This, then, was where they’d found her.
She stared at it for several trembling moments, trying to imagine what they’d discovered here. She didn’t really want to picture it. She still clung to the image tight in her mind of how Sophie had looked that last time she’d put her down for her nap, wrapped snugly in her shawl, her eyes drooping closed as she drifted peacefully off to sleep in the secure little world that had been created for her. But it had been a false security, her trust misplaced. She’d been let down by her own mother.
A twig snapped loudly in the night behind her making her jump. She spun round. The outline of a man’s shape loomed large and threatening over her.
She gave a frightened gasp and without giving herself time to think, hit out instinctively with her torch, feeling the thud as it came into contact with solid, hard chest.
Strong arms grabbed her preventing her from lashing out again, but she fought fiercely, terror driving every thought from her mind except the instinct to survive.
‘Stop struggling,’ a voice rasped in her ear, ‘and I’ll let you go. I’m not going to hurt you.’
The cast iron arms were imprisoning her so effectively that her fear was threatening to bubble over into panic.
It wasn’t Ben.
She felt the pressure on her arms relax just a little and she took a gasping breath, forcing herself to be still. Immediately his hold eased. ‘That’s better,’ he said cautiously. ‘Let’s be calm. Who are you and what are you doing in my garden?’
His voice was low and cultured. It calmed her, but she could feel the tension emanating from him as he stood in front of her.
She couldn’t see much of him in the darkness of the night, only enough to know that he was taller than her and broad. It made her feel vulnerable, she realised, confronting the man who could quite possibly have murdered her daughter. Her hand tightened on the hard rubber handle of her torch. It gave her a feeling of reassurance even if it wasn’t much of a weapon.
She took a steadying breath. ‘My name’s Hannah Walker,’ she said. ‘I needed to see where the baby was found. The police seem to think it might be my daughter.’
He’d known who she was of course, but what he hadn’t been prepared for was the tear-stained face exposed by his torchlight. She looked heartbroken, with deep secretive eyes that looked like they harboured a thousand nightmares.
He kept his voice uncompromising. His main concern had to be Natasha. And it would freak her out to know that this woman was in their garden.
‘And you had to come sneaking around like this in the dark?’
Even in that dim light he couldn’t fail to see the impatience that flared in her eyes.
‘So, tell me how you’d have done it? I tried to come earlier but there were reporters everywhere and the police wouldn’t let me in. It could be days before they make a proper identification and I can’t wait that long. Everyone’s saying it must be Sophie. They asked me for my DNA today …’ Her voice trailed away, her eyes fixing on that bleak little area again. ‘Was it you that found her?’
‘I can’t discuss that with you.’
‘Why not? Have you got something to hide?’
Her question made him feel uncomfortable. As if he did have something to hide.
‘Of course not. My wife and I were as horrified as everyone else at the discovery, but the police have forbidden us from talking about it with anyone.’
He was annoyed that he’d allowed himself to be drawn into conversation instead of simply ejecting her from his property. He couldn’t clearly see what she looked like in the darkness but there was a vulnerability about her that was getting to him despite the defiant attitude she was adopting. He stiffened his resolve.
‘I’m afraid I must ask you to leave. I know how awful it must be for you, but my wife’s not been well and all this has been very upsetting for her.’
‘Adam ...?’
As if on cue, Natasha’ voice carried on the night air. Adam flinched, his eyes flitting briefly in the direction of the house.
‘I’d rather she didn't know you were here,’ he said quickly. ‘Do you mind? I’m sure the police will let you come back another time, in daylight.’
Hannah turned back to the excavated piece of ground and stared at it for a long moment. She could not – would not – believe that her daughter had ended her life here in this dump of a hole like some tossed out piece of garbage. She straightened her shoulders.
‘It’s all right. I don’t need to come back. I’ll know soon enough if it’s Sophie or not. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’
‘Look...’ Adam said more gently. He couldn’t begin to think what she must be going through.
