Something she’d originally married Simon for.
Love was a game best played with two willing parties, and Michael, she feared, might be losing his game face.
It was several weeks later when Michael called her to end the affair. She was cold, calm and collected over the phone, agreeing with him, and it appeared a mutual decision, but inside she was screaming.
She cursed herself for letting herself get so emotionally involved with him, for starting to feel more than lust. Then her thoughts turned to Simon and how their fairy-tale romance was long gone and dead in the water.
For Claire, there was only one option.
CHAPTER 36
Claire awoke to the sound of her BlackBerry vibrating on the cabinet beside her. She forced herself to reach for it and hung up without bothering to check who’d been calling.
She opened her eyes, squinting at her digital clock, glowing a bright green in the half-light of her bedroom. It was after 10:00am, late rising for her, even for a Sunday.
She stretched her arms out and hit something warm lying next to her.
Turning her head to one side, she saw his familiar shape lying close. She could smell his aftershave along with a twist of sweat.
Oh fuck it.
She eased herself from the bed, reaching for her dressing-gown when she realised she was completely naked.
Michael didn’t stir.
She grabbed her BlackBerry and headed for the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen table waiting for the kettle to boil, and checked her call history.
It’d been Matthews calling her. She was glad she’d missed his call. He hadn’t left her a voicemail though, which bothered her. Maybe he wanted to press charges against Michael after all?
Pushing the thought from her mind, she logged in to her inbox.
Among the usual official emails, she saw an email from Matthews. It was titled ‘HARGREAVES’. Clicking on the heading, she scrolled through the text.
It appeared Gavin Hargreaves had met with a male unknown to the police and not connected to any of the unsolved cases involving Hargreaves.
‘So?’ she sniffed aloud to herself at the words on the screen. ‘Could’ve been anyone and about anything.’ Just before she went to exit the message, she noticed the lines of text she’d previously missed.
Reports showed the man had become agitated by Hargreaves but they appeared to have struck some kind of deal; both men shook hands at the end of the meeting.
Before she could hit the Reply button, she was startled by someone’s hands suddenly upon her shoulders. She jumped but was held down in her seat.
‘Easy,’ he said. ‘It’s only me.’ Michael’s face then appeared in line with hers. He smiled at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She remained cautious, her face blank. ‘Was it that bad then?’ He removed his hands from her shoulders and took a seat opposite her.
She avoided his eyes.
‘No…’ she managed. Michael looked quite pleased with himself. ‘…and yes.’ He froze as he reached for an apple sitting in the fruit bowl in front of him.
His eyes found hers.
‘I didn’t hear you complaining.’ She smiled, and it stung. In that moment he felt vulnerable and he hated every second of it. ‘I don’t think it’s funny, Claire,’ he said as he bit roughly into the apple.
‘You and your ego, Diego,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I meant it was bad because it shouldn’t have happened.’ She leaned in closer to him across the table. ‘It won’t happen again.’
The kettle boiled. Claire got up and made them both a mug of coffee, sat his beside him and took her seat opposite him again.
She watched him as he gnawed at the apple, a defiant look on his face. His eyes were dull this morning and his stubble thicker than usual. He looked animal-like with his messy brown hair.
Deep inside Claire began to feel guilty. She’d wanted last night as much as he did and here she was telling him it wouldn’t happen again, even though she wanted nothing more than to pick up where they’d left off.
She found herself in a rare moment of weakness, reaching for his hand.
Michael was startled by her sudden moment of tenderness and refused her hand, instead studying her eyes intently, unsure how to react. After a few moments he let her fingers intertwine in his. She squeezed his hand and smiled.
‘We have to remain professional, Michael.’
He smiled to himself. She rarely called him by anything but his surname.
You must really mean it, he thought.
‘I gave up being professional long ago,’ he said. ‘I know I don’t want any of what’s happening between us right now to stop.’
There, he’d said it, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, despite knowing there was truth them. He didn’t want to appear the vulnerable one.
He couldn’t read the expression on her face. Did she look pleased? He couldn’t be sure.
Claire’s BlackBerry began ringing again, making them both jolt, their hands separating. Claire glanced at the caller ID.
DI David Matthews.
She gave Michael a long lingering look, before she answered the call and walked away from the kitchen, letting herself out into the garden.
‘So you think there’s something significant with this man who met with Hargreaves?’ Claire said, reiterating what Matthews was telling her.
‘Yeah, I do. Call it intuition.’
Claire walked around the winding stone path leading further into her large garden. She glanced at the beautiful hanging baskets her gardener had planted recently and walked over to the nearest one, mounted on the brick wall to the annexe. She sniffed at the delicate flowers cascading over the side of the basket.
Then she remembered last night.
‘Hang on a minute. You were at the Ball last night getting your arse kicked, how’d you know about this meeting?’
‘He wasn’t kicking my arse. He just caught me off guard. I could’ve taken him. He’s lucky I didn’t press charges and—’
‘And the meeting, Matthews?’ She cut in to his sentence like a knife through butter.
