The First Cut (Terrence Reid Mystery Series Book 2)

by Mary Birk

  Pippa worried her lower lip. “You’re sure the other man will want the child?”

  “Positive. He wants the child and he wants Anne.”

  “What about Anne? Would she actually marry him for the sake of the child—and lose you?”

  “I think she knows that it would be the best thing for the child.”

  “I don’t think you should give up each other like this, Terrence. You’ve never loved any other woman. What will you do without her?”

  “We can’t let what we want ruin the child’s life. Anne’s close to Grainger, probably closer than she’d ever admit to me, and he loves her. It won’t be a bad life for her.”

  Pippa made a face. “Shite, shite, shite.”

  He nodded, staring hollowly at nothing.

  “How far along is she?”

  “About three months.”

  “How is she feeling?”

  He blew out a breath and sent her a look of relieved gratitude. “God bless you for asking—for not just hating her on my behalf. She’s all right, I think. Morning sickness, though, last I heard. We don’t talk, but I have people watching out for her.”

  “You still love her.”

  He nodded.

  “And she still loves you?”

  “I think so.”

  “Oh, Terrence, I’m so sorry.”

  They were both quiet for a moment, then he asked, “Will you do me a favor? Will you visit her? I’m afraid she’s lonely in that house by herself at night. You could take the children and just distract her a bit. Maybe for dinner tonight if you’re not going back just yet?”

  “Of course, I’d be happy to.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone else about her being pregnant.”

  “I won’t. Give me her number.”

  He wrote it out along with the house address.

  “She’s out in the country working on the job until about six-thirty each night. If she is up for seeing you, perhaps you could pick up some food and take it so she won’t feel the need to cook? She’s tired with the job and just from being pregnant. It’s making her a bit worn out.”

  “I will. I know how that is.”

  “I know you do. Thanks for that, then.”

  “You can’t join us?”

  “No. We’re not seeing each other. But if you would let me know if there’s anything you notice she needs, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Of course.” Pippa got up and put her arms around him. “I’ll call you after and let you know how she is.”

  He held his sister as tightly as he could. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 92

  ANNE GAVE A NOD to the workman on the other side of the pond, signaling him to turn on the waterfalls on both ends. Water streamed like sheets of glass over the angular stone slabs and down into the pond. She turned and smiled at Walter Von Zandt, though she wanted to throw him in the pond and hold his head under.

  “What do you think?”

  “Spectacular. They’re lighted at night?”

  She nodded with satisfaction. With the completion of the waterfalls, the project was almost finished and the firm would get their money. Jonas, with his acute financial acumen, had set up the payment of their services through funds safely put in escrow at the inception of the project, portions of which were paid out as certain benchmarks were reached. All that was left now were some finishing touches, then the last, smallest payment would be released.

  “Maybe you can stay until after it gets dark tonight and show me.” He glanced over at the man who was busily doing something with measuring instruments close enough to be in earshot. He lowered his voice. “Does that man ever do anything that isn’t right beside you? I can never talk to you in private anymore. Can you tell him to do something somewhere else?”

  She shook her head. Even if she wanted him to, which she didn’t, she doubted the bodyguard pretending to be one of her workmen would listen. He stuck to her like sap on pine bark from the time they got to the garden every morning until she got back in the car to go back to Aytoun Lane, even hanging around outside when she went to use the restroom. She’d told him he was taking his instructions too seriously, but he acted like he didn’t understand. He was obviously more worried about getting on the wrong side of Terrence than he was about annoying her. Likewise, the man blandly ignored Walter’s pointed remarks suggesting he occupy himself away from Anne.

  She motioned for Walter to sit beside her on the stone bench that faced the pond, and loudly explained to him how the original waterfalls had been improved upon with invisible modern technology. He nodded, listening. Then she whispered, pretending to be worried. “I think he reports what I do to my husband, Walter. I have to be careful.” Anne was more grateful than she could say for Terrence giving her this protection, especially as nothing else she did seemed to discourage Walter’s attentions.

  “Reid’s spying on you?”

  “I think so. You saw how Terrence is, and now he’s even more jealous.”

  “This is no way for you to live, Anne.”

  He tried to put his arms around her, but she shook her head and moved away.

  She was tired of fending him off and decided the time had come to play her strongest card. “Walter, you don’t understand. I’m pregnant.”

  His eyes flew open and his face seized up with tension as if he’d sustained a grievous blow. Clearly Terrence had been right about the effect that her news would have on Walter. Unlike the simple complication of her being married, her being pregnant with someone else’s child instantly made her undesirable. In this, Walter and her husband were alike.

  She saw Walter’s jaw set and his eyes harden into flint.

  “How long have you known?”

  Anne tried to sound innocently unaware of the effect her revelation was having on him. “Since right before I came here.”

  He expelled a long breath and shook his head. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  She widened her eyes. “Why would I? It has nothing to do with the job.”

