Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  It was infuriating, and she folded her arms and kept her body rigid. Admittedly, there had been times when Ben and David's bond had caused a pang of jealousy - they believed in each other, trusted and relied in their union – but only because she should be having the same relationship with Joshua.

  She should not have allowed Ben to return. If she had been stronger, she wouldn't have needed him to come to her rescue. Her behaviour was pitiable. David had seen her weakness, her feeble nature, and he had taken advantage. Worse still, she had allowed him to.

  She had failed in her escape, failed as a mother to Joshua, and failed as a partner to Ben. What did she have left? She had no job, no friends, and no income. If only she had not chosen Rodley as her destination, and if only she did not look like some random stranger who had been murdered. Maybe then, she would have made positive steps forward and found an element of happiness.

  Light-footed, Ben stepped towards her. He lifted her butterscotch hair away from her face and kissed her cheek.

  'When are Luke and Imogen arriving?' he asked.

  She glanced at the clock. 'Soon.'

  'And don't forget I love you.'

  With a heavy heart, she watched him stroll away.

  Megan remained at the dining table and flicked through a newspaper. Out of her eye corner, she glimpsed at David who was in front of the television, and every so often, he either leered or gave her a self-satisfied grin. She held an impassive pose.

  As always, Ben was oblivious and tapping away at his computer. He also peered at her on occasions and expressed either sadness or sympathy. That hurt the most. He was likely to be questioning low self-esteem and praising his son's honesty and maturity.

  'I've decided to meet with Luke and Imogen in a café in town.'

  Ben looked up. 'I thought they were coming here.'

  'They are, but I can't do this with the two of you around. I need space.'

  'If someone is after you, we're involved too.'

  'No, you're not! This is my problem.'

  'But I thought I was here to support you.'

  She hesitated. He was right; they weren't there for companionship. She glanced at David. Ben did too, instigating David’s decision to go upstairs.

  'Thanks son.'

  There was a knock at the front door.

  'It sounds like they're here,' Ben said.

  She walked across the room and into the hallway, out of Ben's sight. David, who had been particularly slow in moving, followed on behind. She could feel his breath hot on her neck, she could smell his scent, and she imagined his lecherous gaze.

  She spun around. 'Don't even think about it.'

  He grinned and sauntered up the stairs.

  She opened the door and welcomed Luke and Imogen inside.

  Imogen looked different to what she remembered and was taller and more imposing and with a stronger physique. She was wearing tight pants, a yellow top, and a black shiny jacket, and she wore a glittering strand of beads around her neck. Imogen held out her hand, introduced herself, and demanded they used first name terms. Her palm was warm, her grip firm.

  Both Luke and Imogen commanded authority. She tried to relax and welcomed them inside, leading them to the living area. However, as they moved into the spacious surroundings, her anxieties rose and her mind swirled with their imminent questions. She glanced over her shoulder and searched for Ben. He had wandered into the kitchen to make a drink.

  Luke's eyes settled on the photograph of her son, and her body tightened. Silently, she urged him to look elsewhere and searched for a witty comment to use as a diversion. He moved closer to the mantelpiece and outstretched his arm. His hand rested on the frame.

  Megan's heart pounded.

  'Is this lovely little boy your son?'

  Fear enveloped her. She saw the aspirin. She saw his dead body. She remembered the extensive list of questions she’d had to answer after his death. 'Nephew,' she murmured.

  Ashamed and distraught, she ran out of the room with her head down and stopped with a gentle bump. Ben was before her, and clenched her arms and frowned. He eased her into the kitchen.

  'What's wrong?' he whispered.

  She clammed up. Joshua would be horrified. How could she have said such a dreadful thing? ‘I . . . I . . .’ she shook her head.

  ‘Megan. What is it?’

  'I said Joshua . . .' she raised her hand to her mouth.

  'They're not here to question you about Joshua.'

  Her mortification tore her apart. She had denied her son was part of her, denied that he had ever existed. What a wicked, depraved act.

