LOCAL POLICE SAY SHE’S A RUNAWAY.

BUT YOU KNOW YOUR DAUGHTER, SHE WOULDN’T DO THAT.

SHE MUST BE IN TROUBLE.

DESPERATE. You frantically search for her. Asking strangers around town if they’ve seen her… your precious daughter. All you need is a glimmer of hope that she’s safe.

When teenager Leanne Churcher stormed out from the family home after another clash with her mother, she went to stay with a friend. She’d left the family home under a cloud before; after a day or two she always came home. Always. She usually just needed some time to cool off. After all, teenagers can be like that. Right?

When after a few days she didn’t return, and no trace of her can be found, the family begin to panic. The police assume she’s an angry teenager whose run away. Why wouldn’t they? There's no evidence to suggest foul play of any kind.

Adam Churcher knows his daughter wouldn’t run away. He investigates her disappearance himself. After all, who can you turn to when the police won’t help?

But when Adam starts to uncover the truth nobody believes him, not even his wife. Suddenly the focus is on him and he feels helpless and ill-equipped to handle the pressure.

He needs a helping hand from retired Chief Inspector Hardy. Will Hardy take seriously what Adam has learned of Leanne's disappearance?

DON’T GO HOME: a twisty and engrossing Chief Inspector Hardy story. Follow how one father’s self-belief and determination uncovered the truth surrounding his daughter’s disappearance.

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PAPERBACK

Don’t Go Home

Chief Inspector James Hardy series, Book 6

By Jay Gill

Chapter 1

Chief Inspector Hardy’s mother, Sylvia, busied herself in the kitchen. She’d been up since dawn making sure the house was in order for the friends who’d gathered to meet his newborn son.

Several times he’d asked her to put her feet up and enjoy being with their guests but she couldn’t sit still and once again she was back in the kitchen cooking more nibbles. Though she’d already put out enough for an army.

Hardy jolted, and nearly spilled his wine, as Rayner grabbed him with a bear-like hug. The two detectives watched, with adoring smiles plastered on their faces, as Hardy’s fiancée, Monica, cradled their new son, William.

Rayner’s better half, Jenny, her hands rested on their baby bump, sat beside Monica who was passing her baby to the nervous-looking Detective Inspector Emma Cotton. She sat back and held out her arms. Hardy’s two older daughters, Alice and Faith, swooped in beside Cotton to offer her encouragement.

‘You’ve got all this to come, my friend,’ Hardy said.

Rayner scooped up three bite-size sausage rolls and popped them in his mouth. ‘I’m both dreading it and excited beyond belief, in equal measure.’ Rayner grabbed his can of Guinness from the table behind him and poured what remained into his glass. ‘A few more weeks and I’ll have the same bags under my eyes, and zombie-like stare from lack of sleep, as you.’

Hardy checked himself in the mirror above the fireplace. He pulled at his eyelid. ‘They’re only a little bloodshot.’

‘If you say so,’ Rayner chuckled. His eyes hunted around for the bowl of mini Scotch eggs he’d semi-demolished earlier.

Cotton looked up at Hardy and raised her eyebrows in a way that said: I’ve got this. I’m a natural.

In unison, Hardy and Rayner gave Cotton a thumbs-up and laughed.

‘Cotton informed me earlier she’s taking some time off,’ Rayner said. ‘Going abroad with her young beau.’

‘Listen, I know you two butted heads a couple of times on the last case but I need you to get on.’

‘She and I are okay. We talked. I apologised. She apologised. I apologised again. We fist-bumped.’ One of his childish grins crept across his face. ‘She now understands I’m usually right about most things, even when I’m not! I think she finally gets my unique sense of humour.’

‘Sense of humour? Is that what you call it? If you weren’t my oldest friend, I’d disown you. You know that, right?’

‘I do. Listen, can we step outside a minute? There’s something we need to discuss.’

