The Voyeur Page 10

  Layla eyed the trickles of blood as it oozed through her sister’s fingers. She backed along the balcony, unsteady on her feet, and walked towards their home. “If you go near my Charlie again, I’ll scar you for life, bitch,” she shouted as she turned and strolled away.

  Chloe rolled into a ball and rocked back and forth. Sobs wracked her body, and pain seared from so many places she was unable to think. She knew better than to move for a while. One thing she was sure—there would have been numerous witnesses to the attack. However, she also knew the majority would be either be frightened, hostile, or worse indifferent. Chloe remained on the hard concrete. Coldness seeped through her clothes into her body and wheedled its way into her bloodstream as she listened to distant doors slam shut—the audience gradually realising there would be no encore. Chloe looked down at her shaking, blood-soaked hands until a hushed demanding voice drilled through her thoughts.

  “Psst…Girl. Can you crawl to me?

  Chloe looked over her shoulder in the direction of the voice. She focused on Elsie as she dragged one large leg to meet the other. Elsie grimaced with each movement, came to a stop, and leaned back against the wall, resting her torso and gulping for air.

  A hint of a smile formed on Chloe’s face as she watched Elsie use the wall for support. She pulled herself onto shaky legs, stilling until she was sure they could hold her weight. Chloe focused on Elsie and edged towards her, meeting her halfway.

  24

  Giggling at Delilah, Olivia blew the tomato-covered pasta pierced on the end of her fork, opened her mouth, and savoured the herby taste and the cheeky chilli kick as she chewed. She washed the mouthful down with a swig of ice-cold water while trying to ignore the insistent beep of incoming texts.

  “If that’s work, you can tell them where to go. In fact, don’t even look at it. Whoever it is can wait.” A cheeky grin spread across Delilah’s face as she grabbed the phone from her friends’s hand. “After all, what’s more important than your best friend’s stories about her social life?” she said, glancing at the text. “What’s he texting you for? And how did he even get hold of your new number?”

  Olivia stared at her friend. Not having an answer for her that she’d want to hear, she shrugged her shoulders, reached for her phone, and, ignoring Delilah’s furrowed brow, opened the text.

  Where r u? We need 2 talk asap.

  Olivia regarded her friend. “I’m going to have to reply. It looks urgent.”

  “Bullshit, Liv. Have you forgotten everything? Don’t you remember how you suffered last time? He’s bad news for you professionally. And don’t get me started how he messed with your emotions.”

  “This is just work, Lilah. I have to answer this text. It could be important.”

  “You could be setting yourself up for an all-time low. I don’t want to have to help you through all that crap like last time.” Delilah leaned across the table and enveloped Olivia’s hand between her own. She searched her face for a semblance of understanding, her eyes radiating love and concern.

  Another beep from Olivia’s phone interrupted the silence, and the connection between the pair was broken. Olivia pulled her hand free and reached for the phone.

  Where the hell r u? I’m at your work. This is important. Call me!

  Olivia sighed. “I have to contact him. Do you want me to go? Or shall I tell him to meet me here?”

  Delilah shook her head in disbelief. “If you’re really going ahead with this, then he might as well meet you here. It’s about time he heard a few home truths.”

  “Don’t cause trouble, Lilah. Promise or I’ll just go back to work now. This is work related and nothing more.”

  “Whatever.” Delilah’s shook her head, mouth open in disbelief, as her friend’s fingers danced effortlessly in reply to the text.

  On lunch break. Café Rouge. Ask receptionist for directions if needed.

  As she pressed send, Olivia glanced at her friend in the chair opposite as she took a bite of pizza and checked her phone. Olivia looked down at her own lunch and pushed a piece of chicken around the plate, wondering whether this was the worst mistake she’d ever made.

  Olivia had a clear view of the restaurant entrance from where she was seated, and while Delilah continued to make small talk, her eyes strayed past her to the door every time someone entered. She heard his voice—deep, gruff, and irritated—before he came into view. She laid one shaky hand over the other and took a deep breath as she felt the relaxed atmosphere slowly diminish.

