by Maggie James
‘He’s what?’ He’s astounded, Lori can tell. ‘The guy’s your half-brother?’
Lori props herself up on one elbow. ‘Apparently so.’ She tells him about the letter from the liaison agency, Aiden coming to the house, the Moroccan meal. Ryan doesn’t interrupt, not once. Once she’s finished, he studies her, his expression inscrutable. Then he speaks. ‘You’re not happy about this, are you?’
She shakes her head. ‘I know it’s unreasonable, but—’
He hugs her. ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Think about it, Lori. You’ve lost your sister, almost lost your mother too, all in a short space of time. Not to mention dealing with those awful fires at her houses, being told by the police someone’s waging war on your family. Hardly surprising you’re all mixed up over this latest turn of events.’ He pulls her back down with him. ‘But we’ll make sense of it, babe. Together.’
His words, although designed to comfort, spark fear in her. Those awful fires at her houses. Being told someone’s waging war on your family.
What was it DC Lightfoot had said? We have to consider the possibility that someone is targeting your properties. With malicious intent towards you. Terror lays a cold hand on Lori, causing her to shiver, despite the warmth of Ryan’s body. Her mother’s comment comes back to her: So handsome too. Almost the same as the words of Jessie’s haiku. A thought, dark and terrible, edges into her mind. Something so shocking she can’t bring herself to examine it. She can’t go there. She won’t.
‘Talk to me, Lori.’ Ryan’s arms squeeze her tighter. ‘Something else is bothering you, I can tell.’
How to put this so he’ll understand? ‘I don’t get why he lied,’ she says eventually. ‘Why trick me into meeting him at the Bierkeller; why pretend to be my friend? Something’s not stacking up here. As to what’s bothering me, he’s all charm around Mum, and she’s lapping it up. I don’t trust him, though.’
Ryan draws in a breath. ‘I get that, babe. Once you catch someone in a lie, it’s hard to know what else they might be lying about.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘You’re still holding something back, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. It’ll sound childish, though. I’m ashamed of how I feel.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m jealous. I didn’t want to admit it, but it’s true. God, it sounds awful to say it.’
He presses her closer. ‘You’re human. Flawed like everyone else. You feel what you feel.’
‘It’s like he’s the only thing that can make her happy following Jessie’s death. Why aren’t I enough for her?’
‘You feel pushed aside?’
‘Yes. I’ve tried not to, but I do. I’ve always been so insecure, you see. First where Jessie and my father were concerned. Now the same thing’s rearing its ugly head with Aiden.’
‘What do you mean?’
Lori hesitates. Will he think her immature, petty? ‘When Jessie was alive, I often felt in her shadow, even though she was younger. Because she was so bright, confident and bubbly. She was always Dad’s favourite, or that’s how it seemed. Mum and me, though, we’ve always been tight. I’ve never doubted her love for me. So it hurts when she acts as though her world’s complete now Aiden’s in it. Even though I know that’s not true. She’ll never truly heal from losing Jessie. Yet she’s behaving as though she can.’
‘Isn’t that natural, though? You said she’s always regretted giving him up for adoption. She’s bound to be over the moon about being reunited with him. Once things settle down, perhaps you’ll feel differently.’
‘Maybe. But I still don’t trust him. Not after he lied to me for so long.’
Silence for a while. Lori decides to risk airing what else is on her mind. The dark something that’s been gnawing at her, ever since she thought of it earlier. ‘The timing bothers me,’ she says.
‘What do you mean?’
Lori’s unsure how to word this. Before, she worried about sounding petty. Now she’s afraid she’ll seem like a paranoid bitch.
Lori chooses her words carefully. ‘What if he’s not as delighted about meeting Mum as he claims?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Maybe he hates her.’
This time it’s Ryan’s turn to prop himself on one elbow as he stares at her. ‘I don’t get it. Why do you think he hates your mother?’
‘Because of the fires at her properties. The police are right; someone’s targeting her, someone waging a vendetta. Isn’t it all a bit too coincidental that Aiden Scott waltzes into our lives right when Mum’s houses are being torched?’
‘Let me get this straight.’ Ryan rubs a hand over his jaw. ‘You’re thinking he’s some sort of psychopath? That he’s the one setting fire to her rental properties?’