  Out of her eye corner, she could see Luke approaching the kitchen, so she turned away and pretended to be busy in a cupboard. Her arms trembled and her face drained of colour as she imagined her son malevolently slashing her with his words.

  'I hope you don't mind,' Luke said, 'I just had a peek in a sketchpad. Someone is talented. Is it yours Megan?'

  Slowly, she turned her head and tried to speak. Her words trapped. She gawked, dumbstruck, and did not reply.

  'I love the montage on the first page. You have put it together skilfully.'

  Luke was smiling. Ben was smiling.

  She started to relax. 'I was just doodling. I haven't drawn in earnest for a few years.'

  'I particularly like the old man slumped on a chair. It is life-like.'

  Ben reached for the tray and walked through to the living room. Luke waited, encouraged her forward, then followed on behind.

  'I've always said she should make a career of it,' Ben said, 'I'm sure she would sell her work.'

  'I agree. Have you ever had any framed?'

  'No. It's not good enough.'

  'You're quite the perfectionist then?'

  She smiled. 'I suppose I am.'

  After a few more minutes of general chatter, she had relaxed and forgotten her terrible comment relating to son. Luke must have realised she had de-tensed, as he broached the subject of the interview and told her he wanted to keep it as informal as possible. Then he asked her about her life in Halifax and her desire to move to Rodley. Whilst she told him about her journey, she left out her vision of the stabbing incident and the sense of déjà vu. Nor did she tell him of her lifelong yearning to visit the place, and claimed it was as though she had put a pin on a map.

  'Do you have any friends or relatives here?' he asked.

  'Not before I arrived.'

  'And now?'

  'Not really.'

  'But you know Larry Carr?'

  She frowned. 'I met him on the train.'

  'What do you think of him?'

  'He seems nice enough . . . easy to talk to.'

  Luke leaned forward with his hands clasped. He had a tired looking complexion that was a little grey, and had fine mousy-coloured hair that only just covered his head. From what she could see, his scalp was not visible. 'What was your first thought when you met him?'

  ‘I thought I knew him,’ she said. ‘I was adopted when I was six. I think my real mother was from around here – maybe it was through her.'

  'Have you ever met her?'

  She shook her head.

  'So what makes you think she was from Rodley?'

  It’s the only thing that makes sense. I remember the town too, yet as far as I'm aware, I've not visited before. The day after I arrived, I walked straight to a recreation area. I think I used to play there. It was familiar.'

  Imogen smiled. 'Many things from our past get buried in our subconscious. Did you recognise anything else?'

  'Bits and pieces . . . the market square, some streets. I think my mother was a friend of Saskia's too.'

  'Why do you say that?'

  She gulped. 'I think my mother saw who killed her.'

  'Did you see something too?' Luke asked.

  Her skin rippled, and her pulse throbbed in her throat as memories of blood pouring from her stomach haunted. Her eyes flitted. She chewed her lip and pressed her hand onto her middle.
<
br />   'I think I was there,' she said in a small voice. 'I can remember bits and pieces but not everything.'

  'Would you consider hypnotism as a way of extracting the memories?'

  'No! Definitely not!'

  'It would be the quickest way.'

  She straightened her back. 'I'm sure I remember everything there is to remember. I don't want to go back there.'

  'I can understand that, but it could be a useful exercise. It's a common tendency to forget things that have the power to harm us. It is a form of self-protection.'

  'That's the reason I don't want to recall anything.'

  'More than likely, the opposite will happen. You'll be able to deal with what's happening and won’t feel trapped.'

  'Even so, I'm not keen on hypnotism.'

  'It's quite harmless. I can take you through the procedure if you like.'

  She turned away from Luke and caught a glimpse of Joshua's photograph, and her determination strengthened. 'I don’t want to. And anyway, how can you be sure that someone murdered Saskia?'

  'That's what we need to find out.'

  'Shouldn't the police be involved?'

  'There's no case to answer at the moment,' he said.

