Shadow Watcher, A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Carolyn Mahony

  SHADOW WATCHER

  by

  CAROLYN MAHONY

  Text copyright © 2017 Carolyn Mahony

  All Rights Reserved

  The right of Carolyn Mahony to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher and author.

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To my husband, David. For your patience and unwavering support!

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER ONE

  A screech of brakes, the squeal of wheels, and Elizabeth Harper braced herself as she toppled over, waiting for the impact.

  But it never came … the end result being a rather ungainly sprawl half on the pavement, half in the road, that left her feeling winded but not badly injured.

  She heard a car door open and a young man rushed to her side, his voice raised in stress. ‘Christ … are you alright? I could have killed you. You didn’t even look to see if the road was clear.’

  Elizabeth had never felt so embarrassed in her life. She could hardly even look at the man as he helped her up from the road – hugely conscious of the queue of cars piling up in the High Street waiting patiently for her inconvenient presence to be removed. As she allowed herself to be helped back onto the pavement she realised just how narrowly she’d avoided being run over.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she uttered distractedly, clutching onto his arm for support. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I thought you were going to hit me and must have lost my balance. How completely stupid of me.’

  The man peered at her closer. ‘Hey, it’s Mrs Harper, isn’t it? Do you remember me? It’s Rory … Rory Marsden. I used to go out with your granddaughter, Grace, a few years back?’

  She returned his look, taking in the black hair and good-looking face, before saying. ‘Rory … of course, how are you?’

  Her tone was cautious but he seemed unaware of it as he treated her to a winning smile.

  ‘Good, thanks. But you gave me a fright nearly walking in front of my car like that. Are you sure you’re okay? I could call an ambulance?’

  ‘No, no, I’m fine, dear.’

  ‘Look, let me help you into the coffee shop and why don’t you order us both a cup of tea or coffee while I move my car out of the way. My treat. I think I need something to settle my nerves as much as you probably do.’

  He helped her to the doorway of the shop and she looked up at him. ‘Really, there’s no need–’

  ‘I insist,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. Mine’s a cappuccino if you wouldn’t mind ordering it for me?’

  Elizabeth Harper watched him go, then requested the drinks and sat shakily in her seat as she waited for him to come back. Good thing she had the hospital appointment this week. That was the second fall she’d had in as many days. Or was it the third? And the headaches were getting worse. Oh dear, she felt so muddled; it didn’t take a genius to work out that something wasn’t right.

  The realisation was accompanied by a stab of anxiety. She should have told the girls what the doctors had said. Why hadn’t she? She knew the answer of course – she didn’t like to admit that her usefulness was running out – that soon she’d be more of a hindrance to them than a help. It wasn’t fun getting old.

  Ten minutes later Rory was back and sharing the settee with her as they sipped their drinks. He was such a handsome man she thought, observing his smooth dark looks and brilliant blue eyes. Such a shame things hadn’t worked out between him and Grace.

  Oh dear … that reminded her that she needed to be careful.

  ‘How’s Grace getting on?’ he asked, as if tuning into her thoughts.

  ‘Oh, she’s well. Working in London as a medical secretary.’

  Was that too much information? Another stab of anxiety pinched at her but his next words eased her disquiet.

  ‘That’s nice. I do follow what she’s up to on Facebook and the like but we haven’t seen each other in ages. What hospital does she work at?’

  ‘Oh,’ Elizabeth faltered. ‘I … don’t remember. She did tell me … ’

  ‘No worries, it’s just such a shame isn’t it, when friends lose touch? Still, I daresay she has far better things to do than worry about what I’m up to.’

  His smile was rueful and Elizabeth found herself feeling uncomfortable, as if it was her fault that Grace hadn’t made the effort to see him.

  ‘Everyone’s so busy these days,’ she said vaguely. ‘I hardly see her myself.’

  His vivid blue eyes were compelling as he looked at her. ‘Well, do tell her that you bumped into me, won’t you? Say I often think about her and that I miss her.’

  Elizabeth could believe it. She’d never doubted the depth of his feelings for Grace – he’d carried his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see. It was a tragedy that things had turned out the way they had. A real tragedy.

  He hesitated, then rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out a card. ‘My number’s on here … just in case she’d like to give me a call next time she’s back? I’d better be off or I’ll be late for my appointment. It’s been nice to catch up. Will you be okay getting home?’

  ‘I’ll be fine, dear. I have my car in the car park, thank you.’