Hardy looked intrigued and followed Rayner. He closed the door behind him. In the back garden Hardy’s dog, Sandy, was keeping herself busy by digging a hole in Sylvia’s newly planted flower bed. Sandy came padding over, sniffed the two men, then lay down at Hardy’s feet, resting her chin on his foot. Hardy rubbed behind her ear as he waited for Rayner to explain what was on his mind.

‘It’s Jen,’ Rayner began.

‘What about her?’

‘I’m worried. We both know that since the fire, she’s not been herself. What you don’t know is that things are getting worse. Her moods are up and down, mostly down. The simple truth is that I need to be around for her.’

Hardy’s eyes fell on Rayner’s right hand, which had been scarred during his attempt to enter Hardy’s burning home and save Jenny from the flames.

‘Our baby is due any time, and between you and me, I seriously don’t know how she’ll cope. Right now, she might look as though everything is rosy, but it’s all an act. Day to day, she barely talks. Her mood is dark a lot of the time. I come home sometimes and she hasn’t moved for hours. She just stays in bed. Or sits in an armchair staring out the window.’

‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea things were that bad.’

‘I didn’t want to trouble you. But—’

‘But what?’

Rayner took a deep breath. ‘Jenny’s parents, Frank and Gail, have a house in Cornwall and we’re moving there.’

‘What? When?’

‘In the next day or so.’

‘That soon?’

‘Yeah. We’re staying in a property they own. It’s practically next door to them. Her parents can help out with the baby and help watch over Jen. I need to be there for her. We need to do this, for her sake. You understand?’

‘Of course.’ Hardy was stunned. ‘What will you do for money?’

‘We have some savings. We’ll sell the house in London. Frank’s loaded. He said he’ll help out if we need it, I’m hoping we won’t, but it’s added security. It takes the pressure off. In all honesty, I don’t have all the answers. I haven’t decided what I’ll do for work.’

‘You’re resigning from the force?’

Rayner tried to remain upbeat. ‘I don’t know for sure. I’m going to start by taking compassionate leave. I’ll figure it all out from there. Jen’s the most important thing in my life. Her and the baby. Doing this feels right.’

‘It sounds like you’re doing the right thing.’ Hardy’s mouth felt dry. He tried not to show his devastation. They’d been a team for as long as he could remember. Even in school they had each other’s back. Not only that, but Cornwall was a long way to go for a chat and beer. ‘As always, I’m behind you one hundred per cent. If it’s what you want, or need to do, then go for it. Your family has to be your priority. You’ve been there for me at my lowest points and I’m here for you. Whatever you need, just let me know.’

‘When we’re ready, we’re just going to go. No fuss. No fanfare. Will you explain to Monica, your mum, and the girls. We’re not being rude. It’s just easier for Jen if we do it that way.’

‘Absolutely. I can do that.’

‘I’ll call you when we’re settled,’ Rayner said, his voice breaking with emotion.

Hardy turned around at the sound of the back door opening.

Cotton poked her head out. She stepped outside. ‘Sorry to interrupt. I need to make a move. I still haven’t finished packing.’

The two men got to their feet.

Rayner wiped a tear from his eye before turning to face her. He put a smile on his face. ‘It’s all right for some. Flying off to the sunshine. Romantic sunset walks with Declan. Cocktails and tapas. You’re going to have a fantastic time.’

She was surprised at Rayner’s self-control. He was being genuine. Usually he jumped at any opportunity to pull her leg about her boyfriend being a few years younger than her. ‘It’s more a travelling holiday, but I’m sure there will be time for romance too. Declan booked it all.’

‘Living out of a suitcase for eight weeks while travelling across Europe sounds amazing. I’ll admit, I’m more than a little jealous. Do it while you can. Before life gets complicated.’ Hardy and Rayner looked at each other. They both understood how tangled life could be.

‘Have a fantastic time. I’ll expect postcards,’ Rayner said. Cotton was even more shocked when Rayner reached out and embraced her. ‘See you around.’ He went inside and left Hardy and Cotton alone.

