Sea of Suspicion (22 page)

The rage reignited inside Nick. He didn’t want to hear this shit. He stared at Callie. She popped her gum.

“In South Africa we fell in love.” Jake plowed on, oblivious. “I was going to marry her, but she died—in an
accident
—I didn’t kill her, and neither did Callie!”

Nick looked at the man who’d destroyed his life. Returning the favor was the least he could do.

“It was your wife who put me on to Callie actually, and the little bitch
did
do it, probably with the help of your other kids.” He pointed his finger. “All because you couldn’t keep your dick in your trousers. I mean, I knew Judy would lie to protect you, but confess to murder? Seemed a bit extreme given your lax interpretation of your wedding vows, but a mother’s love for her child? That crosses all boundaries…” Nick stopped talking.

His heart stuttered and for a second he didn’t think it was ever going to start again. He’d never experienced it, but he knew there was nothing stronger than a mother’s love.

Bloody hell
. A light switched on inside his head.

“Judy mentioned something about a break-in in your garden shed a few weeks ago. What did they take?”

Jake looked flummoxed by the change in conversation. Callie yawned.

“Some tools. I don’t know. The place was trashed.”

Nick would bet a hundred quid someone had stolen a hammer hoping for latent fingerprints. And suddenly he knew exactly who had killed Tracy Good and the adrenaline kick-started his heart with a rush of blood. And while Jake’s lecherous appetite had put Tracy in the bull’s-eye, it was Nick himself who’d gotten the girl killed.

Shit
. Was Susie in danger? Indecision warred inside him. He was so close to finally getting a solid confession out of Callie Sizemore because she thought she was so frickin’ clever. But Susie’s safety was more vital than bitter promises or overdue justice. And it hit him like a wrecking ball that Susie was more important than anything: his pride, his vendetta, his fear of getting his heart broken again.

He tried to slip out, but Callie caught him at the front door and grabbed his arm.

“We chummed the water to draw them in.” She spoke quietly. “Chrissie was conscious. Even after the first few strikes, she was wide awake. We had to force her away from the boat with an oar.” Malice blazed in her eyes. “She was a fighter. A fighter and a screamer.”

Icy shivers ran up his back.

“And she screamed like a fucking banshee when the sharks tore her apart.”

Time was suspended as revulsion boiled in his stomach. He held her smug gaze as he pulled a tiny digital voice recorder from his pocket and showed it to her. His voice cracked. “I’m no expert, but this should give the South African authorities enough to reopen the investigation.”

She lunged for the device but he towered over her and held it high. It might not be enough for a conviction, but it would throw the shadow of suspicion on the whole damn family for the rest of their miserable lives.

He opened the door to a chorus of little voices.

“Trick or treat!”

He edged past the miniature ghosts and witches with a shudder. The monsters lived inside that house.

“Emily! Come in! Everyone has been so worried.” Susie smiled as she opened the door. No one had actually said it, but it was obvious everyone thought Emily was dead. Relieved, Susie propped her laptop against the wall, caught the older woman’s arm and dragged her inside. “Did you see Lily? She’s been worried sick about you.”

Susie drew her into the kitchen, flicking on lights as she went. Emily’s hair was tangled by the wind, frizzed by ocean spray, but apart from that she looked perfectly
compos mentis
. Her thick winter coat was wrapped snugly around her waist, her sturdy purse pinned beneath her arm.

“Do you want coffee? Tea?”

“Tea. I’d love a cup of tea. Milk, one sugar, please.” Emily lowered herself into the kitchen chair, which creaked in protest. “I couldn’t find the car keys so I got the bus into town to buy Halloween treats.” Her eyes crinkled, forming confused triangles. “I left a note for Lily, but when I got home she wasn’t there.”

Susie frowned, reassessing Emily. Lily would not have been panicked if she’d seen a note. She wouldn’t have called out the Search and Rescue teams if she’d known her mother had just popped into town for candy. Even now helicopters buzzed in the distance, running search patterns for Emily’s body. Unless Lily hadn’t spotted the note in her initial haste?

“Let me call her.” Then Lily could call Nick, because Susie didn’t want to speak to him and the feeling would be mutual.

She was still coming to terms with the fact that as much as Nick claimed to care about her, he’d used her and lied to her to avenge his dead wife. Susie forced a smile and picked up the phone from the counter, checked Lily’s cell number from a neatly printed list she kept beside the phone. The call went through, but she got a busy signal and was bumped straight to voicemail.

“Hi, Lily, great news. Your mom’s safe and at my place. Give me a call and cancel the search party.”

Grinning, Susie turned around. “She’s going to be so relieved. They have helicopters and half the countryside out looking for you.”

