Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  ‘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, his 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.

  Leanne 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.

  Leanne watched him turn into the drive and exit the car. He was with Imogen and her heart sank, her perfection intimidating. The delectable woman strode around the vehicle, gazed along the length of the house and said something to Luke. Luke responded, and they both chortled.

  Imogen was leggy, had full breasts, and a slim waist. She had beautiful fawn hair with delicate curls and was easy to talk with. She probably had a great boyfriend and large family too. Fighting her envy, Leanne headed to the rear outer door. Imogen must think her pathetic. It was unlikely that her grandmother would have ever lied to her.

  Nonetheless, forcing a broad smile and warm demeanour, she opened the door and welcomed them inside. Imogen’s expression was wide with envy, and she gawked at the spacious surroundings, a wall painting, and glass light fitting.

  ‘This place is fantastic, Leanne,’ she said.

  ‘It is rather.’

  ‘I just said to Luke that it was in fantastic condition,’ she winked at him, ‘he thought I was talking about the garden.’

  ‘I haven’t decided what to do with it yet. I suppose I should consider hiring someone to clear the land.’

  She tottered along the hallway towards a room. ‘Do you mind if I have a look?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  She peered into a room, her jaw hanging

  ‘I must get rid of the flowery wallpaper,’ Leanne said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Retro is fashionable. You can do so much with this place. You must be very excited.’

  ‘I suppose I am.’

  ‘What are your plans?’

  ‘I might let it as a holiday home. I think it’s too big to live here permanently.’

  ‘Great idea. You could keep some of the weeks’ free for yourself.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  Imogen was still peering into the rooms, agog. She was beautiful, and Leanne loved her tight-fitting, off-white pants and matching jacket, and yearned for such a figure. Luke was staring at her too, although expressionless and not appearing to be mesmerised by her stunning appearance and gorgeous scent. Leanne held her arm across her stomach, wishing she had dressed with more care, and felt dowdy in comparison. She also hoped her tears had not streaked her face and that her self-inflicted stress had not greyed her pallor.

  After a few more minutes of showing them around, Leanne guided them into the kitchen. Luke and Imogen made such an unlikely couple that she wondered if their different approaches to their appearances caused friction in their working relationship. Whilst Luke was smart, he lacked something to give him the edge and almost appeared scruffy in his suit. She decided he might look better in casual clothes. Nonetheless, Leanne approved. He came across as down-to-earth and genuine, an asset to aid relaxation.

  ‘We’ve just been to see a farmer. Ted Moore,’ Luke said.

  ‘I spoke to him when I first came. He said he knew my mother.’

  ‘He did. In fact, he told us quite a bit.’

  ‘Do you know where she is?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not.’ He leaned down to the floor and retrieved a clipboard from his brown leather bag.
‘You’ll have to forgive me if what I tell you is a bit disjointed. We’ll be writing up a report when we get back.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He flicked back the sheets of paper to a sheet entitled Ted Moore. It was full of scrawl and virtually indecipherable, and her excitement grew.

  ‘Everything he said referred to Janet’s early life. It gives us a good background to their relationship.’

  ‘How did he know her?’

  ‘His parents were friends of the family.’ he glimpsed at Imogen. ‘From what we can gather, his mother was close to Janet. She died a few years ago.’

  Leanne nodded encouragingly.

  ‘Ted claims everything he said is accurate. As yet, we have no reason to disbelieve him.’

  ‘How did he come across?’ she asked.

  ‘I think he can be trusted. He was a bit cagey . . . didn’t want to spread gossip, but he seemed genuine. I couldn’t detect anything to imply he liked to spin a yarn.’

  ‘So tell me, what did he say?’

  He started to talk.

  Chapter 19

  1954

  A multitude of coloured balloons was scattered across the floor, birthday banners hung from the ceiling, and glitzy strands of shaped paper bordered the wall paintings and standard lamp. It was Fiona’s first birthday, a celebration she was unlikely to appreciate, yet it remained a necessity in Janet’s mind. She hoped, in the least, that Fiona would appreciate or recognise the attention and love bestowed upon her.

  Janet headed through the hallway and into the kitchen, and assisted Ann with the food preparations, quartering the sandwiches and placing the small bite-sized cakes onto plates. Then she checked the small pastries in the oven, and concluding that the colour was a delicious golden brown removed them and placed them onto cooling trays. The aroma was sensational and she longed for a bite, and slipped back through time to a day when she had assisted her mother with such preparations.

  She would have been about seven or eight years old, and loved the sensation of flour and butter on her hands, and often offered to take on the task of mixing. Her nails filled with the sticky substance and her skin turned flaky and rough as though she had acquired a horrendous disease. Then, before she washed, she chased Patrick, her younger brother, with her hands outstretched. His feet pounded the floor, excited screams escaped his lips, and they collapsed in a heap on the sofa or rug. She mauled his small body, and bits of the pastry mix dropped onto the furniture. Her mother never seemed to mind, never worried about the rotting pieces of dough that lay undisturbed under the cushions for months.