Ewan chuckled. “Something like that. You don’t have to write anything if you don’t want to.”
Sizemore jotted a few words and sat back, passed the paper back to Ewan who studied it carefully. Nick wondered what Jake had written, but for now it was irrelevant.
Ewan continued in his soothing voice, the soft Scottish burr calming even Nick’s coiled tension. “Did you have a sexual relationship with Tracy Good?”
Jake’s eyes flicked high right and he touched his nose. Liar, liar pants on fire. “How can you even think I’m capable of sleeping with a student? I was raised to be a God-fearing Christian.”
So was Nick. He suppressed a grin that felt sharper than broken glass.
Jake hadn’t answered that question either. He swept a hand through greasy-looking hair before he leaned back in his chair, brows lowered, lips tight.
“I need an answer for the tape, sir,” Ewan repeated.
“I just gave you a goddamned answer! I swear on my mother’s grave I never touched her!” His eyes flicked up and right and once more he touched his itchy nose, confirming what they already knew. Whatever lies came out of Jake Sizemore’s mouth, he had been screwing Tracy Good.
Ewan picked up his notes. “She was a good-looking lassie. Gossip in the Gatty suggests she was a bit of a goer.” Ewan gave him a subdued version of a male smirk. “Did she ever make advances on you?”
Sizemore shifted his weight from one buttock to the other. “Well, yes, actually she did, but I didn’t want to speak ill of the dead.”
Rage boomed inside Nick’s head, sending pain through his skull.
“This is a murder investigation, Jake,” Ewan reminded him. “We need the truth, no matter how potentially embarrassing.”
“I didn’t touch her.” Sizemore’s voice rose, his fingers rapidly kneading his trouser leg.
Ewan frowned and kept his voice moderate. “Then how do you explain this?” He opened up a laptop on the desk and clicked on a file. The sound of sex filled the air.
Sizemore’s countenance remained indifferent until his voice came over the speakers, and then his mouth gaped.
“Tell me what you want, Jake.”
“I want you, Tracy. I want to have you every way I know and then I want to fuck you all over again.”
The blood drained from his face. He hadn’t known about the tape. Maybe that’s why he’d been happy to dispose of the murder weapon and Tracy’s bag inside Susie’s car.
“Was there an argument?” Ewan pulled out a photograph of the crime scene. Tracy’s matted hair, dark crusted with crimson, her smashed skull against a backdrop of blood-soaked sand. “You lied about a sexual relationship. Did you kill her as well?”
Jake swallowed forcibly.
“Did you kill Tracy?” Nick echoed Ewan’s question.
Jake’s eyes swung toward him, wide, trapped.
“Did you kill Tracy Good?” Louder. Meaner. Nick wanted to force the confession from the bastard’s lips.
“No! No, I didn’t kill her. I did not kill Tracy!” And Jake’s eyes flickered left, like an innocent.
No, no, no, no, no! Nick’s breath constricted in his throat, his heart beating furiously as the pressure in his veins rose. He could feel Sizemore slipping away from the noose he’d crafted for his neck. He left the room as Ewan finished the interview.
Nick shoved out the door into the walled-off car park at the back of the station and his failures rose up inside him like a flood—and he was drowning. He leaned against the wall, the rough brick scraping his fingers. Desperate to catch a breath, he tried to slow the pounding of his heart and quiet the ugliness that surged through his blood. If he believed his own so-called expertise, Jake Sizemore was only guilty of adultery.
He booted the wall and a bone snapped. Then he did it again.
Half an hour later Nick stood on his balcony overlooking the harbor. Gulls marauded through the sky looking for easy prey. The sun glared fiercely off the water and made his eyes hurt.
“Did you ever think…maybe…she just died?” Ewan’s voice was low. Somber. He was talking about Chrissie, of course, not Tracy.
Nick glanced at his colleague, noted the lines of strain around Ewan’s mouth, and the gray hairs that outnumbered the brown. Jake had finally admitted to a sexual relationship with Tracy Good, but there was still no evidence he’d killed her. Nick wished he could just sink his blade into Jake’s heart, twisting as he pushed the hilt home. It would be simpler. Quicker. The man was guilty, but Nick might never be able to prove it.
