Page 66 of Killing Me Softly

Kenny’s mind was a chaotic mess.

He couldn’t process it all. Not Aaron’s revelation, not his mother’s death, and certainly not the sight of DI Jack Bentley standing on his doorstep with that damn folder under his arm.

“You better come in.” Kenny opened the door wider as Jack stepped inside and he had to kick away the pile of clothes still left there, along with the box of his life.

Jack arched an eyebrow. “That’s mess, Kenny.”

“I’m embracing it.” Kenny gestured for Jack to step through to the lounge.

“I can see why.” Jack glanced down at Aaron on the sofa in an old pair of joggers and T-shirt that Kenny had probably worn brand new when it would have been Jack he’d offered a drawer to.

Kenny awaited the usual back and forth from them both. But the tension that had once defined their interactions was suddenly gone, and Kenny watched them exchange polite nodsand tight smiles as Jack remained standing at the edge of the coffee table. Kenny didn’t have the headspace to figure out what conversation they might have had other than the cause of his mother’s death to warrant their sudden ceasefire.

So he got to business. “Well? What have you got?”

Jack pointed the folder toward Aaron. “You want me to…?”

“Yes. He knows everything. Becauseyoufucking told him.”

“Maybe if you kept him on a tighter leash, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Hey!” Aaron piped up, lips curling into a half-hearted pout. “I’m a free-range puppy.”

“You’re a feral rottweiler, and you know it.”

Aaron blew Jack a kiss, all mischief and bravado, but when he turned back to Kenny, the act slipped and the guilt lurking behind his eyes, the weight pressing into his shoulders, heavier than his usual brand of reckless defiance had Kenny in bits. Tension bled out of him as the sharp edges of his anger dulled. He hated himself for snapping. Hated that his frustration had turned into blame whenthis wasn’t Aaron’s fault.

If anything, it was his.

He hadn’t stopped Aaron. Hadn’t protected him from the inevitable pain of looking his mother in the eye again. Whatever Roisin had done, whatever she hadsaidto him in that godforsaken prison, it had left its mark. Kenny could see it. And no amount of bravado, no sharp-edged grins or snarky remarks, could hide it from him.

But Jack handed him the folder and dragged him back to that mess. “We’ve had the toxicology report back from the lab. Chong briefed me earlier. They found traces of phenobarbital in your mum’s system.”

“Phenobarbital? Are you sure?” Kenny grabbed the folder and flipped through the pages.

Jack nodded. “That’s what the lab found. While it’s possible the care home administered it, I haven’t been able to confirmthat yet. They’re stonewalling me. Protocols, privacy policies, you name it. But here’s what we know. It wasn’t part of her prescribed meds. It’s a controlled substance, typically used for epilepsy or severe seizures. Not routine by any means.”

“She was on diazepam for anxiety. Nothing else. If they needed to give anything stronger, it required my explicit consent.”

“That’s what I thought.” Jack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s likely the phenobarbital was used to sedate her. Make her pliable. Easy to manage. Which makes sense with Chong’s report of no struggle signs. No resistance. Meaning whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.”

“It’s looking more likely to be someone with experience.” Kenny slammed the folder shut. “A nurse?”

Jack shook his head. “We’ve cleared all the nurses who were on duty. It was a skeleton crew that day. Lots of sickness. They had agency staff filling in. We’ve tracked and interviewed everyone on the list.”

“And?”

“No one was ever in your mum’s room alone. Except…” Jack flipped to a page in the file and pointed to a grainy CCTV image taken outside the care home. “This cleaner. She went in alone, stayed for fifteen minutes, then left. Her manager said she went there to clear up a spillage. There had been an emergency elsewhere. All hands-on deck. Alarms blasting. The cleaner went into your mum’s room, then reported that she’d been asleep the entire time. Your mum wasn’t then checked on until nearly an hour later once the chaos died down. That cleaner might have been the last person to see your mother alive. We don’t know for sure as there are no cameras inside the building. That’s all we have.”

Kenny’s stomach churned as he stared at the image. The figure was blurry, indistinct, but something about it sent a chill through him. “Have you interviewed her?”

Jack shifted uncomfortably. “We can’t locate her.”

“What do you mean you can’t locate her?” Kenny’s anger bubbled to the surface. “She worked there, didn’t she? The agency must have her details!”

“The home claim they don’t. Contacted the agency. It looks like a cash-in-hand arrangement. No proper clock-in records. No traceable address.” Jack’s frustration was evident, but it did nothing to quell Kenny’s fury. “Hence why the home don’t really want to give me access to anything unless I get a warrant.” Jack held up his hand before Kenny could speak. “Yes, I’ve applied for one. But we’re looking at days, possibly weeks, before I can get it. They know they fucked up. So I’m bringing this to you now. Off the fucking record.”

“Has it ever been on the record lately?”

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