by Sue Fortin
She listened carefully to the sound of Harry’s booted feet on the boardwalk. She knew he wouldn’t be able to see her from the first window, as she was too far back in the building and the one behind her was blacked out. If he had keys and came in through the front doors it would give her time to swim out and maybe hide along the bank.
Harry’s footsteps came to a halt at the end of the boardwalk.
‘For Christ’s sake,’ she heard him mutter. For a long time he didn’t move and she could only imagine he was standing there, scanning the water looking for her. Then, with another curse, he marched back along the boardwalk. She could hear the car door slam and the engine start up. She waited until she was certain the car had moved off, and even then she didn’t move. She wanted to hear it disappear into the distance.
Shivering now, Steph turned on her torch and, after a flicker or two, it illuminated the space in front of her. There was a small rib on the right, moored up to a wooden platform. The space next to it was empty and Steph waded through the water, heaving herself up onto the pontoon. She shone her torch further into the boathouse and could make out an interior door which she assumed went through to the dry dock. She turned the handle and the door opened with a creak.
In this part of the boathouse was the tarpaulin covering what she had assumed was a boat when she had peered through the window. She lifted the corner of the heavy-duty plastic and shone her torch to reveal the upturned hull of a small boat. She let the plastic drop back down and, casting the light beam around the room, she saw the toolboxes and workbench. In the corner was a wooden ladder reaching up through a small trap hatch. As she looked closer she could see that the dust in the centre of the rungs had been dislodged. She took a deep breath as she looked up into the blackness. This must have been where Dominic had gone.
Tentatively she climbed the ladder, and as she reached the first floor she poked her head up through the hatch and shone the torch around. Again, there looked to be lots of old boating equipment, most of which was stacked somewhat haphazardly around the edges of the room. Her torch light picked up the gleam of something metal at the front of the loft, underneath the small square window. It was the only thing that looked out of place. Steph heaved herself into the loft area, once again noting that the dust on the wooden flooring had been disturbed, leaving a path directly across the room to the metal storage box.
On top was an assortment of open boxes which contained various tools and boating accessories, all of which looked to be old and covered in dust and grime – they certainly hadn’t been used in a long time. She noticed that the top of the storage box was also covered in dust but there were scuff marks where the boxes had probably been slid off and on the unit.
Steph balanced the torch on the window ledge and, taking hold of the first box, placed it on the floor. She repeated this with the other three boxes and then after a little manipulation was able to lift the lid on the storage box. At first she just thought the unit was filled with more boating equipment, but as she moved a few items from the top she saw the packages that Dominic had transferred from his car earlier. She hauled out one of the packages, which was wrapped in brown paper and sealed up with parcel tape. The package was heavy and compact, but the contents didn’t feel solid; it reminded Steph of a bag of flour.
‘Shit,’ she heard herself whisper as it dawned on her what she was holding in her hands. It couldn’t be anything else, it had to be drugs of some description, and her money was on cocaine. Funny, if she hadn’t seen Dominic here earlier, she would have been certain this was Owen’s doing, but it seemed both brothers were involved. She couldn’t help wondering if that meant Harry was too. She didn’t want him to be. He’d said he wasn’t and she wanted to believe him, but why would he have been up here just now? The only reason must have been because he didn’t want her to find this stash. And, let’s face it, she told herself, this stash wasn’t just for personal use. There were six packages like this altogether; she had no idea how much that was worth on the street. Her heart plummeted at the thought of Harry’s potential involvement.
And then another thought struck her. Had Elizabeth been involved in this? Or, worse still, had Elizabeth discovered what was going on? Had she threatened to go to the police? Had this led to her death?
Panic washed over her as the muddy lake water had earlier. She needed to get out of the boathouse before anyone came back. As quickly as she could, she stuffed the package into the storage unit and threw the other contents back on top to hide it. Then, forcing the lid into place, she replaced the boxes, taking care to put them in the same space as before and not disturb any more dust.
Keeping a grip on her panic, Steph left the boathouse the way she had got in, only this time wrapping her phone in a cloth and plastic bag so she could pass it under the roller door quickly and place it on the boardwalk before she swam underneath. This way her phone would be in the water for even less time. Once she was out of the boathouse, she ran as fast as she could back round the lake, through the trees and towards the main centre of the resort. It was only when she reached the swimming pool that she slowed down to a jog, hoping once again not to attract any attention. It was dark and no one would notice she was wet; all she had to do was make it through the house and to her room without anyone seeing her.
Fortunately the way was clear, and it was not without a great deal of relief that Steph closed her bedroom door and locked it. She slumped down on the floor, catching her breath, and took her phone from her pocket. She unwrapped it from the protective layers and was relieved to see it was still working.
With her legs bent up, she rested her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands as she took time to process what she had just discovered. As much as she wanted there to be some other explanation or some way that Harry wasn’t involved, she couldn’t find one. She had to be careful now; she was in more danger than she had thought. This wasn’t just about Elizabeth’s death, it was also about drug-dealing and blackmail. She began shivering and knew she needed to get out of the wet clothes and take a hot shower.