  ‘You will remember to tell Grace that you saw me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She watched him go, marvelling at the difference a few years could make. His stride was confident, his clothes casual but clearly expensive. She was impressed.

  She sipped at the remnants of her tea, her heart dipping at the sadness of it all. Grace had never said why she and Rory had split up, and despite Elizabeth’s insistence that it was wrong to conceal the existence of a man’s child from him, her granddaughter had been adamant that it was her life, her baby and her decision – and nothing Elizabeth could say had swerved her from that path.
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br />   But things were difficult for her, Elizabeth knew that. And whilst she helped out as much as she could, and there’d be a small legacy when she died, she couldn’t help worrying about how she and Ellie would manage in the future.

  The germ of an idea drifted into her mind, and rather than dismiss it like she normally would have done, she found herself tentatively exploring it. It was wrong to break a confidence of course, but Grace had been so headstrong back then, and so had Rory. Pride would have got in the way for both of them.

  And he seemed such a charming young man. It didn’t feel right that he didn’t know he had a daughter – and it wasn’t good that Ellie was growing up without knowing who her father was. Children had a right to know their roots, didn’t they?

  By the time she returned home an hour later, the seed had taken root. Of course, Grace would be furious at first, but her life was such a struggle she’d be thanking her if it all turned out well. Elizabeth’s eyes drifted to the picture of her great granddaughter on the sideboard, looking so proud in her new school uniform. She so wanted them to be happy; to know that when she was no longer around there’d be someone there to look after them – give them the love they deserved.

  The more she thought about it the more she convinced herself she needed to act. Time was running out, she didn’t need any doctor to tell her that. This might be the last chance she got to try and make things right for them. And even if it didn't result in a reunion, at least Ellie would know who her father was and he’d surely want to contribute financially to the upbringing of his daughter – which would make things so much easier for Grace.

  She struggled to think it through logically; her reasoning was so foggy these days. It didn’t feel right doing something so enormous behind her granddaughter’s back, but Grace would never agree to it if they talked it through first, and she could just picture them now – Grace, Rory and Ellie … a happy family unit as they should be. The image of them all beaming out at her fired her imagination, and excitement bubbled through her. Of course it was for the best – and if it all worked out, as she was sure it would, she’d die a happy woman.

  Quickly, before she changed her mind, she went into the hall and dialled his mobile.

  It had been a mistake, a terrible mistake. She knew that the moment the words were out. He’d not reacted at all as she’d hoped and she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to meet up with him tomorrow, as he’d demanded. She felt agitated; her hands were trembling as she replaced the receiver and stared out of the hall window.

  How was she going to explain herself to Grace? What was she going to say? She should have listened to her granddaughter and kept out of it.

  You fool … you stupid, interfering old fool.

  Now she’d have to phone Grace and tell her what she’d done. She didn’t think she could do it. Not over the phone. Better to see her in person so she could explain that she’d been acting with the best of intentions.

  On the point of picking up the phone, she stopped. She’d make herself a cup of tea first … calm down a bit. Maybe even sleep on it. She was in no fit state to talk to anyone at the moment.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rory Marsden sat in the chair in his lounge, his eyes fixed unseeingly on a small spot on the cream-coloured wall.

  He’d got over the initial shock of what the old lady had told him now – but not the rage that still pumped through his veins. He didn’t know what instinct had made him swerve his car towards her like that, apart from the fact that she was a link to Grace, but how lucky that he had. A child! How dare Grace deceive him like that?

  And if it ever came out …

  He looked around him. From the luxuriously furnished flat to the clothes he wore, to the Porsche and Harley Davidson bike sitting in the garage – all of it was courtesy of his father’s inheritance. And generous though that had been, he was getting through it fast.

  He needed to deal with this. If his mother found out she had a granddaughter, it wouldn’t take much to give her an excuse to leave her money elsewhere.

  When he saw the old lady tomorrow he’d make sure he didn’t leave without Grace’s details. He’d search the whole bloody house for them if he had to.

  The sound of the doorbell interrupted his thoughts and he let out an impatient breath as he rose to answer it, glowering at the man standing on his doorstep.

  ‘What do you want? I haven’t got any money if that’s what you’re after.’

  Keith Donovan’s smile flickered but stayed in place. ‘No, I just wondered if you fancied a beer? Dave and I are meeting up at the Anchor.’

  ‘Thought you were banned from coming out with the boys?’

  His friend grimaced. ‘I’m staying out of Amanda’s way for a while – had a bit of a falling out.’

