottle of milk and a tub of butter. ‘Cereal or toast?’ she asked, hoping an appeal to his stomach might defuse the situation.

‘Mum. This is like, really important to me. Everyone’s going. All my mates. And they need to fill up the places. If I don’t go I’ll really, really miss out. Like, I’ll be the odd one out and you don’t want that, do you?’

She took the bread out of the bread bin and put a slice in the toaster. ‘You know why not, Gus.’

‘It’s just crap.’ His sudden shout made her jump. ‘I never get to do anything with my friends. Never get to go anywhere. It’s like you don’t want me to enjoy myself. Have mates or anything.’

She filled the kettle, opened the cupboard, and took out a teabag and a cup. She waited for the kettle to boil and for her irritation to subside. Pushing her hair behind her ears, she realized it needed a good cut and another home dye job. ‘You know that’s not true, Gus. I only ever want the best for—’

‘Give it a rest, Mum.’

‘Downing Street has welcomed a further fall in unemployment and the Prime Minister said…’

His slumped shoulders and look of defeat made her feel worse. Something shifted inside her, a realization that she had to loosen the ties just a little, had to put the trials and tribulations of the last few months behind her. Just be thankful he hadn’t been expelled: joyriding and smoking cannabis not being on the school curriculum.

‘Look,’ she said, knowing she was going to regret it, ‘when do you have to have the money by?’