The Blood Pit Read Online Free PDF Page A

the hospital while she swanned off to resume
     her life. End of story.
    Only that hadn’t been the end. Two years ago, at the age of twenty-seven, after the death of her adoptive father from cancer
     – her adoptive mother had died some years before in a motorway pile up – Petronella had found herself without a family and
     newly split up from her long-term boyfriend. It was at this vulnerable stage in her life that she had felt an irresistible,
     almost primal, urge to trace her biological mother. Her adoptive parents had done everything by the book – bequeathing to
     her their love of music and animals, particularly horses – and, on the advice of the adoption agency, they had never made
     any secret of her background. But it wasn’t until her comfortable world had fallen apart that she had begun her quest for
     Annette. And eventually she had found her.
    At first it was all tearful reunions and invitations to stay at Foxglove House for as long as she liked so that they could
     get to know each properly. Then, gradually, she’d discovered that, rather than being the mother of her dreams, Annette was
     a selfish, manipulative bitch who made her boredom only too obvious once the novelty of having a long-lost daughter had worn
     thin. Annette’s husband, Charlie, had been charming at first – good looking and fun. In her naivety, Petronella had liked
     him. But when she’d realised the truth, she’d got away from Foxglove House as quickly as she could.
    Now, after almost two years of silence, the call had come. Annette needed her.
    Charlie was dead. He’d been murdered. And ties of blood are hard to break.
    *
    Heffernan was in a better mood next morning. In fact when Wesley arrived in the office he seemed positively chirpy. Wesley
     deduced from this that either Carl Pinney was on the mend … or that he’d decided not to make a formal complaint.
    ‘Come in, Wes, come in.’ Heffernan said impatiently, consulting one of the crumpled scraps of paper that cluttered his desk
     and then discarding it, repeating the process until he found the right one.
    ‘You look cheerful,’ said Wesley.
    ‘Do I?’ The DCI grinned. ‘It’s good to have our Sam home, that’s all.’
    ‘How’s his new job going?’
    ‘He’s loving it – and the surgery’s in Tradmouth so it couldn’t have worked out better.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe
     he’s a qualified vet. Doesn’t seem two minutes since he was little and …’ He sighed and looked at the piece of paper in his
     hand. ‘Colin’s doing the PM this afternoon so let’s get down to Rhode and have a word with the Widow Marrick.’ He looked at
     his watch.
    ‘What about our little problem? Steve’s …’
    ‘I rang the hospital first thing. Pinney’s on the mend. He’s had brain scans but I don’t know if they managed to find one.’
     He grinned at his feeble joke. ‘He must be better ’cause he’s saying he wants to make a statement. And he’s demanding a solicitor
     which isn’t a good sign. But if anyone’s head’s going to roll about this, Wes, I’m making sure the buck stops with Steve.’
    ‘Quite right,’ said Wesley with feeling. Some nasty little demon inside him kept saying that he hoped Steve Carstairs got
     everything that was coming to him. But then he felt slightly ashamed at his vindictiveness.
    ‘I’ve asked Rach to call me if there are any developments.’
    Heffernan stood up, fastening the top button of his purple shirt – a present from his musician daughter, Rosie, whothought that her father should be more sartorially adventurous: Gerry hadn’t had the heart to disappoint her.
    Ten minutes later they were on their way to the village of Rhode, Wesley in the driving seat as usual. He steered the car
     up the hill out of Tradmouth and took the left turn at the roundabout. Once past the high school and the leisure centre, they
     were out in open country with the sea down below to their left. A few distant,