by Jo Allen
‘I’m afraid so. Can we speak in private?’
‘Sure.’ She stepped away from Linda, who turned a troubled look on Jude, and glanced around. ‘There’s a meeting room over there. We can speak discreetly there.’
‘We haven’t met. Fi Styles.’ Like Jude, the brunette had been circling waiting for her chance and she pounced before it was too late, holding out her hand. ‘Journalist. Dr Wilder, I—’
‘Not right now, Ms Styles.’ Cody wasn’t quite that composed. The tension cracked in her voice. ‘I’ve already spoken to the journalists. Did you somehow manage to miss my briefing?’
The woman wasn’t to be deflected. Journalists never were. ‘I didn’t have accreditation. I’m a freelancer. I write articles for print and digital outlets on art and literature and I wondered if I—’
‘I’m afraid I don’t have time right this moment. If it’s information about my research you need, my researcher can give it to you. Owen Armitstead. He’ll answer any questions. Use the contact form on my website.’ She headed towards the room she’d pointed out to Jude.
Fi Styles bounced along beside her with the optimism of a seagull tracking a fishing boat, secure in the belief that persistence would pay. ‘I was hoping for an interview. I thought we could do a feature that showed your human side—’
‘An interview? I’m planning to head back to New York in a couple of days. But contact Owen and let him know a little about yourself, and I can decide whether an interview would be feasible.’ She strode away as if shaking herself free, reaching the meeting room and holding the door open for Jude.
‘So… Chief Inspector.’ She slammed the door behind him and the cold hostility of their earlier encounter returned as she did so. ‘This had better be important. You must know what journalists are like when they smell any kind of a scandal. That young woman won’t be put off.’
Jude experienced a sense of intense dislike, but if Cody wanted to take him on, she was welcome to try. ‘I think you’ll find it’s very important. It’s about your research assistant, Owen Armitstead.’
‘What’s the spoiled brat done now? I should have guessed he was up to something when he didn’t turn up this morning.’
‘It’s very bad news. I’m afraid he’s dead.’ He watched her closely as he spoke, used to reading body language, but he’d never seen anything like Cody, aggressive and defensive at the same time, challenging his authority even before it was established.
She allowed herself a short, sharp breath. ‘Who did it?’
‘I’m not the investigating officer, Dr Wilder, and we don’t know what happened. But as far as I can tell, he seems to have done it himself.’
He’d expected an expression of regret, if only for form’s sake, but Cody confounded him with a judgemental snort. ‘I don’t know that I’m surprised. Owen is a moral coward.’
‘I’m not a judge of that. And I’m not working in his case. The officer in charge asked me to tell you and that’s what I’ve done.’
She stared at him. ‘Then let’s hope the officer in charge of the case is on the ball, Chief Inspector. And if that’s all you have to say, perhaps you’ll let me get back to my job.’
3
By the time the police had taken Owen’s body away, interviewed Cody about his health, mental state and personality traits, checked up on her own personal welfare (receiving the shortest shrift for daring to suggest she might need emotional support) and allowed her to return to the cottage, the night had closed in and, after the crisp clarity of the winter’s day, a sharp January frost had snapped down like a lock. She let herself out of the cottage, looked up at the black velvet awning of the sky, and smiled as she set off down Coffin Lane.
She loved the night. In her Wyoming childhood, where the silence was absolute but for the occasional howl of a distant wolf and only the huge moon and the haze of the Milky Way leavened the darkness, she’d seized every chance to step from the tumult of the house into solitude. Summer or winter there had been danger, in the heat or the cold, a snake or a bear. Out in the unforgiving wilderness, merely being human made you vulnerable, but here in the Lakes, positively urban by comparison, she feared nothing and no one. She was untouchable.
Frost crunched beneath her feet as she walked along the grass verge. At the bottom of the hill Coffin Lane gave on to Red Bank Road, and she turned left towards the field where the New Agers camped. She wasn’t the only person out enjoying the night. Voices drifted towards her from around a bend in the road and a beam of torchlight followed as a terrier, capering along towards her ahead of its owners, bounced up to meet her with enthusiasm.
