Cry From The Grave A Thrilling Psychological Crime Mystery (Harry Briscombe Book 1)

by Carolyn Mahony

  ‘Would you like some? There’s still half a bottle left and I’m off to my Mum’s this evening. It’ll only go to waste.’

  He grinned. ‘Can’t have that. Thanks.’

  He took the glass she offered and sat down opposite her. ‘You must be relieved – that it wasn’t your daughter?’

  She shrugged. ‘I am of course, but it still means I’m no nearer to knowing what happened to her.’

  ‘So, what happens now? It seems hard on you if it all just gets filed away again.’

  Hannah was silent for a long time. She longed to share the latest development with him but caution held her back. What if he said something and word got out about the hair sample? She wouldn’t compromise Sophie’s safety.

  ‘That may well happen,’ she said finally, ‘but there is one new lead they’ve got. It might not come to anything, but if it does…’

  She couldn’t keep the gleam of hope out of her eyes.

  ‘Am I allowed to ask what it is?’

  ‘Probably not. They didn’t tell me not to say anything, but…’

  ‘No problem. I don’t want to pry. Whatever it is, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.’

  She grinned suddenly. ‘Detective Chief Inspector Murray’s quite scary, isn’t he? I don’t want to get on the wrong side of him. He makes me feel about five years old.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’

  ‘Have they come up with anything new on the remains they found in your garden?’

  She noticed his hesitation. ‘God knows,’ he said finally. ‘They seem to be unearthing all sorts of stuff.’

  ‘What sort of stuff?’

  ‘I’m afraid I am banned from discussing it.’

  They sat for a moment in silence.

  ‘How did you know where I live?’

  He looked embarrassed. ‘It wasn’t hard. I got your details off the computer. I hope you don’t mind?’

  She gave it some thought. ‘No. It was nice of you to come.’ The look she gave him was direct. ‘Does your wife know you’re here?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. The way Natasha’s feeling at the moment she probably wouldn’t have wanted me to come, but I just wanted to say that we were glad it wasn’t your daughter. I’m sorry if you feel that puts you in an awkward position.’

  Hannah was shocked to realise that she needed to be careful. She didn’t know why, but she was drawn to this man, and it had been a long time since she’d felt that way about anyone. She found herself thinking back to the conversation she’d had with Jess - about how nice it might be to have a decent man in her life. But that wasn’t this man. He was married and off limits. She needed to remember that.

  ‘I don’t feel that,’ she said. ‘Exceptional times make us act in exceptional ways sometimes.’

  For a moment, their gazes met. She was shocked by the unhappiness in his eyes.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Do you ever wonder what life’s about?’

  ‘All the time.’

  He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the stem of his glass. ‘’I’m twenty-eight years old and everything feels so screwed up. It’s all so different to how I imagined my life would be.’

  ‘Join the club.’

  His eyes shot to her face. ‘God, I’m sorry. You’ve had far more to contend with than I’ll ever have.’

  She shrugged. ‘Look, I don’t know what’s gone on in your life – you have the advantage over me there – but all I can say is that you have to keep telling yourself that soon the good stuff will start to happen. There’s an art to it.’

  ‘Is that what you do?’

  ‘I try, but it’s not always easy...’

  From out of the blue, as if to prove her right, the panic attack whipped through her.

  Oh no, not now.

  She held herself rigid, gripping her glass tightly as she tried to head off the clammy sensation she’d learned to dread, the suffocating breathlessness.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Adam’s voice was coming from a distance.

  ‘I’m sorry ...’ she sucked in deep gasps of air leaning forward and putting her glass shakily back on the table. ‘I feel faint.’

  She struggled to draw her breath, the rushing noise in her ears getting louder. Then firm hands were at her head, pushing it down between her knees, holding it there. ‘Just close your eyes and breathe in deeply.’

  ‘In that drawer over there,’ she gasped, ‘a brown paper bag.’

