by Karina Evans
“Decent paper,” he commented.
“How does he know about my daughter and our relationship?” Isobel said, looking around her uneasily.
“He doesn’t, is my guess. Everyone has issues with their kids, particularly when they’re at that age. Just tell her not to go out alone at night and keep in contact with her.”
Isobel thought for a moment. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I shouldn’t scare her, but I’ll keep the tabs on her a little closer for a bit.”
“Your a good mum, you know that?”
“Whatever. Can you send this to forensics?”
Heather leaned against the counter. Her head felt woolly, and she could not gather her thoughts. Perhaps it was time to go back to the doctor who, months ago, had suggested she may need some tablets to help with her anxiety. Heather had refused, feeling tablets would be a sign of admitting her failures. Her feeling of anxiety heightened even more when the door opened and in walked Dominic. Perhaps it would help if she told Dominic how she felt about him — maybe then she would feel less anxious about Isobel’s sudden impact on his life.
Heather felt her bravado slipping, realising she needed to act quickly. A driving force behind most of her behaviour was her hatred for Isobel, and this was no exception. The very thought of snaring Dominic and coming out as a couple to Isobel made Heather’s heart quicken even more and, determined not to lose the moment, she turned to face Dominic.
“Hey, Heather!” Dominic squeezed past Heather to reach for his cup. The kitchen was small, and he pressed his body close to hers as he shuffled past, making her feel a little light-headed. She reached out to put her hand on his arm and he looked down, puzzled. It’s now or never, she thought, leaning in to kiss him, feeling the air move as he jumped back, hitting the wall in the tiny kitchen.
“What the fuck? Have you gone insane?!”
“You let Robert see her?” Isobel said, through gritted teeth, as her mother answered the door.
“He phoned to warn me you’d shout. I make no apology; that kid needed a parent, and he stepped up.”
“After everything he did? He broke me — he is THE REASON I left Scarlett. And he waited for almost twenty years! Longer than I did; at least I tried to contact her.”
“No, Isobel. It’s time to grow up. YOU are the reason you left Scarlett. And Robert had been nothing but apologetic; he has never tried to justify what he did, simply supported her and been here for her. He’s part of our family now.”
“That’s all it takes, is it? Six months to become part of this family? Then why is it I’m still waiting?”
Scarlett appeared behind Elizabeth and rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You’re kicking off about me having one parent who’s had the decency to get to know me, and who’s actually said sorry for abandoning me rather than shifting blame to everyone else? For real?”
Shocked by her daughter’s outburst, and the realisation that Scarlett had a very valid point, Isobel was, for once, and briefly, left reeling.
She shook her head to bring herself back to the present. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.” Isobel grabbed Scarlett’s arm and marched her down the road.
Scarlett walked two metres ahead of Isobel, as though she couldn’t bear to be close to her. Isobel jogged to catch up.
“Scarlett, I am sorry, of course I am —”
“But?”
“Every action, or inaction, is born from an event, or a crisis. I was in crisis and needed help, but nobody was there to offer that to me. I was being blamed for Archie’s death… hell, they still blame me now, right?”
Scarlett stopped walking and looked at the ground, shuffling her feet. “Yes,” she whispered. “You know, I have actually told them to quit it — I’ve told them it’s actually not healthy to be carrying around this misguided blame… I don’t know the full story, but I know that he chose to take drugs.”
Isobel shrugged. “He did. And I chose not to tell them, and that’s why they blame me. Maybe it’s comforting to hook blame on someone as a coping mechanism, but it’s made my life quite tiring.”
“It doesn’t seem fair, but aren’t you doing the same? Blaming them, blaming Archie, blaming Dad?”
Isobel flinched. “It’s not the same, of course it isn’t. I was abandoned, too. Why can’t you see that?”
They walked in a silence that was both meaningful and loaded, each absorbed in a turmoil that neither could understand.
“I’m moving out,” Scarlett declared, a few minutes later. “I’m almost 21 and probably shouldn’t still be living with my Nana and Grandpa.”