‘Howdy, li’l dude. How you doing?’ She bent down to fuss it. She liked dogs, even dogs as bijou as this one, and if she hadn’t chosen so peripatetic a life, she’d have had one. Not for company, because she wasn’t a woman who was ever short of that when she wanted it, but because dogs were faithful to you in a way that few humans were. ‘What a good boy you are. Good evening.’
The last remark, addressed to the dog’s owners, was met by a damning silence. That surprised her. Currently resident in New York, Cody enjoyed the contrast the countryside offered, with everybody exchanging polite greetings no matter whether they were friends, enemies or complete strangers. In a moment of weakness, she tried again. ‘It’s a chilly night.’
The couple, very obviously, stepped to the opposite side of the road. The light of the torch swung away leaving her stranded in darkness as the man snapped his fingers for the dog.
The way the animal abandoned her at the sound of its master’s voice pushed her good mood too far. ‘I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? Do I not sound British enough? Is it something else?’
Caught trying to please everyone, the dog capered back towards her and the couple turned. ‘Dr Wilder,’ the man said, almost breathless with emotion, ‘you certainly did do something wrong.’
‘Oh, right. And that was?’ She advanced down the lane and still couldn’t see their faces, but she didn’t care who they were. They’d offered her a challenge and she was never going to walk away from it. If you did that you showed weakness, conceded victory.
‘People like you,’ the woman said, in a voice that matched the man’s in tension, ‘don’t think about what you say or what the consequences are. You don’t understand the influence you have on vulnerable young people. You don’t care about the damage you can cause.’
‘Oh, is that right, honey? Well, I guess we’ll agree to differ. If you look back over everything I’ve ever said you’ll see that I support freedom of speech, women’s rights and diversity of thinking. Do you have a problem with that?’
‘Come on Eliza. Don’t engage.’ The man whistled the dog again, this time with success, took the woman’s hand and began walking, towing her behind him.
‘Guess you’re the kind of guy who treats your wife as if you own her, just like you do the dog,’ Cody called after them. ‘She’s got every right to talk to me if she wants to. I’m always open for a discussion.’ And he, after all, was the one who’d opened the discussion. But they didn’t answer and disappeared in the direction of the village.
She followed them as far as the bend before she let them go, standing with hands on hips and her breath crystallising on the cold air, watching as their shadowy figures turned in to the cottage where the banner had hung earlier in the day. They must be the people who thought she was a murderer. That was a new addition to the plethora of accusations that had been levelled at her over the years, and now she’d heard it twice in two days. She shook her head. These little places always had their collections of weirdos.
When she was sure no one was watching her, she crossed the road and opened the gate into the New Agers’ field. The campfires had burned down to their embers and the forlorn-looking place was in near darkness. In the daylight, patches of dead grass showed where summer residents had pitched their tents, but they must have gone somewhere warmer for the winter. A woman of conviction, Cody couldn’t he
lp admiring the convictions of others, even when they were so foolish and unworldly as those held by the die-hard campers and their fair-weather friends.
Taking care not to trip over the guy ropes, she tiptoed past the larger of the tents, where Storm and Raven made their home, past the one they used for storage and the one where Raven wove surprisingly fine-quality scarves to sell to pay for the things they could neither manage without nor acquire for themselves. Beyond those, another tent crouched in the long shadows cast by a clump of bare trees that stood between it and the lights of the village.
‘Lynx.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper.
No answer. She lifted the flap of the tent and peered in. Her nostrils filled with the odours of tobacco and damp canvas, her veins with excitement. In front of her, the unsophisticated chaos of a simple life sprawled in the dimness – clothes folded in a pile, cooking pots, a box of chocolates. Nothing else.
On the far side of it, seated cross-legged on the floor, a man peered up her and grinned. ‘Cody, babe. I knew you couldn’t keep away. You’ve come for something that pretty boy of yours can’t give you, huh?’
Lynx was well-named, a name he’d no doubt chosen to match the animal attraction he possessed. With a thrill of excitement, she stepped inside and onto the boards from which he’d fashioned some kind of a floor and let the tent flap drop behind her. ‘That pretty boy is dead. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that.’
