Read Online Don't Turn Around by Caroline Mitchell - Free Book Online

Her breath fell shallow as she listened for sounds of an intruder. But all she could hear was the jingle of the milk cart whirring down the street outside. Her eyes scanned the room. Had she been burgled? Her iPhone lay on the counter, untouched. Her panic diluted in the absence of scuffmarks or forced entry. Had she really gone to bed and left the door open? The night before was a blur; she barely remembered taking herself up to bed. Slipping out the door, she padded to the shed at the bottom of her small garden. The soles of her woollen socks absorbed the dampness from the dewy blades of grass, and her eyes scanned the garden for signs of disturbance. The combination lock on the shed door was still in place. Frowning, she returned inside and hung her socks on the radiator to dry. ‘Better lay off the wine for a while,’ she mumbled, reaching for the mop bucket and bleach. It was time to clean the house before she got ready for work.

    A small crowd littered the pavement outside the police station, smoking cigarettes and cracking jokes. Probationers. Jennifer could spot them a mile off. Their enthusiasm could only be matched by their optimism for what lay ahead. ‘Job pissed’, Will called them. Young people high on the excitement of becoming real life detectives, with no idea of what lay ahead.
    DI James Allison was putting on his coat as she walked into the office. ‘You look smart. Can you spare time to attend a suspicious death with me?’
    Jennifer patted the bun in her hair, held with a silver-edged black clasp. It matched her light grey suit perfectly, and she hoped the dark circles under her eyes did not betray the last few nights of unease. ‘Sure thing, boss. How come the duty inspector isn’t attending?’
    ‘He’s held up elsewhere. And besides, it’s one of yours – Johnny Mallet.’
    Jennifer’s eyes widened. ‘Seriously? What’s happened?’
    DI Allison looked at his watch. ‘Grab your coat, I’ll tell you on the way.’
    Jennifer pulled her shoulder harness from the locked drawer, slapped a fresh battery into her radio, and attached herself to the incident with the control room. It was one of the things she loved about her job. She never knew where her day would take her.
    Raindrops clacked against the roof of the unmarked Ford Focus as Jennifer turned the ignition. ‘Where are we going?’
    ‘Twenty-three Wilbur Way, it’s off the Barrington estate. There’s a unit on scene waiting for us. They don’t think it’s anything suspicious, but given it’s Johnny Mallet and the recent problems with Mike Stone, I thought we should attend.’
    ‘Of course,’ Jennifer said, her mind running back and forth, like the wipers fighting to keep up with the sudden downpour of rain. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she chose to ignore it. Not because she was driving, but because it was the third silent call she had received that day.
    DI Allison instructed Jennifer to follow a nearby sign. He gave her a cursory glance as she remembered to try to stay within the speed limit.
    ‘How are you today?’
    ‘I’m good, why do you ask?’
    ‘You look tired, that’s all. Everything alright?’
    ‘Fine and dandy,’ Jennifer said, trying to sound nonchalant. The last thing she wanted was to go over old ground. She was grateful to have woken with a clear mind and wanted to keep it that way. Keeping her eyes firmly on the road, she fixed her thoughts on the job ahead.
    The Barrington estate was flanked by two blocks of flats on either side. Nicknamed ‘The Crack Estate,’ the appearance of police was something the residents did not welcome, but had long since resigned themselves to. DI Allison nodded to the young PC on duty as he opened the door to allow him inside. Jennifer began to feel very important as the PC stared with admiration, straightening his posture as the DI approached him for a quick briefing. ‘We had to force entry, gov, as the premises were secure. A wallet is on the table with money