As the water pummelled her bare skin, she felt the blind panic from earlier clearing. She had to think straight and work out what she was going to do next. Was there anyone she could trust? Was her mother really involved more deeply than she thought she might have been? What if Wendy had known about the drug-dealing? Had she been on the Sinclair payroll? God, it sounded like a bloody gangster movie – she could hardly believe she was seriously considering this as a plausible explanation.
As Steph stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body and another around her hair, there was a sudden and loud banging on her door.
‘Steph? You in there? It’s me, Harry.’
Steph froze for the second time that night at the sound of his voice.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Conmere, Wednesday, 15 May, 10.30 p.m.
Harry was certain Steph was in her room – he’d heard the shower running just a little while ago. He thumped on the door with the heel of his hand. ‘Steph! Open the door.’
A door further down the hall opened and a head poked out. It was a staff member from the stables. Harry gave the lad a glare which the stable lad clearly understood, as he then hurriedly disappeared back into his room.
Harry drummed his fingers on the door. He didn’t want to carry on shouting, but, by God, he’d get her to answer the door – either that or he’d get Security to open it for him. Then he heard her reply.
‘What do you want?’
Harry took a deep breath. ‘I need to talk to you,’ he said, into the door jamb. ‘It’s important.’
‘I’m about to go to bed,’ she replied.
He allowed himself a moment to consider the idea of Steph in bed, but quickly scrubbed away the thought. ‘Please,’ he said, this time more gently.
‘Wait a minute.’
He waited patiently for the door to open. When it did, Steph was standing in her pjs with a dressing gown wrapped
tightly around her, fastened with a belt. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Can I come in?’
She opened the door wider and allowed him into the room. ‘This is like déjà vu,’ she commented, closing the door, but not moving away. Harry didn’t miss the slight wobble in her voice.
He smiled to reassure her. ‘I just wanted to check you were OK,’ he said. It sounded like a feeble excuse.
‘You could have texted.’
‘I did but it didn’t go through. Got a non-delivery notification.’
‘Oh?’ Steph glanced across the room at the bedside table. Harry followed her gaze and saw her phone there. He went over and passed it to her. Steph inspected it and frowned. ‘It’s dead. Must need charging.’ She slipped the phone into her dressing-gown pocket. ‘Anyway, as you can see, I’m fine.’
‘You sure? Only my mum said she’d bumped into you up by the lake. She said you seemed distracted and a bit jumpy.’
‘Really? Well, I only jumped because I didn’t know your mum was there, and prior to that I was just looking out across the water. It’s mesmerising.’
‘I saw you out running about an hour ago.’ He watched her face carefully for a reaction but there was none. He carried on. ‘You looked like you were heading for the lake.’
She gave a shrug. ‘Yeah. I like to run in the evenings; it’s quieter and gives me more thinking time.’
‘Did you go to the lake?’
‘Yeah. Ran around it and back here to my room. I didn’t see you.’
He looked down and noticed a pile of wet clothes on the floor. Running gear. ‘You got wet?’
She looked a little uneasy this time. ‘I tripped,’ she said. ‘Along the edge of the lake.’
He wasn’t sure he believed her but he couldn’t disprove what she was saying either. ‘So you’re OK, then?’ he asked finally.
‘Totally.’
‘Look, I’m sorry about cancelling earlier tonight.’
‘It’s fine. We’re even now,’ she said with a smile.
‘It wasn’t tit-for-tat.’
‘I know. I was joking.’
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. It had been a stressful day and it had reminded him of all the reasons he hated working at Conmere. Dominic had been on his back again about Steph, and when his mother had said she’d seen Steph up by the lake Dominic had gone off on one, repeating all his reasons why he didn’t like or trust her. He had seemed particularly agitated that she’d been at the lake at all and no amount of reassurances from Harry that she was simply taking photos had made any difference. Sometimes, you just couldn’t tell Dominic anything once he’d made up his mind about something. Stubborn bastard – just like their dad.
‘I’ll walk over hot coals to make sure we get that drink. How does Friday sound? I’ll definitely be free then,’ he said. ‘Although I think I should at least upgrade it to a meal.’
‘That will be nice. I’ll look forward to it.’
Not without a good deal of effort, he forced himself to say goodnight. As he walked down the hallway, he found himself wondering how on earth he could pacify his brother about Steph. He had a bad feeling about what Dominic was thinking, and his instinct to protect Steph was overwhelming.
By the time he’d reached the ground floor, he’d made up his mind. It probably wouldn’t go down too well with Steph, but it was the only way forward.
He went into the office behind the reception desk and, switching on the laptop, he called up a password-protected file.
It had been a long time since he’d read anything in here – two years, in fact. It contained all the information he’d received about Elizabeth’s death, from a list of people dealing with the case to the official findings and scanned documents relating to the enquiry. There was another folder with more pertinent information – death certificate, coroner’s report and suchlike – but that was kept in a safe-deposit box at the bank. He took a deep breath and clicked on the folder icon, before locating the contacts list and the name he was looking for. There it was – the telephone number for DCI Wendy Lynch. Beside her name was the police-station number, her work mobile number and her home number. It was the latter he was interested in.
