Helen looked up from her second slice of pizza, remembering her earlier phone call. “The crime scene techs matched fibres found on Sandy’s clothing to Walters’s car boot. And blood found in the boot is a match to Sandy, so it looks pretty cut and dried.”
“That’s good news.” Kate wiped at the pizza juice on her chin.
She saw a glimmer of satisfaction in Kate’s eyes. Her appetite subdued for the time being, she pushed her plate away, wiping her hands on the napkin. Helen didn’t like not knowing what was going on in Kate’s head. She rose and put some distance between them, escaping to the kitchen.
Kate handed her the final plate, wiping her hand on the tea towel. The distance was in her eyes, the same worry she was sure she had seen over the last couple of weeks. She thought it had been the case getting to her, but with the case closed now, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Of course, there was still the missing architect to deal with.
Tossing the towel on the worktop, she spotted Kate’s barely touched wineglass on the side. “Not drinking? I thought you’d be celebrating after today.”
Kate smiled as Helen’s gaze landed on hers. “Just tired, I guess.”
Helen wanted to push for more, but almost feared Kate’s answer. If she was losing interest in whatever it was that was going on between them, she was about to find out. With two cases closed, she hoped to be spending a little more social time with Kate before her sabbatical was up. But she needed to clear the air before that could happen.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Helen said softly as she averted her eyes, focusing instead on the two fingers she used to push aside Kate’s hair to get a look at the healing cut on her forehead. She couldn’t bear to look into Kate’s eyes as she said the words, in case she saw something she wasn’t quite ready for.
“It’s nothing, really. Family stuff.”
Helen allowed her gaze to travel down to Kate’s once more. She saw exhaustion and something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. A hand circled her waist, pulling their bodies closer. Kate’s eyes slowly flickered closed as her lips pressed gently against her cheek. Helen smiled as the warm lips slowly made their way to her own. She willingly turned her head to speed up the process, capturing Kate’s lips.
Helen took control slowly, moving her across the room while battling passionate kisses as their tongues collided.
Slipping her knee between Kate’s thighs, she forced them apart and pressed Kate back against the kitchen wall. Her hand softly caressed the seam of Kate’s trousers before she slipped it beneath the waistband and found soft cotton underwear. She began with gentle caresses before adding more pressure and stroking the material above Kate’s clit, her touch slow but relentless. The blush on Kate’s cheeks told her know exactly how worked up she was.
Kate groaned. “God! You’re going to make me come right here if you do that much longer.”
Helen kissed the soft skin of Kate’s neck. Her pulse throbbed just below Helen’s lips. “Well, that’s something we should definitely explore.”
Helen reached down. Taking Kate’s hand, she pulled her along as she made her way through the house to her bedroom.
She released her hand from Helen’s and stood behind her, circling Helen’s waist, feeling the warmth from her back against her body as she began working on the button and zipper of Helen’s jeans. Once the waistband loosened, she skimmed a hand over the underwear, gently cupping the mound beneath her fingers.
A groan escaped Helen’s lips. Remembering how Helen had nearly undone her in the kitchen, she slipped her hand beneath her underwear. Helen rolled her head back, leaning into her as fingers traced the line of her lips. She gently parted them.
Two fingers wound their way between Helen’s moist lips, and she found the pool of wetness at Helen’s entrance. Circling the area, she bathed her fingers before slowly moving up to the hardened clit.
Helen gasped, her breathing coming faster. Using her free hand, she skated over Helen’s taut stomach and up to her firm breasts, softly pinching at a nipple before pushing her bra up. It released Helen’s breasts to fall into her warm palm. In the short time since they had moved from the kitchen, she’d managed to turn the tables on Helen.
Her breathing fell into Helen’s rhythm, her body rising and falling in time as her hands and fingers continued their exploration.
Helen leant back against her firm frame for support, her body twitching, her cry guttural, as the orgasm ripped through her. She held her firmly as the strength slowly returned to her limbs.
Helen managed to turn around to face her. “Playing me at my own game.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she managed through her chuckle.
“You will. Trust me, you will.”
Chapter 22
Helen picked up the envelope that had landed on her doormat. It was handwritten, addressed to DCI Helen Taylor, although it looked unofficial, with no postmark.
She walked into the kitchen to make some tea, then worked her finger under the sealed flap. What the hell was this thing? There were thick papers inside the envelope. She unfolded them but was unable to contain her enquiring mind and opted to look at the last page first to find the sender’s name. She frowned at the name: Lexi Ryan. It didn’t ring any bells.
Reading the final paragraph, she couldn’t believe her eyes.
Please believe me when I say I didn’t intend for any of this to happen and certainly not to fall in love with you, but I did, and I can never regret that. I just can’t. You’re too special to me to ever regret a single moment I spent in your company, in your arms, or that you’ll spend in my heart. I know you will feel it is your duty to find me, and I don’t blame you for that. What we have, or had, was the best thing that ever happened to me.
