Angel of Death by Ben Cheetham

about Stephen Baxley. Did you know he wasn’t your…’ He cleared his throat as though something was stuck in it.
    Mark was watching Jim intensely, and suddenly his eyes grew big. ‘You’re going to ask me if I knew he wasn’t my real dad, aren’t you?’
    ‘So you knew.’
    ‘Not until now, but I suspected it more and more in the last few years. It wasn’t just that he loved Charlotte so much more than he did me, or even that I don’t look anything like him. It was something about the way he looked at me. Like…’ Mark searched for the right words. ‘Like he’d rather I didn’t exist. I mean, what sort of father looks at their child like that?’ His eyes veered away from Jim’s, a blank look in them, as though he was unsure how to feel about what he’d just learnt. He wasn’t surprised to know his dad had lied to him. But his mum… she was the only person he’d ever really trusted. How could she have kept the truth from him for so long? And why had she felt it was necessary? Had she been trying to protect him? If so, her failure couldn’t have been more complete.
    ‘I need a couple more things from you, Mark.’ Jim handed him the printout of the girl’s face. ‘Do you recognise her?’
    Heaving a sigh, Mark focused on the photo. His forehead puckered as if the sight of it pricked his brain like a thorn. Voice vibrating with uncertainty, he said, ‘I don’t think so, but…’
    ‘But what?’
    ‘For a second she seemed familiar, but I don’t know her.’
    ‘Are you sure? Take your time.’
    Mark studied the photo a moment longer, then shook his head. ‘No. I’ve never seen her before. Who is she?’
    ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out.’ Jim handed Mark the other printout. ‘What about him? Do you recognise him?’
    The furrows on Mark’s face deepened. He looked bemusedly at Jim, as if to say, Is this some kind of joke? ‘Of course I recognise him. He’s me.’
    A steely glint came into Jim’s eyes, as though a suspicion had been confirmed.
    ‘I’ve never seen that photo before,’ continued Mark. ‘Where did you get it? And what’s it got to do with that girl?’
    ‘I found it at the house. I’m not yet exactly sure what it’s got to do with the girl.’ Looking at Mark’s ashen pallor, Jim felt the lie was necessary. The time would come soon enough when he had to find out the truth, but not tonight. Tonight he’d been through enough – well, almost. ‘One more thing, Mark, then we’re done for now.’
    At a glance from Jim, Amy started the audio file from the DVD. ‘That’s it!’ Mark exclaimed at the sound of sobbing. ‘That’s what I heard when I went into the house. Who is that?’
    ‘You don’t know?’
    ‘No. Should I?’
    Give him some more medicine, Angel. Do it. Isolating the voice from the DVD’s images stripped it of its gut-wrenching impact, but none of its insidious cruelty. Mark’s face twisted in a look of uneasy disgust. ‘What is this?’
    ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that right now. Do you recognise the voice?’
    ‘Yes, it’s my—’ Mark bit down sharply on the word ‘dad’. ‘It’s Stephen.’
    ‘Are you absolutely certain? Do you want DI Sheridan to play it again?’
    Mark shook his head. He pressed his hand to his mouth, swallowing hard as if to force back down rising vomit.
    ‘Are you OK?’ asked Amy. ‘Do you want me to fetch a nurse?’
    ‘No. I just need some water.’
    Amy poured Mark a glass. He took a few sips, then rested his head against the pillows and took a slow breath. ‘Sorry, I suddenly came over feeling sick. I think I need to close my eyes and rest.’
    ‘You do that.’ Jim stood to leave, but hesitated. ‘Who had access to the safe in the master bedroom?’
    ‘Only Stephen. That’s where he kept the cash he used to dole out for Mum’s and our weekly allowances. I told you, he was extremely controlling about money. If you ask me, the fucker got a kick out of knowing we were totally