by Dawson, H A
Taking his opportunity, Luke crouched down and reached for his hand. As the boy started to focus, his wailing eased.
‘Are you going to put on a brave face until you can get out of these wet clothes?’
The boy nodded.
‘Good man. No more tears?’
Snivelling, he shook his head.
He reached out to the boy’s hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, my brave little warrior.’
A smile slipped to the child’s face.
Luke stood up, said goodbye to the woman and headed away with Susie.
‘You were fantastic,’ she said, ‘such a natural with kids!’
A feeling of discomfort swelled inside.
‘Someone’s going to be lucky having you.’
He chewed on his lip and stared at the ground, his mind attempting to focus on the rhythmical sound of his footsteps. He hadn’t wanted a reminder of his ex-girlfriend’s abortion. She had never confided in him, nor had she cared about his opinion.
He should have expected her to act as he had as their relationship had developed into one of convenience, at least for Sarah. He knew she did not love him – she had said as much – and she believed he felt the same. However, for him it was different. He was in love and not in the right mindset to decline the opportunity to share an intimate evening. He had also convinced himself that she might change her mind given time. It was a sad point of reflection.
He had spotted Sarah at the abortion clinic. She told him the baby was not his and ordered him to leave. Devastated, and without any other option, he did as requested. Days later, when Sarah relented to his plea for a meeting, she admitted that she had lied. The baby had been his, after all.
That was when the relationship ended. Despite his deep feelings of love, her actions proved she could never feel anything for him. Therefore, hoping for a change of heart was futile. The final meeting in the bar, and him telling her they could never see each other again, not even on a friendly basis, was one of the hardest moments in his life. Yet he knew it had been the right decision. Imogen had encouraged him and supported him. She had given him the impetus to make a new start in life.
‘Thanks for lunch,’ Susie said, reaching across and giving him a hug and kiss. ‘I hope we can do it again sometime.’
‘That would be nice.’
Watching her leave, he decided that she was not such bad company after all. She was also likely to treat him better than Sarah had done - a positive consideration all things considered. In addition, being with her was better than being single.
‘Wow! You’ve lipstick on your collar. You’ve been out with Susie.’ Imogen said.
Swiftly, Luke glanced down to his neckline and looked to the offending mark. Feeling his skin warm, he raised his hand to his neck and soothed his itchy skin, avoiding her broad smile and twinkling eyes. Her effervescence was infectious, his sense of achievement, growing.
‘Come on . . . details.’
‘We just had a light bite. Nothing special.’
‘Where at?’
‘Austin’s, on Patterson Road.’
‘Cool. What did you have?’
He frowned. ‘What’s it matter?’
‘Of course, it matters.’
He paused. She wasn’t going to let it drop, so he may as well relent. ‘Tuna sandwich.’
‘And Susie?’
‘I can’t remember.’
She leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk. Her cleavage was visible, her breasts pressing against the soft fabric. ‘Come on, you can do better than that.’
‘It was just lunch, nothing important.’
Her curves delighted and excited.
‘Do you like her?’ she asked.
‘She’s okay.’
‘Okay? That’s all you have to say.’
His eyes narrowed, his thoughts swirling.
‘She likes you . . . says you’re good in bed!’
‘What?’
She giggled. ‘You’ve gone red!’
He bolted to his feet and rushed to a cabinet at the far side of the room.
‘She’s my best friend,’ she continued, ‘we tell each other everything.’
Crouching down, he searched for a binder inside the hollow.
‘I don’t know why it bothers you so much. It’s not as though you’ve not told me about your sexual exploits before.’
‘This is different.’
‘So, you do like her.’
‘No, I . . .’
How could he tell her it was all about the sex when he even struggled to admit it to himself? He had changed. Sarah had made sure of that.
He forced a confident demeanour to surface. ‘I like her, but I can’t see it going anywhere. It’s too soon.’
‘Sarah?’
‘It’ll be a while before I feel able to trust anyone again.’
‘You can’t cocoon yourself forever.’
It was what he wanted. A long-term relationship was out of the question.
‘How’s it going with Mark?’ he asked, desperate to avert the attention.
Her expression melted and her eyes became dreamy. ‘It’s fantastic,’ she said in a virtual whisper, ‘better than I could imagine. It’s great not having to worry about going home at the end of the evening.’
‘I’m glad it’s going well.’
She raised an eyebrow and glimpsed at him out of her eye corner. It was a curious look and not one he could interpret and he feared he had sounded disingenuous. Forcing aside a moment of unease, he concluded that he must have misread her expression. He was happy for her – he had no reason not to be - so long as it was what she wanted.
Engrossing himself in his work was easy. Luke loved his job - the analysis, the interrogations, the pondering, the puzzle - and he had taken an instant like to Leanne too, feeling as though he could draw comparisons with her situation. His own family had dispersed making contact difficult, and whilst most of the time he was happy to lead an independent life, there were times when he yearned for those intimate family moments.