Love always,
Lexi Ryan
Scanning further up the last page, she saw the bewildering confirmation: Kate’s name, written with an explanation that she was the Lexi who had signed the final paragraph. What the hell was going on? She had seen Kate—Lexi—whoever she was—only a few hours ago. She picked up her phone and scrolled through her calls, settling on Kate’s contact. Her finger hovered over the call button a second. But then it went straight to answerphone anyway. She didn’t leave a message. Kate had obviously left the letter. Maybe she should read it first before speaking to her.
The penetrating sound of her phone ringing made her jump. It almost slipped from her fingers.
“Taylor,” Helen said into the phone, her voice tight on autopilot.
“Guv.” Davies cleared his throat. “We’ve had a report of a fire at DS Wolfe’s home. They’ve found a body.”
Helen placed a hand on the work surface to steady herself. What the fuck is going on here? Visions of last night filled Helen’s head.
“Guv?” Davies repeated, obvious concern in his voice.
“I’m on my way,” Helen garbled as she rushed upstairs to get dressed.
When Helen arrived at the scene, the remains of the cottage were barely recognisable as the place she had visited only recently. Blackened walls surrounded gaping ruins. The upstairs was completely absent from the rest of the structure. It looked like a tooth cavity, the kind of fire that people don’t just walk away from.
Remains of furniture were being dampened down by a fireman in the empty driveway next door. It didn’t make any sense. The body couldn’t be Kate’s. She’d been in Helen’s bed until a couple of hours ago.
Helen saw Kate’s vehicle in the small driveway as she climbed out of her car. It seemed to have escaped with only minor damage, mainly from debris falling onto it. Helen attempted to blink back several tears as she approached the house, figuring Kate must have driven back home to get changed before work. Why couldn’t she have just worn yesterday’s clothes or even borrowed something? None of this had to happen.
She’d been drawn to Kate fr
om the first moment she’d met her, teased her relentlessly, and fighting her growing feelings. Now it was as if someone had turned off the sun. She had just started to see her future in a different light, but that was over. She couldn’t do this anymore. Life was too short to be this mentally exhausted and lonely. Her life was empty now, and just getting emptier. When Julia finally… She didn’t want to finish that thought, but she knew there would be nothing for her here after Julia was gone. Taking a calming breath, she walked towards Kate’s driveway. The last time she’d been here, things had been so different.
Helen steadied herself with her left hand to the boundary wall, for the second time that morning. She recognised the uniformed officer immediately—Davies. Rather him than the obnoxious Kirk. She could punch Kirk’s lights out right now, repay him for all the horrible things he’d said to Kate over the last few months. Avoiding the looks from the firemen securing their equipment, she focused her attention on Davies.
“Guv, the body’s been taken to the morgue.”
The leaden tone to Davies’s voice was not lost on her. He, like Helen, had spent the most time with Kate during her secondment.
“Any idea what the FIO thinks so far?” Helen tried to keep things professional. If he lost it, she would too.
“Accident, he thinks. Said there was a power cut in the area last night, something to do with renovation work on the substation. He, er…he thinks she fell down the stairs with a lit candle. That’s how the fire started—found wax on the carpet at the bottom of the stairs. Next to the body.”
Helen busied herself putting on latex gloves as Davies’s voice trailed off. “What time was the fire reported?” she asked, still unable to believe what he was saying.
“Around six. Neighbours are away.” Davies pointed to the house at the opposite end of the short row. “The middle house is empty. Farmer across the valley reported it. Said it was well alight.”
“Six?” Helen repeated with a frown. Hadn’t Kate still been next to her in bed at that time? She hadn’t looked at the clock when Kate left. Why did she leave so early? How could the fire start without anyone being there? How else could Kate’s car be in her driveway now? Surely Kate hadn’t rushed into the cottage while it was ablaze. Nothing could be that precious. Nothing was worth that kind of risk. She’d seen Kate’s recklessness first-hand, but surely this was a step too far. Why would she have a candle if the house was already on fire? Nothing made any sense.
Davies lifted the police cordon for Helen to enter. She ducked under and approached the front of the blackened building. The front door was open, hanging by one hinge at an awkward angle. Pushing it open a little further, Helen entered. Faced with the silhouetted remains of a stairwell on her left, she swallowed hard. Was this where Kate had met her end? It couldn’t be. Something wasn’t right. It just didn’t add up. Debris covered every inch of flooring, making it difficult to walk through the scene. Turning around, she’d seen what she needed to see.
When Helen returned to the station, she secured herself in her office to try and make sense of recent events. She avoided calling her superiors to discuss the passing of a fellow police officer; no doubt they would be on her case soon enough. Helen couldn’t face hearing from Dr Nicholls or Graham Brown, spouting updates. She still firmly refused to believe what everyone else took for granted. Pulling out the letter she had received that morning, she rearranged the pages back into their rightful order. There had to be another explanation.
