Deep Hurt
Page 29
“You were both not much more than babies.” She sniffed again. “You can’t be blamed for what happened.”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs Avery.”
“It wasn’t your fault, do you hear me?”
Tears sprang from Ingrid’s eyes and down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying. Kathleen pulled her toward her huge breasts and stroked her hair. She patted a hand against her leg. Sudden sobs issued from Ingrid’s mouth, she was unable to keep them under control any longer.
“You let it all out, honey. You let it all out.”
They stayed sitting like that for a few moments until Kathleen unexpectedly withdrew her hand and pushed Ingrid away. Ingrid tensed, bracing herself, worried what was going to happen next. What Kathleen might say. She looked at Kathleen’s face, expecting to see an expression of disappointment. But Megan’s mom turned her face away. She stared intently at the television on the opposite wall.
“Is that him?” Her ruddy face had grown pale.
Ingrid looked at the scene playing out on the huge screen across the room. Two tall FBI agents were bundling a wiry, balding man in his mid-fifties, a mass of tattoos on his scrawny arms, into a waiting police car.
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Although Ingrid had booked herself a room in a local motel, somehow Svetlana managed to convince her to stay in the family home. Much to Ingrid’s relief, her mother led her to a guest room on the top floor at the front of the house, rather than her old room in the attic.
After she’d unpacked, Ingrid checked her phone for all the calls and texts she’d been ignoring since she’d landed in the US. It took her a full fifteen minutes to plow through all of them and when she got to the end there was only one call she wanted to return. She hit a speed dial option.
“Hey, Ralph.”
There was a pause at the other end—Ingrid wondered if she’d interrupted something. She hadn’t quite oriented herself in terms of days and time. Had she called him in the middle of the night, London time?
“Hello. You arrived,” he said.
“I did.”
“I’m sorry if I left you a lot of messages. The Kyle Foster story hit the news here this morning and I thought you might want to know about it. Somehow Angela Tate managed to get a scoop. I don’t know how she does it.”
“Maybe she has friends in high places.”
“More likely she has enemies and a lot of dirt on them.” He fell quiet again. “Listen, I should come clean—full disclosure and all that… I left you a ton of messages because… well I suppose I just—”
“Does it help to know you’re the only person whose call I’ve returned?”
“It’s good to hear your voice.”
“I only saw you yesterday.”
Another pause. She’d made him feel awkward—not what she’d intended. But to his credit he recovered quickly.
“You left just when things were starting to get interesting.”
It wasn’t as if she’d had a choice. No need to remind Ralph of that—she didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.
He cleared his throat. “I saw on the news the police have made an arrest in Minnesota.”
“Yes, I was at Kathleen Avery’s house when I found out.”
“Do you know if he’s admitting anything?”
“According to my contact the sonofabitch won’t shut up about what he’s done.”
“At least that’ll make the whole process quicker.”
“I guess.”
“You’ve spoken to Megan’s mum? How’d it go?”
“I think it was OK.”
“Better than you were expecting?”
“Much.”
“But it was still tough?”
“I didn’t tell her exactly what happened—the fact that I ran. It wasn’t until I was sitting right next to her that I realized that if I had I would just have been unburdening myself. It wouldn’t have helped Kathleen any. It would have been plain selfish.”
“You did the right thing.”
“I think so. If she asks me for the details, I’ll be honest with her. But now is not the right time.”
He went quiet again.
“Ralph? Are you OK?”
“I feel like I want to wrap my arms around you, tell you it’s going to be all right.”
“I guess it never will be. But right now at least it feels a little less hard. I’ll take that.”
“Has a date been set for the funeral?”
“A week today. I was thinking I’d come back to London right after, but I might stay a while.”
“Oh.”
A single syllable could hardly ever have conveyed so much disappointment.
“I’ve got a lot of thinking to do. A lot of talking. And a hell of a lot of fences to mend.” Ingrid had expected him to jump right in and tell her she should take just as long as she needed to. But he said nothing. Maybe be was even more disappointed with her decision to stay on than she’d realized.
They said a slightly awkward goodbye and Ingrid made sure she was the first to hang up.
*
The following Monday, with mechanical assistance from the local vehicle hire company together with her own determination, Kathleen Avery managed to get to the cemetery for her only daughter’s funeral. It had been the first time she had set foot outside her home in over seven years. One of her six-foot, two-hundred-sixty pound sons pushed her along the paved path from the line of funeral cars to the grave in a super-sized wheelchair designed especially for heavy hospital patients.
Kathleen sat with her back straight and her head held high. She told Ingrid she wanted her to walk with the rest of the family to the graveside, seeing as Megan loved her like a sister. It was all Ingrid could do not to break down into floods of tears every time Kathleen mentioned Megan’s name. She’d been feeling a little better with every conversation she’d had with Kathleen over the past week, but the guilt that had burned in her belly for the last eighteen years wasn’t going anywhere. She held onto Megan’s youngest brother’s arm with a tight grip, not completely trusting that her legs would be strong enough to carry her to the mound of earth she could see fifty yards away.
