by K. L. Slater
Was wanting to make money to secure the future of my son more noble than wanting to make money for pure profit, like Michelle and Mo did? I’d say so.
She was sorry for what she’d said, but not sorry for what she’d done with Mo. That much was clear. Whatever bond I thought we’d shared, it now lay in tatters around us. I didn’t know what the future held for us as sisters, and that thought left me hollow inside.
‘Best to let her rest now,’ the nurse said softly at my shoulder, and I put up my hand.
‘Just a few more seconds,’ I said, a flood of heat rising through my chest into my neck and face. ‘Michelle, have you heard of a man called Peter Harvey? He’s Simone Fischer’s brother.’
Michelle’s eyes widened a touch and then she nodded, her face crumbling.
‘How? What was your contact with him?’ If she recalled Peter, then her memories were coming from before the attack. Could he be the man Zachary saw her with outside school? ‘Did you get into his car? That morning, did you—’
The nurse sighed loudly. ‘Please. The doctor insists she has to rest now.’
‘I just need to ask her a few more questions. Michelle?’
I looked at my sister, waiting for her to ask the nurse to give me a little more time, but she simply glanced at me one more time and then she closed her eyes.
Fifty-Nine
Justine dropped me off back at the house before she left again for the office.
‘I’m hoping I might have some information about the origins of the unauthorised Facebook page soon. It’s confusing. At first glance it looks like one person’s work, but then it could easily be the work of another.’
‘Sounds… well, confusing, as you say!’ I frowned.
I sat with Zachary in the living room and scanned the files that Justine had recovered from Michelle’s laptop.
There were a lot of them, and I felt sure that hidden in one or more of them would be protected documents giving details of Mo and Michelle’s treacherous plans to undermine The Speaking Fox.
But instead of searching for those now, I double-clicked on the folder labelled Meetings.
Several documents were filed within, and I worked through them. The first document detailed the schedule for my meetings with Simone at HMP Bronzefield. The second contained the meeting notes with the TrueLife executives… very detailed ones that explained everything clearly and would have helped me immeasurably. As it was, she’d just left the short cryptic notes on her desk that meant little to me.
This all now made perfect sense. Michelle must have planned to desert me for the meeting. She’d wanted me to fall flat on my face, had never intended turning up. But fate must have intervened and she was attacked by someone. The two incidents – her not turning up and the attack – were separate things, which I hadn’t realised until now.
When I opened the third document, my fingers froze above the keyboard. This document was more interesting. This document wasn’t meant for my eyes at all.
It was a list of various meetings she’d set up for MiMo Productions to discuss spin-offs from The Fischer Files podcast – meetings I obviously knew nothing about. But I couldn’t focus on the short list in front of me, because one meeting in particular drew my eye immediately, and I couldn’t look away.
The last entry in her meeting list read:
11 a.m. Meeting with Peter Harvey at The Ruddington Arms
According to this entry, made two weeks ago, my sister met with Simone Fischer’s brother. The man who told me he’d never met Michelle.
Sixty
I called DI Sharpe and left a hurried message. My throat felt so tight I could barely get the words out, but he needed to know about the meeting Michelle had with Peter Harvey. I was getting so frustrated with the police response to Michelle’s attack. I felt I could probably do a far better job myself in following up the leads.
Why would Peter lie about never having met Michelle? It could only mean he was hiding something.
A sickly swirling started in the pit of my stomach, a bitter taste rising up into my mouth. Peter was rude and obstructive, but he didn’t seem unhinged. But then Michelle was a determined woman, and if she’d put forward proposals to him about Simone he didn’t like – plans that could scupper his book, the project he hoped would make him a lot of money – and she refused to back off, then maybe he’d snapped. I’d seen glimmers of his belligerent nature myself.
Yet my feelings of dread about the attack now mingled with disbelief at what Michelle and Mo had done to me. A band of coldness wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed hard. The reality had been there all along in front of my face, I’d just chosen not to see it.