Matthews hated her when she did that. She was renowned for her rudeness and way of getting to the point. He’d been warned from his very first day in CID to let it ride over his head. Let it go over his head he did, for the most part, but nevertheless, he could never get used to it.
‘I had my team working on it.’
Claire stiffened and pursed her lips. ‘Oh, it’s your team now, Matthews?’
‘Sorry, Guv. I just meant—’
‘It’s irrelevant.’ Claire cut him off again, mid-sentence. ‘I don’t want you taking up too much time over this mystery stranger. Could be something, but more likely nothing. Concentrate on the assault charge. I want Hargreaves in court and off the streets.’ She hung up before he could respond.
She went to go back inside when she noticed her rose bushes. She thought back to the letter found on Wainwright’s body.
She saw Michael emerge from the patio door and head towards her.
‘What did that twat want?’
‘Nothing important.’
‘Couldn’t it have waited until tomorrow?’
‘It was about the Hargreaves investigation,’ she said, ‘which doesn’t concern you any more, does it?’
There was no mistaking the change in her body language and tone. Any chance he had right now of a repeat of last night was gone.
Damn Matthews.
Claire looked to the roses again. ‘Just think about Wainwright’s murder.’ She began walking back to the house. ‘And Miller as well,’ she called back over her shoulder. ‘It can’t be a separate unrelated murder.’
Michael watched her go back inside the house and glanced at his watch, scowling. Why did he have to complicate everything?
CHAPTER 37
Adrian Brown hated Monday mornings. He glanced at his office phone and saw the new message indicator flashing red: six new messages.<
br />
He told Mary to bring him his usual coffee and to have the audio dictation tape he’d left on her desk done by midday before he went to conduct another viewing.
He waited until she’d left, closing his office door before he began to listen to his messages on loudspeaker.
He barely listened to the messages from either landlords or tenants, enquiries about ground rent, broken boilers and nuisance neighbours, dismissing each one as they went.
Until he came to the sixth message.
He recognised the underlying Scottish tones as the voice crackled from the machine.
Adrian almost fell from his chair.
How did Hargreaves get his office number? This wasn’t part of the deal.
He lifted the phone receiver, taking it off loudspeaker, and began to sweat as he listened to the message. As soon as it ended, he hit the Delete button, and slumped back in his chair, his hand covering his mouth.
Tonight is the night, he thought. It’s so soon.
He loosened the tie around his neck and undid the top button on his shirt. He called out for Mary and asked her to dig out the file for Amelia’s flat. Within ten minutes she’d brought it to him. She studied his face, and noticed how flushed he was.
‘Would you like a cold drink? You don’t look well.’
He ignored her, staring at the file instead. She waited a few more seconds before leaving his office.
Adrian couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he looked over the file.
Soon Amelia would be warned off and he’d be free of her.
He’d been sloppy, he knew that, but he’d been dazzled by her beauty and charm. The wound on his arm stung as he turned a page in the file and he remembered how unpredictable she was, how violent she could turn on a whim.
He tapped his fingers on the well-thumbed file before closing it. He tried taking a few deep breaths before picking up the phone receiver and making the call. It only steadied his nerve by a mere fraction but still he went ahead regardless.
It was a necessary evil.
Afterwards he emailed Mary to ask her to cancel all his appointments for the day. He had no wish to talk to her again.
Mary blinked hard at the email when it popped up in her inbox. She read the text and frowned:
Mary
Cancel my appointments for today. Make an excuse. I’m not to be disturbed by anyone, and this includes you and any phone calls. I still need the letter typed by noon and sent out in tonight’s post. Pls PP it for me.
Adrian.
Mary scoffed, drawing a few glances from her colleagues, but reminded herself she needed the job, which paid reasonably well, so she returned to typing Adrian’s letters.
***
Amelia was shocked when she saw the caller ID flash Adrian Brown’s name across the screen and debated whether to answer it or not. After several rings she pressed the answer button.
Twenty minutes later when she’d hung up, she dialled the contact in her phone labelled as ‘G’. The call was answered and after Amelia had explained everything Adrian had said to her, the Guardian was stunned.
‘He asked you to dinner?’
‘Yes, can you believe that?’
‘What’s he up to? I don’t like it.’
‘He just said he wanted to apologise. Men like him don’t apologise in my experience. Only one way to say for sure though.’
‘You told him yes?’
‘I did… Was I wrong?’
There was a long pause and static plagued the line.
‘Yes. I don’t like this… Give me the details. You’re not going alone.’
CHAPTER 38
It was almost 7:30pm when Amelia arrived at the Italian restaurant. She spotted Adrian, already seated at the far side of the room. He waved her over and Amelia removed her coat as she walked towards him.
Another one of her tactics.
He eyed her from head to foot several times.
He took in her red hair, which she’d tamed into a loose ponytail, her fitted blue shirt, right down to her black pencil skirt, and followed her legs to her very high stiletto heels.
