by K A Sands
Ayden was looking at Ryder puzzled. “Why’s she been arrested?” His head swung my way. “You said two things, but there’s more. You told the police you couldn’t identify your attacker, why is she at the station?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, Ryder speaking for me. “She was at Laura’s the night of the fire.”
His mouth set in a grim line before his eyes widened in disbelief, although why he was surprised was beyond me. He knew all too well now what she was capable of, what she would stoop to.
“You’re kidding? No way, she wouldn’t do that. Not to hurt you.”
“There’s not a lick of evidence, Ayden, but she was there. Laura saw her, spoke to her. Your mother hit her several times. And stop with your shit, all right, she hurt him for years, you know fine well she did. She put a fucking price on your old man’s head.”
Ryder’s temper was starting to rise, not at Ayden I was sure, but he was getting too hot under the collar for my liking. I didn’t need anyone exploding and saying things they didn’t mean. We couldn’t bring discord among us.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” I waded in, wanting off the subject, Ryder had said far more than I’d wanted him to.
Ayden roughly pushed Shaun from him, then jumped to his feet. “No, no, no…wait.” With his hands in the air, he paced the room. “What the fuck is this? What does she want?”
“She wants me.”
“She had you, dad.” He stopped pacing and stood in front of me, sadness leeching from every pore in his body. “She fucking had you,” he whispered while tears fell from his eyes.
Yeah, breaking his heart. My own lurched in my chest and I wished I could take all my words back, make this reality a figment of his imagination, just a bad dream he’d wake from. Because Lord only knew where his head would spiral to. Stella was his mother and whether she hated me or not, he loved her.
Rising to my feet, I hauled my devastated son into a tight embrace not knowing what to say to my boy anymore. He hugged back, his fingers biting into my shoulders as his body trembled against mine.
“She wants the things she never had, Ayden. The hotels, the money. But you know,” Ryder flicked at something on the leg of his jeans then looked up at us both. “Nothing was ever hers to have. It wasn’t mine or your dad’s either. It was all yours and why we started selling it all when you said you weren’t interested. Why your dad paid me a hundred quid for each one. To put each property into my name, so I could sell them and hide that money.” Clasping his hands together he continued. “That money comes to you when you’re thirty. We buried it in accounts along with a hotel we wanted to keep. Remember the Q?”
Pulling away, Ayden gave his attention to Ryder as Shaun walked up behind him and held his hand to my son’s back. Good, he had his unwavering support, he’d need it. We all needed each other, more so than ever before.
“The one that Charlie was desperate for? You gave him it.”
“Yeah, and if he found that then you can bet your arse he found where we hid the money, or at least has a clue. Your mother was there, at his place, a couple of weeks ago.”
Ayden rounded on Ryder so quick, I couldn’t grab for him before he’d moved and got in his uncle’s face. “You knew she was back?” he roared, “you fucking knew and didn’t think to let me know?”
“Hey, reign it in!” Ryder pushed his face closer to Ayden, his hands gripping the sides of the chair. “We didn’t know until a few days ago, we wanted to see what she was up to. She was at Monty’s tonight.” He looked over at Shaun and I saw his shoulders sag at the new information. It meant only one thing. “That’s where she was picked up.”
“She’s gunning for me,” Shaun laughed, making his way to Ayden and pressing against his back. He pushed his arms around his middle and steered him toward the couch. “Sit down, baby.”
I’d seen this pair together a lot over the last few months and Shaun was undeniably in love with my boy. Ayden absolutely in love with him. They were just beginning, their bonds not quite as strong as a couple who’d spent years together. Neither needed this. Stella was going to come after Shaun, I knew it with certainty and the thought churned my stomach. My boy had lost far too much in his young life already, if Stella got her hands on Shaun, it would kill him.
Who was I kidding? It wasn’t just Shaun she was coming after.
It was up to me to make sure when she left again she did so permanently, and that she didn’t rip our family apart before she did so. She wasn’t taking another single thing from any of us ever again.
“So, we plan, we get ready…because Stella has a score to settle, and we’re all in her crosshairs. She doesn’t win. Not now, not ever.”
Stella
“Someone has eyes on you.”
No shit, Sherlock. “Tony.”
“Who?”
My lawyer was pissing me off. Not only did he not answer his phone the night before when I called him with my only phone call, he didn’t waltz his arse into the police station until nearly lunchtime. I’d sat in a police cell for nearly twelve hours in one of those stupid white CID suits that detectives wore to crime scenes. Flattering - not. My temper was about to hit boiling point.
“No one,” I mumbled, picking at a cuticle on my thumb. I’d broken a bloody nail struggling with an over eager cop while he’d shoved my head into the back of his police car.
“They can’t hold you. They’ll ask you questions but we prepped for this. I have the documents you requested, so just stick to your story and you’ll be home in no time.”
I scoffed. Home. Home was some big old house miles from Brighton I couldn’t bring myself to set foot in. It was full of expensive things and memories of my ex-husband. His shit cluttered the rooms, and I couldn’t stomach going through it all. I’d need to get someone in to empty the place then sell it.
“Make yourself scarce for a while. Lay low, stay out of trouble.”