He leaned back and looked at her through half-closed eyes. ‘Is that what all the fuss was about? I saw the cops up at the cottage and thought they might be getting interested in you. After all this time.’
The air was thick with dust and wood smoke. She unzipped her jacket and dropped it on the floor by the tent opening, picking her way across to sit next to him on the mattress. ‘No, that wasn’t me. I expect the police will come around asking if you saw anything, if they haven’t done that already.’
‘We never see anything. Do they think someone killed him?’
‘No, they think it was suicide. As do I. He was a fragile flower, was Owen. The world was far too much for him to handle.’
‘They can ask if they like. I was minding my own business and living a blameless life. Like you do.’
‘A blameless life is a bland life.’
‘I could tell the world some things about you.’
‘But you won’t.’ She cast a look round her, at the battery-powered heater and the lamp which gave a golden hue to the canvas womb in which he was enclosed. Lynx’s threats added a frisson to their relationship, pushed its excitement beyond the physical into the psychological. She wasn’t afraid of him but Owen’s shadow was too close. She chose not to engage. ‘What are these? Chocolates? Have you gone soft?’
‘Take them. I won’t eat them. They were a gift. But I’m vegan now.’
Cody picked up the box. They looked like decent quality. ‘You don’t look as if you’ve sacrificed all the comforts to me. I thought you came here to leave the modern world behind. Surely you should be sitting in the dark or by candlelight?’
He laughed. ‘And have the place burn down around my ears? I’m here for the simple life, but not a dangerous one.’
That fitted. She shifted a little closer to him, riding a tidal wave of earthy, pheromonal scent. ‘I’m here to ask you for a favour.’
‘Ask nicely and give me something I want in return.’
The thrill pulsed again through her blood. ‘I think I can manage that.’
Lynx placed a hand on the top of her thigh and laughed, a deep, throaty laugh. ‘Tell me what the favour is and I’ll tell you how much you need to pay.’
She fought to concentrate. ‘I want you to look after something for me.’
For a second he waited, his fingers playing on the denim of her jeans as he pretended to think about it. In reality, she knew, the deal was already concluded, the only thing left open to them being how long to play about before they got down to business. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing important. Just some letters.’
‘Compromising letters?’ He moved closer and his breath was hot on her neck. ‘Can I guess? Letters from Brandon, perhaps?’
She shivered with anticipation. Sex was a game, that was all. She was good at it and Lynx was better than almost anyone she’d known. ‘Not compromising at all. Brandon’s my brother. Your suggestion is most inappropriate.’
‘Then what are they?’
‘As if you care.’ Reaching out, she curled a hand around the back of his neck, up into his hair, and pulled his face down towards her until it almost touched her own. Close up, a faint smell of soap and shampoo indicated just how little he was committed to the lifestyle he pretended to have chosen. That was what she always liked about him. His conscience had the flexibility of an Olympic gymnast and he could be trusted only not to be trusted, but she thought he’d help her this time. ‘They’re just some letters I don’t want anyone else to get hold of.’
‘And no one’s going to come looking for your precious treasures with the likes of me. Is that it?’
‘Something like that.’ Their lips touched before she was ready, and she drew away, teasing herself as much as she teased him. ‘Cain Harper. You’re a gorgeous beast. Did anyone ever tell you that?’
‘My name’s Lynx.’
‘You’ll always be Cain to me.’
‘You and your brother are very close,’ he purred into her ear, his hand moving with confidence up from her thigh and under her sweater. ‘Don’t people talk?’
‘Of course we’re close. There were just the two of us when we grew up. There was no one else to be close to.’ You got what the devil gave you.
‘Just you and big brother and Mom and Pop. Proper little nuclear family, huh?’ He kissed her then, employing strength and power and passion without subtlety or restraint, bending her backwards and pressing his lean body on top of her like the beast she’d just likened him to. ‘Hell, I’ve missed you, honey. I’m going to eat you alive tonight, bite by bite, tear the flesh off your bones like a wolf, and you’re going to love it.’