Zachary seemed a bit listless, but he was OK. ‘Is Aunt Miche better, Mum?’ he asked half-heartedly. I’d knocked back his requests to visit so many times, he’d all but given up.
‘She’s still very poorly, sweetie. But she was awake for a few minutes and that’s a great sign.’
‘I made you a cuppa.’ Brooke came in with a drink and a foil strip of tablets. ‘Good news: Eric has travelled down from Newcastle. Owen is to be released pending further investigations! He and Bruce are calling at the house, they’re just a few minutes away now.’
‘Dad’s coming home?’ Zachary said with an element of disbelief.
‘Yes, darling, isn’t it wonderful?’ Brooke simpered, full of unbridled joy.
I kept my expression blank, thanked her for the tea and waved away the tablets. I felt much stronger thanks to the absence of medication. Learning of Owen’s terrible deed that nearly killed our boy had devastated me, and he was the last person I wanted to set eyes on. I wasn’t in the least bit surprised I’d fallen ill. Brooke might have been trying to help, or she might’ve had darker motivations in keeping me out of the picture. Who knew?
One thing I was certain of: Owen would not be coming here. And there was no way I could stomach Eric staying at the house, too. It was time for me to tell them to go home.
My stomach tilted when I looked over at my son, his eyes trained blankly on the television. He looked so quiet, like someone had knocked the Zachary-shaped stuffing out of him.
‘Are you OK, sweetie? Come here.’
He walked over to me like a little robot and I cuddled him, closing my eyes and resting my chin on the top of his head. He was stiff and unyielding in my arms, and I felt a pang of guilt that he’d had to suffer like this. But I was feeling better now. I could take care of my son again.
‘Can I stay at Dad’s flat if you’re still feeling poorly, Mum?’
I opened my eyes and Brooke was staring at us with a strange look on her face.
‘Leave us a while,’ I told her. It wasn’t a request.
Without comment, she turned and walked out, closing the living room door. I spoke to Zachary, keeping my voice low in case she was still lurking outside the door.
‘Things are different now, Zachary. I know it’s been tough, sweetie. I’ve felt so ill but now I’m OK again so I can look after you. Has Grandma been nice to you?’
He looked into my eyes and my heart started hammering. He looked, I don’t know, strange, for want of a better word. I knew Brooke wouldn’t have mistreated him, but…
‘What have you been doing downstairs while I’ve been sleeping so much?’ I asked.
There was no reply. He pressed his lips together, as if he’d been told to say nothing and was afraid the words would just pop out on their own. I shook his shoulders, gently, and pressed my face close to his. ‘Zachary, speak to me, sweetie, so I know you’re OK.’
‘Grandma wouldn’t let me come upstairs and see you even when she brought your food up and you were awake,’ he whispered. ‘But I’m not supposed to tell you that.’
His words sounded very slightly slurred at the ends. Was it possible…
‘Zachary, you can tell me anything you like. Do you hear me?’ He gave a tiny nod. ‘I feel better now and I’m your mum. I have something to ask you and I want you to tell me
the truth. Don’t be frightened.’
He looked at me, his eyes dark and wide.
‘Has Grandma given you any tablets?’
He shifted uncomfortably. I waited.
‘She… gives me a tablet to make me sleep at night, that’s all.’
‘Out of the bathroom cupboard?’
He nodded.
I already knew Brooke had found Zachary’s sedatives in there when she confronted me with them, saying it was an unsafe place to store them. Yet she was the danger to Zachary, not the medicine.
I braced myself as a black Jag pulled up outside the house. Eric. A tall man in a navy suit I hadn’t seen got out of the passenger door – Bruce, I presumed.
‘I don’t want to go,’ Zach suddenly whined when he saw the car. ‘Please, Mum, don’t make me.’
I shook my head, not understanding. ‘Go where?’
‘To live with them.’
Eric and Bruce walked up the path, and I heard Brooke open the front door.
‘What? You’re not going to live with them, you silly sausage!’