‘Is he feeling all right? He didn’t make any bad jokes.’

‘He’s probably working on some new material. He’s okay. He’s got a lot on his mind at the moment. I’ll explain another time.’

Cotton looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone. ‘I was talking to a colleague at the station who wanted to speak to you about a case she has. I hope you don’t mind. I said I’d ask you first.’

‘No problem at all. I’d be glad to chat.’

‘I thought you’d say that. I already gave her your number. Her name’s Detective Inspector Kim Elson. I don’t know her all that well.’

‘That’s fine. Anything I should know about the case?’

‘It’s a missing young woman. She seems to have vanished into thin air, and well, Elson’s hit a brick wall with the investigation. She’d like an unvarnished, unbiased, opinion on it all.’ She checked the time on her phone. ‘I’d better dash. I’ll show myself out. William’s gorgeous, by the way. Congratulations again.’

Hardy watched as Cotton said her goodbyes to everyone. Seeing her leave and knowing Rayner was set to move his life to Cornwall, he had an even greater sense of change than he’d had with the arrival of his son.

 Chapter 2

Detective Inspector Kim Elson grabbed a branch as she climbed the steep bank. Her shiny brown brogues slid on the muddy soil. She grasped a clump of wet grass and heaved herself up. Her foot slipped and her knee hit the bank. She ignored the wet knee and kept going, pulling herself up to the ridge. To her left was the bridle path that led through the wood. The body was, of course, in the other direction.

She moved down the other side of the ridge where she followed the police cordon tape. It flapped as the morning breeze whipped through the woods. Ahead of her, an officer was fighting to gather tape that he’d dropped.

‘Constable,’ Elson said.

‘That way, Ma’am.’ He pointed towards an area on the right side of the bridle path where it extended into the woods. It looked like the sort of path worn over years by ponies and cattle. The constable wound tape around a tree and continued to expand the cordoned area.

The path was wet mud interspersed with large puddles. Her toes were cold in her wet socks. She wished she’d had her Wellingtons in the car, but she’d taken them out when collecting the last of her things from the house. Richard had boxed everything up and after calling her at a least a dozen times, and leaving numerous messages, she finally collected it. She’d been avoiding it because it made the whole thing feel final. She knew it was over long ago. Even so, she’d had to have a drink before driving over. Only a single glass for Dutch courage left over from the previous night.

It had rained for what felt like a month solid, and now summer was almost over the sun, in its wisdom, had showed its face. It made Elson wonder whether the wet summer had brought out the crazies.

Holding on to branches, she trudged closer. She’d take a peek at the body, then wait for forensics to arrive. There was no need to get much closer at this stage; it was more important to preserve the crime scene.

An officer she recognised stood looking uneasy. His face was pale, and he shifted uncomfortably as he waited alone in the woods with the dead body. She sifted through her mind to recall his name.

‘Constable Taylor, isn’t it?’ said Elson.

‘Yes, Ma’am. James Taylor. Like the musician.’ He tried to smile but looked as though he might vomit instead. ‘There’s a ring,’ said Taylor. ‘On the finger.’ He didn’t look at the body, but at Elson instead.

‘A silver band.’

‘It could be a wedding ring?’

‘Wrong finger.’

‘Oh yeah.’ He didn’t look, instead taking her word for it. ‘Maybe it’ll help us work out who it is.’

‘That’s the plan,’ said Elson. ‘Whoever it is deserves that.’

Elson could see enough to know the remains were at a stage of advanced decomposition, meaning the body had been there a while. A shrivelled hand lay partially exposed from beneath the soil, leaves and rotting vegetation of the woodland floor.

Crouching down, Elson saw a rope or cord beside the body. She looked up to see whether anything similar hung from an overhanging branch. There was nothing.

You didn’t hang yourself, thought Elson.

Behind them came the sound of the forensics team. She could hear Steve McKinley complaining about the state of his crime scene, something he always did. ‘I’m going to retreat for a bit. Give McKinley some elbow room. This poor soul needs their attention for now.’