Isobel cleared her throat. “Where will you move to?”
“Oh, I’ll stay in Shorestone,” Scarlett suppressed a wry laugh. “I’m not about to abandon you, don’t worry.”
“Ok, well, if you need help with a deposit or whatever, let me know.”
“Speaking of money… Nana and Grandpa are struggling a bit financially. I know they re-mortgaged the house a few years back and nobody coughed up for me while I was growing up… anyway… do you think you could help them out a little?”
“Sure, I’ll speak to them when I get a chance. What’s Robert up to, work-wise?”
“He owns his own business — freelance artist, I think. Or designer. He did a logo for a local company, but mostly he just sits and draws… women, mostly. I think he has savings as he’s given money to Nana. He’s very talented. Have you seen him around?”
“Briefly.”
“Get to know him again. Maybe I’ll get a structured family unit, after all — Dad seems keen on that!”
“Not sure mummy and daddy together would make for a healthy relationship. Why did you take his surname even though you weren’t in contact?”
“It sounds posh, and I wanted to stand out when I was a lot younger — Nana mentioned the name once and it felt so fancy. I imagined myself as a high-flyer in London and it didn’t really matter to me where the name came from. I’ve never thought to change it back, and I quite like it. Nothing more than that. Do you fancy a drink?”
Isobel’s phone rang in her pocket and Scarlett rolled her eyes as she took it out to answer it. It was Dominic, and he sounded flustered.
“Hey. You ok?”
Isobel walked a few metres away from Scarlett, holding a finger up to show that she would be back in a minute. Scarlett stood patiently, moodily kicking stones from the pavement into the gutter, feeling foolish and unimportant.
“Scarlett, I’m sorry, but I have to go, just quickly. I’ll meet you at the pub in twenty minutes?”
Scarlett nodded silently and turned to walk to The Shorestone Trader Inn.
Isobel drove to the B&B, where Dominic sat on the doorstep.
“You’re like a common stalker,” Isobel commented, adjusting her tone when she saw Dominic’s expression. “Why phone me just to tell me that Heather tried to kiss you? Isn’t it obvious she’s in love with you? You should have expected this to happen and tried to protect her.”
Dominic looked miserable. “I had no idea. How have I not noticed? If I knew, of course I would have said something.”
Isobel shrugged. “You must be blind. It’ll be ok.”
Dominic rubbed his temples. “It’s not ok though, is it? She seems vulnerable; I don’t know. And we have this investigation, the murders, it’s the last thing I need right now. We need a united team, we need to fight this together.”
“Just speak to her, be humble, tell her you get it. She’ll be grateful for the chat… won’t she?”
“I don’t think anyone really knows her very well, do you? I don’t even know if she has family or kids or whatever. It rocked me. I haven’t kissed anyone since —” Dominic broke off, again rubbing his temples. “This shit is why people drink, Isobel. You don’t fancy one, do you? A drink, I mean?”
“Not with you, I don’t.” Isobel looked at her watch, torn between Scarlett and Dominic. “Look, let’s go upstairs for a quick coffee.”
Isobel opened the door an
d led Dominic up to her room, clattering about in the corner as she boiled the kettle and made two coffees. Dominic flicked the television on — an old-fashioned, bulky number which sat next to a built-in lockable cupboard in the corner. The television buzzed into life and they sat next to each other on the bed, watching a quiz show and drinking their coffee.
“Why are you staying in such a crappy little place?” Dominic asked when the programme finished, looking around him.
Isobel shrugged. “I’ve slept with every other hotel owner for miles around so this seemed like a sensible move.”
Dominic laughed. “Honest as always. Thank you for making me smile.”
“I didn’t say it to make you smile, you idiot. I said it because it’s true. You wouldn’t know, as you’re not born and bred here, but the town hates me. I screwed some people over really badly — marriages fell apart. I’m remembered mostly for being the first person to abandon a baby in this town. Quite an accolade, I think. Still waiting for my medal. And, oh god, I’d better go… Scarlett’s waiting. Just pull the door closed behind you.”