‘Adam!’ Natasha’s voice was more impatient this time.
‘You go,’ Hannah said. ‘I’ll leave it a couple of minutes, then I’ll follow.’
He hesitated, experiencing a bizarre urge to comfort her. But really, what else could he say?
Without another word, he turned and headed back to the house. He felt unsettled by the encounter, as if by entering his domain she’d somehow sucked him into the drama that was about to unfold. Of course, whether he liked it or not, he was involved and he had only himself to blame for that. But they could get through it. Hopefully, the Sergeant’s visit in the morning would reassure Natasha and then all they needed was to keep their heads down and wait until the police had finished doing their job. Then maybe life could get back to some semblance of normality.
He thought of a pair of eyes staring bleakly into his, and sensed that life hadn’t been normal for Hannah Walker in a very long time.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Adam led Sergeant Briscombe into the lounge.
‘Thanks for coming, Sergeant. I’m afraid I’m running a bit late and I need to drop our daughter off to school, so, if you don’t mind waiting in the lounge my wife will be down in a moment? It threw her yesterday seeing Hannah Walker on our drive. Anything you can say to put her mind at rest?’
‘I’ll see what I can do, but I’m sure you’ve got nothing to worry about as far as Miss Walker’s concerned.’
‘I tried to tell her that, but …’ he shook his head.
After he’d gone, Harry looked around the spotless room. It was attractively done, with old oak beams from the original barn still running across the ceiling and down the walls, and huge patio doors opening out onto the large garden. Not many couples in their twenties could afford a house like this. It was certainly a contrast to the semi-detached ground floor flat conversion that Hannah Walker occupied, which he guessed would be rented rather than owned.
He was sitting on the settee looking out of the window when Natasha came in, and once again, he was struck by the extraordinary appeal of her. What was it about her that was so different? She wasn’t classically beautiful, but she was stunningly attractive with her delicate features and glossy dark hair swinging alluringly around her shoulders like that. And she was slender as a willow; with small rounded breasts and shapely hips that made a man want to smooth his hands over them.
But it was the expression in her eyes that somehow locked him in. Knowing, was the word that sprang to mind as their gazes met, as if she was drawing him into a world of promise where his every fantasy would be indulged. Sexy as hell - and he hadn’t reacted to a woman like that in years.
Get a grip man! He almost laughed out loud at his fanciful imagination. What would she think if she could read his mind?
Natasha walked further into the room. ‘Thanks for coming, Sergeant,’ she said prettily. ‘No, don’t get up. I expect you think I’m as mad as my husband does, but all this business is getting to me. It’s horrible enough having a discovery like that in your back garden but seeing that woman on my drive yesterday freaked me out.’
‘It’s understandable, Mrs Campbell. DCI Murray’s seeing Miss Walker this morning. I’m sure he’ll explain to her why it’s not a good idea for her to be seen near here.’
Natasha motioned to
wards the daily paper lying on the coffee table. ‘You’ve seen what the newspapers are saying? They’re still pointing the finger at her and her partner. Have you got any more information yet on whether it is their daughter?’
Harry hesitated. ‘We can’t say too much at this stage, but I’m afraid I can confirm that they’re not the archaeological find you were hoping for. The papers will know the basic facts by later today anyway, so there’s no harm me telling you that they reckon the remains have been there a few years – anything up to ten. It’s possible it could be Sophie Walker.’
Natasha sank carefully down onto the settee next to him. ‘Oh, that’s so sad.’
She shivered, the eyes she suddenly turned on him haunted. ‘Adam thinks I’m being paranoid, but I do worry about our safety. What if whoever was responsible for that child’s death blames us for exposing everything? If they can do it once...’
‘I really don’t think you need to worry. It’s unlikely anyone would risk implicating themselves further like that. And as for Miss Walker, there’s nothing at all to indicate that she had anything to do with her daughter’s disappearance. I can’t imagine for one moment that she’d want to harm you in any way.’