Elson greeted McKinley and made her way back to her car. She lit a cigarette and walked around the car park, trying not to catch the eye of Detective Sergeant Osborne, who had turned up to stick his oar in. They went way back, but no longer talked, unless they had to. He worked drugs and they only ever spoke if their cases crossed. He was no doubt here to see if the death was that of a user or a gang-related murder. A story for the lads at the station later. He waited by his car, a sporty-looking black Ford Mondeo. He stroked his thick beard like some wise prophet pondering the complexities of life. She knew him better than that. His sleazy eyes were on her, undressing her while also judging her ability to handle a murder enquiry. What he thought of her was no secret. They had a history. What little she’d had to do with him recently meant that she found him to be an obstinate pain in the arse. Popular enough around the station, but only because he was a Jack-the-lad and vocal with it. A bloke’s bloke, who made it clear he enjoyed the thrill of the chase and taking down scum.

She ignored Osborne. She’d speak to him later if she needed to. A man was dead. There were more important things to concern her. Elson ground out the cigarette underfoot, picked up the butt and put it in her jacket pocket, at the same time hating herself for smoking. It wasn’t even ten o’clock and already she was thinking about a drink. She loathed herself more for drinking.

An hour passed, and with Elson cursing she’d smoked her last cigarette, McKinley appeared over the grassy ridge and beckoned her. He looked anxious. His wide mouth and thin lips were red and dry. A gust of wind caught his greying hair, making him look like a mad professor. Smoothing it and patting it down, he took a tartan flask from his car, unscrewed the cup and poured in milky tea. ‘The lad’s been there a while.’

‘How long’s a while? Months?’

‘I would say at least a year. What’s left of the organs, any pupal casings and soil samples will determine a timeline.’

Elson felt a shudder run down her spine. ‘You said he. So the body is that of a male?’

‘Definitely.’

‘Age?’

‘Hard to say but young. If I had to guess, I’d say older than sixteen, younger than thirty. I’ll know more tomorrow.’

‘Anything else you can give me? The press is going to be all over this, I want to be ready. I don’t plan on giving a statement unless I have to, but it’s better to be prepared than get caught on the hop.’

McKinley looked Elson in the eye. ‘Investigations like this can go stratospheric. It’s could get tough. You’re going to be under the sort of pressure and scrutiny that’s hard to predict. There won’t be room for mistakes or half measures. These sorts of cases can be career-defining.’

Elson sensed he was treading carefully but doing his fatherly thing. She wondered if he could smell the alcohol from the night before. She’d had two or three drinks to take the edge off. On reflection, maybe it was three or four. Maybe a bottle. Elson casually stepped back a little and stood taller. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m doing okay.’

McKinley grimaced. ‘It’s not my place, but I owe it to your father to say something. You ever want to talk, you know where I am.’

Her father had been in the force his whole life. He and McKinley had been colleagues and golfing buddies, McKinley was with him on the fairway when the stroke happened. It had been close to three years now. But the shock of it, on top of the train wreck of what had remained of her marriage, had taken its toll.

McKinley screwed the cup back on his flask. ‘And stop smoking. Nobody smokes any more.’

Elson made a bemused face.

‘I can smell it on you,’ added McKinley. ‘The drink too.’ He went back to his crime scene and left Elson staring at her shoes. The way she used to as a child having been scolded.

When she looked up, a handsome man in a blue suit with a waistcoat was walking towards her. ‘Inspector Elson?’ He held out a hand, which she shook. ‘I’m Chief Inspector James Hardy. We spoke on the phone. I heard you were here and thought we should arrange a sit down. Is this your missing girl?’

‘No. Some other family is going to receive the bad news on this occasion.’

‘I was passing so I thought I’d introduce myself. I know you’re busy. How about we catch up in a couple of days?’

‘Okay. Sounds good. I’ll call you.’