The Hangman’s Hold: A gripping serial killer thriller that will keep you hooked. Michael Wood

The lack of officers was startling. It seemed unnervingly quiet too, though that probably had something to do with the absence of DC Rory Fleming who could frequently be heard above everyone else, even when the room was at full capacity.

      ‘Aaron, go back to his house and give it a thorough going over. I want to know everything about this Brian Appleby. What’s he been doing since last January? Why did he choose Sheffield? Talk to the neighbours – don’t mention he was a sex offender though – and find out what they know about him. What he did for a living, the usual stuff.’

      ‘Will do.’

      ‘Is that his police file?’ Matilda asked as Aaron was about to leave.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Leave it with me.’

      He handed it to her. ‘I was thinking, Brian was a sex offender and his murder looks like an execution. Vigilante?’

      ‘I was thinking that myself,’ Matilda said, running her fingers through her hair. ‘But who knew he was here when even we didn’t?’

      ‘Maybe someone followed him up from Essex.’

      ‘It’s possible. I don’t like vigilantes,’ she said, turning to the window. She rolled her eyes at the uninspiring view. ‘They’re unpredictable, they’re violent, and there’s usually more than one victim.’

      It was strange looking through the one-way mirror and seeing someone she knew sitting nervously in an interview room. Standing in the observation bay, Matilda watched Adele. Less than twenty-four hours ago she was in a restaurant with a charming man having a delicious meal and a pleasant conversation. Now, that man was dead, murdered, and Adele had been the last person to see him alive.

      The door opened and the diminutive Assistant Chief Constable Valerie Masterson entered and joined Matilda. Still dressed in her overcoat and wearing a woollen hat a couple of sizes too big, she had obviously come straight from the car park.

      ‘I’ve just heard. How is she?’ Valerie asked, nodding towards Adele through the glass.

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Who gave her that black eye?’

      ‘She surprised a burglar last night.’

      ‘Are the two connected?’

      ‘I don’t know. I doubt it. I’ll look into it, though.’

      ‘I hope you’re not intending on interviewing Dr Kean yourself.’ Valerie’s concern for Adele didn’t last and quickly turned to admonishment.

      ‘Of course not.’ I would have done if you hadn’t turned up.

      ‘Do I need to bring in someone else to run this investigation?’ Valerie asked staring intently at her DCI.

      ‘No. I’m more than capable of detaching myself.’

      Valerie rolled her eyes, though Matilda didn’t see. She was fixed on Adele. ‘Matilda, I know the two of you are close. I don’t want your friendship getting in the way of a murder investigation.’

      ‘It won’t.’ Matilda turned to look at her boss. ‘I guarantee it.’

      Matilda brushed past the ACC and into the corridor, where Chris Kean, Adele’s son, was waiting. He’d changed dramatically since finishing university. Gone were the unruly hair and sombre scowl of the modern-day student, the dour expression of a generation with the worry of the entire universe on their shoulders. He had been transformed into a member of the working society. He was smart, neat, tidy, handsome, and had put on a little muscle thanks to the training he’d been doing with his mother and Matilda for the half-marathon.

      As soon as he saw Matilda he jumped up from his seat. ‘How’s my mum?’ he asked, the look of worry had returned.

      ‘She’s fine, Chris. There’s nothing to be concerned about. We just need to talk to her about her date, that’s all.’

      ‘Are you going to interview her?’

      Matilda looked back at the observation room, wondering if Valerie was listening. She lowered her voice. ‘No, Chris. I’m not allowed.’

      ‘Why not? She’d feel more comfortable with you in there.’

      ‘I know, but it’s a conflict of interest. We’re friends. It would be the same if you were in there. I’m sorry. She’s going to be interviewed by Aaron and Scott. She knows them; she’s worked alongside them for years. She’ll be fine. Trust me.’

      ‘But why are they allowed to interview her if they know her yet you’re not?’

      ‘Because they’ve never held her hair while she’s vomited a bottle of Prosecco down a toilet.’ Matilda smiled but Chris didn’t seem to see the funny side. ‘Look, Chris, you shouldn’t be here. You’ll have to wait in reception.’

      Chris sat back down, slumping heavily into the plastic chair. ‘It’s all my fault.’

      ‘What makes you say that?’ Matilda asked sitting next to him.

      ‘I’ve been badgering her for months to go on the dating sites, meet someone,’ he sniffled. ‘She’s lonely, Mat. I can see it in her eyes. She says she’s not, but she is.’

      ‘I know, Chris. I blame myself too.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘I’ve been so wrapped up in myself. Your mum is my best friend. She’s always been there for me and I should have been a better friend in return.’

      ‘You’ve been a great friend. You helped her when she first came to Sheffield.’

      ‘That was twenty years ago,’ Matilda scoffed. ‘It’s time I moved on. I need to start embracing life more, going out, enjoying myself. I think me and your mother deserve a holiday.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Yes.’ Matilda found herself smiling. ‘We should go somewhere warm with a beach, plenty of bars, maybe sing karaoke and chat up some blokes.’

      Chris smiled but looked embarrassed.

      ‘Chris, you shouldn’t worry about your mum. You’re just starting out in life, you need to find out who you are, travel, meet new people, move away maybe. Your mum is going to be fine. I’ll see to that.’

      ‘You promise?’

      ‘Girl Guide’s honour,’ Matilda said, raising her right hand and giving the three-fingered salute.

      ‘You were a Girl Guide?’ He sniggered.

      ‘Well, not for long, I swore at the Patrol Leader – on more than one occasion. Come on, I’ll take you through to reception. If the ACC sees you here we’ll both be in trouble.’

      DC Scott Andrews had been called in early. With Sian Mills on leave to decorate her house following the aftermath of her home being flooded, Matilda wanted someone alongside DS Aaron Connolly who Adele knew and liked. This would be a formal and recorded interview, but it needed to be as unobtrusive and sensitive as possible.

      Matilda met Scott in the hallway in reception. He walked towards her carrying a tray of drinks.

      ‘I’ve snatched a few chocolate bars from Sian’s drawer too. I thought it might make things seem a bit more relaxed.’

      Dressed in a dark grey suit with white shirt and grey tie, Scott looked his usual smart and dapper self. His hair had been recently trimmed. He was the embodiment of style. Today, however, his smooth complexion was one of worry. Adele was a regular figure in the station: everyone knew her, liked her, and respected her. Nobody wanted to see her interrogated.

      ‘Are you OK to do this?’ Matilda asked, noting his furrowed brow.

      ‘Of course. Who’s that?’ He lowered his voice and nodded at Chris Kean who was frantically chewing