“I wasn’t getting into any trouble.”
Because I hadn’t been. I’d been having an apparently not so random fuck with a hot piece of arse. I was going to string that fucking Tony up by the balls if I ever saw him again.
“Time’s up. Anything else I need to know?”
Sitting back in the chair I didn’t bother to reply, and waited patiently for the good cop, bad cop scenario that was bound to walk through the door any time now. Two minutes later and sure enough, tweedle dee and tweedle fucking dumb sauntered in, as cliched as anything I’d ever witnessed. I smirked at the stereotypical scene playing out as one of them threw a grey folder on to the table in front of me.
What they may have thought was intimidating, I found comical but held my snickering at bay. Wouldn’t do to piss off the local bobbies straight off the back.
“Detective Inspector Walker, and that is Detective Inspector Stenhouse.” The man who’d spoken pulled out a chair and sat his portly body down.
He was the older of the two and gave nothing away when he looked at me. The second detective, Stenhouse, leaned against the wall behind his partner, one foot casually resting against the chipped paint, trying his best to look threatening. This pair were a hoot, they’d clearly been watching too many American cop shows.
Twining my fingers together, I huffed out in annoyance, I was seriously ready for this day to be over.
“Stella Rinaldi?”
“Yes, sir,” I mocked, making sure he caught the tone.
“You kept your last name?”
Yes, I certainly had. I’d used it for so long, had earned it, and was keeping the respect the name afforded. My ex-husband had been careful, or embarrassed, and hid what we had been his reality so mutual acquaintances had no reason to look at me any differently. Our divorce had looked amicable on the outside, if anything, Lucca portrayed the picture of the one in the wrong, what with his impending marriage to the little whore. So yes, I’d kept the name.
“Were you aware there was a warrant out for your arrest?”
“Not until recently, no
.”
DI Walker raised his eyebrows at me. “Your lawyer didn’t inform you?”
“He did. I didn’t get those communications until this past week.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve been away.”
DI Stenhouse laughed. “Clearly.”
Glaring at him, I continued, “I had no phone or any means of contact. I was grieving the loss of my marriage, I didn’t want to talk to anyone, so I cut myself off.” The grit in my voice was unmistakable, the thought of grieving over Lucca - ludicrous.
“The divorce was amicable?”
“Yes, entirely.”
Again, the DI against the wall laughed. Fucking idiot, he didn’t know anything.
“Where were you on the night of the ninth of February last year?”
“Gosh, that’s so long ago. I barely remember what I was doing last week, never mind a year ago.” I waved a hand in the air, acting like the dizzy blonde I looked.
“We have a witness statement inferring you were inside the residence of Miss Laura Hamilton minutes before her house went up in flames.”
“I heard about that. Very sad. I hope the young woman is okay.” I could have puked in my mouth with those words and the sickly-sweet tone with which I’d delivered them.
And so, it went on. Did I know her? Did I know Adam? Did I know she was dating my now ex-husband and they were soon to be married? Yes, why yes, I did fucking know that. She’d be getting married to Lucca over my dead body, but of course I couldn’t say those words.
DI Stenhouse had eventually taken a seat but contributed very little, the more I looked at him, the more an unease crept over me. He was familiar, but I knew I’d never crossed his path in my life. My lawyer eventually did his job, and forty bloody minutes later he demanded they charged me or released me. They had no choice but to let me go once my lawyer produced the itinerary they requested, pulling it from his briefcase. An itinerary of my whereabouts at the time in question. Three neatly typed sheets of paper stapled together was proof I’d been ‘out of the country.’ While DI Stenhouse called the charter company to corroborate I was indeed on a charter flight out of the country four days before, DI Walker read those sheets of paper over and over. What he expected to find, I wasn’t sure.
I didn’t like my lawyer all that much, but he was good at his job for the most part, especially with the amount of money I paid him.
“Okay then,” DI Walker sighed. “I guess we’re done here.” He collected up his files, scraped his chair back and stood up. “I have one more call to make and then you should be free to go.” He smiled wanly upon leaving the room, his phone to his ear before the door shut behind him.
DI Stenhouse stared at me over the table, his eye contact steely, telling me he didn’t believe a single lie I’d spouted from my mouth. He was a smart man I had to be careful around.
“We can’t prove anything, but I know the likes of you, Stella Rinaldi. Slippery. Arsenic wrapped in sugar. The worst kind.” He sat back in the chair, his pose relaxed. “It all catches up in the end.”
I grinned at him, giving him only that in reply. Best thing was to keep my trap shut, let him run his mouth.
“Your lawyer’s right. Make yourself scarce. I know more than what’s in those pissy files, Stella. Just gimme one excuse to pick your arse up and trust me, I’ll have you back down here quicker than you can click those expensive nails of yours.”
Studying him closer, barely offended by his words, I wondered where the root of his threat came from. And then I saw it. Those dark eyes, thick lashes. Oh, he was familiar all right.
“Tony,” I said.
“Tony,” he smiled. “My brother is good at his job, don’t underestimate him.”
I chuckled. He was good at fucking too but didn’t mean he wasn’t a prick. “Got you.”