Emily squeezed her fingers in her lap. “I don’t know why she made such a fuss, silly girl.”

“She loves you.” Susie looked at the pallor in the old woman’s skin and decided to opt for something stronger than tea. “Here, let’s celebrate with a real drink.” She pulled down a bottle of twenty-one-year-old Glengoyne and poured two fingers’ worth into crystal tumblers.

She handed one of the snifters to Emily and took a drink of her own, letting the alcohol sear her throat.

Emily took a sip. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Think of it as medicinal.” Susie put down her glass and went into the hall to slip out of her jacket. She wasn’t going anywhere until Emily was in safe hands.

“Do we actually get trick-or-treaters out here?” Susie called.

“We used to. Some of the kids from Kingsbarns would wander down or get driven by their parents, but I always have sweets in the house for the girls. I don’t like the idea of them walking the streets and knocking on strangers’ doors. It seems so dangerous…”

She trailed off as Susie walked back into the kitchen frowning. Maybe Emily wasn’t all right after all. Susie picked up her scotch and took a hearty swallow. God, she needed a drink after the day she’d had, and it beat the heck out of painkillers.

“Life is dangerous,” Susie agreed. “Doesn’t matter how careful you are, things can still go wrong.”

Emily had a strange expression on her face. “Why don’t you have any children?”

Susie held Emily’s gaze but wasn’t sure the woman was really seeing her. “I want to have kids, but I haven’t found the right guy to settle down with.” And never would, she realized now. She finished her drink and reached for the bottle to pour herself another one. One more wouldn’t hurt.

Susie blinked herself awake. Wow, she’d almost nodded off.

“I see you, Susie Cooper.” Emily’s voice had a teasing quality, but there was a disconcerting look in the woman’s eyes. “You’re trying to steal Christina’s husband for yourself.”

Susie’s dry throat convulsed. “No—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Emily screamed, rising to her feet as Susie gaped in shock. “Don’t you dare lie to me!” The old woman shook her finger at Susie, leaning over her, blue eyes wild.

Susie felt her heart thump woodenly, but despite the fact that Emily was scaring her, she actually felt as if she was about to fall asleep. Her lids drooped as heavy as lead, and the tips of her fingers tingled, turning numb.

“I’m not lying,” Susie protested, trying to stand up.

“I saw you.” Spittle flew from Emily’s mouth and Susie flinched.

She tried to climb to her feet but they got all tangled up. She should remember not to mix scotch and pain pills in the future.

“I saw your picture in the newspaper. You were all over him!”

Ah…that
.

“And I saw his car here earlier. I know what you were doing with another woman’s husband. You should be ashamed!”

“Was nuffing.” Susie swayed, tried to use the table for balance but it screeched across the kitchen floor and she dropped to her knees.
Ow
. “I fink I need help, Emily.”

Keeping her eyes open took all Susie’s energy. The elderly woman just stood there looking at her.

“You should never have tried to steal my daughter’s husband, you little slut.” Emily took a step toward her and slapped her across the face.

Shock rippled through Susie’s body like a stone thrown into a deep lake. Even though she knew she had to get up and get help, her limbs wouldn’t cooperate. Her mouth was parched and her tongue too swollen to form words. Her eyes closed and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t crack them back open. Then she felt herself being dragged across the floor like some rag doll.

After that she felt nothing at all.

Callie killed Chrissie, but she had no motive to kill Tracy because no way in hell was her dad going to give up his comfy life for an easy lay. Nick floored the accelerator, punching the brakes on the hairpin turns, screeching around corners while his mind screamed,
This can’t be right
. He’d put away too many murderers. Knew the psyche, knew the signs. But Emily hadn’t been herself for some time now.

He’d missed the clues. Maybe because that maternal bond was the one sentiment he had never experienced. It was a force beyond his comprehension.

Was the dementia an act? Or had mental illness let the need for revenge overtake social convention? Or had Emily simply lost faith in the justice system and taken the law into her own hands?

Rocket whimpered as he slid on slick claws around the boot of the car.

“Sorry, boy.” Nick slowed for a second before the panic roared back through his mind like a spark through an engine and he put his foot down again.

Susie
.

She’ll be fine
, he told himself. Emily wouldn’t go after Susie just because they’d slept together. Would she?

Emily was missing. Possibly dead. He should be mourning her, not worried she was running around town avenging years of injustice. But sweat ran down his spine and his gut told him Susie was in danger.

He’d give his life to protect her. She meant more to him than anybody ever had—so why had he forced her out of his life? Was Ewan right? Was he using what had happened with Chrissie as an excuse not to be happy? Was he such an emotional coward he wasn’t willing to give their relationship another shot?