Isobel ran down the stairs and jogged towards the Trader Inn. It had been at least an hour since she’d left Scarlett, and she’d promised not to be too long.
She ran into the Shorestone Trader Inn. “Where’s Scarlett?”
“Left half an hour ago,” replied Mark. “She told me to tell you she warned that you’d better not be even one fucking minute late. Apparently it’s the end for you two.”
Isobel sank to the floor in despair, Mark’s words ringing in her ears.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Isobel
Hey, Scarlett! Please answer my calls. I’m sorry, are you ok?
Never better
So you’re speaking to me then?
Yes, just about.
That’s all I need. I’m sorry I was late. Let me know if you need me.
Isobel walked out of the B&B, catching Cara’s eye as she headed out. “There’s no reason to judge, Cara. I’m sure I could dig some dirt on you, given half a chance. Want me to try?”
“I’ve heard enough of your antics, young lady, to know that I don’t want you around here much longer. Once this job is over, you’re out. I’ll not have the likes of you, you selfish woman, bringing down the reputation of my establishment.”
Isobel laughed to herself. “Reputation? Of this hellhole? I have a feeling its reputation is already in the gutter.” She stormed through the hallway to the front door, slamming it as hard as she could as she left.
“And you’ll pay for any damage you cause, too.” Cara called out of the hallway window. “Locks don’t come cheap, you know.”
Isobel walked into the Shorestone Trader Inn, avoiding Mark’s judgemental gaze and heading for the other end of the bar.
“Double vodka. On the rocks,”
The server passed Isobel her drink, and she tapped her debit card on the machine to pay before making her way over to one of the dark, anonymous corners of the pub.
“Isobel!”
Isobel swiftly turned to see Dominic sitting at a table in the middle of the pub. He patted the red velour of the seat next to him. “Come and join me on a sumptuous throne!”
Isobel nodded over to the corner where she had been heading. “I’d rather not, thank you. I want some quiet. Anyway, what are you doing here?”
Dominic gestured towards his drink. “Don’t worry — it’s just coke. I’m here to get a feel for the place. After what you said about everyone hating you, I realised that this town moves as one — what better place to get a feel for the locals than in the local pub? May I join you?”
“Sure.”
Dominic picked up his drink and followed her.
“What’s bugging you, DS Hester?”
“This town. Its people… its small-minded, crapbag twat people… that’s what.” Isobel continued talking, regaling Dominic with the stories of Cara and Mark and the things they had said to her. “I mean,” she said, downing another vodka and getting up to go to the bar for another. “Idiots drive the devil, or whatever they say. Back in a mo.”
Isobel ordered herself another straight double vodka along with a coke for Dominic, staggering slightly as she returned from the bar. “Should have eaten, really,” she commented, downing her drink. “I feel a bit pissed. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes,” Isobel gestured around her. “Who even are they? These people? They don’t own this town? How actually are they going to drive me out? Fucking judge and whatever and devil and execution person? I need another drink.”
“You don’t,” said Dominic, standing and gesturing for Isobel to do the same. “You’re making no sense. Let’s get you home.”
“It’s not my home.”
Dominic drove Isobel back to the B&B, helping her onto the bed, where he threw the duvet over her. “Sleep tight,” he said, tiptoeing towards the door.
“Don’t fucking leave me. Cara will kill me in my sleep.”
“What?”
Isobel, her eyes still closed, patted the duvet next to her. “Sleep here. Keep me safe.”
And so Dominic stayed the night, his arm thrown over Isobel, and she gently snored until both their alarms went off at exactly 7.25 am.
“What the—?” Isobel sat up abruptly, her hair matted and stuck to her cheek. “What is that noise?”
“It’s my alarm, sorry,” replied Dominic, hopping from foot to foot as he pulled his trousers on.
“What? What sound even is that? And did we… you’re not wearing trousers—?”