  “So he has you. Damn him to hell. He’s won this, as well.” He spat out his words, and Anne saw an undisguised malevolence in the man’s face that made her skin prickle.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. But he does.” He stood up, but his face softened as he looked at her. “I’ll let you get back to work, Anne. Take care of yourself.”

  * * * * *

  The car Terrence had hired for Anne, driven by the bodyguard who never said a word beyond what was absolutely necessary, took her home each afternoon after she finished work and retrieved her each morning at the Aytoun Lane house. Someone came during the day to clean and sometimes they left a dinner for her to eat when she got home. By the magic of unseen hands, the kitchen was kept stocked with foods she liked to eat and her clothes were cleaned and pressed so she didn’t have to spend time taking care of those details.

  And every day the decorator left a notebook with questions and options on the new kitchen table for Anne. When Anne returned home in the evenings, she indicated her choices in the notebook and left it on the table for the decorator to see the next day. It was kind of a dream world. Choosing things for a life they would have had if so many things hadn’t gone awry. Would Terrence live here when she left, she wondered. Or would he sell the house?

  At night, she would drink her herbal tea and walk around the house and think, what would he like here, what would be comfortable for him there. In the bookcase of the study they had planned would be his, she put the whiskey and brandy he liked and a few volumes of books that she thought he might like, books she’d bought during her rare shopping excursions. She imagined him sitting in the study, having a brandy and looking over some of his work papers or maybe studying the screen of his laptop at the end of a day after they’d had a casual dinner together. His new chess set would be set up, and maybe she’d have the courage to play with him. Or maybe she would be curled up on the sofa reading
a book to be close to him, with the baby next to her.

  Then she would shake herself back to reality and wonder where he really was, what he was doing as she stayed alone in the big house. She knew she couldn’t call him again. She’d tried so many times, got only his voice mail, left messages and never heard back from him. Every time she called him and didn’t leave a message, Harry called her right away to make sure nothing was wrong. That was a bit embarrassing, as obviously Terrence had him call her to see what she wanted, so Harry had to know that she’d called her husband and he just didn’t want to talk to her. So she’d stopped calling without leaving a message. She’d almost stopped calling and leaving messages, as well. Now she only called when she couldn’t stop herself.

  But tonight she would have company. Pippa and the children.

  SUNDAY, MAY 10

  Chapter 93

  HARRY DROVE into the Aytoun Lane house driveway. He’d taken the task of looking after Lady Anne seriously, as he knew the guv expected, and popped round to check on her a few times a week. He telephoned every morning and every evening, even if he had to leave whatever dolly bird he was with to do so. He’d sussed that Sundays were particularly hard for her, so he always came to see her on Sunday afternoons.

  She opened the front door even before he’d turned off the engine, the orange cat in her arms. Waiting, she’d been. As always, he saw her scan the car he arrived in to see if he was alone. He always was, but that hadn’t stopped her from hoping she’d see the guv. Still, she smiled at him and waved. She was lonely enough to settle for seeing him.

  “I thought you might come. I’ve made tea.”

  “Tea sounds fine, Lady Anne.”

  She made a face. “I wish you’d call me Anne.”

  “Nah, it just wouldn’t feel right to me.” They’d had this discussion before.

  She gave a resigned smile. “All right, then.” She led him into the kitchen. “Don’t faint, but I’ve made a cake.”

  “Brilliant. This morning?”

  She nodded.

  “You were feeling good this morning then? You’re not always one for facing food in the morning.” They never discussed what he was almost positive was her condition. She always claimed to have a bit of flu, or an upset stomach. Sometimes she’d say she must have eaten something that was off. But he’d had three sisters who’d gotten preggers when they were still in school and he was living at home, and he was fairly sure Lady Anne was expecting. He didn’t know if the guv knew, but Harry wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

  “I feel good. Yesterday and today both. I think I’m finally getting over that bit of flu. I had eggs for breakfast today. So then I thought I would bake a cake in case you came by for tea. It’s chocolate. You like chocolate, don’t you?”

  “Indeed I do.”

  She put the cat down and brewed two pots of tea—one regular and one the awful herbal stuff he teased her about drinking. Then she busied herself cutting slices of cake. When she had everything ready, she poured the tea.

  She wiggled a hand in his direction. “Go ahead. Try the cake. Tell me if you like it. This is a recipe of my sister Jeanne’s, the one that runs a bed and breakfast.”

  He took a bite and closed his eyes as he tasted it with what he’d planned to be exaggerated pleasure, surprised to discover that it really was good. “Delicious. Lady Anne, you’ve made me a happy man.”

  She laughed. “I’m so glad you like it. I just wanted to do something to thank you for all you do. I know watching over me must be a horrible nuisance for you.”

  “Not at all. It’s a pleasure. And with the cake, we’re definitely even.” He watched as he saw her face suddenly get serious, and her eyes drop down to where her hands surrounded her tea cup. He knew what was coming. What always came about now with her.

  “How is he? I never see him, you know.” Tears swam in her eyes. “He won’t see me, or even talk to me.” She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Of course, you know that.”