It was taking all my will power not to launch myself over the table and dig my expensive nails into his eyeballs, claw the smug bastards face to pieces. Fuck him. Fuck Tony. Fuck Lucca. I knew exactly who Tony was - my ex-husband’s Private Investigator, my lawyer having imparted the information about an hour ago. And his brother was a detective. You couldn’t make this shit up. I’d just have to be more careful, that was all. I’d take the advice, take off for a few days, regroup, plot, whatever. Anything to get me off these fucker’s radars and some much-needed breathing space.
DI Walker popped his head around the door. “Free to go. But Ms Rinaldi, please don’t leave the country. We won’t be so lenient next time and we may need a follow up interview.”
Fucking great.
“Thank you, gentlemen. I’d like to leave now, if you don’t mind.”
* * *
The drive up North was long. I’d showered and changed the minute I’d returned to my sparse apartment, packed a bag and left not an hour later. I wasn’t running. I was regrouping.
When my mother’s oldest friend swung her door wide to greet me, I almost fell into her arms. I wasn’t an emotional person, didn’t crave attachments like others and sometimes the thought of someone touching me made my skin crawl. None of this applied to Fiona though. If she’d known half the things I’d done, she wouldn’t have been so free with her affection. I kept that side of me locked down and away from her during my sporadic visits that always had too much time lost in between. I often wondered if I’d stayed with her like she’d begged me to at sixteen, how different my life would have been. Would my need for revenge have been abated, or would it have festered? I felt caught in between for the moment, questioning what the hell I was doing, what I’d done.
Fiona always dragged the doubts from me, made me feel too much, softened me. Turned me into the little girl I once was. She had been my mother’s best friend and their traits had been similar. While it was always great to see her, it damned hurt at the same time. My shortcomings were never clearer than when I was standing in front of her.
I missed my mother. She should not have been ripped from my life the way she had been. When I’d seen her lying in the kitchen surrounded by a pool of dark red blood and him standing over her, my heart had iced over, and had seldom cracked since.
“Come on in, dear child.” Fiona tugged me through the old cottage and waved me over to her comfiest chair she didn’t share with just anyone. “It’s been far too long.”
She had no children of her own, her husband long gone. Taking me under her wing was natural for her, I’d sucked up the security she’d offered until I could stand on my own two feet.
“Ooh, you’ve been on holiday. Look at you, all tanned, stunning as always.” She quietened, cupping my cheeks in her hands as she bent down. “Just like your mother, darling.” Planting a kiss on my nose she withdrew her touch from me.
“Hi Fiona,” I finally managed to get out.
“You up to see your mama?”
She knew me far too well, something I was entirely comfortable with. “Yeah. Been too long I think.”
“It has, dear. A few years now. I know you call but it’s not the same.” It was all I could give her. I loved coming home, but it played with my head too much and I refused to stay longer than necessary. “I have Bridge club in half an hour, your room’s the way it always is. We can catch up tonight. You want to eat out, Stella?”
I grinned at her. “Nah. I know you have some of your delicious mac and cheese hiding in that mammoth freezer of yours somewhere.”
She laughed, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Must have known you were coming, made a fresh batch just a few days ago.”
“That’s good.”
God, this woman made me feel like a teenager again. For ten minutes we chit chatted, something I never did with anyone, including Alexa, then she was whizzing around the sitting room collecting her things. Through the front door she went, her yellow sundress and lavender perfume wafting behind her.
I didn’t go up to my room, I’d get my bag from the car after I’d done what I was really there for. There was only one place I wanted to be, so I made h
aste, reaching my destination not too long after I’d left Fiona’s cottage.
“Hi mama.”
Fiona had cleaned up around the gravesite, it was always immaculate when I visited, always fresh flowers decorating the dark marble plinth.
Emotion slammed into me, like it always did, and it hurt like a bitch. “I’m sorry I let you down,” I whispered. “But I’m fixing it, I swear.”
A gentle breeze wrapped around me, forcing me to tug my coat tighter to my body while I continued to stare at the grass between my feet. I always stood, never sat down. I feared getting too close, feared I’d want to crawl right into that hole with her. Life was empty, had been since the day she’d died, no matter who had come and gone.
Adam…Adam had almost been it, but he’d been fixated on his ex-fiancé, a woman who was not going to get the chance to steal my life a second time. I didn’t believe him. How could you profess to love someone and do what Adam had done? He had been the closest I’d ever come to truly feeling the love my mother had always talked about. But he’d loved another, and it left little room for me.
I did sit down, my legs not quite supporting my weight, flashes of the last time I’d seen my beautiful mother. A sob tore free and I was disgusted with myself for being so weak. No matter how much I tried to kid myself, I knew what this visit was.
It was laying old ghosts to rest.
It was purging my failures.
It was saying goodbye.
“I think I loved him. No, I knew I loved him but not in that soft-hearted way a woman should love a man. My kind of love, you know. And I feel fucking guilty, like I’m tarring your memory or something because I loved the son of the man who took you from me.”
I sniffled and swiped angrily at the tears cascading down my face, they were foreign, and I couldn’t comprehend why they spilled so freely now.
