by Jo McCready
“That means yes!” yelled Kirsty as she walked up the stairs. “Hey, ow . . . watch it.”
The boys barreled back into the pub, jam sandwiches in hand.
“Hey!” Tracy reprimanded, the look in her eyes offering no option but for the boys to go straight to her. She put a hand on each boy’s shoulder, leaning in close to speak quietly to them. Her face was serious but her voice low, and RJ couldn’t make out the words.
They stared solemnly at her as she spoke—her own face reflected in miniature in theirs, two times over—nodding in unison when she had finished. “Right, off you go then, and remember to wash your hands.”
They ventured back upstairs at a far more leisurely pace than they had before. Five minutes later, they returned with their sister, who was grinning behind the jam sandwich wedged between her teeth. Content in the company of her brothers, Kirsty was almost bubbling over with happiness.
“Let’s get the bikes,” suggested one of the boys. The trio disappeared out the back door. RJ assumed they wouldn’t be seen again until their mother called them in for their evening meal.
Tracy sighed. “They’ll be the death of me, that lot.”
“They seem like good kids. You do a great job.”
“Yeah, no, they are. Still bloody exhausting, though. Believe it or not, the boys are the easiest. They have each other, and can pretty much look after themselves. It’s hard for the wee one, though. She sees the bond that her brothers have while she’s all on her own.”
RJ’s phone vibrated on the bar counter. “Sorry, I have to take this,” RJ told Tracy. Reluctantly, she turned away from the wealth of information that was Tracy. A wealth of information she’d need to mine at another time.
Chapter 10
Ben’s name flashed on the screen, which meant he was calling her from his home number. If he had been calling her from his office, the name on the screen would have read Director.
“Hey, what’s up? I take it this is a social call?” She walked outside, happy to hear her uncle’s voice.
“Nothing is up,” he assured her. “I just wanted to check in with my favorite niece to see how she’s doing.”
“Your only niece,” she reminded him.
“Well yes, my only, and my favorite, niece.”
She could hear his smile through the phone and was instantly at ease.
“The property hunt hasn’t turned anything up so far,” she told him, glancing around to make sure she was out of earshot of anyone who might be in the vicinity.
Once she let herself in through the gate at the side, she took the old wooden stairs two at a time and fumbled in her pocket for the cabin key.
“All these things take time. You can’t expect results so quickly,” said Ben, his calm, velvety tones instantly warming her heart.
“I know. Hey, I thought we weren’t supposed to get personal calls on assignment.”
“You’re not, unless your personal call comes from an uncle who happens to be the director of the organization and has a fully secured phone-link set up in his home.”
“Fair enough.” She put her shoulder to the door and shoved, pushing it firmly back in place behind her. “How are things at the organization?”
“Busy as ever. Things are very quiet at home, though. I’m thinking of getting a dog.”
“A dog? You work far too long hours for a dog.”
“It might be time for me to think about retiring . . .” He paused as if waiting for RJ to let the idea to sink in.
“You? Retire? Never going to happen. You’d be bored after a week and desperate to go back.”
“I have hobbies. I’d keep myself busy.”
“What hobbies?”
“You know I like to cook, and there would be walking the dog, of course.”
“There’s only so much cooking and dog walking you can do in a day. Perhaps you could write your memoirs,” she said wryly.
He laughed heartily. “I’d have to shoot anyone who read it. That would keep me busy for a while, at least. Tell me, how are you getting along with Thomas?”
“I knew you told me his name before but for the life of me I couldn’t remember it. That’s terrible, isn’t it? Only a complete cold-hearted bitch would break someone’s knee and then not even care enough to remember his name. Stuart—I think I’ll just stick to calling him that, it’s too confusing otherwise—is fine,” she informed him, keeping her voice low. The walls were thin and she had no way of knowing whether anyone was close by. “A bit of an unfortunate pairing but, you know, we’ll work with it.”
“Yes, I didn’t realize who your partner would be until you were already on your way. I’m glad to hear it’s working out. Your paths would have crossed at some point. Perhaps it’s better that it happened now, so you can get it over and done with and put it behind you.”
“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
“So, you’re not fine at the moment, then?” Ben asked.
She should have known he’d read deeper into her tone than she’d intended him to.
“No, yeah, we are, we will be. It’s fine.”
“Hmmm.”
She could hear the deep frown in his voice.
“Honestly, it’s all good.”
“What’s it like being back? You okay with that?”
“I’m okay. It’s not like I’m back. I’m just on assignment in a country that seems familiar. It’s a surreal concept but far more normal than I thought it would be, if that makes sense?”
“As long as you’re okay.”
“I am. I promise.”
“Okay.”
“What about the case? Have you got any further information for me?”
“Not a lot, I’m afraid. We did uncover some interesting data from the financials, though. The estate appeared to break even until about ten years ago, then suddenly it started making enough to start buying up parcels of surrounding land.”
“The place is huge. You have to see it on the ground.”
“It seems it was always huge, but all this property acquisition has turned it into something else.”