Dear Helen,
Firstly, I’m sorry to have to tell you this all by letter, but the situation was taken out of my hands. As you have probably figured out already, I’ve left the area, I regret the untidy mess I was forced to dump on your doorstep. I wanted to tell you the truth on so many occasions, but the thought of seeing the disappointment in your eyes stopped me every time. I know you’ll feel angry with yourself for not seeing it coming, but please don’t blame yourself for what I’ve done. I’ve brought this all on myself and ruined any kind of a future I wanted with you. Please believe me when I say that. It was killing me keeping all this from you, but I was trapped in a plan of my own making. I know most people would probably say that if they could go back and change things they would, but, in truth, I wouldn’t change a single moment I spent with you. I’ve never fallen so hard or fast for anyone ever before. Please give me a chance to explain my actions before you dismiss me from your life.
As with most stories, this has a beginning, so I’ll start there. The person you have come to know and hopefully care for over the last few months is not Kate Wolfe but an impostor. I thought you’d spot it the first day we met, but I guess I was lucky, making the crash landing as I did at the fire scene.
The answer I gave you when you asked me why I became a police officer is true except for one fact: the girl in question was my younger sister, Leah. I never really knew my father. He ran off with a work colleague when I was two, just before Leah was born. Which left only my mother. She was more than enough to make up for any loss we incurred at his departure. She was a wonderful woman, creative in so many ways at keeping us occupied as kids, including using her first love—music. She played the piano beautifully and encouraged us to study music. Unfortunately, my mother fought a losing battle with me. Computers had already captured my heart and my imagination.
My sister, on the other hand, wanted to learn the guitar. Although Leah was taking lessons at school, my mother searched out a local musician/tutor to give my sister additional lessons to further her talent. By doing this, my mother set in motion a string of events that changed all our lives forever.
She found in the local paper a musician by the name of Paul Stone, who was offering private lessons. Over the next few months, my sister’s guitar skills improved a little, but there were more worrying signs that I started to notice. Like her withdrawing from the world. She lost her appetite, stopped being the happy-go-lucky ten-year-old she had always been. I’m ashamed to say this went on for some time before she had the courage to confide in me. I was her big sister; it was my job to protect her. I failed. When I think about the things he did to her now, I feel physically sick.
Stone was questioned by the police on the strength of Leah’s admission, but this was twenty years ago, a time when policing was different. Stone had a number of other young music students that vouched for him. So, with no real proof, it was Leah’s word against his. Leah began to clam up, retreating into herself as the police began to lose faith in the investigation when there was no corroborating evidence.
When puberty hit, self-harming and depression kicked in. She was institutionalised at the age of sixteen after trying to commit suicide for the second time.
Left to our own devices, my mother and I grew apart. My one vice was computers. I became a hacker of sorts while my mother turned to alcohol. She couldn’t forgive herself for bringing that man into our lives. Our family began a slow-motion implosion. I sought solace at university in an effort to bring order to my life. I’m ashamed to say I avoided going home, not wanting to be sucked in to my mother’s despairing world.
I visited Leah when I could; her health fluctuated to the extremes over the years. She always had fresh drawings on her walls, the same distinctive pattern or image. I wasn’t sure what it was or what it represented to her; she often avoided answering any questions I had regarding the image. During a particularly lucid visit, I risked asking the question again. She told me it was the pattern from a ring. A ring that was on the hand of the man who touched her and made her do things.
A few weeks later, she’d deteriorated once again. She suddenly seemed frantic, despairing. Before she let me leave, she made me promise to make sure I stopped him from doing it to anyone else. I wanted to soothe her. I needed to, Helen. I needed to help her then as I’d been unable to help her when we were children. So I made the promise.
I promised my baby sister that I would never let that man harm another child
as he’d harmed her.
Two days later, she was dead. She’d hanged herself.
Twenty-eight years old and she’d never lived, never. He took her whole life from her.
And everything became so crystal, so perfectly clear to me then. I couldn’t protect her when she needed me. The least I could do now was make the man who ruined her life pay for what he’d done.
Finding Stone was easy. He’d moved away to escape the stigma of being questioned for child molesting, but he’d stuck with music, opening his own tiny shop near Reading. I became his student for a while—changed my name of course—just in case he recognised my surname.
Do you know what the scariest part of it was?
He seemed normal. Completely and totally fucking normal. There was not one single thing about him that told the world what a monster he was. Not one. I hacked his life. Nothing. During my lessons, I noticed there was no ring on either hand. So, I did some more digging into his previous residence, the one he’d lived in when he was teaching Leah. And I found something I’d never known. He’d rented out a room to a student.
A student called Richard. Richard Jarvis. Studying architecture.
I started my search for Jarvis that very day. What choice did I have? And let me tell you, finding him was easy. He was just outside Warner. Forty-three years old, single, working as an architect at Dalton & Weeks. I hacked into his computer, finding nothing at first. Then I dug a little deeper.
He was careful, I’ll grant him that. But that didn’t stop me. I found his collection. Collection. That makes it sound like something everyone would be proud of? Like great works of art or sculptures or music. But it wasn’t like that, Helen. Do I need to go into detail of what I found? Do I need to tell you how despicable, how offensive, how degrading…how sickening that collection was? How young those children were? I don’t, do I? You’ll know.
Payback Page 21