But twelve years ago when he’d joined the force, he’d sworn an oath to uphold the law. It wasn’t just about personal vengeance; he’d needed to believe in something positive otherwise he’d have ended up as useless and depraved as his junky whore of a mother. He’d always wanted to bring down Sizemore in the most public and humiliating way possible. Showing him for the lying, cheating piece of shit he really was.
“It would be easier if I just let it go, wouldn’t it?” But Chrissie hadn’t just died. She’d been killed by a combination of Nick’s pride and Sizemore’s lust. Nick gripped the rail. “She was too safety conscious to go diving on her own, especially in shark-infested waters.” The usual rage that accompanied thoughts of Chrissie’s death felt as cold as the mortuary. “Someone got her out to sea, maybe drugged her, probably made her bleed and then tossed her into the water.”
Had she tried to swim for it, knowing she was attracting the deadliest predators in the ocean? Or had she been unconscious and unaware, unable to help herself? The thought of her suffering made his intestines twist. “Would you let it go, if it was Amy?”
Ewan stared silently at the water for a long time before he shook his head. “So who’s the prime suspect for Tracy Good now?” He sipped his coffee. “The wife?”
“We definitely need to talk to her,” said Nick. Judy was a miserable human being, but he didn’t figure her for a killer. He frowned. “Why would you stay with someone when you knew they were going to leave you for someone else?”
Neither spoke for a moment, then Ewan slanted him a guarded look. “Were you going to divorce Chrissie?”
Nick didn’t want to answer that question. He’d been raised in an environment that considered divorce more grotesque than murder. If marriage to Chrissie had been a test of faith, he had failed in every possible way.
“Yes,” he finally admitted. “I was going to divorce her.” The infidelity still stung, mixed with the overriding sense of guilt that had shaped his life ever since she’d died. That they’d loved each other so passionately and she’d turned from him so easily. And that he’d let her.
An image of Susie popped into his mind.
He’d been with hundreds of women since Chrissie died. Why did Susie Cooper have to be the one he couldn’t stop thinking about? He looked out to sea and knew he’d hurt her already and would do so again. But he could no more resist that temptation than he could walk on water.
Ewan slurped his coffee, reminding Nick there were all sorts of tragedy.
A seagull squawked overhead.
“Aw, shit!” Ewan rubbed at a patch of white guano dribbling down the front of his suit. “At least it’s supposed to be lucky,” he grumbled, searching for a tissue.
Nick let out a weary sigh. Not even the birds crapped on him.
Susie’s alarm was still being installed and she hadn’t heard a peep from Nick. Obviously potential killers only worked night shift. She kicked a pebble across the sand, huddled into her cable sweater, the hood drawn up over her head.
A redshank waded in the shallows, tugged backward as it yanked up a bivalve. Bivalves were distant relatives of her octopi, a fact that always amazed her. However, man was closely related to rats, which wasn’t a stretch at all.
An unbidden image of Nick Archer flashed into her mind. He hadn’t even said goodbye. She picked up an empty whelk shell and carried it along with her, rubbing the rough barnacles on the outside with her thumb. So. They’d had sex
and now they were done.
Annoyed with herself for wanting more, she kicked a hole in the sand, spraying it in all directions, taking out her frustration on tiny grains that whipped back into her face on the wind.
“I think you killed it.”
Susie whirled, gasping for breath as Lily stood and grinned at her. Lily’s smile faded after a moment and she looked pale. For once she wasn’t wearing makeup and her clothes were unremarkable blue jeans, sneakers and a Gor-Tex jacket zipped up to her nose. Black roots had begun to creep through the blond at her scalp.
Susie fiddled with the shell. “How’s your mom today?”
Lily’s lips wobbled as if on the verge of tears. She blinked them away, looking toward the slate roof of the cottage just visible above the yellow dune.
“She’s good. Better, anyway,” she qualified with a fleeting smile. “I fed her pills and left her sleeping.” Lily walked a few paces closer to Susie and peered at the hole Susie had kicked in the sand.
