He groaned, hugging Diana even more tightly. “Of course not, baby girl. I’ll never leave you. Not if I have a choice.”
Those words sounded familiar somehow. They felt important. A flicker of a memory stirred deep in his brain, but as he tried to concentrate on it, his daughter’s quiet sobs distracted him.
“Shhh, it’s okay, Didi. We’ll be okay. I promise.” He hoped it was a promise he’d be able to keep.
Diana lay on her bed, her head pillowed on Teddy’s bicep. He was spooning her from behind, holding her tightly against him as if he could lend her some of his strength.
“How could she do this to me, Teddy? How could she do it to Dad? How could she do it to all of us who loved and cared for her?” she asked in a small voice.
Teddy sighed behind her. “I know it hurts. I know it’s killing you that she did this, but Diana, she must have been in such a bad place to see this as the only solution.”
Diana sighed. “It’s not fair, Teddy. She could have said something. Why didn’t she say anything? We could have helped her. All of us. We could have been there for her and helped her get over whatever it was.”
“I know, Di. And you know we’d have all done anything we could to help Lydia. She knew that. The pain she must have been in.... Try not to be angry with her, Di. She did the only thing she thought she could.”
“You know, I just realized. She’ll never see me get married. She’ll never meet my children. My kids won’t have a grandma because she was… so selfish,” she uttered.
Diana knew she wasn’t being fair, but part of her didn’t care. Her mother had had so many people in her life who loved her, and she’d chosen to give them all up.
“Your dad will be there,” Teddy reminded her.
Diana laughed though it was a cold, harsh sound. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll decide to kill himself too. After all, he might not be able to take the pain of losing my mother,” she said sarcastically.
“Diana!” Teddy snapped. When he used her full name, she knew Teddy meant business. “You have no right to belittle his pain. He’s been doing the best he can, trying to be strong for you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “I just wish I could understand what happened. I wish I could understand how and why my strong, happy mother suddenly turned into a depressive coward who chose to give up rather than fight.”
“Don’t, Di. Please, don’t. You’ll regret these words later.”
Diana shook her head. “No, I won’t. You know why? Because everyone has problems. You think being the brain box in every class is easy? Do you know you are the only true friend I’ve ever had? Do you know that I haven’t even as much as danced with a boy because I scare them all off? I know it sounds pathetic, but you know as well as I do that growing up as an outsider isn’t easy. We could have killed ourselves, couldn’t we? We could have given up, just like her. Then other people would be hurting instead of us.”
He sighed, nuzzling her hair. “It’s not the same thing, and you know it.”
She turned over to look into his eyes. “How isn’t it the same thing? We were in pain, but we chose to fight back rather than just roll over and die!”
“Di, you’re not being fair. You have no idea what your mother was going through, and until you find out – if you ever find out – you have no right to judge. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”
Diana huffed out a breath. “Let’s agree to disagree for now.”
Teddy nodded. Diana had a strong stubborn streak. Arguing with her wasn’t always the best option. Like now.
“Thanks for being here, Teddy,” she whispered.
He smiled. “Where else would I be? You’re my little sister, and I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”
Diana closed her eyes and snuggled into Teddy’s warmth. She was exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions she’d been riding ever since she’d heard of her mother’s death. It was all too much for her to comprehend and for now, what she needed most was to rest. Luckily, blissful oblivion overtook her senses in moments as she fell asleep in Teddy’s arms. Tomorrow was another day, and she was in no rush for it to arrive.
CHAPTER FIVE
JOHN LOOKED AT Karen Elwin, the medical examiner, who was currently cringing under his murderous gaze.
“What?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“I’m sorry, Detective Hunter. I have no idea what happened.”
“Well, find out!” he exclaimed. “You can’t just lose a body! And I’m pretty damn sure she didn’t get up and walk out of here on her own.”
“Let me call my assistant. He was in charge of the night shift. Maybe he knows more.”
The woman looked terrified, but at that very moment, John couldn’t bring himself to care. How could she just stand there and tell him his wife’s body was missing but that she had no idea what happened?
The medical examiner scurried into her office to make the call. Or to call John’s superintendent and report him for shouting at her. Well, let her. He doubted his super would say anything when he found out precisely why he’d lost his temper.
Two minutes later, she came back in wringing her hands.
“Did you find her?” he snapped impatiently when it seemed she wouldn’t be saying anything of her own accord.
“It seems an order came down from the Deputy Chief Constable’s office that your wife was to be cremated. Her body was shipped out this morning.”
“That’s it?” He was going to kill someone. “Who gives the Deputy Chief Constable’s office the right to decide what will happen to my wife’s body?”
Karen Elwin shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “The orders came down, and we had to follow them.”
“When’s the cremation scheduled for?” he asked, realizing that was probably the first thing he should have said after her revelation.
She looked at him and winced. “It was scheduled to start three hours ago.”