The circle of violence worked its evil through generation after generation. He’d seen it a thousand times and was scared he was already tainted. And he, big bad homicide detective, was terrified of passing it on, of perpetuating the vicious cycle.

But it didn’t have to be that way.

Look at what he shared with his friends, look at what he’d done with his life. He’d always viewed himself as damaged, but maybe he was just scared. Maybe inside he was that defenseless little boy terrified of having his soul torn asunder.

Love was dangerous. For anyone in this uncertain world brave enough to risk it, love was dangerous. And he loved Susie.

He didn’t know when he’d realized it for sure—maybe the first time he’d kissed her and she’d tasted like hope. Maybe that moment on the beach when he’d driven her away with the bare bones of the truth, but hadn’t had the balls to admit the very real emotions that swamped him every time he thought of her.

Now he might never get the chance.

He pulled out his mobile phone. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he was forced to pull over into a farm gate to dial because it was too dark to see the numbers.

He tried Susie first, prayed she was locked up nice and tight in her cottage, crying her eyes out over what a bastard he was. No one answered and he waited an age for the answerphone to kick in. Damn. He put the car in gear and started driving one handed. “Susie, this is important. Whatever happens, don’t open the door to
anyone
but me. No one. Not even Emily.”

He rang off and dialed Ewan’s number, trying not to end up in the ditch. “I think I know who killed Tracy Good,” he said when Ewan answered.

“Who?”

Nick heard Ewan’s kids moaning in the background. “What are you up to?” Nick asked him.

“I’m about to take the kids trick-or-treating.” The sound muted as if someone put their hand over the receiver. “Go kiss your mother before we head out.”

Shit
. Nick wished this whole nightmare was part of his imagination—unfortunately, Tracy was dead.

But every police officer in the county was already on the lookout for Emily Heathcote as a missing person. The Coastguard was combing the coastline for her body.

“Emily Heathcote. I think she killed Tracy Good to try and set up Jake Sizemore because she believed he killed her daughter.” That lay at Nick’s door. He’d been the one to rant and rave about the man when Chrissie died. To vow revenge. Now he had to face the fact that he was wrong.

“Hell’s bells.” Ewan sucked in a breath. “You told me she was suffering from dementia.”

“Maybe she is, or maybe she was conning us all along. I’m going out to her cottage to see if she’s turned up yet, and then I’m taking Susie out to Dougie and Leanne’s house for safety.”

“You think Susie’s in danger?”

Dread gnawed on the ragged edges of his nerves. Emily would have seen the photograph of them in the newspaper and she’d have seen his car at Susie’s house over the last few days. The panic tearing up Nick’s heart was serrated and hot-edged. “I don’t know, but I can’t risk it.”

Don’t let anything happen to Susie
. Not because she’d been dumb enough to fall for him.

“The kids can wait an hour before we head out…” Ewan said.

Nick heard the chorus of moans from Ewan’s kids, and disgust washed through him at stealing their father when their mother lay wasting in the next room.

And maybe Nick was wrong. Maybe he was imagining the whole thing as an excuse to go see Susie again. Payback for spending too many years living undercover with people who’d slit your throat for a cigarette.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you from Dougie’s house.” He hung up and cut down a lane used by tractors, speeding across the flat eerie landscape toward the lights of Kingsbarns which shone across the fields. His heart steadied because he was almost there.

A hairpin corner rushed at him. He tapped the brakes but the back wheels started to slide and the car spun. The steering wheel ripped out of his hands as the car slammed into a stone wall. Rocket howled, the sound penetrating Nick’s skull like a drill as the airbag smashed into his face, bashing his nose. Darkness swept over him, dragging him down.

The sensation of a wet tongue licking his face snapped him back into consciousness. He didn’t know how long he’d been out. His lips tasted of blood but he didn’t think he was seriously injured. He struggled with the white floaty airbag and tried to undo his seatbelt. The bloody thing jammed. Frustration and fear scrambled along his nerves.

He had to get to Susie.

A loud, piercing shriek roused her. Rough carpet scraped her cheek with every labored breath she stole. Susie coughed, drawing in smoke that made her stomach retch and her eyes water. Instinctively she squeezed her eyelids together against the fierce throb, but even that small movement felt like torture. Pain hammered her skull and sweat poured off her body.

Only the smoke alarm kept her from closing her eyes and going back to sleep. Damn that thing. She tried to raise a hand but couldn’t. It felt heavy, not enough oxygen in her system to fuel movement.

Her cottage was on fire.

Hell.