“I need to work from home, until we get her medication sorted.” Her expression grew earnest. “I’m no slacker, I’ll come in to look after the animals and do experiments, but I have a laptop and can analyze data and read papers at home.”
Susie hesitated, wondering how to phrase what she needed to say. “Lily, if your mother has Alzheimer’s or another type of progressive dementia, there’s going to come a point she’ll need full-time care. It’s gonna be hard for you to cope on your own, let alone do a Ph.D.”
“It isn’t Alzheimer’s.” Lily stuffed her hands in her pockets and dipped her face out of the wind. “The doctor thinks it was brought on by the stress of the anniversary of Christina’s death last week.” She looked up and Susie caught the worry edging her eyes. “Once she’s back on her meds, which I’m going to administer from now on, she should be back to her old self.”
“What was she like? Your sister?” Susie held her breath, having asked such a bold question. They started walking toward the rocks at the far end of the beach.
“I was ten when she died.” A little crease marked the space between Lily’s brows. “She was my big sister, you know? Wonderful. Vivacious. This bouncing ball of energy and enthusiasm who whirled in and out of our lives whenever she felt like it. As far as I was concerned the sun shone out of her backside.”
Lily bent and picked up a piece of sea glass worn smooth by waves and sand. It was the color of Nick’s eyes.
“But she changed, just before she went to South Africa. She moved back home, her and Nick had a huge fight and she spent most of her time in a foul mood or bawling her eyes out.”
They’d been fighting?
Susie hadn’t known.
Lily’s mouth dragged down at the corners. “I think they were going to get divorced.”
Susie knew her eyes bugged. She’d assumed Chrissie had been perfect, so it felt strange to realize the dead woman had had her faults and their marriage hadn’t been ideal. Susie scooped up a razor-shell as an excuse not to respond. Because how could she say she was glad Christina hadn’t been as flawless as she’d assumed?
“Dad was still alive then. I remember him shouting at Chrissie—which he never did—telling her to get her act together. I lay in bed, listening.” Lily’s face tightened into lines of anger. “She was having an affair with Jake-the-snake.” She pulled a disgusted face that would have made Susie laugh if she hadn’t been so shocked.
“Can you imagine him naked? Ugh.” Lily leapt over a small stream that cut through the beach. She balanced nimbly on a piece of driftwood before hopping to the other side.
Susie got her feet wet. “Is that why Nick thinks Jake had something to do with her death?” It certainly explained the unsympathetic feelings toward her boss.
Lily shrugged. “I guess. I doubt Jake did it though, I mean the guy is a total lech. But a killer? Nah.” She shook her head. “I think Chrissie did something stupid and died in an accident, but no one wants to listen to my opinions.”
Susie didn’t know what to think. She’d slept with Nick and worked for Jake, but Chrissie would never be anything to her but other people’s perceptions.
“So, what’s the problem?” Lily asked with a slanted look. “I solved the last one. Maybe I can help you with this one too?”
“How did you get Rafael to start behaving himself?” Curiosity got the better of Susie.
“It’s a gift.” Lily laughed, but it faded and she turned serious. “Actually that’s not true. I don’t know what happened. Friday night Rafael came to see me. He’d had a change of heart and apologized for acting like a twat. Since then he’s been great, which is a pity because now he’s not acting like a dickhead, I fancy the pants off him.” She wriggled her brows. “But I sealed my fate by laying down the ground rules.”
“A woman of honor?” Susie laughed.
Lily threw back the hood on her jacket. “I am indeed.”
It felt good to be with Lily. Her openness was an outlet for Susie’s own repressed emotions. Maybe she needed to act more like Lily. Let it all out. Secrets and all.
Maybe not.
They walked in silence before Lily stopped and stared as if she had something important to say. Instinctively Susie knew she didn’t want to hear it.
“Nick loved Chrissie and she betrayed him.” Lily’s lips pinched hard together as if holding in an expletive. “But he blames himself for her death and I don’t know if he’ll ever get over it.” She reached out a surprisingly warm hand and squeezed Susie’s hand. “Don’t fall for him, okay? He’ll hurt you, even though he doesn’t mean to.”
