BLOOD SECRETS a gripping crime thriller full of suspense Read Online Free PDF Page B

phone rang.
    ‘Mr Swift, I just wanted to thank you again for coming.’ It was Sheila, sounding breathy.
    ‘That’s okay.’
    ‘I wondered . . . if you do find out anything, could you contact me first? Dad’s quite frail, you know, physically and emotionally. I’d like to be able to break any news to him.’
    ‘My contract is with Mr Bartlett. I understand that you feel protective towards your father but I’m obliged to inform him as he’s my primary client. If you like, I can make sure I tell you at the same time.’
    ‘Oh. I just thought that it would be for the best, given Dad’s situation.’
    He could hear her irritation. ‘Maybe your father is stronger than you think. I’ll be in touch.’
    There was something about the woman that he found disturbing and it wasn’t just her bossiness. Her fussing over her father seemed unnecessary and a little ridiculous. He sat on the dank tube train, thinking that being the oldest child left in charge of a depressive mother and two younger siblings couldn’t have been a picnic. Perhaps now she had her long lost father back she couldn’t help but focus on him. There was no ring on her finger and there had been no hint of a partner.
    He opened the envelope and drew out the two photographs. The first was the family group taken by their aunt. They were sitting on a sofa by a Christmas tree in the room he had just visited. Tessa Bartlett sat at one end, staring with glazed, unfocused eyes at the camera. She was a plump, long-faced woman in a drab navy tracksuit, lank hair scraped back in a ponytail. Her daughter looked very like her. She had her arm around Tim, drawing him into her. He was pulling a funny face, a thumb held up, a half-opened present on his lap. Teddy was next to Tim, thin like his father and with a sweet expression. He was a good-looking boy with neat features, dressed in a greyish white sweatshirt and jeans, his short dark hair like a cap. Sheila was beside him, an arm around his shoulders, not as hefty as she was now but already tending that way. She looked frumpy. She was squeezed into a roll-neck jumper and her face was impassive as she looked towards her brother. The school photo of Teddy was the usual head-and-shoulders shot. It showed him with a hesitant smile. His face, with its narrow bones and pale grey eyes emphasised his wistful, slightly elfin look.
    Back at Hammersmith, Swift glanced in the window of a hair salon, ran a hand through his thick dark hair and decided it was time to brave a trim of his unruly curls. He was having dinner that night with his cousin Mary Adair, and last time they’d met she had asked innocently if he was deliberately cultivating the eighties perm look. He resisted the hairdresser’s suggestion that he should have a warm wax conditioning treatment and sat watching the scissors dance. Then he closed his eyes, puzzling as to why a quiet, studious sixteen-year-old would leave a harrowing note before coming to terrible harm.

Chapter 3
    Mary Adair had been Swift’s close companion since childhood. She had supported him when his mother died just as he turned fifteen and when Ruth left him, a quiet, unobtrusive presence. He in turn had held her hand after a couple of failed love affairs. She bore a marked resemblance to his deceased mother and every time he saw her handsome face and wavy brunette hair he felt a jolt of welcome and fond recognition. They had both joined the Met after graduating and Mary was now an assistant commissioner. She had met her partner, Simone, the previous year and they were living together in Clerkenwell. Their apartment was one of six converted from a four-storey Victorian workhouse. It was the largest, on the top floor, with a wide balcony that ran the length of the building.
    When Swift arrived, Simone told him that Mary was running late. The rain had stopped and the evening was just warm enough to sit outside, where Simone had put out plates of antipasti and bread. As always, she was