Page 75 of Vengeance is Mine

‘I know. It’s what they’re good at. I just don’t want them upsetting Harry and Barbara.’

Kyra studied her boss for a while. ‘You’re very fond of them, aren’t you?’

‘They were like parents to me when I was growing up. They still are in a way.’

Terry had a wistful look in his eye, and his mind seemed to drift as he stared into space.

‘Right then,’ Kyra said, standing up. ‘I’ll go and find this solicitor.’

She stood in the doorway and turned back to look at the sad expression painted on her boss’s face. She couldn’t help but feel this case was going to have an adverse effect on him. The Superintendent should never have laid it on his shoulders. He wasn’t strong enough.

Chapter Thirty-Three

There was still one person Terry hadn’t told about Dominic Griffiths’ death – his father, DI Ian Braithwaite. Terry visited him often in the residential home he was now living in, but it was a fifty-fifty gamble whether Ian would be lucid or not. There were times he didn’t even recognise Terry. That was heartbreaking. Despite Harry and Barbara being excellent substitute parents, there was nothing like the real thing, and Ian was the only true family member Terry had left. He decided he’d pay him a visit that night after work, and if his dad was of sound enough mind to hear the news, Terry hoped he’d take it in a similar way to the Whites and not descend into a deep depression.

From the police station, Terry drove to Dawn’s flat in Ryton. For the purpose of the investigation, he needed to know what Dominic had been up to in the year since his release from prison.

He pressed the intercom and stood back, looking up at the grey building. He wondered if he should sell his dad’s house and go for something cheaper and smaller. He didn’t need to be living in a four-bedroom house. He never understood why his father had bought it in the first place. The residential home wasn’t cheap, so Terry could certainly do with the funds.

‘I wondered when you’d come calling. Push the door.’

Terry raised his eyebrows at Dawn Shepherd’s stern tone. He pushed open the heavy security door and made his way to the top floor. By the time he reached it, she was already standing in the open doorway.

‘Ms Shepherd. I’m not sure if you remember me?—’

‘From this morning? Of course I do.’

‘I meant from… Well, it was about?—’

‘Last year, you mean? When you threatened me? Yes, I remember.’ She turned and went back into the flat. He followed, closing the door behind him.

‘I did not threaten you, Ms Shepherd.’

‘You stated, very clearly, that I was to keep away from Barbara White and her husband. Your tone was threatening. You actually frightened me.’

Dawn was stood by the kitchen units. She had her arms tightly folded across her chest. She was wearing black tracksuit bottoms and a dusky pink top. Her dyed brown hair was resting on her shoulders. It was damp, and her face was red from the heat of a recent shower. There was a scent of fragranced shampoo in the air.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking down at his feet. ‘That was never my intention. Harry and Barbara have been through a great deal over the years. I feel very protective towards them.’

Dawn’s face softened. ‘I can understand that. Shall we put it behind us and move on?’

‘I’d like that,’ he said, an awkward smile on his face.

‘Would you like a cup of tea or something?’

‘I’d love a coffee. It’s cold out there.’

‘I’m afraid it’s not much warmer in here,’ she said, as she set about making them both a drink. ‘I’ve finally got my landlord to repair my boiler, but if I try and get the thermostat any warmer than fifteen degrees, the boiler can’t cope, and it dies on me. Thank goodness for woolly jumpers.’ She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. ‘No need to stand on ceremony. Take a seat.’

‘Thank you.’

He sat on the sofa and looked around the flat. It was basic and compact, but it had everything Dawn would have needed. There was a small table and chairs in front of the window, which she obviously used more for work than eating, judging by the open laptop and files next to it. A large-screen TV dominated the feature wall, and a table was placed beneath it. There was one door leading off, which Terry guessed led to the bedroom and bathroom.

‘Milk and sugar?’

‘No milk. One sugar, thanks.’

She brought the drinks over and placed them on the heavily stained coffee table. She went back to the kitchen area, picked up a plastic tub and plonked it next to the mug. She removed the lid, and Terry saw it was full of chocolate bars. She told him to help himself after she extracted a Mars and a Twix.