RJ looked out the window at the three siblings playing on their bikes. One of the boys was attempting to jump over a ramp made of an old paint tin and a rough plank of wood. It didn’t look like it was going to end well. Poor Tracy would likely have even more on her plate to deal with before the day was over.
“Has the governor been putting on any pressure?” RJ asked him, amused at the scene outside. Every time they tried to cycle up the ramp, the wood slipped off the tin and the bikes thudded back down on the ground.
“No, he understands it’s a process and just wants to get to the bottom of it. He’s a patient man—plenty of experience in his position, after all. It’s his sister that’s proving to be a handful. Poor woman. He’s trying to keep her in check, but she’s not coping very well.”
“I can’t imagine how anyone would cope in that situation.” RJ thought of the broken woman she met at the huge lake house. The mere thought of Janice Sullivan was enough motivation to ensure she got the job done. Sure, they weren’t any further forward yet but there was no way RJ was going to let James Sullivan’s widow down. She deserved answers. Hopefully then she would be able to grieve and move forward with her life.
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“There’ll be a lot to answer for if this death turns out to be anything other than an accident. The people involved will be highly motivated to ensure that this matter is put to rest.”
“I know, I’ll be careful. Try not to worry.”
“Easier said than done, pumpkin.”
“I know. I love you. Speak soon.”
“Love you too, bye.”
Just as she ended the call, one of the twins managed to get up the ramp; unfortunately, he had refined his technique and was going slow, so as not to knock the plank off again. He clearly hadn’t considered what this would mean for his arrival at the top.
The front wheel of the bike dropped down in front of the paint tin, the momentum of the plank coming up at the back, throwing his back wheel up and over the front. The boy flew off the bike and into the gravel, out of RJ’s line of sight.
She hurried to her door. By the time she got it open, the flying boy had stood up, his right arm bloodied from elbow to wrist.
“That was brilliant! You do it,” he shouted to his brother.
His twin hurried to reset the ramp. Kirsty sat on her much smaller bike, which, judging by its paintwork, was secondhand and had been spray-painted a pale green to suit its new owner. The streamers at the end of her handlebars fluttered in the breeze as she looked on in horror in the fear that she would be asked to perform the same trick.
As RJ ducked back inside the cabin, she could hear Tracy bellowing for them to, “Get inside right now.”
Good call, thought RJ. How on earth did Tracy manage to do it all?
She sat on the couch and stretched her arms. Damn, she was exhausted. The prospect of another night on the floor on the couch cushions was depressing. Not that the alternative was any better, she thought as she looked over at the bed Stuart had claimed.
He chose that precise moment to return, knocking on the cabin door to let her know he was there before he entered, the bag he had slung over his shoulder looking just as empty as it had when he left that morning.
“Anything?” she asked him for form’s sake, not holding out much hope.
He shook his head. “There’s nothing in the local papers that the big nationals or news stations didn’t cover. The stories lasted longer up here, that’s all. I guess there isn’t much else to report on. Probably the most exciting thing to happen in years and they couldn’t find anything to top it.”
“What about the other death? The guy on the estate?”
“MacKay. Yeah, there was a bit on him. Doesn’t tell us anything, though. A few paragraphs on an unexpected death. The paper didn’t mention suicide, but they never do. It was heavily implied, though. His obituary was printed the next day.” He rubbed his eyes, so obviously tired from searching through newsprint and microfiche all day, then yawned, too exhausted to even contemplate covering his widening mouth. “How ’bout you?” he asked her, rubbing his right eye, which had started to water.
“Well, the property market around here sucks. I can tell you that.”
“Do you think that’ll affect our cover and our ability to stick around?”
She got up to switch the kettle on. “No, I think we’re fine. I’ve got an estate agent searching for more properties. I’ve given him a week to get back to me. After that, who knows? I’m sure we’ll come up with something to explain an extended stay if we have to. Tea?”
Stuart nodded gratefully and she popped a tea bag in each of the two mugs she’d set on the counter. Bending to get the milk out of the fridge, she said, “I saw our friendly, local gamekeeper today at the pub.”
“Yeah?” Stuart visibly perked up at the news.
“Yeah, except he wasn’t too friendly, surprisingly enough. Downed his drink, then left when he saw me. His name’s William Carstairs, by the way.”
“How’d you find that one out?” Stuart asked.
“One of the regulars at the pub,” explained RJ, waving off the full story. “Tracy seems to know him quite well. I suppose that’s only natural for a landlady in a pub in a place like this. She felt sorry for him. Says the recent deaths have been hard on him.”
She handed him his tea.
“Did she have anything to say about that?” He took a sip and peered over the top his mug, waiting for her to respond.
RJ relayed everything Tracy had told her, plus the information of the estate’s acquisitions.
“Why would the director phone to tell you that? It’s a little below his pay grade. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“He didn’t phone to tell me that, it just came up in conversation.”
Stuart’s raised eyebrow told her he didn’t believe her.