“It’s a church bell and, no, no, of course not. I took them off as they’re a little snug and not the comfiest lounge wear attire.”
“Right, ok. I see. Well, thank you for staying. It was… erm… a kind thing to do.” Isobel leaned forward to kiss Dominic on the cheek. “I didn’t realise you were such a thoughtful man. I quite like you.”
“Isobel, you’re getting soppy. What happened to that bedside manner of yours?”
“Whatever, now fuck off home.”
“Brush your teeth, your breath stinks.”
Isobel threw a pillow at Dominic, and he grinned as he walked out of the door.
Dominic leaned against the counter in the kitchen, draining the dregs from his cup of coffee. He stared into the empty mug before refilling it for the third time. He’d pay for all this caffeine later, but right now he needed his mind to focus. The situation with Heather was crazy — they had worked together on-and-off for many years but, because of their slightly different shift patterns had never really bothered to get to know each other, yet inexplicably she had decided it was a good idea to kiss him. He realised he couldn’t carry on without speaking to her and making sure she was ok — he was her direct supervisor and dreaded the thought of Pennell pulling him up for something that should remain as insignificant as possible. Besides, he trusted Isobel’s brutal opinion, and he felt she was right in that he should open a conversation with Heather.
“Heather, can I talk to you?” Dominic said as he walked back into the office.
Heather turned and smiled brightly. “Sure, no idea why, but I’ll be over in a second.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Ok, what’s up?”
“We need to talk about what happened yesterday.”
Heather looked directly at Dominic, a confident smile pasted on her face. “Nothing happened yesterday, guv. Nothing at all. There is nothing to talk about.”
“Heather… I get that it’s embarrassing, but we work together and I just want to make sure you’re ok —”
“No need. I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m absolutely fine.” Heather turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Dominic flabbergasted in her wake.
“Jesus.” He poured himself another cup of coffee.
Him
He took the person closest to her. It was a brave mood, but a screeching noise in his head drove him; his vision flickering as though a filter was over his eye
s. He felt vulnerable, yet confident that Isobel would come looking for her daughter soon. And when she did, they would live together as a family, and if she refused, he would kill them both. If he killed them both, maybe the screeching would stop.
Scarlett’s phone beeped. It was Isobel checking in on her again. He flicked his mind into 20-year-old mode and hit reply.
Drink soon?
Yes, ok, I’ll call you soon
Ok. I’ll send some money over to Nana later
Scarlett tried to scream through the gag, her arms pulling at the cord that bound them together.
“It’ll just get tighter if you pull, sweetie. Be a good kid and sit still. Your mummy will come in a few days.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Tests have come back. The paper that they printed this particular note on came from an identified manufacturer, rather than the generic heavyweight of the last letters.”
Isobel’s stomach flipped. “Yes, continue.”
“It’s a type that’s stocked in retail outlets nationwide, but there are none in Shorestone.”
Isobel put her head in her hands. “Ok, that’s not so good then.”
“Well, it could go in your favour. If the person you are looking for is local, then they may have sourced it from a company that uses it locally. I’d look at offices and the like. Maybe schools and colleges?”
“As though I don’t have enough to do. But, thank you.”
“Always a delight.”
“How sarcastic,” Isobel muttered, staring at the Call Ended notification on her phone.
Isobel looked at the expectant faces in front of her. Dominic had agreed she could disseminate identifying the source of the paper to two trainee detectives, who looked petrified as she gave them their very specific instructions. “Right, so forensics has emailed me over the manufacturer of the fancy paper, so all you need to do is find out where it’s used.” Isobel held up a sheaf of paper. “I’ve made it easy for you by identifying all small offices within a ten-mile radius. There are quite a few, as you can see, but we can rule out anywhere that uses a beast of a printer, such as the hospital and larger offices. I’ve sorted them in order of priority. Once you’ve exhausted these, please move on to the hospitality industry — printers could be used for wage slips, etc. This paper is unusual, so once you find where it hailed from, you’ve found our killer.”