She twisted away from him and turned her back, and he came after her, his teeth nipping at her neck. Pain equalled pleasure and pleasure, in its turn, nullified pain. His fingernails dug into her skin as he clawed his way upward. ‘Go on then. Do it.’
‘What a woman you are. How did you manage not to spontaneously combust, growing up out on that ranch without a man nearby? Except your father and your brother.’
‘Are you jealous?’ she laughed. Adrenaline rippled through her body. But she controlled herself, for the sake of heightened pleasure in a few moments’ time. ‘Is that it? You’ve nothing to be jealous of.’
‘I’m jealous as hell. I’m jealous of every man who’s ever laid an innocent finger on you, let alone a guilty one. I always will be.’ Turning her over, he rolled her off the mattress on which they’d been sitting and onto the bare boards, crawling on all fours above her. His fingers pulled at the buttons of her top.
She might resist him. She might try and fight him off, for the pleasure of feeling exactly how much he wanted her. Or she might try and take control and fight him that way. She didn’t know. She only knew that she wanted everything he could give her. ‘You’ve no need to be jealous. I’m all yours.’
The boards were hard and cold under her back as he stripped her down to her panties and knelt above her. ‘You sure are. You’re mine, Cody Wilder. Mine.’
She belonged to nobody, but it was an argument she’d have with him another time. He rolled her over onto her stomach again, like a crocodile trying to drown its prey, and crawled up behind her, one hand creeping over her breasts, catching the nipple in a mean-spirited pinch. ‘Shall I take you like this? Here on all fours, like the bitch you are?’
Something snapped inside her, some trigger. ‘No. Not like this.’ Panic rolled up inside her and she fought against him. ‘Not like this!’
He let her go, but only for a second, until she’d wrigg
led round to face him again. ‘Ah! Something you don’t like.’
She lay down, safe on her back, reaching up towards him. ‘Take me now. Like this.’
He leaned down over her, took both hands and stretched them above her head. ‘Someone did something to you that you didn’t like. Is that it?’
She nodded. Her heart beat faster, faster.
‘Who was it?’
Lynx’s body came ever closer to hers and, thank God, expunged the memories. ‘It doesn’t matter. Forget it.’
‘Shall I guess, Cody? I think I have an idea.’
‘No.’ She shook a hand free and pulled him down towards her. Being in his power, which had seemed so deliciously novel, now seemed like a bad idea. She’d almost forgotten how vicious and manipulative he could be, how the things that made him so attractive and appealing made him dangerous as well. ‘No. Never guess. I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Oh, I see.’ That low animal laugh again. ‘Well, you know what? I guess I may know who he was. And ain’t it just as well for you he’s dead?’
4
‘I’d like to sit in on this, if you don’t mind. Just to keep up with what’s going on.’ Jude pulled up a chair next to the table where Doddsy had just sat down with his trademark list of things to get through. ‘I won’t speak until spoken to. You’re the boss on this.’ He pushed his chair back a foot, for emphasis.
Forewarned by Jude over the phone the night before, Ashleigh had come into the office fully expecting to find herself seconded to help in the investigation of Owen Armitstead’s apparent suicide. Taking care not to seem over-familiar, she gave him her best professional nod. Her previous experience of workplace relationships had been salutary but she’d learned from her mistakes and even if she hadn’t, Jude, who was professional to a fault, could be counted on to make sure that it wouldn’t get awkward for either of them.
Nevertheless, she stole a sideways glance at him before returning her attention to Doddsy’s lean face. At least this time she’d embarked on an affair with a man rather than a woman and neither of them already had a partner. She flushed slightly as she remembered how much of a fool she’d made of herself in her previous job, in the wreckage-strewn aftermath of her failed marriage, and how she’d had to hightail it to Cumbria with what was left of her reputation. She looked across the room at the last leaf of winter still clinging to the top of a tree, and a gleam of light where the sun cracked the clouds and a battalion of sunbeams went charging across the roofs of Penrith. Her relationship with Jude might not go the distance but she was confident it would end well. She turned her attention back to the meeting.