“Oh, sorry, don’t you know?” RJ said, suddenly embarrassed at their relationship and how others might view it.
“Know what?” he asked cautiously.
“We’re related. Benjamin and I.”
“Distantly?”
“Not exactly, no. He’s my uncle.”
Stuart put his tea on the coffee table and flopped down on the couch. “That’s just great. The icing on the cake. I’m on assignment with the girl who shattered my knee and also happens to be favored by the big boss because he’s her uncle.”
“It’s not like that.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is it not? How could it possibly not be?”
“I got into Kingfisher through talent and hard work. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard I work and how much the trainers at HQ push me, precisely because I am Benjamin’s niece. I have just as much of a right to be here as you do.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yes, we will,” RJ snapped.
Stuart got up from his seat. “I’m going to get a few hours’ sleep. I suggest you do the same. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
“Why, what’s happening?” she asked, still seething.
“We’re going back to the estate. It’s a full moon tonight. We can’t waste it, especially as we’ll need to go in dark so as not to be seen.”
A wave of disbelief slammed over RJ. “That terrain is rough. We’d be crazy to attempt something like that in the dark.”
“If you’ve got a better idea of how we can get to the scene of James Sullivan’s death, let me know. We need to investigate it somehow.”
RJ folded her arms in consternation. “I don’t.”
Setting her tea aside, she pulled the couch cushions down on the floor and bundled herself up on her makeshift bed, too riled up to sleep.
Stuart, much to her annoyance, was soon snoring gently from the corner of the room.
Chapter 11
RJ tossed and turned in her sleep, waking groggily when Stuart shook her shoulder. He was already dressed, their backpacks at the front door, each covered in a coil of rope.
“Don’t turn the lights on,” he told her. “It’ll make it more difficult when we leave.”
RJ quickly dressed in the dark and joined him at the front door.
“We’ll go over the back fence and through the trees. It would be quicker if we could follow them to the end, which is only a mile or so away from Sullivan’s ridge.” This was how they had come to know the cliff face where James Sullivan had supposedly perished. It didn’t appear to have any other name on the maps they had found, so it was as good a name as any. “It’ll be impossible in this light, though. We’ll need to get out of the trees as soon as possible if we’re to have any chance of seeing where we’re going.”
“Are we using night-vision goggles?”
“No, they’re too cumbersome for the distance we need to cover. Our eyes will adjust to the low light levels. We need our peripheral vision to cover the distance we need to go. Goggles restrict your field of sight. Night vision would just slow us down and could even put us in danger because it can make you over confident. I’m trained in night observation. It’ll be safer just to follow my lead.”
“Right,” said RJ. That was hardly reassuring. She hated having to rely on anyone else. It didn’t help that Stuart was so obviously enjoying this state of power over her.
“The organization is trying to develop something more suitable, but it’s not as easy as it sounds. Plus, in order to be effective and safe, you would need to put in a hell of a lot of hours in regular training. It’s just not practical for the amount of time most agents in the field would actually need to use it.”
Though she found his explanation perfectly reasonable, she still wished they had some form of visual help. Torches were an obvious no-no because of the attention they would attract.
They left the cabin as quietly as the stiff door allowed and climbed up the bank to the tree line.
An owl hooted from above and RJ lifted her eyes to see the powerful animal swoop overhead in the direction of the village. The moon shone brightly in the sky, not a cloud in sight to obscure the little light it provided.
“Cloud cover should be rolling in around five a.m., then heavy rain for the rest of the morning. Perfect timing. Good visibility for us when we need it, and we won’t need to worry about our tracks—the rain will hopefully wash away any sign that we were ever there.”
They ducked under the wire fence, adjusting their packs and looking at their task ahead.
“I can’t see a thing. How are we expected to get through this?”
“Your eyes will adjust. Give it time,” Stuart told her. “By the time we come out of the trees into the open fields, you’ll be able to see much better than you could ever imagine. You’ll need to use your hands and your feet to feel the way. Listen to my voice and follow it.”
RJ stretched out her hands and walked on. When she felt a tree trunk, she grasped it and swung herself around it.
“Don’t look directly at whatever you want to see,” Stuart said, advising her in low-light tactics and providing her with a direction in which to follow. “If you look directly at a pinpoint of light, you won’t be able to see the outline of the object that the light is coming from.”
“I’m hoping the only light we’ll see tonight is the moon.”
“Definitely don’t look directly at the moon. It’ll affect how well you can see when you look away. You shouldn’t look directly at any bright light, and try and avoid your phone for any reason.”
RJ’s hand missed the next trunk and she stumbled forward, slamming her shoulder painfully into the tree. “Oof.”
“You okay?”
“Yep,” she muttered, grateful that he couldn’t see the tears that had sprung into her eyes. She was going to have a monster of a bruise in the morning.
“Okay. Don’t stare too long at any one point. Eyes tire more quickly at night if you look at something too long, so objects will disappear. And don’t scan too quickly. Objects take longer to appear in your vision in the dark. Don’t scan for too long, either, because that also tires your eyes.”