‘Yes.’
‘Jesus.’ Ryan shakes his head. ‘I can’t get my head around this.’
‘Don’t you see? It all fits. He’s using the fact there’s an arsonist on the loose in Bristol to cover his tracks. Hoping the fires he’s setting will be blamed on whoever’s burning all those empty warehouses.’
‘I guess. But you’ve not answered my question. Why would he hate her so much?’
‘She gave him up for adoption, remember. For many kids, that must lead to a sense of abandonment. However hard they try to rationalise it, they feel rejected, by the one person who’s supposed to love them unreservedly.’
Ryan nods. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Now fast-forward ten years. He loses his father in a terrible fire, his mother’s horribly burned. A situation that wouldn’t have happened had Dana kept him. That’s bound to screw any child up, and badly. He blames her, don’t you see? For his adoptive father’s death, for the fact his mother requires constant nursing care. He admitted he thought he hated her at one point, that he blamed her, felt anger towards her. Now I’m wondering about Jessie’s death.’
Ryan appears stunned. ‘What are you implying?’
Lori drags in a breath before replying. She eyeballs him squarely. ‘I think he might have killed my sister.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes. The police are right. Someone’s targeting Mum, but not just with fire. He’s out to make her suffer, Ryan. The way he sees it, she deprived him of a family. Now he’s aiming to take hers. That’s what I meant about the timing bothering me. Jessie died not long after Aiden Scott wangled his way into my life. I’m thinking that’s no coincidence.’
‘God.’ Ryan’s breathing is harsh, heavy.
‘He’s jealous, don’t you see? Mad as hell, eaten up with anger. Because Mum gave him away, but kept Jessie and me.’
‘But that means’ – Ryan grips her arms, stares into her eyes, his gaze unwavering – ‘that he might target you next.’
‘Oh, my God.’ Fear grips Lori, fierce and intense.
‘If you’re right, Aiden Scott raped and killed his own half-sister. Then he set the fire to cover his tracks. Which makes him one evil bastard. What you’re saying makes sense, though. We already know Jessie was dating an older man. Someone tall and handsome.’
‘That’s Aiden to a T,’ Lori admits. ‘I thought it was his housemate at one time. The firefighter. Mainly because she once fancied him. I was wrong.’
‘The thing is, babe, you need to be careful. Don’t let him know what you suspect, not even for a minute.’
‘I know. I realise I can’t go slinging accusations around.’ Spencer’s words, about how she’s too ready to accuse all and sundry, come back to her. First Jake Hamilton, then Damon Quinn. She’s aware she’s been flaky with her thinking so far. Now, though, she reckons she’s uncovered who murdered her sister.
‘I mean it, Lori.’ Ryan’s hands grip her tighter. ‘If you’re right, then this man is dangerous. Remember what I said before. If your mother’s his final target, and he’s already killed Jessie, there’s only one logical assumption. You’re next.’
Oh, God. Terror ignites in her again. ‘But what can I do? The police won’t
believe me. It’s all just conjecture. Plus they have Spencer in custody for killing Jessie.’
‘Listen to me.’ Ryan’s voice is firm. ‘You must never – never, do you understand? – be alone with him again. Not until we’ve got a handle on whether what we’re both thinking is true.’
Chapter 18
DREAD
The next day, Thursday, Lori’s in the kitchen, fixing some sandwiches for lunch, her mood dark. Dana’s texted to say she’ll be home soon, and she’ll be bringing Aiden with her. Ever since she left the house that morning, Lori’s been worrying where her mother might be. She’d heard snippets of her phone conversation earlier, Dana clearly talking to Aiden. I’d love to. A great idea. What time? None of which provides any clue as to where she’s gone. Or why she’s done so with Aiden, and not included Lori. Try as she might, Lori can’t stop further pangs of rejection stabbing her. Now here she is, making lunch for someone she fears is a murderer. Their genes may be linked, but right now that’s their only connection.
A key sounds in the lock. Lori glances into the hallway, seeing her mother walk through the door, Aiden close behind. Dana is laughing and chatting with him, before her gaze falls on her daughter.
‘Hi, sweetheart,’ she says, her voice bright with happiness.
