Retribution (Sebastian Trilogy Book 3) (12 page)

“Sebastian, I miss you.
”
My whispered words are barely audible over his laboured breathing. “I love you and want to be with you.”

“Soon, darling. We’ll be together soon.
”
His voice is husky. In my mind I visualise his arm around my shoulders, my head on his chest, listening as his thudding heart settles. “I talked to Scarlett today.”

“And? When is she leaving?”

“She’s trying to find somewhere, Elizabeth. She’s job hunting. I saw her looking online. You’ll be back where you belong shortly, with me at Penmorrow.”

“Yes,
”
I whisper. “Where I belong.”

We talk for another few minutes, until his voice grows sleepy and he cuts the call. Soon afterwards, I hear a taxi pull up and then the bang of the front door, followed by the unsteady footsteps of my daughter. Sleep claims me. Bella is home, all is well.

***

Bored at home, after too much time moping around, Ruth convinces me to go to work. I’ve missed my colleagues and my little office. It feels good to have a sense of purpose once more but a little disheartening that our business runs so well without me. Everyone is so warm and eager to stop by my office to say hello. Ruth has done an outstanding job of running the business in my long absence. We are exceeding our financial projections; Sebastian will no doubt be delighted that his investment is returning a handsome uplift. Ruth emails him the management accounts each month and he can’t fail to be impressed though he rarely mentions it. Glossy brochures on my desk await my attention this morning. New offices have just been released in town; we have long since outgrown the current offices so a move is much needed. Sipping a mug of coffee, I flick through the brochures when my mobile phone rings. “Elizabeth Dove speaking.”

“Mrs. Dove, good morning. DI Chambers here. Is it a good time to talk?”

“Yes, yes of course,
”
I stammer, his call taking me by surprise. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting your call. I thought you were on leave?”

“I am on leave but I wanted to speak to you. We’ve got some news, actually. Some rather disturbing news.”

Chapter 13

Chewing the end of a pen impatiently, I await the news wishing DI Chambers would spit it out, whatever it is. “Go on please,
”
I urge.

“The blood results have come back from the lab. Perfectly normal, just shows fluoxetine which of course corresponds to the anti-depressants you are taking.”

“I see.
”
Oh my God
. The enormity of this statement hits me squarely in the stomach and knocks the breath from my lungs. I’m aware that I’m gasping for air and can hear the officer saying my name over and over yet I can’t speak. Scarlett was lacing my food. There is no other explanation for how the drug is in my blood. I haven’t swallowed a single tablet knowingly. What do I do?
Think, Beth. Think.

“Mrs. Dove, whatever is the matter?
”
His tone is insistent. If I can’t talk to him, trust him, who can I trust?

Taking a deep breath at last, my voice is calm. “I didn’t take the medication. I have never taken a single tablet prescribed for me by the psychiatrist.”

There is silence as he considers what I have just told him. When he speaks, confusion is evident in his voice. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,
”
he says gruffly. “You told me, and the police physician, that you have been taking anti-depressants. Are you saying you lied?”

“Yes,
”
I murmur shamefully. “I’m afraid I did.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because everyone wanted me to take the pills. Nobody believed that I wasn’t going mad. I had no choice.”

“I think perhaps we should talk face-to-face. Where are you?
”
he asks. Having given him the address of my office, he tells me he will be here within the hour. I am in so much trouble.

How do you get yourself in these situations?
I ask myself. Think. I have to think. Now he knows the truth, the police will arrest Scarlett, search her room at Penmorrow, and uncover a secret stash of pills. I wonder where she is getting them. Perhaps she has a black market supplier. Maybe she has been prescribed them herself. Or is using up an old supply of Libby’s. So many questions still unanswered, so much explaining to do.

Someone softly knocks on my office door. “Come in,
”
I call.

The young pretty secretary who was sent to us by an agency this morning to cover illness, peers around the door. “Sorry to disturb you, Beth. There’s a gentleman here to see you. A policeman called DI Chambers.”