  The first time this had happened, he’d been surprised, shocked even, but now he was used to it. It had taken Harry some time to get used to the idea that this beautifully elegant wife of his superior officer was really just a girl sick at heart for a man who wouldn’t have anything to do with her.

  Harry knew the guv wouldn’t want him to tell her anything that would worry her, so he wouldn’t tell her what Reid had gone through to explain to his superiors what had happened. If things hadn’t turned out so well, Harry didn’t know what would have happened to Reid’s career. But Harry said nothing about that to her. Even though the Superintendent kept his distance from her himself, he obviously wanted his wife protected from as much as he could manage to protect her.

  “He’s fine, Lady Anne. Works all the time, but that’s normal for him. Things are busy at the office.” That was the truth, of course, but the guv was working much harder than necessary.

  She sighed. “Still no sign of Moira?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “Do you think she’s dead? That Walter’s had her killed?”

  “Either that or she’s just doing a good job at not being found.”

  “I hope she’s okay. You’ll let me know if you hear anything before I leave?”

  “Aye. Count on it.”

  She was quiet, then took a sip of her tea. “I never heard if there was anything helpful on that flashdrive Moira gave me. Was it a total fizzle?”

  Harry was taken aback. He’d assumed she’d at least known how important what she’d risked so much for had been. But of course, everything had been kept confidential, and only a handful of people knew of her involvement. Keeping her name out of all of the reports so there would be less chance of retaliation against her had been an unbreakable order. But she was entitled to know a little, he decided.

  “No, not a fizzle at all. The information you got helped us get millions and millions of pounds out of the hands of terrorists.”

  “Oh.” She looked surprised.

  “And you probably know we arrested the men you met at the dinner—not Walter Von Zandt, of course, but the others. We were able to show not only that they were involved in ordering the Heidelberg bombing, but up to their necks in a conspiracy to bomb almost a dozen universities in the UK and Europe. The information MI5 got out of them saved many lives, I daresay.”

  She nodded. “I saw that part in the newspaper.”

  “You did a fine job giving the descriptions for the sketches of the suspects. Of course, there’s been no mention of your part in things, as the guv doesn’t want anyone to know you were involved. To keep you safe.”

  “Of course.”

  “We weren’t able to get enough to arrest Von Zandt yet, but eventually, we’ll get him.”

  “I wish I could have helped more with that.”

  “What you did helped a lot and the guv is uncommonly proud of you. He just wants to make sure no one comes after you, to, you know, retaliate or something.”

  Tears fell down her beautiful cheeks. “He’s nice that way, isn’t he?”

  “He doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I’m a dreadful wife for a man like him.”

  Now Harry didn’t know what to say. He’d gotten better at navigating these talks with her—the first time had flummoxed him—but this one was tricky. In spite of himself, he had become genuinely fond of her, but she had caused the guv more than a fair amount of trouble. He was fairly certain that despite the Superintendent being so crazy about her, she actually was a dreadful wife for a man like him.

  She laughed, while at the same time wiping away her tears with her hand. “You should see your face.”

  He stammered, trying to regroup. “No, not at all, I was going to say.”

  “No, you weren’t.” She got up and took her cup over to the sink. “Would you like more cake?”

  He’d cleaned his plate. “Don’t mind if I do. It’s a lovely cake.” He brightened. “You do know how to cook.”

&nbs
p; She smiled. “Thank you. I’ll have to work on the rest of the wife things.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Whew. They’d gotten through it again.

  She brought him another piece of cake. “Did you get a chance to ask if he’d found the things I’m missing in his flat? My perfume and the nightgown? I’m getting packed and still can’t find them.”

  “Aye. He said no, that you must have left them in the hotel.”

  Chapter 94

  ANNE WALKED OUT TO THE CAR to see Harry off, then went back into the house, knowing she would face another lonely Sunday evening. Other than the one visit from Pippa, Harry had been her only visitor while she’d been living there. She felt a little like she was in exile, but her work days were long, and she was usually tired at night. Besides, she wasn’t really feeling too sociable, so it was probably for the best.

  All of her weekend chores were finished and she was ready for her last week of work at Lynstrade Manor. The gardens would be finished by Wednesday, or Thursday at the latest. Friday she would be leaving to go back to California. Jonas had offered her another project, this one in Dallas, and she’d given him her tentative acceptance. She’d have two weeks in between projects. Two weeks to visit her family, see her doctor, and rest. The cramps hadn’t come back, but she wanted to be careful. Also, she’d promised Andrew she’d help with ideas for the foundation he’d set up in Lenore’s memory.

  She closed the front door and went through to the patio outside of the living room to get the book she’d left on the table by the lounge chair before she’d heard Harry drive up. The sun had gone under a blanket of clouds and it was already getting too chilly to stay outside. From the look of things, there would be another May shower this evening. She grabbed her book and went back into the house, locking the door for the night. The man who watched the house generally took a break when Harry was there, and she hadn’t seen him get back yet. She thought maybe she’d take him some of the cake when he reappeared.