Lori moves to kiss her mother. No reason why Dana should bear the brunt of her bad mood. She nods at Aiden, her smile tight. ‘Had a good morning?’ she enquires.
Dana sits at the kitchen table. ‘We went to visit Aiden’s adoptive mother at her care home,’ she says.
Lori’s surprised. She gets now why she wasn’t invited, but the niggling hurt persists.
‘I wanted to say thank you to her,’ Dana continues. ‘For looking after my boy until that awful fire. Loving him for me. Caring for him when I couldn’t.’
‘She’s my mother,’ Aiden says. ‘Always will be. One of them, anyway.’ He laughs, before turning to Lori. ‘I’ve invited Dana over to lunch with my foster parents soon. You’ll come too, won’t you?’ A plea in his voice. He’s clearly picked up on the fact she’s pissed off with him. ‘Now all this is out in the open, I need the people in my life to get to know each other. No more secrets.’
Lori remembers her conversation with Ryan last night. For now, though, all she can do is wait and watch. So she makes small talk as they eat lunch, smiles when necessary, forcing down her misgivings. Aiden seems to relax, the tension she sensed earlier in him dissipating as the conversation progresses. By the time he’s sunk his second cup of coffee, it’s gone altogether.
A ring at the doorbell. When Lori answers it, their neighbour Mrs Richards is on the doorstep.
‘Hello, dear,’ she says, her expression concerned. ‘Is your mother in?’
Dana comes into the hallway. ‘Edith,’ she says. ‘What can I do for you?’
The elderly woman launches into a rambling story. Lori listens to how she’s lain awake worrying, unsure exactly what she saw, how she doesn’t like to interfere – yeah, right, thinks Lori – and how she hasn’t wanted to disturb their grieving. After a couple of minutes, though, she says words that pierce Lori with terror. Two nights ago. Thought I spotted a man. Creeping along the side of your house.
‘I rapped on my window, gave him a real good fright,’ the woman says, a note of self-congratulation in her voice. ‘Ran off like his feet were on fire, he did.’
Dana and Lori exchange glances. Terror lurks in her mother’s eyes, no doubt mirrored by Lori’s own. They’re both thinking the same thing, she realises. It must have been this lunatic arsonist, hoping to deliver a fiery calling card.
‘When was this? How late on Tuesday night?’ Dana asks her neighbour. On hearing it was just after ten o’clock, she turns to Lori. ‘I’d just finished my dialysis session. You were at Celine’s, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank God this maniac picked that time,’ Dana says. ‘Otherwise we might have been here, asleep. He could have burned us in our beds.’ She shudders, her face pale with shock.
Her words cause Lori’s pyrophobia to burst into life. Feeling her stomach heave, she sprints to the downstairs toilet, vomits up her lunch. Holy fuck. Someone tried to torch this house, meaning her worst fear nearly came true. Behind her, she hears Dana talking to Edith Richards, although she has no idea what her mother is saying. When she eventually finishes dry heaving, she returns to the kitchen to find their neighbour at the kitchen table, sitting across from Aiden and Dana.
‘I’ll call the police right away,’ her mother’s saying as Lori enters. She turns to Aiden. ‘Darling, can you stay, please? I’d feel safer with you here.’
‘Of course. I’d be happy to.’ Lori glances at her half-brother; he’s pale, his teeth worrying a fingernail. A sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead.
‘I’ll start looking for somewhere to rent right away,’ Dana says, her voice shaky. ‘Time to move out. We can’t live in fear like this.’
‘I agree,’ Lori says. Her stomach’s still queasy. ‘The sooner the better.’
Lightfoot and Timpson arrive within an hour of Dana’s call, her mother introducing her neighbour to them. Lori observes Lightfoot’s eyes, a question in them, as they roam over Aiden, before the woman addresses him.
‘And you are . . . ?’ At that, Dana looks up.
‘This is my son, Aiden Scott,’ she says. ‘He—’
‘You have a son?’ Lightfoot interrupts. ‘How come you never mentioned this when we investigated Jessie’s death?’
Dana explains, while Lightfoot and Timpson listen. Aiden takes an occasional puff on his inhaler, remaining silent throughout, only contributing when Dana refers to him. At one point he crosses to the sink, pouring himself a glass of water. His hands shake so badly he spills some, a fact that doesn’t escape Lori.