Natasha’s frown eased a little, some of the tension leaving her. ‘Well if you’re sure? It’s all so unsettling.’
She made a little movement on the sofa beside him, her leg brushing his, and he was aware of a knee-jerk reaction in his body.
‘Do you have children, Sergeant?’ she asked, changing the subject.
‘Not married. Wedded to the job is the usual accusation I get, and probably quite rightly.’
‘What a waste. You’re very reassuring. You’d make a good husband, I’m sure.’
The swift change in her mood was disconcerting - the coquettish look in her eye so direct that it unnerved him. He should be putting a mile between them, he thought. But he didn’t. The tension in his stomach fanned out pleasurably as he found himself holding that flirtatious gaze; allowing himself to be sucked into it for a brief indulgent moment.
‘I’m not so sure about that. Policemen tend to make lousy husbands, the hours they work.’
‘So perhaps you’re always destined to be someone’s lover? Even better. Most women get to a point in their marriage where they need a bit of excitement. Do you have a girl friend?’
He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation, and this was where he should be putting an end to it, simply by saying yes, but...
‘No, not at the moment as it happens. Too busy.’
She tutted. ‘All work and no play.’ she mocked softly.
Her hand strayed to his thigh and she grazed it deliberately, her eyes holding his. Harry sucked in his breath. He absolutely knew that if he were to lean forward...
He jumped up from the sofa, not allowing himself to even consider it. ‘Makes Harry a dull boy,’ he finished for her, grinning.
‘Very dull indeed. And getting duller by the minute. Are you frightened of me?’
Now he’d put some distance between them he felt safer. ‘Should I be?’
‘No. I think we could have fun together.’
‘I’m not sure your husband would be too happy about that.’
‘Oh, Adam and I haven’t been husband and wife in that sense of the word in ages. Ours seems to be more a marriage of convenience these days; though quite who it’s convenient to is debatable.’
She crossed one leg delicately over the other and eyed him whimsically.
Harry looked shocked. ‘I don’t think you should be talking about this to me, Mrs Campbell.’
Natasha shrugged. ‘I’m sorry if it embarrasses you but it’s no secret amongst our friends that Adam and I have got marriage problems. Act in haste, repent in leisure and all that. Adam married me because I was pregnant with Katrina, and he felt sorry for me because my mother was dying. I’m not sure he ever truly loved me. It’s no wonder I’ve got issues, don’t you think?’
Harry looked uncomfortable, wondering how they’d ever got onto such a personal topic. ‘I wouldn’t want to add to them Mrs Campbell, and …’ he took a deep breath, knowing he had to knock this on the head. ‘I’d have issues of my own if I allowed anything to develop between us. Apart from anything else, it could cost me my job.’
Natasha’s eyes dropped away and she shrugged, reaching for a cigarette. ‘No problem. I thought there was something different about you. You looked like you could be up for a bit of fun. But obviously I got it wrong. Thanks for coming and reassuring me about that woman. Shut the door after you, will you?’
It was a dismissal and Harry wasn’t used to being dismissed by women. In fact, his instinctive inclination was to grab hold of her right there and then and haul her into his arms – show her that he was more than capable of being up for a bit of fun. But he didn’t do it. He looked bemused as he drew further back shaking his head, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism.
‘I’m sorry.’ He didn’t understand why he was the one apologizing, when it was her who was out of line, but he felt wrong footed somehow and it was disconcerting. ‘It’s not that I don’t find you attractive …’
‘Don’t worry about it, it’s no big deal. No need to explain.’
At the door, he was forced to turn back as he remembered something else. His eyes were embarrassed as he cleared his throat. ‘I, err ... forgot to say, we’ll need to take DNA samples from you and your husband to eliminate you from our enquiries. Can you both come down to the station in the next day or so do you think? I’ll get someone to call you to fix an appointment?’
