Scarred Surrender (Scarred Series Book 6)

by Jackie Williams

  James put the pancake pan away and cleared the kitchen surfaces, leaving everything tidy before he headed up the stairs. His breath caught in his throat as he entered the bedroom and his eyes sought Crystal’s as she gazed back at him.

  Emily’s latest painting stood propped up on his chest of drawers, still unframed where he couldn’t bear to part with it, even to leave it for a day at the framers. He smiled at the woman who had captured his heart and a lump formed somewhere deep in his chest. Emily really was a talented artist and while she often painted abstract designs that he didn’t fully appreciate, he instantly cherished the picture she had presented to him shyly only a few days previously.

  Stunned by the beauty of Crystal’s portrait, it had left him breathless. Blue eyes seemed to follow him about his room and there was something about the way Emily had captured the light bouncing off Crystal’s hair. Unable to form words after Emily had given it to him, he had just gasped like a fish out of water while Emily chuckled at his side and elbowed him in the ribs.

  He tore his eyes away from the painting and glanced down at his watch but he had plenty of time before he needed to shower and change from his casual morning gear into his work clothes. He was about to gaze at the painting once again when his phone rang. He picked it up as he looked at the clock on the screen. It was just before nine. An agitated voice came on the line.

  “Hello, hello. This is Gaitlor and Gaitlor Solicitors. Am I speaking to James Ellington?”

  “Yes, how can I help you?” James answered as something twisted in his stomach.

  “You recall Adam Bowden’s will?” The solicitor was short and to the point.

  James’ guts twisted tighter as he gave out a short laugh.

  “I’m not likely to forget becoming Adam’s daughter’s guardian or ten million pounds. Is there a problem?” He could hear the solicitor shuffling papers.

  “Possibly. The woman who came with you on the day we discussed the will, well, I can’t disguise this as anything other than bad news. She’s officially contesting the will.”

  James slumped onto his bed as shock smothered him.

  “On what grounds? You said that his will was completely legal and correct.”

  “The will is fine, but Ms Saskia Chalmers is contesting its contents on the grounds that you are unfit to be given such a responsibility. She also says that Major Bowden was not of sound mind at the time he wrote it due to fighting the initial stages of pneumonia. She alleges that he had a temperature that was so high it could have affected his reason.”

  James shook with fury as he rose from his bed again. There was no way he could take this news sitting down.

  “What! Me, unfit? In what way? Is she out of her tiny mind? She’s only doing this because she assumed Adam was going to leave everything to her. She mentioned a new will at the man’s funeral and presumed that it was going to be in her favour. It was the only reason she came with us to your office that afternoon.”

  There was a short silence on the line before the solicitor spoke again.

  “Yes, I could see that it wasn’t as she expected, however that doesn’t mean that she is lying. I had seen Mr. Bowden only the fortnight previously and although he looked well enough then, his illness did appear to come on rather suddenly. For all we know he might well have had a severe temperature that caused him to change his will in a fashion that he might not have done should he have been well.”

  James couldn’t believe his ears.

  “You’re joking! Are you telling me that you agree with her? You really think that woman is a better custodian of Adam’s family and their assets than I am?” He didn’t wait for the stammering solicitor to respond. “Look, Adam had a sore throat, that was all and that was a week after he had already changed his will. We should be asking ourselves how he came to die right after Saskia had kept him in bed for almost a week. How come she didn’t notice that he had pneumonia? She was the one who was with him all the time. And I’d love to know what she’s holding against me to accuse me of being an unfit guardian and trustee. Apart from the fact that I have an outstanding military record, I’ve known Emily since she was at primary school. I also run my own successful company. What evidence does she have to back up her claim?”

  Mr. Gaitlor forced down his stammers and responded quickly.

  “Unfortunately I don’t have that information yet. I came into the office this morning and my secretary had already flagged this up for my attention. I called you immediately, of course, but I only have a notification that the will is being contested on those grounds. I suspect that either you or I will hear from official channels later today.”

  James wiped his hand over his face and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “I’m at work today. If you hear anything, can you call me there?” He wound up the conversation by giving his work telephone number.

  His head pounded and his legs throbbed as he showered. He took a few deep breaths and leaned his head against the wet tiles, willing the pain away, but it was relentless and by the time he’d shaved, dried himself off, and replaced his prosthetics, he didn’t know how much longer he could take it. Kicking himself for relying on Crystal’s methods and not obtaining a repeat prescription of his strong painkillers, he took a hopeful look through the bathroom cabinet. There were a couple of small bottles of tablets tucked away at the back. Adam’s name was on the outer label.

  Crystal and Emily had put most of their father’s belongings away but the smaller things turned up all the time. He read the label. Antibiotics. Nothing he’d ever heard of before. The label was dated a fortnight before Adam died. So the man had gone to his doctor’s appointment for the sore throat. James shook the bottle. There were still several of the tablets sitting at the bottom and James glanced at the instructions.

  ‘One tablet to be taken three times a day before meals.’