It was late to be making a phone call but Harry couldn’t wait until the morning; he wanted answers tonight so he had time to work out what to do next.
Wendy Lynch answered the phone on the third ring. She sounded alert. ‘Hello.’
‘Wendy Lynch?’
‘Yes. Who is this?’
‘Sorry to ring this late at night. It’s Harry Sinclair.’
‘What do you want? You do know how late it is?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry, but I need to speak to you.’ He paused to gather his thoughts. ‘It’s about your daughter, Steph Durham. Nothing has happened to her, she’s perfectly well,’ he added hastily.
‘What is it, then?’ There was caution in her voice, and if she was surprised he knew who her daughter was, she didn’t show it.
‘Steph’s here from her travel company to report on the resort,’ said Harry. ‘But I think there might be an ulterior motive. Another reason why she’s here. I’m concerned she might be getting herself involved in something that’s not in her best interests.’
It was Wendy Lynch’s turn to pause. ‘Are you threatening my daughter?’
‘No. Not at all,’ said Harry. ‘I know she’s been talking to Sonia Lomas, my ex-mother-in-law, and Sonia has been here at the resort, and, of course, I now know Steph is your daughter. She’s been asking some questions concerning Elizabeth’s death.’ It wasn’t quite true but Harry thought if he laid it on a bit thicker, it might go some way to Wendy opening up. ‘Do you know if she’s looking into my wife’s death?’
‘Is my daughter in danger?’
‘Probably not. I’m just covering all bases.’
‘You don’t sound very convinced,’ said Wendy. ‘Did she tell you I had a brick thrown through my window on Monday?’
‘What? No. She never mentioned it. Do you know who did it?’
‘No. I played it down as kids, but I’m not totally sold on that idea. Was it you? Was it a warning?’
‘No, it wasn’t me!’ said Harry, realising he’d raised his voice indignantly. ‘I don’t know anything about that.’
‘I’ve warned her not to go poking around. I’ve told her it will only cause trouble. It seems she hasn’t listened to me. Did she also tell you that she was run off the road by a black 4x4?’
‘No! She said she lost control on a bend and hit a fence.’
‘That’s not true. Sonia Lomas phoned me today. She was in the car with Steph at the time. She’s been worried about her ever since. You really don’t know anything about that?’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Harry. His mind raced back to Steph’s car and Dominic’s explanation.
‘Now if I was to ask you again, do you think my daughter is in danger, what would you answer?’
Harry’s mouth went dry. He swallowed hard as he processed the implications. ‘Maybe she is. I’ll speak to her tomorrow.’
‘She’s very stubborn,’ said Wendy. ‘I’m not sure talking to her will change anything, unless you tell her what she wants to know.’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ said Harry, not hiding his impatience. ‘You investigated Elizabeth’s death. You know that.’ Wendy didn’t answer and this made Harry feel uneasy. ‘You’re the one who said it was an accident.’
‘That’s right, I did,’ said Wendy, eventually. ‘There was no evidence to suggest otherwise.’
He didn’t like the way she said that. It sounded too textbook. Too rehearsed. ‘I’ll look after Steph. I’ll do everything I can to make sure she’s safe.’
‘And I’m supposed to trust a Sinclair?’
‘You have my word.’
‘That doesn’t reassure me.’
The line went dead and Harry was left staring at the receiver. Why the hell hadn’t Steph said anything about being run off the road or the house brick? She
obviously didn’t trust him. Shit. This wasn’t good. He slammed the phone down in the cradle and slumped back in the chair.
‘Knock, knock.’ Pru tapped the door lightly with her knuckles and looked round into the office. ‘Oh, it’s you, Harry. I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I saw the light on and assumed it was Heidi. Is everything all right?’
Harry forced a smile to his face and sat forward, closing the file on the computer. ‘Yes, everything is fine, Mum. I was just checking up on a few things. Nothing to worry about.’ He rose from the chair.
‘Are you sure? Only both Dominic and Owen seem a little preoccupied at the moment. In fact, Dominic was particularly bad-tempered this morning.’
Harry gave a shrug. ‘If it was important I’m sure they’d have told you, and Dominic was probably just in a bad mood. I shouldn’t pay any attention to either of them.’ Harry hoped he had soothed his mother’s concerns.
‘He said something about Steph still being here. I don’t think he likes her very much. Unlike you.’ She gave him a pointed look.
Harry held in a sigh of frustration. Dominic really should keep his thoughts to himself, especially in front of their mother, who never missed anything. ‘OK, I like her,’ he admitted, as there was no point trying to pretend otherwise. ‘But it’s complicated. She’s based in the UK and I’m based in France.’
‘Why doesn’t Dominic like her?’
‘Honestly, Mum,’ he said, aware of the irony of his opening word, ‘I don’t know. And I don’t really care what Dominic thinks. She is none of his business.’
‘I found an earring belonging to Steph.’
‘You did?’ Harry sensed there was more to come.
‘I knew it was hers, because it’s a beautiful drop-pearl. Quite expensive, I should imagine, not throw-away tat. I found it in here, actually. On the floor by the cupboard.’
