Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

psychological state is such that it is felt better for her to remain in custody. She’s going to be with us for the foreseeable future.’
    ‘What can you tell me about her psychological state?’
    ‘Linda has never shown any sign of remorse. She remains adamant that her crime was not only necessary but morally correct.’
    ‘Necessary?’
    The prison governor heaved an audible sigh.
    ‘Look, I’m sorry, but we’re going over old ground here. I can assure you we’ve done our best for Linda, but some people resist any attempt at rehabilitation and I honestly doubt if she’d survive on the outside now. The best thing for her is to remain where she is. Now, I am rather busy. I hate to cut this short, but was there anything else?’

     
    Geraldine called the forensic lab to confirm that it was feasible the DNA that appeared to match Linda Harrison’s had in fact come from a close family member, before she set about researching Linda’s relatives. Her first set of enquiries led nowhere. Linda had never had children so there was no possibility a daughter might have followed her psychopathic example. A momentary excitement at discovering that Linda had a sister was dismissed by further investigation which revealed that the sister had died nearly thirty years ago. Reluctantly, Geraldine concluded that the DNA sample had been a false lead. Somewhere in the lab, there must have been cross contamination of samples leading to the impossible conclusion that a woman had killed Patrick and George while she was locked up in a Category A closed prison.

     
    Geraldine went home, feeling thoroughly dejected. In an attempt to cheer herself up she stopped on the way home for a takeaway, opened a bottle of wine and put on the DVD of one of her favourite films. An hour into the film, and halfway through the bottle, she felt as miserable as ever. It was typical of her sister to choose that moment to call, as though she could sense when Geraldine didn’t feel like talking. Geraldine felt slightly guilty. She had intended to phone her sister. In her preoccupation with the case, she had forgotten.
    ‘Celia, I was going to ring you.’
    ‘Really?’
    She couldn’t blame her sister for sounding sceptical.
    ‘Did you get an invitation from dad?’ Celia asked.
    ‘No. What invitation?’
    Geraldine remembered that she had never sent her new address to her father.

     
    Over twenty-five years had passed since their father had walked out, leaving their mother with two young children. Living in Ireland with his new wife, he had sent money regularly, always remembering Christmas and birthdays. Geraldine had been quite young when he left home. It was different for Celia. She was three years older than Geraldine, and the man who abandoned them had been her real father. By the time Geraldine discovered the truth about her own birth, the man she had always believed was her father seemed like a distant relative anyway.

     
    ‘What invitation?’ she repeated.
    ‘I expect yours is in the post,’ Celia replied, ‘or he got your new address wrong. You did write to him when you moved, didn’t you?’
    Geraldine gave a non-committal grunt.
    ‘He’s decided to throw a party for his birthday and he’s invited us all to Ireland. Can you believe it? He’s asked Jeremy and Chloe as well, all of us. I can’t believe he’s going to be sixty-five!’
    ‘Are you going?’
    ‘You are joking.’

     
    Geraldine wasn’t surprised at her sister’s reaction. Celia had refused to have any contact with her father after he left. Geraldine felt sorry for him because she knew he was desperate to meet his only grand-daughter, but Celia remained adamant in her rejection of her father.
    ‘And I hope you’re not thinking of going,’ Celia added.
    ‘I can’t say. I haven’t had an invitation yet.’
    Although she didn’t admit as much to her sister, Geraldine was tempted to accept the invitation. She hadn’t yet confronted her father about her adoption, face to face. He might well have information that could help her find her birth mother for whom she had been looking, so far without success.
    ‘I don’t know,’ she said to Celia, thinking aloud. ‘I just don’t know what I’m going to do.’

CHAPTER 39
     
    M aurice watched a group of youngsters gathered at the bar and pondered how times had changed. He remembered dropping in on a Saturday night when the pub was run by Mary and Bob, a pair of friendly faces who had registered his