  ‘Let me guess – you lost another packet on the horses? You bang on about my addictions–’

  He stared at his friend for a long moment, then shrugged. ‘I’m going to that pole-dancing club in London tonight, if you want to come?’

  Keith grinned. ‘That really would be divorce, mate. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow – you can come over for dinner if Amanda’s talking to me by then.’

  After he’d gone Rory slumped back in his chair, his thoughts turning straight back to Grace.

  She’d been special; there was no denying that. But then she’d betrayed him.

  His expression darkened. She’d clearly not taken his message on board. That no one made a fool of Rory Marsden. No one.

  Tossing back his drink he got up from his chair and went into the bedroom. He crossed to the bedside table and pulled the small package of white crystals from the drawer almost reverently. It had become a habit he knew, but if he wanted to have a good time tonight …

  ***

  The girl had finished her dance and across the room she caught and held Rory’s eye. She sauntered slowly over to his table, drifting into a slow sensuous dance as she came to a halt in front of him. He watched her swaying provocatively in front of him and sipped his drink, enjoying the show. She ran her hands unhurriedly down her scantily clad body, allowing them to linger delicately on her breasts. Her eyes held his all the time, hinting at a promise of things to come. He drew a sharp breath and reached out for her, pulling her roughly onto his lap.

  ‘Want to show me a good time?’ he whispered in her ear.

  The crack and booze were working well … he felt good, intensely powerful. He liked feeling powerful.

  ‘Yeah … if you make it worth my while.’

  He pulled her to him and started to kiss her, his hands moving arrogantly over her body. In one swift, practised movement, she turned to sit astride him and returned his kiss.

  ‘Not here …’ she whispered, nibbling his ear, ‘… too many people and my boss will be watching.’

  Without a word, he threw a fifty–pound note onto the table and led her down to the car park, stopping only to collect her coat.

  Her eyes lit up when she saw the Porsche.

  ‘Cool … I’ve never been in a Porsche before.’

  ‘You’re not going in one now,’ Rory said, pulling her into his arms. ‘I want you on it, not in it.’

  ‘Hey … What if someone sees us?’

  ‘Makes it all the more exciting, don’t you think?’ He pushed her up against the bonnet and pulled her coat open, his eyes feasting on her body. ‘Don’t worry – I’ll make it worth your while.’

  ‘I’ll have the money up front if it’s all the same to you.’

  She held back from him, waiting, and with a muttered curse he delved into his pocket and withdrew his wallet. ‘How much?’

  ‘Two hundred.’

  ‘Two hundred? For a quickie in a car park?’

  The girl shrugged. ‘Take it or leave it.’

  He withdrew the notes and handed them over, his eyes never wavering from her face as she calmly counted the money and stuffed it into her coat pocket. Then smiling, she slid her arms provocatively around his neck.

>   ‘Come on then, lover, show me what you’re made of.’

  And he wasted no time as he took his pleasure. Only in his mind it wasn’t some faceless, nameless little tart he was screwing, but Grace. Sweet, innocent little Grace – who once again was threatening to ruin his life.

  When it was over, he looked at the girl in disgust. ‘You’re a whore, you know that? And it wasn’t worth two hundred quid. Give me a hundred back.’

  She fastened her coat, making no move to do as he said.

  ‘Sorry, mate, we agreed a price. And who’s Grace? You called her name out. I shouldn’t think she’d be too happy at the thought of you screwing another woman.’

  Rage pummelled through him and before he even realised what he was doing, the palm of his hand crashed into the side of her skull, knocking her to the ground.

  Leaning over her stunned form he grabbed hold of her coat, his hands fumbling with the material until his finger curled around the money in her pocket.

  Straightening up, he glanced down at her contemptuously before plucking a fifty-pound note from the pile in his hand and letting it flutter silently to the floor.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The clinic area was packed, some of the patients displaying signs of irritation as they waited to be called, others sitting with a fixed look of anxiety on their faces. Around them nurses and clerks bustled around with thick sets of notes tucked under their arms, looking as harassed as they felt.

  A normal day at the hospital.

  Tucked off to one side of it all in a small, open-plan office behind the Reception desk, Grace Harper’s expressive green eyes were preoccupied as she hung up her phone and on impulse, picked it up again and dialled her sister.

  ‘Hi, Lynette … it’s me. Sorry to ring you at work, but I’ve just had the weirdest conversation with Gran. She wants me to go home this weekend – says she’s got something to tell me. She wouldn’t say what it was over the phone, but she sounded upset – vague, not herself at all. Do you mind if I dip out of dinner on Saturday?’