When Dana finishes, Lightfoot nods, her expression inscrutable.
‘We need to go to your house,’ she tells Mrs Richards. She explains the need to check the woman’s vantage point, ask questions about what she saw. Within half an hour, they’re back, their expressions less serious than when they arrived.
‘We’re not certain how reliable your neighbour’s statement is,’ Lightfoot says when she and Timpson walk into the kitchen. ‘When we pressed her for details, some of them were vague, contradictory. She’s elderly, remember, and her sight’s not good. Bottom line is: we can’t be sure what she saw.’
‘Do you think we should move out?’ Dana asks anxiously.
Lightfoot shakes her head. ‘That’s up to you, of course, but from what we’ve heard I’m not convinced it’s necessary. We’ll reinstate night-time surveillance for the time being. In the meantime, we need to run through a few things with you. After we’re done, can we ask you some questions, Mr Scott? Seeing as you’re here?’ Alarm creeps into Aiden’s expression, although when he speaks his voice seems normal, if a little strained.
‘Of course,’ he says, flashing Lightfoot a wide smile. ‘Happy to help. I’m not sure what I can tell you, though. As my birth mother told you, I was only reunited with her recently.’
‘He’s right,’ Dana says. ‘I can’t think you’ll need to speak with him for long. Why don’t you get that out of the way first?’ She shudders. ‘Please. I need some time to get to grips with this.’
Lightfoot’s gaze takes in Dana’s pallor, the lingering shock in her expression, before she nods. ‘Fine, Mrs Golden. We’ll let you know when we need you.’
‘Make yourselves comfortable in the living room,’ Dana says. ‘I’ll be upstairs. Lori, could you make a start on tonight’s casserole, please?’
Lightfoot and Timpson escort Aiden into the living room. Dana’s footsteps sound on the stairs, leaving Lori in the kitchen.
She moves mechanically, finding the recipe she needs, taking herbs from the cupboard, a knife from a drawer. All the while, her ears are attuned, straining for any sounds from the living room. Those that reach her are muted, too low to discern. Lori sighs, aware she’ll have to wa
it for Aiden to tell her what was discussed. Will he tell her the truth, though?
As she chops the onions, cubes the meat, her mind probes this latest turn of events like it’s a sore tooth she can’t leave alone. Did someone attempt to burn down her home or not? Her brain circles around the fires, Jessie’s death, Aiden’s arrival in their lives, until she can no longer separate them; they coalesce in a gigantic ball of grief, pain and mistrust, one burning holes in all her defences. Try as she might, Lori has no idea how to cope with this.
So she slices and dices, lumping the ingredients in the casserole dish, pouring on the stock. All the while looping through burning buildings, her sister’s body, Aiden’s revelations in the park, causing hot tears to soak her cheeks. Lori grabs some kitchen roll, blows her nose, washes her hands. She can’t allow her mother or the police, and definitely not Aiden, to spot she’s been crying.
One thing’s certain: she and Dana can’t carry on living here. She’ll persuade her mother to find rented accommodation. As for herself, she’ll take Ryan up on his offer of moving in with him. He’ll keep her safe, of that she’s sure. Then this nightmare might end at last.
An hour later, she hears the living-room door open, Aiden walking into the hallway, Lightfoot calling up the stairs, telling Dana she and Timpson are ready to talk with her now. Aiden strides into the kitchen, where Lori’s nursing a coffee, the casserole ready for the oven. ‘Hi,’ he says, his tone awkward.
Lori eyeballs him. ‘Why did they need to speak with you?’
He shrugs, and at that moment she watches him slip on a mask. The smile he flashes at her is designed to charm, to deflect, as are his words. ‘Just routine,’ he replies, with an airy wave of his hand. ‘They’re checking everyone with a connection to Dana, trying to pinpoint who might have a grudge against her. Now I’ve arrived on the scene, they had to include me in all that. I told them, though. How much it means to me, finding my birth family. How I’d never want to hurt Dana. Or you.’ He walks to the sink, pours himself a glass of water, his back to her, and Lori witnesses the same trembling of his hands as before. The way he spills the water as he tries to drink it.