Susie forced a laugh and pulled her hand away. “I barely know the man.” She blocked the image of his hair falling in his eyes, his face contorted in pleasure, the explosive heat of his skin. She looked up at puffy white cumulus drifting across the sky as if she had never seen clouds before. “Let me know if you need anything brought out from the Gatty.”
Rejection slid over Lily’s features and tugged at Susie’s conscience, but Lily was her student not her buddy. Susie already felt like a damn fool where Nick Archer was concerned, no need to advertise the fact. She walked away and didn’t see the hurt on Lily’s face replaced by fury.
Chapter Thirteen
Judy Sizemore sat opposite Ewan in the interview room, her back as straight as a ladder-back chair, her lips rammed together, almost disappearing into her face. Ewan asked the same list of structured questions he’d asked her rat-bastard husband.
Her expression never changed and Nick couldn’t tell from her answers whether she was innocent or guilty. The thing that bothered him about Judy as a suspect was, if she was really bothered by Jake’s adultery, Fife would be littered with bodies. But there had been at least one other death…
Had Judy Sizemore killed Tracy Good in a fit of jealousy? Had Judy killed Chrissie for the same reason? Could he have been wrong all these years? His broken toe throbbed inside his boot and the pain helped ground him.
“Did you know Jake was having an affair with his student?” Ewan asked, his voice soft and compassionate.
She snorted. “Says who? Him?” Her eyebrows jerked in a derogatory fashion toward Nick, but he just watched her, trying to gauge what was really going on in that mind.
“We have indisputable evidence.”
“I don’t doubt there’s someone more than willing to swear my husband had his tongue down some woman’s throat, but that doesn’t mean I have to believe it.” Her eyes stabbed at Nick.
Something painful squeezed in his chest and he interrupted Ewan, who was about to ask another question. “Play the recording.”
“Now?” Ewan squinted, brown eyes dubious, but Nick nodded and watched Judy’s eyes flick between them. She was so uptight he couldn’t read her body language. She was distancing herself from Jake and the victim by using impersonal pronouns—as if she’d never met Tracy, or Chrissie, as if she didn’t care they were dead.
Well he damn well cared. Maybe the tape would help make it all a l
ittle more personal. Nick had cued it to a specific place.
Ewan pressed Play on the recording and Judy’s expression shuttered, focusing inward, trying to block out the guttural grunts of sex.
“Jesus, Jesus! Ow! You have the most amazing tits.”
“Tell me what you want, Jake.”
Jake’s voice cracking. “I want you, Tracy. I want to have you every way I know and then I want to fuck you all over again.”
Judy’s eyes locked on his, her pupils dilating until only a thin slice of blue remained.
How deeply did this betrayal cut into Judy Sizemore’s heart?
“And what will you give me if I let you?” Tracy asked.
“Anything.”
“Turn it off.” Nick wanted Judy to wonder exactly what her husband had promised Tracy while they were screwing each other’s brains out.
Ewan clicked the mouse, tightened his lips before looking away from Nick’s impassive gaze. Ewan McKnight was the conscience of their partnership and he didn’t approve of hurting people.
Unfortunately he was in the wrong profession.
“So, Judy, now you know that Jake was having a sexual relationship with Tracy Good.” Nick held her gaze.
“It doesn’t mean he killed the little slut!” Spittle spat out like venom. Her eyes fixed on him with loathing.
As he stared back, the light in her eyes changed as if finally she got it. He not only wanted her husband behind bars, he had the power to put him there.
Ewan slid a photograph along the smooth surface of the table. “Tracy Good was murdered.”
Her eyes darted to the photograph and away again, showing no outward reaction.
“Look at the photograph, Judy.” Nick wanted to grab her head and force her to look at the brutal image. Tracy merited at least that much. “Do you think she deserved that for shagging Jake? Especially when she wasn’t the one breaking marriage vows?”
Judy’s hands squeezed into tense fists as she glanced at the photo. “Women are always trying to tempt him.”
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