  The hands left her, but within a few seconds they were back, one thrusting the bag over her mouth and nose so she could breathe into it, the other back on her head.

  ‘That’s it, steady breaths,’ he ordered. ‘You’re doing great.’

  She shook her head, her voice panicked. ‘I think I’m going to pass out...’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ His voice was matter of fact. ‘You’ll only pass out if you hyperventilate. Just keep taking regular breaths and think about something else. We’ll talk. What are you doing tonight for your birthday? Have you got plans?’

  ‘Going to my mum’s for dinner.’ Her voice was muffled by the bag.

  She could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Sounds like your life’s about as exciting as mine. I’ve got a good one for you now. What are your ambitions for your life?’

  It was such a random thing to ask, but it worked, successfully diverting her thoughts as she forced herself to go with the question. His tactics were beginning to calm her she realised, as was the gentle stroking motion of his thumb on her head.

  She took a few more breaths then lifted her head tentatively. ‘If you’d asked me that two weeks ago I’d have said I wanted to be Headmistress of my own primary school.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘I just want to find out what happened to my daughter.’

  The bleakness in her voice filled the room but he didn’t allow her to dwell on it. ‘No desire for a partner? More children?’

  It was an incredibly personal question, and coming as it did on the back of Jess’s comments, it touched on something raw deep inside her. For the first time, she allowed herself to actually consider the possibility. It wasn’t really true that she wanted to spend the rest of her life alone, she realised. She’d love to meet the right person. She just wasn’t sure he was out there.

  ‘I’d like that,’ she said in a quiet voice, ‘but it’s not very likely. I’ve got a cartload of baggage. Not many men would want to take that on.’

  ‘Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh on the male species?’

  ‘Am I?’ Her lips twisted wryly as she lifted her head higher to look at him. ‘You’ve just experienced first-hand some of my issues. Would you be rushing to take on someone who’s a bundle of nerves like that?’

  His gaze as it held hers was steady. ‘All I saw was a woman who’s going through a rough time having a mild panic attack. It’s no big deal.’

  ‘For you maybe...’

  But she was grateful to him for making her feel less of a freak. Just like that, she was beginning to feel calmer now, the attack passing over. She took one final breath from the bag then drew back. ‘Thank you. I’ll be okay now. Stupid ... you must think I’m pathetic.’

  He shook his head as he straightened up. What he actually thought was the complete opposite. She had to be a very strong woman to endure all she’d gone through. He tried not to think about the silky softness of her hair as he’d cradled her head. He’d enjoyed touching her he realised, stroking her … and he shouldn’t. He moved carefully away from her and back to his chair.

  ‘You’re not pathetic at all. You’ve been through a lot and it would be abnormal if it hadn’t had some sort of an effect on you. Does that happen often?’

  ‘I’ve not had an attack in months but I’ve had two this week. I’m sorry you got landed.’

  ‘Glad I was here to help. Can I get you a glass of water – or perhaps some tea – to complete my services?’

  Hannah managed a shaky smile. ‘A glass of
water would be good. Thanks. The kitchen’s along the hallway straight ahead of you.’

  He walked in the direction she indicated but as he made his way down the hall his eyes were drawn to a colourful name plaque on a door to his left. SOPHIE, it said simply. He hesitated. He shouldn’t, he knew, but the door was slightly ajar and acting on impulse he moved over and gently eased it open.

  The scene before him halted him in his tracks.

  Along one wall a beautiful antique cot with patchwork bedding was home to a host of cuddly toys that peeped out at him through wooden bars.

  At the windows, brightly coloured curtains, adorned with fairy-tale mermaids, co-ordinated lovingly with the hand painted motifs on the walls. In the corner, a small furry rocking horse sat in lonely vigil, a Harrods 2007 teddy bear propped carefully up in its saddle.

  From the rich creamy carpet to the mass of vibrantly coloured toys, it was a room that exuded love and warmth; yet when he gently lifted the baby’s hairbrush on the dressing table next to him, the area surrounding it was thick with dust.