He felt a twinge of guilt inside when she greeted him with a soft smile but then remembered the stab wound on his shoulder, which would leave an unsightly scar.
‘I didn’t think you’d show,’ he said as she sat down in front of him. He waited until a waiter had taken her drink order before leaning in closer across the table. ‘I’m very glad you did.’
The waiter brought over a large glass of wine for Amelia and Adrian scowled at the man when he caught him eyeing her suggestively.
She rolled her eyes. ‘It shouldn’t bother you. Other men look. Deal with it.’
‘I didn’t ask you here so other men could distract us.’
‘Then why did you ask me here?’ She folded her arms.
‘I told you, I wanted to apologise for what’s happened. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you when I knew you needed money.’ Amelia looked at him sceptically, her eyes unusually dull in colour. ‘I hope you’ll accept my apology.’
Amelia glanced out of the glass front of the restaurant and into Haverbridge town plaza. She searched the ordinary faces of the people outside before she saw her Guardian sitting on a bench nearby, looking in on them.
She knew what to do.
‘I accept,’ she said, her eyes wandering back to his. ‘And I hope you know I’m sorry for what I did to your arm. It’s my head… My past is…’ She struggled to find the words. Adrian reached for her hand, clasped it between his fingers and smiled.
‘We all have skeletons, Amelia. Everyone.’
‘I know. Maybe we could go somewhere and talk after dinner?’
Adrian smiled. She’d walked into his trap easily with minimum effort from him. It was better this way.
***
After they’d left the restaurant, Adrian put his arm around her shoulders as they walked across the plaza. Amelia looked around and saw her Guardian following at a discreet distance behind. The Guardian always did turn heads, and Amelia saw a few give a second look as they walked by.
No one ever suspects beauty can do evil things…
Adrian stopped as they approached a long side road next to some fast food outlets. He turned towards her. ‘How about you come back to mine and we’ll talk? See if we can’t sort this mess out.’ He smiled, stroking her cheek with his hand.
Amelia looked toward the dark side road. She could only just make out some parked cars and rows of wheelie bins which backed off behind the takeaway shops. They were overflowing with rubbish.
‘You parked down there?’
‘It was closer to the restaurant. You know what Haverbridge is like for parking.’
She immediately knew something was off. ‘You parked your flashy car down there?’
Adrian paused but smiled to reassure her. ‘I know people who work around here. They keep an eye out for me.’ He gestured with his arm, directing her down the narrow road.
Amelia checked over her shoulder. She’d lost sight of her Guardian but she knew they were there, in the shadows, watching. Waiting.
She walked with Adrian into the darkness.
A few neon signs ahead were the only light in the oily blackness.
They were about halfway down the stretch of road before Amelia felt alone. She reached out for Adrian but grabbed nothing but air. She spun round but all she could see were vague shadows.
‘Adrian?’
Then she heard a faint sound. Something was moving in a van parked right next to her.
She paused, her breath catching in her throat.
Then strong arms grabbed her from behind and lifted her off the ground. She tried to scream but something was sprayed into her mouth. It burned her throat, making her retch.
Someone grabbed her legs, lifting them high. She was being carried by two large men, as far as she could tell in the darkness. She tried to kick her legs free.
The back doors of the van were opene
d and some rushed words were said in strong accents.
Her heart raced as she was forced into the back of the van and pulled to the floor. The metal was cold against her skin and she felt a crushing weight pushing down on her torso.
Someone was sitting on her back.
Soon hands were on her ankles and feet, so she kicked out hard, her heels cutting into someone’s face. Someone yelled and Amelia felt a hard blow across her face.
The force nearly knocked her out cold and she had no way of avoiding the blindfold which was then tied around her face.
She began screaming but someone covered her mouth. She snapped her teeth hard and fast until she found flesh. She pressed down hard until she could taste the copper of blood.
A man screamed as she bit against his fingernails and he began hitting her hard across the face but she refused to let go.
Then she froze.
Something cold was pressed hard against her temple.
‘Let go or I’ll blow your brains out all over the van.’
Amelia released the other man’s fingers from her mouth. She felt his blood trickle down the corner of her mouth.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ she screamed before someone struck her hard across the face with the butt of a gun.
All she knew then was darkness.
***
The Guardian cursed as the the van drove off. They wished they had followed her down the side road.
They had lost sight of Adrian and were waiting to see what would happen. The Guardian had hoped Amelia would meet them on the other side of the road but then they had been helpless when the men had grabbed Amelia.
The Guardian leaned back against the wall and tried to think what to do next. Then the sound of approaching footsteps was all that could be heard in the darkness…
The Guardian
I ran on ahead and ducked into a shop doorway. The sound of footsteps were getting closer and I could feel my bowls tighten with a mix of intoxicating excitement and apprehension.
I held my breath.
The footsteps were almost upon me.
For All Our Sins: A gripping thriller with a killer twist (DCI Claire Winters, Book 1) Page 18