Natasha nodded but her eyes were softly taunting, reminding him of the pleasures he’d just passed over. ‘I’m sure that won’t be a problem,’ she said amiably. ‘But I’d much rather you came here yourself; to take it personally.’
She grinned when he made no response to that, and got up to see him out. ‘See you around, Detective Sergeant. And don’t forget. I’m here if you’re feeling lonely.’
The gleam in her eye lingered as she watched him go. Poor Adam didn’t know the half of it, thinking she’d only had the one affair. He’d definitely leave her if he knew the full extent of it. She sighed. What it boiled down to was the fact that she couldn’t give him what he needed and he couldn’t give her what she needed. Simple as that. Two misfits struggling in a marriage that was falling apart. Adam needed someone who could be honest and open about everything, tackling and solving their issues together – presenting a united front as he put it. And while she rather liked the idea of all that, the reality was that she was incapable of doing it. She wasn't interested in delving beneath the surface of people’s emotions – it was too dark a place to be. She liked to be admired, desired. It might seem shallow but it was how she functioned best. If someone wasn’t fancying her she felt worthless - and all the counselling in the world couldn’t change that.
She felt a moment’s panic. She didn’t want to lose Adam, she relied on him so heavily for everything. But she’d given him his chance and he’d turned her down. If this flirtation with DS Briscombe came to anything – and she hoped it might, then he had only himself to blame.
Remembering the sergeant, she smiled. For some reason, he reminded her of Zach and that first time she’d gone with him at the Sixth Form Dance.
She shook her head. God things had to be bad when she was relying on memories for her thrills. But she couldn’t help it, she’d felt so powerful. It had been the start of a whole new world for her …
‘Go on Tash, you can do it,’ her friend Penny had shouted over the sound of thumping music. ‘We all know Zach fancies the pants off you. If you can get some dope off him I’ll do your maths homework for a week.’
‘You’re on, it’s a deal!’
Biding her time, she’d waited until she saw him head outside with a couple of mates in the direction of the football pitch. Then, making sure he saw her, she’d sauntered casually in the opposite direction towards the little copse that ra
n along the edge of the pitch. Once there, she lit a cigarette, and waited. It wasn’t long.
‘You know this is out of bounds?’ he’d said, coming to a halt in front of her. He was tall and blond, and confidence oozed from every pore.
She’d feigned surprise. ‘Is it?’ She took a deep drag on her cigarette and looked around. ‘How do you bear to live in this dump? Bet you’re really glad this is your last year. It’s all so old. At least our school was built in the twentieth century.’
His lip curled. ‘You don’t get it, do you? That’s part of its tradition. Both my father and my grandfather came here. I expect my son will too.’
‘God! Poor kid.’
‘If you’re going to be rude...’
‘Sorry.’ She laughed carelessly and sat down on a bench, crossing her legs so that he got a good flash of thigh beneath the skimpy skirt. ‘It’s just been such a crap evening I could really do with a joint. Don’t suppose you’ve got any spare?’
He followed the movement of her legs with his eyes. ‘I have as it happens. How much do you want?’
‘Just enough for tonight. Only trouble is I’ve got no cash. Can I pay you next week?’
His eyes moved back to her face and the smile he gave her was disdainful. ‘Are you kidding? I’ve only got a small amount spare and there are people queuing up for it. I’m not about to give it away.’
‘So,’ she’d turned her dark, provocative gaze onto him, ‘perhaps we can come to some other arrangement for payment then?’
His look was suspicious. ‘What do you mean?’
She rose from her seat and very slowly, her eyes not leaving his, her hands moved up to undo the top two buttons of her blouse. She may not have much to thank her father for and a lot of reasons to despise him, but if there was one thing he’d taught her well, it was how to manipulate men.
She heard his sharp intake of breath before he let out a derisive laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t persuade me like that.’
Cry From The Grave A Thrilling Psychological Crime Mystery (Harry Briscombe Book 1) Page 6