For Leanne, that isolation seemed unbearable and she craved contact with a relative. It was a huge motivation for Luke, and he hoped for a successful conclusion. Yet part of him wanted to tell her to abandon her dreams, fearing that her mother could be the catalyst to disaster and make her life hell. She could even blackmail Leanne into sharing her inheritance. Nevertheless, he would not voice his concerns. He had a job to do. That was all.
The case intrigued. Why would Janet disown her daughter? It was logical to assume something horrendous had happened. However, for his client’s sake, he preferred to believe that it was an enormous overreaction or an unfortunate and unwilling loss of contact. Janet had not had any contact details for Karen, so it was possible. Instincts told him otherwise.
Luke scanned his notes on the computer, reminding himself of various aspects of the case and reiterating the various conversations in his mind. No leads had presented themselves and the search for Karen Jefferson continued to prove difficult. His head ached, his focus blurred. Someone must know something; country villages were usually close-knit communities.
He decided they should speak with locals and so told Imogen his intentions and asked her to contact as many people as possible from within the village. She started immediately, delving into the telephone book for owners of family-run businesses in the area, and on her fifth call, she was successful.
‘I’ve just spoken to a farmer. His name is Ted Moore. His family have farmed the land near Leanne’s house for decades, and they knew them quite well. They expanded a few years ago and bought the land the Coombs used to manage.’
‘Are they willing to meet?’
‘Ted is. He was reluctant at first, but I managed to persuade him.’
‘Well done. When are we going over?’
‘He said this afternoon would be good.’
‘Let’s get to it.’
Luke closed the documents upon his computer, his energies rising, hi
s hopes and expectations gaining strength. With any luck, by the end of the day, they would be a step closer to solving the case.
The car slowed as they reached the perimeter of the village, with both of them searching for street names to guide them to their destination. Luke’s satellite navigation had failed, and they were relying on old-fashioned means, him at the wheel, Imogen scrutinising a printed off map of the area.
‘So which way?’ he asked.
‘We’ll go through the village. It looks quicker than the main roads. Turn left up ahead by the fire station. It should be George Street.’
He caught sight of the red sign and indicated. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’
‘What are you implying?’
‘Women and maps! Do I have to spell it out?’
I’ll have you know, I was in an orienteering club a few years ago . . . pretty good at it too.’
‘What! You? With a map and a compass, and muddy boots.’
‘And what’s wrong with that?’
He glanced at her out of her eye corner, raising an eyebrow.
‘Turn right here,’ she said, ‘and then follow the road to the end. Then left.’
Doing as instructed, he manoeuvred past stationary cars, waited for a man to cross the road, and continued along the street. ‘It just doesn’t seem your thing. I can’t imagine you in practical clothes running around the countryside.’
‘Who said anything about practical clothes? I was out to impress.’
‘Yeah, that’ll be right. You probably wore high-heeled boots and slinky trousers.’
‘You have some tasty images of me inside your head, Luke Adams. I’ll have to watch out for you.’
‘Only in your dreams,’ he responded quickly.
They turned the bend. Up ahead, blocking the road was an ambulance. Luke stopped the car a little distance from its rear and watched as the paramedics rushed along a driveway. They could hear voices, but could only see the tops of their heads. It seemed that someone was on the ground, and had had an accident or had collapsed due to a pre-existing medical condition.
‘Ambulances always give me the jitters,’ Imogen said.
‘Me too.’
He glanced along the road at the gap. He could probably squeeze by but chose to wait rather than risk becoming stuck between the van and the parked car on the opposite side. They continued to watch proceedings.
A paramedic rushed to the rear of the ambulance and retrieved a stretcher, and moments later, they reappeared with a woman. Even from their partially obscured view, they could see she was deathly white and stock-still. A man followed on behind, anxious.
‘See the burn scars?’ she said. ‘Poor woman.’
‘I wonder what happened.’
After a few moments, the ambulance pulled away, and thinking no more of it, he was able to continue to their destination. Ted Moore’s farmhouse was easy to find, and they turned into the drive and parked in the yard. There were farm buildings around the perimeter, tractors and machinery along one edge, and hens and ducks sauntering by. A hunched man wearing tatty clothes and with grubby hands appeared from around a steel building and gave them a stern glance.
‘I’m looking for a Mr Moore?’ he asked.
‘That’s me. You the investigators?’
‘Yes. I’m Luke, this is Imogen.’
Ted looked between them, scrutinising each of them before turning and heading towards the house. They followed behind, walking through a small lobby and cluttered hallway - with boxes, piles of books and children’s games - and entered the kitchen. They sat at a rectangular wooden table at the side near a window.
‘So,’ Ted said, ‘what do you want to know?’
We’re trying to track down Karen Jefferson. Have you had any contact with her?’
‘Course I have . . . years ago. Not recently mind.’
‘Do you know where we can find her?’
‘Not a clue. Not that I’d tell you if I did, I don’t want trouble.’
‘There’s nothing for you to worry about.’
His expression hardened. ‘You know that for certain do you?’
‘Well, I-’
‘Thought not. The Jefferson’s should have sold that place. Lord knows why they didn’t. If they had none of this would be happening.’