“Show him in, Sandra. And make some coffee, please.
”
My mouth is dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. Nerves. I must calm down. “Thank you for coming.
”
I shake DI Chambers’s large abrasive hand and indicate for him to sit on the worn sofa, swivelling my executive leather chair around to face him. This puts me higher than he, giving me the advantage of power according to interview techniques. “I’m sorry to eat into your valuable time off.”

“Quite all right, Mrs. Dove.
”
He smiles, placing the familiar yellow folder beside him.

“Elizabeth. Beth. Please.”

“Beth. Very good. Now then, you say you haven’t been taking any of the medication prescribed for you?”

“No. That’s correct. I wanted to appease my family and friends, let them believe I was getting better by taking the pills. But, deep down, I knew that Scarlett was drugging me somehow. The hallucinations, the paranoia—it was made worse after she prepared food or drink for me, you see.
”
He makes notes in a worn blue notebook. Sandra taps lightly on the door and enters without waiting for a response, placing a tray of coffee cups and a plate of chocolate biscuits on my desk. I thank her and she leaves, closing the door behind her. “Please help yourself.
”
I indicate to the refreshments. DI Chambers takes a cup and biscuit, munching noisily as crumbs litter his lap.

“So,
”
I continue. “I thought that, by coming back to Dorset and away from her, it would prove what she had done. If my head cleared and the symptoms disappeared, when I knew I wasn’t taking the medication, then that would evidence her guilt.”

He shoves the last morsel of biscuit in his mouth and reaches for another. “May I?
”
he asks, the biscuit in his mouth before I can answer.

“Please do.
”
I smile. “The fact that the anti-depressant has been found in my blood should be evidence enough for you to take this seriously.
”
Leaning forward in my chair, my eyes lock on his, my expression imploring and urgent.

“Believe me, Beth, we are taking this seriously or I wouldn’t be here today. I’d be fishing right now.
”
He spits tiny crumbs of biscuit as he talks.

“I’m sorry. I appreciate it, I really do. You said you had disturbing news. If it wasn’t the blood results, what was it?
”
His initial remark only now comes back to me.

Brushing crumbs from his lap and crossing his legs, he regards me as only a seasoned police officer having encountered every possible element of society can do—with professional detachment and trained composure. “What you have just told me adds a new dimension to the case, and we will be acting on the information you have shared. However, what I was more concerned about, Beth, were the findings of the local plods where she used to live, up in Rosthwaite.”

“What did they find?
”
My breath catches as I nervously tug at my watch.

“It’s taken a while to follow her trail. She changed her name, that’s why it’s been so difficult. Seems our Scarlett was in fact born Sarah Dorling. Parents, Emily and Frederick Dorling. Look at this.
”
From the yellow folder, he retrieves a piece of paper and hands it to me. Photocopied onto it is a newspaper cutting. “Read it, please.”

Police launched a murder investigation after a man and woman were found bludgeoned to death in Rosthwaite early this morning. The victims, in their mid 50s, were found in a house on Wick Road and pronounced dead at the scene. No formal identification has yet taken place. A post mortem is due to be held later today. Detective Inspector Trevor Morefield, of the murder squad, said: “We are eager to hear from anyone who was near Wick Road, which is close to the Holiday Inn on the South Circular Road, at around six in the morning on Saturday the twenty-seventh of November. It is possible someone may have seen or heard something suspicious but is unaware of its significance. Any information will be treated in the strictest confidence.”

The article concludes by listing the telephone numbers for the incident room and Crimestoppers. Handing the paper back to DI Chambers, I note his austere expression. He hands me another sheet of paper, a further newspaper article, and this time showing the smiling faces of a middle-aged couple. “That’s Frederick and Emily Dorling.
”
My hands tremble as I clutch the paper and read.