  'I can't help you then.'

  'You're paranormal investigators, not private investigators, are you not?' Ben said.

  Luke shuffled. 'The paranormal side is more of a hobby.'

  Megan was bewildered. 'Why were you hiding it from me?'

  'We didn't want to worry you, not everyone is receptive to the idea.'

  'Do you think Saskia has been reincarnated into Megan?' Ben asked.

  'It's a possibility. Megan could have some of Saskia's memories.'

  Overcome with shivers, she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.

  'Religions and traditions deal with reincarnation in different ways,’ Luke continued, ‘but they all have one thing in common. It is said that a person is born many times and carries the memories of each incarnation in the subconscious mind.'

  'But my memories are not in my subconscious mind.'

  'No, sometimes they are triggered and come to the forefront and create unexplained phobias and reactions.'

  'But why now?'

  'It can happen to solve a problem. Perhaps in your case it’s to prove Saskia was murdered, and then to help find her killer.'

  'So why doesn't everyone who has been murdered come back?'

  'That's not something I can answer.'

  She wrapped her arms around her front. 'No, it's all rubbish.'

  'We don't think so. Of course, you're entitled to your opinion.'

  Silently and sarcastically, she offered her thanks.

  'We're not here to try to change your mind. We are trying to solve the case. The reincarnation may or may not be relevant. Can you tell me about the house?'

  'I think it belonged to her grandmother. Saskia used potions to hurt people. I have no idea who or why, but I got a sense she thought they deserved it. I think someone may have sought revenge for the things she did.'

  Luke wrote something in a notebook and glanced up. 'Where do these feelings come from?'

  'I have no idea, but it's not what you think. I'm not Saskia. They must come from my past and my mother’s past.'

  He passed a blank look.

  'You don't believe me! You think I have her memories!'

  'I'm keeping an open mind.'

  He was trying to appear calm but she could sense his excitement bubbling beneath his skin. It was clear that he believed it to be a reincarnation. He was as crazy as Ben. They were never going to help her find her attacker; they wanted the scandal.

  Luke continued to speak. 'Keep in mind that the hypnotism, or regressive therapy as it is known as when it refers to reincarnation, would give you all the necessary answers. It can't be easy not knowing what's going on.'

  'I don't want to know anything else about Saskia. I just want whoever is after me to stop.'

  'Unfortunately, the two are probably linked.'

  She looked at Ben for support. He seemed calm, but underneath she could feel his need for answers were as strong as Luke's were. Also, if she weren’t careful, he would persuade her to be regressed. They may say that they wouldn’t question her about Joshua, but it might still happen. It was a risk she couldn’t afford to take.

  She needed a friend to determine a way forward and considered Verity. Not only would she be able to discuss everything to do with Saskia, but she would be able to share her problems relating to Ben and David too.

  'I've done here,' she said, 'I'm going out.'

  Ben stared at her then turned to Luke. ‘Are you finished?’

  ‘I think so.’

  He turned back to Megan. ‘Where are you going?'

  'Verity's. I need to see her.'

  'You know Verity Fox?' Luke asked.

  It dawned. Fox. Frank Fox's gravestone. The potions. The other woman at the house.

  'Verity is Saskia's sister,' she said weakly.

  He nodded. 'It might be wise to stay away from her, at least until we know who killed Saskia.'

  'Verity didn't do it. They were best friends.'

  'Are you sure about that?'

  She tried to probe deeper into her memories. All pathways were blocked, hard and inflexible; nothing would come.

  'Have you met Ronald Maddison too?' he asked.

  She gave a nervous nod.

  'He was Saskia's husband.'

  Oh Lord. What was she getting herself involved with, and how had they managed to track her down so quickly?

  'Please stay away from them, for your own safety.'

  Feeling suffocated, she rushed into the kitchen and stared out of the window. In the background, she heard Luke say goodbye to Ben, and a mumbled exchange followed. She believed they were speaking about her, but she didn’t care. She had far more important things on her mind than worrying about them and their crazy ideas, and folded her arms and considered her meeting with Verity.