When they reached the graveside, the assembled mourners arranged themselves around the eight foot by four foot hole in strict order of intimacy with the Averys. Even though she hadn’t spoken to Kathleen since she’d left home, Ingrid stood right next to her chair, with Svetlana standing on the other side.
Along with her extended family and Ingrid and Svetlana, most of Megan’s high school classmates had come to pay their respects. Ingrid felt humbled by the amount of love and compassion on display for Kathleen Avery and regretted that over the years she hadn’t felt more able to show some herself.
The short service was both poignant and apt. The reverend was the same one who’d baptized Megan thirty-one years earlier. When he spoke about her in fond and glowing terms he wasn’t reciting something her family had told him to say, he was actually remembering Megan’s life the way it deserved to be.
When the last of Megan’s family and friends had thrown a handful of soil onto her oak paneled, brass handled casket, the entourage slowly made its way back to the cars to return to Kathleen’s house for the wake. As the crowd dispersed, Ingrid saw a face she hadn’t laid eyes on for so many years she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. Then the face broke into a smile. A smile she had never forgotten since junior high. Her very first unrequited crush.
It was Clark Swanson.
He gave her a subtle wave and she felt the exact same butterflies in her stomach that she had all those years ago. How was it possible he could still have this effect on her? Maybe it was because now, ironically, Clark Swanson was actually reminding her of Ralph Mills, rather than the other way around.
Clark hurried over to Kathleen and kneeled down so that his face was level with hers. “I’m so sorry, Mrs Avery. I didn’t think it was possible to miss Megan more than we had, but today has proved me wrong. She was a bea
utiful, beautiful girl.”
“Thank you, Clark. I appreciate you coming all the way back here for Megan.”
“Nothing could have kept me away, ma’am.” He glanced up at Ingrid as he got to his feet and nodded at her. “I thought maybe I would gather Megan’s classmates together and we could reminisce a little about high school. Share a few of our memories with you, Mrs Avery.
“I’d like that. I’m sure Megan would too.” She stared down at the ground, somehow managing to hold back her tears.
Ingrid dropped to her knees and took Kathleen’s hand firmly in hers. Then she kissed the back of it. A feeling washed over her that she hadn’t been expecting at all.
Ingrid actually felt contented to be back home.
They spent a little while longer together in silence, then Kathleen’s eldest son wheeled her away toward the line of waiting cars.
When everyone else had gone, Ingrid crouched low beside the grave and asked Megan Avery to forgive her.
—*—
Thank you for reading Deep Hurt – I really hope you enjoyed it.
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EVA’S BOOKS
INGRID SKYBERG FBI THRILLERS
Run Girl - Prequel novella
In Europe to help broker a peace deal between warring African nations, Secretary of State Jayne Whitticker is in the middle of delicate negotiations when her favourite grandchild disappears from Paris.
Special Agent Ingrid Skyberg is hauled out of her FBI training session at Scotland Yard to head the hunt for the 18-year-old girl, who the FBI believe is now in London. Will she succeed in her unexpected mission? Or will her failure lead to the collapse of the crucial peace talks?
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Fresh Doubt - Book One
A story of lies, secrets and deadly mind games. Brilliant American psychology student, Madison Faber is in police custody - a potential murder suspect. Two hours ago she found her roommate lying in a pool of blood. Only American Embassy FBI agent Ingrid Skyberg can save her.
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Kill Plan - Book Two
An American trader is found fatally poisoned in his office in the City of London. Two days later, a Latvian immigrant is discovered floating face down in the River Thames, brutally murdered.
In the course of investigating these two murders, Special Agent Ingrid Skyberg puts her own safety at greater risk than she ever has before. The problem is, she doesn't even know just how much danger she's in.
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Three short stories written especially for Ingrid Skyberg fans.
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Thirty-three years ago two little girls disappear. Today, the man convicted of murder three decades ago is back on the streets as another girl vanishes. Angela Tate covered the first disappearances and is dragged into discovering the terrible truth behind the latest.
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About the author
Eva was born and raised in London. She's been a local government worker, web editor, dot com entrepreneur, portrait artist and singer. She wrote her first novel in 2005 and has never looked back.
In 2011 Eva won the inaugural Lucy Cavendish Prize for Fiction for her first published novel, The Loyal Servant. The book was also shortlisted for TV’s People’s Novelist Award. Eva lives in Sussex and London, and loves to spend time in the US.
You can catch up with Eva on her website: evahudson.com, on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Eva_Hudson and Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/evahudsoncrimewriter.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Lucy for her tireless copyediting work. Special thanks go out to early readers: Vicki Church, Anita Hall, Karen Knox, Steve Murray and Denise Wood – your input was invaluable.
DEEP HURT
EVA HUDSON
First published 2014 by Two Pies Press
Version 1.0
Copyright © 2014 Eva Hudson
Eva Hudson has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the copyright owner.
Contents
Deep Hurt
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Eva's books
About the author
Acknowledgments
Copyright