John’s eyes widened as he realized what she was saying. “You’re kidding me, right? Are you telling me you turned my wife into ashes without consulting me? What is wrong with you people?” He was screaming, and he knew he was scaring the woman by the way she flinched, but he didn’t care. Some moron had turned his Lydia to ashes without his permission.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hunter,” Karen Elwin whispered.
“I don’t want an apology, I want my wife’s body! I want to be able to give her a proper burial. I want my daughter to be able to say goodbye to her mother. I want to say…” his voice cracked and he swallowed back the tears that were threatening to fall.
He tilted his head back and took a deep breath. “An apology isn’t enough. I want to know who signed that order. I want to know who is responsible for this.”
The woman looked contrite. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hunter, you know I can’t release that information to the family.”
He glared at her. “I’m a homicide detective with VPD. This order was issued by mistake. My wife’s death was ruled a suicide, which means that there is no ongoing investigation and that means you can damn well tell me who is responsible for cremating my wife’s body without my permission!” His voice got louder and louder as he unleashed his venom on the woman.
She squared her shoulders. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I’m not authorized to release this information to anyone. If you wish to learn more, I suggest you take it up directly with the Deputy Chief Constable’s office.”
John was about to launch into another rage-filled speech, but seeing the mulish look on the woman’s face, he realized he was wasting his time. He turned on his heel to leave before immediately turning back round again and placing his face just inches from the medical examiner’s. “Mark my words, this is not over. Not by a long way. Someone, somewhere will pay for this!” He stormed out of her office, slamming the door as he did so.
He wanted to hit something he was so angry. How could something like this happen? How could he have lost her all over
again? And then it hit him. How was he going to tell Diana? Dropping yet another bomb on her was not a good idea. It had been one thing after another. The last thing he wanted to do was put her under even more stress, but he didn’t have much choice. He’d have to explain to her why she couldn’t say good-bye to her mother. He’d have to tell Diana that they’d once more lost the woman they both loved so deeply.
John sat nursing a glass of scotch that evening. He was worried about Diana. She had taken the news of her mother’s unexpected cremation rather well. Too well, in fact. He thought over all the events that had taken place over the past few days. Something wasn’t right. He knew that if he had been Nico Stavros, he too, given the evidence, would have reached the same conclusion that Lydia had killed herself. However, Stavros didn’t know Lydia. He didn’t know what a fighter she was or how much she’d overcome.
Lydia used to go out of her way to avoid hurting people. It just didn’t fit that she would have killed herself and left them all behind to cry for her. He hoped. One minute his heart was screaming that she didn’t kill herself. Then his brain intervened with cold hard logic, showing him the facts, the suicide note.
Sighing deeply, he mulled over the circumstances surrounding the cremation of Lydia’s body. The action felt utterly invasive, leaving John feeling bereft and humiliated. He had had everything taken from him – his life, his wife, and even her dead body.
Yes, it looked on the surface like a simple clerical error. In fact, that’s what they had said at the Deputy Chief Constable’s office when he’d checked. The cremation order had been intended for a body that had remained unclaimed for the better part of a fortnight. John couldn’t accuse them of lying, at least not without proof, but the explanation he had been given, that someone had accidentally written “Lydia Hunter” on the order instead of “Jane Doe #46,” defied belief. It wasn’t as if it were a simple spelling mistake or that there were two people with the same name lying in the same morgue. So, it was either a monumental error or something else was going on. Something extremely suspicious. It was as if someone wanted to cover up evidence…
“Dad?” he heard Diana’s voice. He was tempted to share his thoughts with her, but then he gave himself a mental shake. His daughter had been through enough without him giving her false hope. After all, he had no evidence to support his thoughts. Just a few suspicions. Suspicions that would probably get him branded a nutcase if he took them to his superintendent.
“What are you doing up and about at this time?” he asked.
Diana walked into the gloomy living room and sat next to her father on the couch. “Couldn’t sleep,” she replied, staring into the cheerful fire that was a complete antithesis to her mood.
“Me neither,” he replied.
“Why do you think she left us?” Diana asked after a moment’s hesitation. She needed to understand why her mother had chosen to die. The more she thought about it, the harder it was to come up with an explanation and the harder it became to accept that her mother had preferred death over her.
“It had nothing to do with you, Didi,” her father said softly. “It’s not a case of preferring death to you.”
“Then what is it? Was death really her only option? Was it really the only way to solve her problems?”
John sighed. “How do you think I feel, Didi?” he asked softly. “Think about it. She was the love of my life. I saw her every day, and I’d sworn to protect her. Yet I didn’t notice anything. I couldn’t see that she was so unhappy she’d rather end her life than keep on going. How do you think I feel knowing that I should have, could have noticed something, yet didn’t? How do you think I feel knowing she obviously didn’t trust me enough, wasn’t confident enough in me, to let me help her.”
He ran a hand through his hair. He exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry, Didi. I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on you. You’re dealing with enough as it is.”