  Before she’d decided what she wanted to say, Ben appeared, interrupting her thoughts.

  'Did you hire them?' she asked.

  'No of course not.'

  'But you knew who they were.'

  'After they contacted you I looked them up on the Internet.'

  She frowned, disbelieving.

  He gripped her arms. 'I promise you, I didn't hire them. Although I must say I'm grateful to whoever did.'

  Satisfied, she grabbed her lightweight coat and bag from the downstairs cupboard and headed to the door.

  'Please don't go,' he said.

  'I have to. Verity and Ron are aware of me, yet I know nothing of them. I don't like being at a disadvantage.'

  'That's the reason you should leave it to Luke.'

  'No. I trust Verity more than I do Luke. He's just in it for himself . . . he wants the excitement of reincarnation.'

  Ben disagreed, but she was in no mood for a dispute and left the house. Squinting in the bright light and enjoying the warmth on her face, she started away.

  ‘Megan!’ he called. ‘Won’t you think about this for a second?’

  ‘I have and I’m going. Sorry you don’t approve!’

  Chapter 11

  Elements of the interview crisscrossed Luke's mind as he eased away from Megan's street and headed out of Rodley. As Megan had said, it was possible that she had, unbeknown to her, witnessed a crime. He must not allow himself to get over-excited and relent to his fantasies. Delusion was all too easy.

  He considered the facts. Megan claimed to have witnessed a murder, yet Larry said she imagined someone killing her. Assuming one of the statements was true, it could have been a memory, hers or Saskia’s, or it could have been a premonition. He glanced at Imogen, noticed her tapping into her phone, and asked her for her opinion.

  Chuckling, she forced herself away from the text message. 'What did you say?'

  'Do you think Megan's memories are from her childhood?'

&
nbsp; A tinkle sounded from Imogen's phone. She opened it and burst into laughter. 'Sorry,' she said, 'my Mark's just sent me a joke.'

  'Tell me.'

  She leaned over, placing the phone into her bag. 'I can't do that, it's too crude for you.'

  'I don't have an aversion to crude jokes.'

  'But I have a problem telling you. It would be like telling my father.'

  She thought he was old. She would be giving him a pipe and slippers next. 'I'm not that old . . . still in my thirties.'

  'Golly. Is that all? I thought you must be closer to fifty.'

  He spun to face her, his mouth open, his eyes wide. Her expression was deadpan and her lips formed a tight line as she looked through the windscreen.

  Horrified, he returned his attention back to the road, slowing the car to a halt as he approached a queue of traffic. The silence was stifling. Should he respond? Maybe she was right; maybe he did look much older than his years. Surreptitiously, while the car was at a standstill, he peered into the rear view mirror desperate to remind himself of his youthful appearance. Lines were forming around his eyes and there were a few strands of grey hairs upon his head, but he didn't look fifty.

  Imogen burst into laughter. 'I so had you!'

  The tension in his face fell away. 'As if.'

  'I saw you looking into the mirror.'

  Heat rose to his cheeks. 'I was checking the traffic behind me.'

  'Don't worry, you only look about forty-three.'

  He grimaced. 'Like you're such an authority . . . barely off your mother’s hands.'

  'I enjoy living with my parents’.'

  'You mean you’ve never learned to cook and clean.'

  'I do my share.' The car eased forward. 'Is it tonight you're cooking for Sarah?'

  He felt a rush of warmth. 'Yes. I'm doing chicken breast in a creamy sauce.'

  'And she is stopping over.'

  'None of your business!'

  'Sorry . . . Dad!'

  He shook his head in dismay and turned along a leafy road. The adjacent houses had high fences, large gardens, and imposing electric gates. The obvious wealth was nauseating. Did the houses need to be so large? Did they have swimming pools and tennis courts too? What kind of person lived there? There was space for a small community in each of them.