Police in Rosthwaite have today issued a statement in connection with the murder of a couple on Wick Road. The victims have been named as 52-year-old Frederick Dorling and his 51-year-old wife, Emily. The couple were found dead at their home on the twenty-seventh of November, having suffered blunt force trauma to their heads. Detective Inspector Trevor Morefield, of the murder squad, said: “We would like to appeal to the public for information on the whereabouts of Sarah Emily Dorling, aged 19. Miss Dorling is wanted in connection with the murders of her parents, Frederick and Emily. Anyone who knows where Sarah Dorling is, or who has seen her in the last seven days should call the incident room immediately. Miss Dorling is not to be approached by the public.”

A black and white image of a young woman with a plump face and close-cropped hair stares coldly from the paper. Goose bumps prickle my arms. Ice courses through my veins as I recognise Scarlett. “Oh my God.
”
My eyes meet those of the police inspector whose countenance is dour. He takes the paper from my shaking hands and slips it into the folder.

“Oh my God, indeed. It seems that Sarah Dorling has evaded capture for all this time. With a new name, place to live, sheltered life, it’s no wonder she wasn’t found.”

“But Sebastian would have seen the news, he must have recognised her.
”
My hand covers my mouth, my eyes widen. The officer watches my reaction.

“Lord De Montfort will be questioned later today. He’s currently helping police with their enquiries in Exeter.
”
Oh no. My poor darling…he couldn’t have known.

“Scarlett…?”

“Gone. Officers arrived at Penmorrow just after eight this morning but there was no sign of her. Seems she was planning to move on in any case. Officers found evidence of packing in her room but it seems she fled before she had the chance to take anything with her. Very mysterious. It’s almost as if she just vanished again.”

“Gone…
”
The officer nods. “Are the police searching for her?
”
This is all too much to take in. I want to be in Sebastian’s arms, to hear him whisper that all is well. Instead, my poor, dear love is at a police station. I need to go to him. Now.

“I have to ask you, Mrs. Dove, can you think of anything that his Lordship may have said, now or in the past, that may indicate that he knew about Miss Dorling’s past?”

“Nothing…no, absolutely not,
”
I reply without hesitation.

“Or anything he may have said to Scarlett—Miss Dorling—that has seemed at all unusual to you?”

My mind flicks through the plethora of conversations we have had about her. So many arguments, so much said. Then it comes back to me, the distant memory of something I overheard Sebastian say to Scarlett on the phone.

“Scarlett, you’ve done well. You’ll be rewarded when I return.
”
It was after the accident, at the house. Dora and Brian had just left and I remember wondering what he meant at the time but everything was such a blur back then. I wasn’t thinking straight. Could this mean he planned the accident with Scarlett? He wouldn’t. He loved Joe. Sebastian is not capable of such wickedness. I
know
him. I love him and need him. If I tell the police, what will happen to him, to Bella and me? I have to trust him. I will ask Sebastian about it and then decide what to do.

“No,
”
I say resolutely. “I can’t think of anything.
”
The officer stares at me, my face flushing a deep hot crimson.

“Are you sure about that, Mrs. Dove?
”
Why the formality? Why has he stopped calling me Beth? He can see through my lies.

“I’m sure.”

“Very good, if you’re certain. We’ll be in touch, but in the meantime, I suggest you take precautions with your safety until she’s found. We can’t rule out the risk to your wellbeing. If she has already tried to harm you, which would seem the case, then there is no guarantee she doesn’t present a continued risk to you.
”
Fear grips me. I hadn’t considered that she may come after me. Of course she will. I become aware of a shrill buzzing; DI Chambers retrieves a mobile phone from his trouser pocket and steps out of my office to take the call in private. He returns a few minutes later, his expression unreadable.

“There’s been a development. Shoes and a black uniform dress have been found on the beach. Lord De Montfort has identified them as belonging to his maid. Divers will be deployed there shortly but it would seem that Sarah Dorling may have taken her own life.”