  James closed his eyes briefly as the few remaining tablets rattled about. Adam clearly hadn’t finished the course. It looked as though about eight pills were left in the bottle. Would they have made any difference? Probably not if he’d taken the rest as instructed. He slid the bottle back onto the shelf and dug further. Another bottle with a similar label came to light, but this time James recognized the brand name immediately. They were strong painkillers, the exact same ones that had been prescribed for himself on more than one occasion.

  He didn’t want to rely on them but with the way his head and legs felt, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to make it through the day without them. He marched back to his room, threw on his clothes, shoved the bottle in his jacket pocket, and then tramped back down the stairs, his head still reeling at the solicitor’s news. He had to call Crystal and let her know what was going on, but he didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily. Mr. Gaitlor might phone him in the next few hours and tell him that the whole thing had been sorted out or that it was all a horrible mistake. A day or so wouldn’t make any difference if Saskia really was going to contest the will, and with the hour time difference between England and France, he knew that Crystal would already be deeply involved in therapy sessions.

  Therapy sessions! He wished he hadn’t thought of them as visions of her delicate hands and slender fingers spreading oil over other men’s bodies ripped through his mind. He ground his teeth and felt as though he was going to need several therapy sessions himself as twinges of pain threaded their way down his legs.

  Squeeze the ball, let it all go, squeeze the ball, let it all go! He repeated to himself as he decided to wait until the solicitor came back with specific details before frightening Crystal with something that might amount to nothing.

  He was about to head out of the front door when through the opaque panelled glass he noticed several dark shadows walking up the path towards him. He opened the door before anyone knocked and the twisting that hadn’t left his stomach since the solicitor’s phone call, suddenly became a lot worse. Two official looking men, one of them holding a large buff envelope beneath his arm,
followed by a grey haired, motherly looking woman held out their identification badges.

  “James Ellington?” the lead inspector asked.

  James nodded. He was already fed up of hearing his full name that day. He glanced down at the badges to check the men’s names while his already snaking innards began to churn.

  “Yes, how can I help you, Inspectors Marsh, and Lincoln?” The woman was too far in the rear for him to read her name, but he acknowledged her with a brief nod. “I was about to go to work.”

  Marsh, the bigger of the two men stepped forwards.

  “I’m afraid you will have to be late. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  James narrowed his eyes and held his ground.

  “Oh, what about?” Suspicions flooded his mind that this visit, only minutes after his disturbing conversation with the solicitor, couldn’t be a coincidence.

  Inspector Lincoln inched closer.

  “We’d really prefer to discuss this inside, however if you want we can take it to the station. Is Miss Emily Bowden inside?” The man looked past his shoulder as if expecting Emily to appear. Maybe he did as college was officially over and only the exam time remained.

  James frowned down at the two men and then looked again at the woman. She didn’t smile. Her eyes raked over him as he answered.

  “No, Emily has her final art exam today. She won’t be finished until nearly four and then she’s going out with her friends. I’m meant to be meeting her in town at six tonight, after work. What’s she done?” He felt a sudden throbbing in his legs as concern for Emily swept over him.

  The woman answered quickly.

  “She’s done nothing, but I doubt that you will be meeting her tonight.” She narrowed her eyes more.

  James was about to respond when Marsh coughed.

  “So is it going to be inside or in an enquiry room? Your choice, Ellington.”

  James felt his mobile phone vibrate in his pocket. He lifted it out and saw the solicitor’s number displayed on the screen. He ignored the ringing tone as he looked back at the policemen.

  “Inside initially, but if I’m unhappy with anything, I’m calling my solicitor immediately.” He stepped back to let the trio in and grabbed a bottle of painkillers from his jacket pocket. He had the feeling that he was going to need them.

  He felt the blood drain from his face and his body numb as he stared down at the pictures in front of him. Taken in isolation they looked bad, even he could see that.

  One showed Emily’s panicked expression as she shouted at something off the side of the picture. His own face was in the second image, his hands spread possessively over Emily’s back, his head was tilted downwards. He looked almost angry about something. It gave the impression that he was about to force a kiss on the girl in his arms. Another photograph, apparently taken soon after the second had Emily with her arms flailing, looking as though she was attempting to punch his chest while he held her shoulders tightly, shaking her as tears sparkled on her cheeks. The last was two shots lined up side by side. One from a distance of him sitting on a log, his head clasped in his hands. The other was a close-up of the same picture. It had been cropped to show a section of his forearm. There were three long scratches visibly etched into his skin.

  He looked up at the two men before glancing at the woman.

  “I don’t know what you are suggesting but this isn’t what it looks like.”

  The woman’s doughy face hardened.

  “That’s what they all say.” Her face was doughy but she had a voice of cold steel.

  James stood up quickly and glared at her insinuation.

  “You can think what you like, but there is a perfectly innocent explanation for all of these pictures. I actually have witnesses to this one. Jesus, I think that’s from when I was passed out on the floor after chasing a flock of chickens around a vegetable garden.” He stabbed his finger at the picture of Emily shouting. “And that one,” he pointed at Emily’s flailing arms. “That was right as a dirty great owl missed our heads by about an inch. I bet if this hadn’t been selectively cropped and you had the whole picture the damn thing would be on there. Scared the life out of both of us. You can ask Emily as soon as she comes back from college.”