‘Grandma said me and Dad had to go and live with them when he gets out of the police station.’
I pulled him close again and his tense little body softened a touch. ‘I’ll never let anyone take you away.’
As I finished the sentence, the lounge door opened.
‘It’ll just be for a while.’ Brooke walked in, followed by Eric and Bruce. ‘It’s for the best.’
‘He’s going nowhere. I want you to all leave now.’ I suddenly felt exhausted again, but I made a big effort to keep my voice sounding strong and determined.
‘That won’t be possible, Esme.’ Eric stepped out from behind his wife, a wiry little man with weathered skin full of deep creases. ‘We’re going to be taking Zachary up to Newcastle for a few months until you get the treatment you need.’
‘He’s going nowhere,’ I repeated. Zachary stood in front of me and I pulled his back against me and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. ‘Leave now or I’ll call the police.’
‘You’re clearly suffering from anxiety and depression. Don’t make us go to court or we’ll make sure it’s all over the newspapers,’ Brooke said. ‘Colin Wade has made it clear he’d love an exclusive interview with us.’
I didn’t doubt them for a minute. Wade would love to hear Brooke’s side of things after my involvement with Simone Fischer.
I couldn’t even hit back at Brooke and say the press would be more interested in vilifying Owen than me. The man who nearly killed his own son. I couldn’t say a word with Zachary here to hear it all; the shock would send him spiralling back down into that dark place he inhabited for so long.
No, I’d have to be altogether cleverer about it.
‘Leave me and my son a while. I want to talk to him. Explain everything.’
‘I don’t want to go! You said I wouldn’t have to!’ Zachary yelled, burying his face in his hands. I squeezed his shoulders and hoped he got the message of calm I was silently trying to convey to him.
Brooke’s face brightened. ‘Thank goodness you’ve decided to see sense, Esme,’ she said, all heart now. ‘It will only be for a short time, until you’re feeling your old self again.’
She turned to Eric. ‘Come on. Let’s give them a little time, dear.’
When they’d gone, I whispered in Zachary’s ear. ‘Be smart and play the game. You’re going nowhere. I promise I won’t let them take you. But we have to pretend for a short time. Do you understand?’
He nodded and I felt him relax against me.
My phone rang, causing us both to jump. DI Sharpe’s name lit up the screen and I felt like crying with relief.
‘Thank goodness you called,’ I say in a low voice. ‘I need your help. Can you come to the house?’
‘Are you in danger, yes or no?’ he said, his voice suddenly more alert.
‘Not yet… but that might change soon,’ I said.
Sixty-One
Five minutes later, Brooke tapped on the door and opened it without waiting for an invitation to come in. The more time I spent with her the more I saw the origin of Owen’s worst traits.
‘I’m going to get some of Zachary’s things together, Esme. I’ve already packed some of his things while you were at the hospital. We won’t be taking a great deal; I think he’s in dire need of a wardrobe refresh anyway.’ She looked so incredibly smug I had the urge to throw something at her. ‘I’ll send a courier for the rest of his things and just so you know, Bruce has gone back up to Newcastle and Eric will be staying here tonight. We can all celebrate Owen’s release and then we’ll all travel up together tomorrow morning.’
‘I don’t want to go!’ Zachary wailed, and I secretly squeezed his hand.
‘Shall I bring you something to eat?’ Brooke said graciously, as if she wasn’t planning to steal my son away at all.
‘No thanks, Brooke,’ I said, equally pleasantly. ‘Soon, I’m going to be far too busy to eat anything.’
She hesitated, then frowned. ‘Too busy? Doing what, exactly?’
Before I could answer, an urgent, heavy knock came at the front door.
Brooke clutched her throat. ‘Heavens, who’s this?’
I peeled back the quilt and sat on the edge of the bed.
‘It’s the police!’ Zachary said, bounding out of the room past an astonished Brooke.
Laughably, puny Eric squared up to the detectives. ‘He’s our grandson! There’s no crime in taking him back to Newcastle with us. His mother clearly can’t cope with him; she spends half her life in bed and the other half chatting to a convicted murderer.’