  Replacing it quietly he backed out of the room.

  ‘Here you go,’ he said a couple of minutes later, handing her the water. ‘Are you feeling better now?’

  ‘Yes thanks.’ She took the water and sipped from it gratefully.

  He knocked back the last of his champagne and looked about him.

  ‘How long have you lived here?’

  She looked surprised. ‘About six and a half years. Why?’

  He shook his head and smiled. ‘No reason.’

  ‘I know what you’re thinking. That it doesn’t look very lived in, right?’

  ‘I guess it’s the simplicity of it and lack of knick-knacks that makes it look a bit that way. Don’t get me wrong though. It’s very nice.’

  She bristled. She knew the flat was boring but really, she hadn’t felt like making it homely. She’d wanted it to reflect the grey existence her life had become.

  ‘It suits me fine,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘I’m sure it does. I didn’t mean to offend you. I have a habit of putting my foot in it sometimes.’

  His smile was easy and she found herself relaxing. She guessed he was the sort of person it would be impossible to stay annoyed with for very long.

  ‘I doubt that somehow. You strike me as being the tactful sort.’

  He laughed. ‘I’m not sure my wife would agree with you.’ He looked suddenly uncomfortable. ‘Which is where I should probably take myself off, let you get ready for going out. Thanks for the drink. I’ve enjoyed our chat.’

  He stood up, and Hannah rose too, then wished she hadn’t. It had narrowed the gap between them – making her all too conscious of the tug of attraction that seemed to draw her like a magnet. His face was sober as he looked at her.

  ‘I probably shouldn’t have come, but I’m glad I did. You’re very strong you know. So, don’t ever call yourself pathetic. I don’t think I could have gone through what you have and stayed sane.’

  His eyes seemed to settle on the gentle curve of her mouth and there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. She was shocked by an urge to close the gap between them and feel that mouth on hers, and even more shocked as the image of it took over and she imagined his surprise turning to passion as their kiss deepened. Shocked, she put a rein on her thoughts. The air between seemed suddenly filled with tension. He was staring at her as if he could read every thought in her head.

  Dear God, she hoped not.

  For a long moment, their gazes locked and she seemed incapable of breaking that contact. Then Adam turned abruptly away and headed for the hall. She willed her feet to follow him. At the door, he turned one more time to look at her. The heat had gone from his gaze, but his expression was intense.

  ‘Good luck with everything.’

  ‘Thanks. You too.’

  And he was gone, striding down the path without a backward glance.

  Hannah shut the door and leant heavily back against it, aware that her heart was hammering. What had that been about? And for goodness sake - whatever it had been about, there was no mileage in it. He was a married man, and she wasn’t a marriage wrecker. Other people did things like that, but not her.

  Taking a deep breath, she walked back into the lounge. Their conversation had struck a chord with her and for the first time since Sophie had been taken, she took a long critical look at the rather depressing picture it must present to the outside world. Not a single photo on the windowsills, bare walls devoid of pictures and paintings. No throws or colourful cushions to brighten the place up. When Ben had lived here, it had been filled with expensive furniture and objects of art, with original paintings from art galleries covering the walls and luxurious rugs in all the rooms. She’d wanted none of it when he’d left. She’d kept the carpet and curtains, and Sophie’s room had remained untouched of course, but that had been it. It was no wonder it felt more like a motel than the home it could and should be.

  She felt an inexplicable urge to do something about that and without giving herself time to analyse it, went into her bedroom and pulled out a large box file. They were all still there – photos of her childhood, her parents, her school friends. She reached slowly for the large silver-framed photo lying face down on top of the others. She knew what it was. She picked it up and turned it over. It had been taken the day before Sophie had disappeared and Hannah looked so proud, so happy as she held her tiny daughter in her arms. She’d had no idea how quickly her life was about to change. She looked at the picture long and hard but no tears came. Instead, baby moments too numerous to log flitted through her mind like the shutters on a camera, vividly evoking the memories of those precious three weeks. Sophie’s warm, slippery body in the bath, so fragile as she supported her, her tiny arms and legs shooting out like a startled rabbit when she was laid on the changing table. The sweet scent of baby shampoo when she kissed the top of her head…

  And the most precious memory of all - her daughter’s peppered murmurings, the only sound to break the silence of the night, as she suckled contentedly at Hannah’s breast.