She should be scared but the thick throbbing in her head made it hard even to acknowledge fear. Flames crawled up one wall of her office, eating her wall calendar. Her drysuit hung beside it. Slightly battered, a little threadbare. Before Dela’s death it had been Susie’s most treasured possession. Electric pink and neon green. The heat was starting to melt the neoprene. She turned her head away, watched a flame dancing up the leg of her desk, a foot from her nose, heading toward her computer.

Had she backed up her files? She drew her knees up to her chest and groaned. She hadn’t backed up that damned review she’d been working on, nor the one and only picture she had of her son…She rolled onto her front, onto her knees like a baby in the womb. Heat pressed against her skin, stretching it tight over her flesh.

Smoke filled the air, thick and black, flooding her airways, making her cough, making her head throb and tears stream down her cheeks. She touched the mouse and her computer came to life. She didn’t have much time. Her email was open. Swaying on her feet she sent an email to herself, attaching the image, hardly able to stand. An ember fell on her bare arm and she flinched, rubbing the burn, her vision swimming, blackness swirling, but she fought it. If she passed out again, she was dead.

The crackle of flames was deafening. Dragging the telephone unit toward her she dialed 911. Then she remembered Britain had a different emergency service number, but couldn’t recall what it was. She dropped the phone, couldn’t hear above the flames anyway. The air was so hot it hurt her lungs, and she had to get out. She glanced to her left and saw her dive cylinders. Finally realized she had to get out
now
before they exploded. She staggered to the floor and crawled into the hall.

The hardwood hurt her knees, but the air was cleaner. She shuffled toward the front door, her breath coming in desperate gasps. Sweat dripping down her face. She couldn’t remember what had happened. There was a noise behind her and she flipped onto her back just as a poker crashed into the wood beside her cheek.

“Oh no, you don’t, you little whore!” Emily Heathcote loomed over her, her hair disheveled, soot streaking her face like camo paint. She looked wild.
Insane
. She raised the poker again, a look of intense concentration wrinkling her face.

“Emily. No!” Screams stuck in Susie’s throat. The older woman took a swipe at Susie’s head but Susie lunged away, kicking at her attacker’s knee. The joint buckled and Emily howled with pain and fell backward as the roar of the fire intensified.

Susie couldn’t believe she’d just injured an old lady. There was a blast in her office, windows cracking, and Susie tried to pull away, but Emily grabbed her ankle.

“What is wrong with you?” Susie yelled, pumping her feet, trying to get free, fending off Emily’s poker-wielding hand with both of her own. Her head pounded and her energy was flagging. Emily seemed to sense it, forcing her back against the floor, hate and determination blazing from her eyes.

“You shouldn’t have seduced Christina’s husband. You shouldn’t have tried to take her place!”

Gathering all her strength, Susie punched Emily in the nose and her head snapped back. Susie wondered if she’d go to hell for socking a senior. A voice rose above the noise of the fire and the alarm. Susie thought she heard a dog barking.

“Dr. Cooper! Susie!” It was a terrified, high-pitched yell. Female. Emily’s startled gaze shot to the front door as the handle turned and there was Lily on the threshold of the cottage, shielding her face from the heat and bending low to avoid the billowing smoke. She stared at the poker in her mother’s hand.

“Mom?” Lily’s horrified glance shot between Susie and the woman holding her. “What are you doing?”

“Get us out of here!” Susie shouted. Lily ran inside, yanked the poker out of her mother’s hand, flinging it along the hallway into the flames. She grabbed Susie’s wrist, hauling her along the slippery floor, dragging her mother along too. Suddenly male fingers clamped Susie’s wrist and hauled her out the door and into the beautiful cool air.

Susie drew in oxygen like a black hole sucking in stars. Relief rose up inside her so big, so enormous she thought her brain might explode. Someone swept her off her feet, carried her away from the heat and the flames. Laid her on the grass well away from the fire.

“Jesus, Susie. I thought I’d lost you.” It was Nick, holding her, cradling her head in his palms. Whispering words of comfort. She held him tight, filled with relief. She had almost died in there. Would have died if they hadn’t rescued her. She was so happy to see him, so happy to have his hands stroking her hair.

“Did she hurt you?” he asked.

Rocket came over and licked her hand. Fresh tears flooded her eyes and she reminded herself murder was Nick’s job. She was a crime victim. It didn’t mean he loved her.

Blood trickled from his nose but he didn’t seem to notice. He watched her with panic-stricken eyes, the harsh angles of his face backlit with flames from the burning cottage. Her home.
Dammit
. She struggled to sit up, glancing across at Emily, who was fighting with Lily and Rafael. Rafael held on tight with an apprehensive glance at Nick.

“She deserved to die! She was nothing but a cheap slut,” Emily raged.