Lewis held up his hands. ‘If Ms Fox says you’re not to take Zachary then you’re not able to do so, sir.’
‘It’s thanks to her my son is in custody.’ Brooke spun around to face me, teeth bared.
Again, I was unable to retaliate with Zachary by my side. I couldn’t bring up the hit and run with him here, so I plumped for a dignified silence. But Brooke hadn’t finished.
‘Taken in for questioning because your cheap sister had been putting it about. Getting into strange men’s cars outside the school.’
‘She got in someone’s car and therefore you’re saying she deserved to be beaten to within an inch of her life? No wonder your son has a skewed idea of what’s acceptable!’ I stepped towards her and a little distressed voice stopped me in my tracks.
‘Someone beat Aunt Miche up?’
My heart squeezed, and I turned to hug Zachary. ‘I’m sorry, sweetie. Mum’s just upset. Ignore me.’
I turned to Sharpe and Lewis. ‘I’ve asked Brooke and Eric to leave my house and they’re refusing,’ I said simply, refusing to be sidelined by Brooke’s senseless accusations.
‘You heard her,’ Sharpe said curtly. ‘You need to get your things together, please, and go.’
‘Now look here, this is all getting a bit out of hand,’ Eric said in a jolly manner. ‘Why don’t we sit down like adults and talk through—’
‘I want you both to leave,’ I repeated stoically.
I could have kissed Zachary when he stamped his foot – as well as he was able, anyhow – and yelled, ‘Get out of our house!’
‘We’re family! This is ridiculous,’ Brooke blustered, looking wildly between Eric and the detectives.
‘It’s ridiculous I’ve allowed it to carry on so long, yes,’ I said levelly. ‘But you need to go now. And take your bloody furry pink washing-up gloves with you.’
Thirty minutes later, Brooke and Eric were finally gone. Zachary and I sat in the living room with Sharpe and Lewis.
‘We’ll need to be careful what we say.’ I swivelled my eyes meaningfully towards Zachary, who sat next to me playing on his Nintendo Switch. ‘Little ears.’
‘Understand completely,’ Sharpe nodded. ‘I wanted to let you know that we’ve been trying to locate Simone Fischer’s brother, Peter Harvey, but to no avail. We’ve called at the house and left messages. Did he mention
going away for a few days, perhaps?’
I shook my head. ‘No, he didn’t. But then he never mentioned the fact he’d met with my sister, either.’
Lewis took out his rough book and a pencil. ‘So, let’s start at the beginning. What’s been happening here then, with your in-laws?’
Zachary looked up from his Nintendo, just for a second, and I knew he’d tuned into the conversation. I shook my head discreetly at Sharpe.
‘I think we can cover all that when things have settled down a bit,’ he said meaningfully to Lewis, who looked confused. ‘In the meantime, we are going to carry on trying to find Mr Harvey. If you hear from him can you let us know?’
‘Course,’ I said, standing up as they both walked to the door.
‘Any further problems family-wise, just let me know,’ Sharpe said meaningfully, glancing at Zachary. I received his coded message loud and clear, and was grateful for it. With Brooke and Eric gone, I felt a sort of draining away of at least part of the dread that had been trickling into every pore.
‘What’s happening with Owen?’ I ventured in the hallway behind them, keeping my voice little more than a whisper.
‘I realise it must have been a terrible shock, Esme,’ Sharpe said with a sigh. ‘He’ll be released, pending further investigations, but just between you and me, he’s likely to be charged with the hit and run very soon.’
My skin crawled when I imagined having to explain this to my son at some point.
‘When he is charged it’s likely he’ll be released until his court hearing, as he’s not deemed to be a danger to the public.’
‘Well, he won’t be coming back here,’ I said firmly. ‘That I can assure you.’
When the detectives had left the house, I made Zachary a snack and a glass of juice. ‘OK, sweetie?’
