Page 40 of Hidden Daughters (Detective Lottie Parker #15)

Boyd was drinking a glass of tap water because he’d already had more than his daily quota of tea. By the stove, Grace stood rigid and tall, slapping meat onto a pan. Her mood warned him not to say he wasn’t hungry.

‘I cannot for the life of me believe you’re with that woman. She only thinks of herself.’

‘I thought you liked Lottie.’

‘I did. From a distance. Up close, I’m not so sure. Why are you even with her?’

‘I love her,’ he said.

‘Hmph, whatever love is.’

‘Don’t you love Bryan?’

Without hesitation, she said, ‘I like him, and he keeps me safe and makes me happy. If that’s love, then I do love him.’

Boyd wondered about his attraction to Lottie.

He loved her, of course he did, but she rarely thought of her own safety, let alone his.

He was happy. Wasn’t he? He missed Sergio and couldn’t wait to see him again at the weekend.

He’d give Amy a ring later and ask to talk to his son.

He helped ground him like no one else could. Not even Lottie.

‘And another thing,’ Grace said, ‘I don’t know what your Lottie said to my Bryan, but he’s been too quiet since she arrived.’

‘Don’t you think maybe Bryan said something to her?’

The meat sizzled and she smacked it with a spatula, grease bubbles splashing upwards. The smell of burning caught in his lungs.

She said, ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Nothing, Grace. Forget it.’

He saw her lower the heat on the range. She turned around, the spatula a menacing weapon in her hand. ‘You started this, Mark, so God help you, you better finish it.’

‘No, you…’ The look she gave him made him sit up straight. ‘I think you need to speak with Bryan. There’s something on his mind and it’s none of my business.’

‘Oh, but you think it’s Lottie Parker’s business, do you?’ This was a side of Grace he’d never seen before.

‘It’s Bryan’s business, not hers. The thing is, he made it hers.’

‘Explain.’ She sat at the table and laid down the greasy utensil before hastily lifting it again, eyeing the stain on the wood.

‘I can’t. I just know there’s something on his mind and he may have spoken to Lottie about it.’

She seemed to mull this over. ‘Why wouldn’t he talk to me?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘It must be police business then.’ A line of worry creased her forehead. ‘Did he do something awful that I should know about?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘But you’re not sure? I’m marrying him, Mark, I have a right to know.’

‘Not certain it works that way, Gracie. Talk to him.’

‘Where I am concerned, it does work that way.’ She got up and returned to her cooking. ‘Now the mince is burned.’

Her shoulders were slumped, shoulder blades trembling.

And he couldn’t think of a thing to say to reassure her.

She knew she couldn’t trust that woman. She was a cop.

Whether on duty or on holidays, they were cops twenty-four/seven.

She would never trust them no matter how kind or caring they pretended to be.

They were all the same. Wanted to squeeze you dry.

Leaving you without a drop of self-esteem in your system.

They hadn’t helped people like her and her family before, and they wouldn’t help now.

When she’d opened her eyes in the car and seen where she’d been brought, she almost had a heart attack.

O’Shaughnessy’s place. Why the woman had brought her there, she had no idea, and she had no intention of hanging around to find out.

Seeing Bryan O’Shaughnessy was not on her agenda.

She felt that that bridge was well and truly burned. Just like poor old Mickey Fox.

She’d got out of the car unseen and unheard, and crept back down the road a little bit before climbing over a wall into a field. She’d crawled like a fugitive along the inside of the stonework.

The cottage ruins she’d come upon had no roof and little shelter from the elements, but it might allow her time to get her thoughts straight.

The waves crashing in the distance, far below on the rocky seashore, didn’t scare her.

She welcomed the sound. It calmed her. But she couldn’t become too relaxed.

She had to make a plan. Seeing the aftermath of what had happened to Mickey scared her more than anything that had gone before.

She was tough, but not so tough that she did not fear the evil she’d witnessed.

The wind made it feel cold, even though the sun was beaming. She wished she had more than her fleece jacket to warm her up. She’d have to make do. Make a plan. Huh, look where her plans had got her so far. Nowhere.

She was still in danger.

She’d been hunted into a corner, and here she was.

But she was a fighter. She would not give up. Not yet.

She tried to settle herself in the ruin. But she felt as if old ghosts were rising from the walls with the wind. And she shuddered violently.