  The woman drew in a breath and shook her head knowingly.

  “Chickens and owls? Hmm,” she muttered. “I wonder what sort of bird explains those scratches.”

  “That wasn’t any bird. That wasn’t anything to do with Emily ether. It was Crystal. She caught my arm when she had a nightmare.”

  The woman’s chin lifted.

  “So you are sleeping with the sister too.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “No, I’m not sleeping with anyone. Not that it’s any of your business, but she just slept in my room the night after I had passed out. We’re not having any kind of affair and nothing is going on with Emily either. These pictures are not what they look like or what you are implying. You can ask Emily.” The woman raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him. He glanced at the images again and his mind reeled at the implications revealed in the pictures.

  Marsh stacked the photographs and slid them back into the envelope.

  “We fully intend to ask her for her side of events, that’s why we were hoping that she was here. We understand that Crystal is the older sister. Is she at home?”

  James shook his head, shock still reverberating through his frame.

  “No, she moved to France a few weeks ago. It’s just Emily and myself living here at the moment.”

  The woman’s eyes glittered menacingly at him.

  “So you live here with Emily on your own? With no other adult female present?”

  He nodded as the seriousness of the situation hit him again. How could she make something so innocent sound so wrong? He stared back at the woman.

  “Emily’s not a kid, though I am her guardian until she’s eighteen. Her father made it official in his will. He also made me trustee of both girls money until they are twenty-five. The terms of the will mean that I have to live here.”

  Inspector Lincoln sifted through his notes and paused at a particular sheet.

  “Yes, it was a lot of money. I understand that your own business has been in trouble.”

  James stared at the man.

  “What? No, that’s not true. We might not have been making a fortune but the company is doing well. Who told you that we were having problems?”

  The man ignored James’ question and glanced at his notes again.

  “We have it on good authority that your business has only increased rapidly in the weeks since Major Bowden’s demise. There must have been some big investment to cause the sudden jump in trade.”

  James bristled at the implications

  “Yes, a massive investment or our own time and energy. One of our competitors went down. Since their business collapsed we have taken on a lot of new accounts. My business partner and I have busted a gut gaining all their existing clients. Alex has worked on it like a demon while I was away.”

  “Away with Emily,” the woman said smugly.

  James turned to her, somehow managing to keep calm. He knew that losing his temper wouldn’t help at all.

  “Yes! With Emily. And her sister, half a regiment of my old army pals, and their wives and families. God, this is unbelievable! Where did these pictures come from? Someone must have been sneaking about the château grounds at all hours to get these, and all of them have been cropped to only show part of the story.” Frustration etched his tones. “Have you asked to see the photographer’s memory card for the rest of them?”

  The two policemen looked at one another briefly.

  “That’s one of the reasons we came to talk to you here rather than making it official down at the police station. The pictures and some other relevant information arrived via an anonymous email at our headquarters early this morning. In view of the fact that Miss Bowden is nearing eighteen and hasn’t made any complaint against you we
waited until a suitable member of child services was available to come and assess the situation.”

  James calmed somewhat. At least nothing was official. Yet. He wiped his hand over his brow as his phone began to vibrate again. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

  “I have to answer this. Alex, my business partner, will wonder what has delayed me. I said I’d be there by nine thirty today. We have a load of systems to check.” He swivelled quickly and marched towards the hallway for some privacy, but the woman suddenly spoke quickly.

  “You do understand why we are doing this? We have to investigate all claims of sexual harassment.”

  James glanced back at her and took some calming breaths.

  “Yes, of course I understand that, but those pictures mean nothing. They’re a complete misrepresentation of the facts. Something that will be verified as soon as Emily gets home. I swear to God that she’s going to be as outraged as I am. You might want to make sure you plug your ears.”

  The woman peered up at him.

  “Yes, well, we can’t take your word for that, I’m afraid.” She spoke over her shoulder to her companions. “I think we should take him in until a more official enquiry can be made. Who knows what he’s going to cover up if we leave him here alone. I mean, it’s obvious that you’ve been lying about some things, why not others.”

  James stopped dead in his tracks. He pressed the hold call button on his phone as he spun around slowly.

  “What do you mean? I’ve not lied about anything.”

  The woman looked him up and down rather obviously.

  “You’re claiming a disabled pension from the army. Apparently you broke both your legs in some accident and couldn’t walk properly thereafter. I think it’s fair to say that’s quite clearly a lie. You don’t seem to have much difficulty walking on your very broken legs.” She made no attempt to hide her sarcasm.

  James stared at her disbelievingly for a few seconds before he found his tongue again. He took a step closer to her and hissed out his words.

  “You make it sound like I tripped over a grain of sand! I did not break my legs in some random accident. Some prick thought blowing up a kid would be fun. I was caught in the blast. The engine block of the army vehicle I was in crushed the lower halves of my legs.”