Perfect Sins by Jo Bannister

can’t.”
    â€œYou don’t have to involve the police, at least not at this stage. Go to a commercial lab. It’s a standard procedure these days, the staff will assume it’s a paternity issue.”
    Byrfield was drawn to the idea. But already he could anticipate problems. “They’d need the child’s DNA to compare it with. How would I get that?”
    â€œYou couldn’t,” Hazel conceded. She gave it some more thought. “Okay, how about this? Get the test done, and send the results to Norris under my name. I’ll explain that it’s purely to rule something out, and that if there’s no correlation between the two results, I’ll be respecting the subject’s wish to remain anonymous. If, God forbid, there is a correlation, then we’ll have to be honest with him. This is a murder inquiry, we can’t withhold evidence that would help him solve it.”
    She regarded her friend with compassion, taking in the haggard face and haunted eyes. “Are you ready for that, Pete? Because once we start this we have to see it through. If you’re right, you can support your mother but you can’t protect her. Not from this.”
    Byrfield nodded jerkily. “I understand. I suppose, if … if that’s what it shows … I wouldn’t want to protect her.”
    â€œWe’re talking as if your mother is the only one who could be implicated,” Hazel realized. “But if you had an older brother who was kept a secret for ten years and then killed, your father had to be involved as well. She may claim it was his doing.”
    Byrfield flinched as if she’d slapped him. “You knew my father. Which of them would you feel inclined to blame?”
    Hazel didn’t have to think long. “Fair enough. So, is that what you’re going to do?”
    It was almost as if he’d committed himself by talking about it. While it was just a worm eating away in his brain he had the option of doing nothing about it. But he’d chosen to share his fears—with a police officer, of all people—and even if Hazel wouldn’t have bullied him into doing something he didn’t want to, his own conscience would. It wasn’t just a sick thought anymore. He’d acknowledged it was a possibility, and now he owed it to the child buried by his lake—whoever he might turn out to be—to find the truth.
    And, of course, the same sample that could turn his whole family upside down could equally well set his mind at rest. If it did, he swore to himself he would never complain about the weather or the suicidal tendencies of sheep or the fact that his expensive new bull was a card-carrying member of Gay Pride ever again.
    He set his jaw. As a member of the aristocracy it wasn’t his best feature, but he did what he could. “Yes,” he said. “As soon as I can arrange it.”
    â€œWill you tell David what you’re doing?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œOr your mother?”
    â€œGood God, no!” Byrfield sounded horrified. “I’m not telling anyone, unless I have to. If the results mean that I have to.”
    Hazel nodded. “It’s your decision.”
    â€œBut you don’t think it’s the right one.”
    â€œPete,” she said patiently, “it’s none of my business. Only that you’re my friend, and I want you to walk away from this with your soul intact. Do what you’re comfortable with. Do what you can face doing. But there’s a risk that events may take the decision out of your hands. If that happens, it may become harder, not easier, to talk to your mother. I wouldn’t like to think you missed your last best chance.”
    His gaze dipped. “You think I’m being pathetic.”
    Hazel shook her head. “I think you’ve had a shock. I think you’re trying to deal with it without hurting anybody’s feelings. I just think this