Diana shook her head. “No, Dad. I’m here for you. Just like you’re here for me. After all, all we’ve really got is each other, no?”
“Well, there’s Teddy and Liam, too,” he reminded her with a small smile.
“Yeah,” she replied. “You’re right.” She got to her feet. “I think I’m going to try to get some sleep.”
“Good. Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Dad.”
“Good night, Didi.”
She smiled sadly and made her way up the stairs. She dropped down onto the bed, curling up into Teddy, who was snoring loudly enough to wake the dead. It was a comforting sound. One that kept her grounded.
Ever since she’d learned of her mother’s suicide, she’d been battling against herself. Trying hard not to let herself withdraw from the world. It was so tempting. She knew she could simply withdraw into her studies, into her mind, and let science take over. She knew she could stop the pain like that. She’d done it before, when she was younger, when she hadn’t been able to deal with all the bullying. She’d retreated from the world, barely exchanging two words with anyone.
Her mother had been so worried, she’d taken her to the doctor and then the psychologist, who’d figured her out pretty quickly. The shrink had explained to her mother that burying herself in her studies was Diana’s coping mechanism and that she’d come out of it when she wanted to or when an external factor forced her. At the time, she’d been ten. Chocolate cake had worked pretty well.
Now? Now she was worried that if she allowed herself to slip into that place, she’d never come out of it. She’d be stuck in that emotional limbo for good, never connecting with anyone, not truly. Never loving. Staying remote from all those who loved her, and whom she loved back. While she pondered these things, she was slowly lulled to sleep by Teddy’s snoring, her grief abating as she slipped out of consciousness, preventing her from seeing the irony of her thoughts as she snuggled into her friend.
CHAPTER SIX
IT HAD BEEN a month since the death of his wife, and to say that John was worried about Diana was putting it mildly. She’d gone back to school soon after the funeral but had refused to return home even once since then. She also completely refused to talk about her mother. Whenever he tried to broach the subject in an attempt to help them both work through their feelings, Diana immediately shut down and changed the subject.
Had it happened only once, he would have ignored it and chalked it up to grief and needing time. But last night, he’d taken her to dinner. It must have been the tenth time he’d attempted talking to Diana about Lydia, only to be confronted with his daughter’s implacable resolve not to discuss her mother at all. In the first two weeks, they’d talked quite a bit. He understood that Diana was angry with her mom. And he couldn’t say he blamed her. But this avoidance she was engaging in wasn’t healthy for anyone, least of all her.
He sighed, turning over and punching his pillow, trying to find a more comfortable position. Diana’s distress weighed heavily on his mind, and he couldn’t sleep. He figured he would have to seek some advice. He wasn’t a psychologist so he didn’t know what to do. He also knew, though, that not just any psychologist would do.
Slowly, he nodded off. His sleep was fitful. Restless. He kept reliving a portion of the same unpleasant dream, over and over and over again. And then, with a start, he jackknifed into a sitting position. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the sheet, staring at the wall in front of him blankly. “Lydia was murdered,” he whispered into the darkness. The despair in his heart began to change. It soon morphed into determination, creating a force field around him as it took shape and strength. Somebody had killed his wife. But why? As he sat there in the dark, he thought hard. He’d find out who had done this to his Lydia, and why. No matter what it took.
The following morning, John sat in his kitchen sipping coffee. It was so strange, so empty. Lydia had filled his life with love and laughter. And now? Now, everything was so quiet. So dead. Just like her.
The anger and resentment at her death had sta
rted to fade as guilt had begun to assail him more and more every day. Guilt that he hadn’t done more, hadn’t noticed her pain. But last night, thanks to a dream – a memory – all those destructive emotions had turned into determination. A determination to catch her killer.
Now, he was absolutely certain Lydia hadn’t chosen to take her own life, and no one could persuade him otherwise. His wife hadn’t killed herself. She had been murdered. Yet it had been done so well that even seasoned detectives had declared it a suicide. The big problem that faced him was that once a death was ruled a suicide, it meant a crime hadn’t been committed. There was no reason to call in the crime scene unit or any other police resources for that matter.
It would be difficult now to find strong evidence considering how many people used the room in which she’d been killed, but he might get lucky. The issue was, he’d need permission to comb through it. And that meant convincing his superintendent he wasn’t going crazy. To support his theory that Lydia had been murdered, he needed evidence; hard evidence. Otherwise, his super would not only dismiss his suspicions as the ravings of a man stricken by grief, but he might very well suspend him.
He debated what he should do. Should he try investigating this on his own? At least until he found something concrete? Then he could present it to his senior officer in support of having the case reopened. He scratched his chin and then shook his head. He didn’t have to do this by himself. He’d get Liam’s help. The younger man might discount his suspicions at first, but his partner had cared for Lydia like she was his own mother. He was sure Liam would help even on the off-chance that he was right.
He picked up his phone and called his partner. “Liam, we need to talk. When can you come over?”
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