  She traced her fingers lovingly over the photo, following the line of the little pink and white bonnet Sophie wore, then looked around for pride of place.

  Over there, on the shelf above the television she decided.

  Once she’d started she couldn’t stop, fixing collages to the walls, pulling out all her old favourites – ransacking the garage for the coloured cushions she knew she’d stacked away in bags. And when finally she’d finished, she looked around pleased with her efforts. It may not be much, but it was a start.

  And for the first time ever, it felt like home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The light was on in Natasha’s room when Adam swung into their drive. He’d sat a long time in the car outside Hannah’s flat, trying to make some sense of his feelings; but, there was no sense to be made. He shouldn’t have called on her, plain and simple. Any idiot could have told him that. And now it had opened up a can of worms. He hadn’t expected to be attracted to her like that. And he had no business being attracted to her.

  He drew a breath as he faced the reality of his feelings. He didn’t love Natasha – hadn’t done so for a very long time, even though his awareness of her needs had created a different sort of relationship where he felt responsible for her. Had he ever loved her? Their courtship had been so intense and the news about the pregnancy so quick he’d barely had time to think about anything. She’d wanted him, and with her mother dying and a baby on the way, it hadn’t even occurred to him not to do the honourable thing. Within nine months of meeting, they were married. And within three months of being married he knew he’d made a terrible mistake.

  Striding into the lounge he was almost bowled over by his daughter’s exuberant greeting as she threw herself at his legs.

  ‘Daddy, daddy – look what I’m doing. Grandma bought me a sticker book.’

  He looked at the stickers painstakingly matched to ea
ch individual picture. ‘That looks like jolly hard work. Well done.’

  ‘Mummy said I could have two stories tonight if I was good and didn’t intrupt her. Will you read to me?’

  He ruffled her hair as he lifted her back onto her chair. ‘We’ll see. Maybe mummy and I can do a story each. How about that?’

  ‘Goodee.’

  ‘You carry on with what you’re doing while I go upstairs and see mummy. I’ll come back down soon.’

  He took the stairs two at a time. She was sitting on her bed writing in her journal when he walked in but she put it down carefully when he said they needed to talk.

  ‘Do we? What about? And where have you been anyway? I called you at the office ages ago and you didn't pick up.’

  His gaze shifted uncomfortably and she frowned, picking up on it. ‘You haven’t been talking to the police again?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Where were you, then?’

  He sighed. He wasn’t about to start adding lying to the list of problems between them. ‘If you must know, I went to see Hannah Walker. To tell her we were happy that it wasn’t her baby they found.’

  ‘You did what? Why would you do that?’

  ‘Because I thought it was a nice thing to do.’

  ‘Oh right. And I’m sure you’d have done the same if she’d been some straggly old bag not worth a second look. How did you know where she lived?’

  Her look had become suspicious.

  ‘She brings her cat to the surgery. Her address was on the system.’

  ‘I can’t believe you did that. Were you planning on telling me if I hadn’t asked?’

  Adam met her look levelly. ‘Probably not. I wouldn’t have wanted to upset you.’

  ‘Oh, why on earth would I get upset just because my husband’s chasing around after other women?’

  ‘I’m not chasing around after anyone. I just wanted to offer her some sympathy. The poor woman’s been through hell and back over all this.’

  ‘And we haven’t? But of course, I was forgetting … Adam, the conscientious carer, always looking after everyone else’s needs. Maybe if you’re extra nice to her she’ll thank you in an extra nice way.’