‘Is something troubling going on?’
He pressed his lips together and puffed out his cheeks. ‘No, but there could be.’
‘Is it something to do with Karen?’
‘I don’t like interrogations, okay? They make me uncomfortable. So, if you don’t mind just get on with it. I’ve work to do.’
He glanced at his notepad. ‘How well did you know Karen?’
‘I knew her all right.’ He grinned lecherously. ‘Her and her sister, although mostly Karen.’
‘What was her sister’s name?
‘Fiona. Karen had another friend too, but I can’t remember her name. They were stuck together like glue.’
‘Can you try to remember her name? It will definitely help.’
‘No point. My memory’s not what it was.’
‘Okay. What was it like for Karen and Fiona at home? Did they get on with their parents?’
Ted leaned into his chair and folded his arms. ‘You’re joking, right?’
Luke was expressionless.
‘Suppose you’re not. They were opposites. Fiona wound Karen up. She was a little bit sanctimonious . . . had a holier than thou attitude . . . and I don’t think it was an act. Do you know why Janet and Roy lived in that house?’
‘I heard she was an evacuee.’
‘Aye, that she was. Apple of their eye, the daughter they could never have.’
Ted raised himself from his chair and moved towards the doorway. ‘Marlene!’ he shouted, ‘Marlene!’
They heard a faint reply.
‘They’re here. Come make the teas.’
Not wanting to inconvenience them, Luke told Ted they did not need a drink, but Ted appeared not to hear and returned to his seat.
‘I never liked the Coombs,’ he continued, ‘not my type at all. My mother, bless her soul, did. Believe me, it was her one failings. She couldn’t see the trouble they’d caused by taking Janet from her folks.’
‘I think you’d better start at the beginning.’
Marlene, a fat woman with curled black hair and round glasses, hobbled into the kitchen and headed to the kettle.
‘They’ve changed their mind,’ Ted said. ‘Don’t want one.’
Marlene looked at them and scowled.
‘I’m sorry,’ Luke said, but she had already vanished.
‘Now,’ Ted said, ‘you want to know what happened. There are two versions, maybe more, but mine’s the only one worth its salt. I knew Karen well if you know what I mean, and she told me everything. And then there’s the stuff I heard from my folks . . .’
‘Do you know what caused Janet to reject Karen?’
‘You think that’s what happened?’
Luke glimpsed at Imogen.
‘Strange assumption since you know nothing about them.’
‘Okay, so tell me.’
Ted leaned back, stretched out his legs and stared, his expression smug. ‘I’d better had.’
Chapter 18
Inside the house, there was absolute silence, yet Leanne’s mind was far from tranquil and she could not find peace. Her sorrow was burdensome and oppressive, and her ache restricting. She reached for a cushion, pressed it on her abdomen and released an anguished moan. She wanted Tyler. She wanted Phillip. She wanted her grandmother. She wanted someone . . . anyone.
Steven became her focus. He was a wonderful man and her attraction had been instant, but she would not be with someone into dangerous sports. Their relationship failed before it had even started and was like another plunge of the dagger. Why oh why did he have to enjoy microlighting? Couldn’t he be into something safe like stamp collecting or gardening? It seemed unfair.
Lea
nne ran her fingers through her hair, wallowing in self-pity, and looked down at her frumpy top and loose fitting skirt disguising her larger than average figure. Images of slender, beautiful women appeared inside her head, and yearning for such a shape, she lifted her shoulders, pushed out her breasts, and held in her stomach. Yet, it did not improve her appearance in her mind; she was still fat.
Phillip had often told her she had a fantastic complexion, gleaming eyes, and a lovely facial structure, and it was true, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted a new identity, both inside and out, and she wanted a fresh start. The house could have given her such an opportunity, but it was not turning out as hoped. Even Teresa had been less than amiable.
Irritated by her unsupportive attitude regarding her mother, she pondered her reasoning. Teresa had admitted to making mistakes in her past, yet she had changed, so why did she believe the same could not apply to Karen? Everyone deserved a second chance, especially someone described as misunderstood.
Carried by the notion that her mother may be the link to future happiness, Leanne experienced a burst of energy, reached in her bag for her phone and called Luke Adams. The ringtone sounded. She waited. There was no reply.
Trying not to feel discouraged, she wandered to the kitchen and made a chamomile tea with honey, one of her favourites, and stared through the window to the rear of the property and to the knee-high weeds, overgrown shrubs and shuddering branches on the trees. It was a ridiculous idea to lay everything down for one new connection, yet she could not dissolve the idea that family was more important. Family first, Janet had said. For Janet, it was a hypocritical statement, but for Leanne, it was everything.
Her phone sounded. She snatched it from the table. It was Luke.
‘Hello. Have you any news on my mother?’ she asked.
‘Quite a bit. We’re on our way over. We’ve just been talking to someone in the village regarding the case.’
‘You’re close by?’
‘Yes, a few minutes away. See you shortly.’
She ended the call and excitement buzzed through her veins. At last, there was hope. At last, her solitude might be closer to its end.