  “Hi. I’m meeting someone. Miss Devine.”

  The waitress ran her finger down the booking form. “This way, sir.” With a huge smile the waitress led the way.

  Olivia felt her throat begin to close on his approach, followed by an embarrassing blush that crept up her neck, settling on her cheeks. She watched Delilah rise to her feet and bowed her head, struggling to gain control of her emotions.

  “Hello again, Albie,” Delilah said, her expression unreadable.

  “Eddie to you, Delilah. You know that.”

  “No. I’ll stick with Albie. I’d rather. I know your friends call you Eddie, and let’s face it, you and I’ll never be friends.” Turning to Olivia, she added, “I’m going to powder my nose Liv, won’t be long.”

  Olivia watched her walk away, then focused on Albie. “Sorry about Delilah. She never changes. Do you want to sit down? Can I order you anything to drink or something to eat, perhaps?”

  Albie pulled a chair from the table behind, sat, then angled it to face Olivia. “Thanks but I’ve already ordered coffee.” His eyes rested on her face and locked with hers. She blushed again at his unfaltering stare. Angry at her vulnerability when it came to him, she bowed her head. Seemingly oblivious of the effect he’d had on her, Albie continued. “I’m sorry to contact you on your private number. Your employers are definitely security conscious. They refused to contact you during your lunch hour and wouldn’t give me the directions to this place until I showed them your text. Perhaps they just didn’t like the look of me.”

  Olivia stared at him. His whole face lit up as his smile dimpled on one side.

  She refocused. “What do you want?” The directness of her response had the desired effect. His smile vanished.

  “We’ve had another murder, Liv.”

  She waited for a second. “What? Who’s dead?”

  “A man named Tyler Duke. He was murdered. Found dead the morning after Emily Dyer.”

  Olivia sat motionless, silent while life continued. Straightening, she took a swig of water, swirled it around her dry mouth, then let it slide down her parched throat.

  “So why is it so important for me to know about this murder? I’ve never heard of Tyler Duke.” She steadied the quiver in her voice and fought to keep out the hint of hysteria.

  “Liv, you’re Mitchell’s caseworker. He hasn’t been given the news of his mother’s death yet. My boss has asked me to break the news, and in her wisdom thinks you should accompany me.”

  She took a deep breath. The sarcasm in his voice hadn’t gone unnoticed. This was a mistake. She didn’t relish the thought of working with him again either.

  “Look, is it really necessary for me to be there when you share the news?”

  “Yes. At least that’s what I’ve been instructed.” Albie studied his hands, found a hangnail, and rubbed it with his thumb.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Can’t you take a policewoman with you? I can do a follow up at a later date. That would cover all the bases.”

  “No. It’s not that simple. It’s a delicate situation, and the DI wants it handled properly.” The light throb as the air hit his raw skin drew his attention back to his hands.

  “Oh, so she isn’t aware of the outcome of the last case you involved me in then?” Olivia glanced towards the ladies’ room and wondered what was taking Delilah so long.” Albie took his coffee and thanked the waitress. Blowing the surface into circles that disappeared when they hit the rim of the cup, he too
k a tentative sip as Delilah rejoined them.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Liv. This isn’t about our last case together, and this certainly isn’t about us. It’s about a young boy who’s lost his mother.”

  Before Olivia opened her mouth to reply, Delilah leaned forward, and bitter resentment spewed from her mouth.

  “How dare you talk to her like that? That’s just fucking typical of you, isn’t it? You were always out for number one. Never gave a shit about anyone else. Do you have any idea how low she was after all that crap she went through because of you?”

  “That’s enough, Delilah.” Olivia grabbed her friend’s arm.

  Ignoring Delilah completely, Albie focused on Olivia. Keeping to his game plan, he played on her compassionate nature. “There’s a young boy out there who’s been viciously attacked. He is scared and vulnerable. I have to tell him his mum is dead, he’s going to need you, Liv.” He held her gaze and knew he’d won.

  Albie left the restaurant and paced the pavement while the women said their goodbyes. He knew that at some point he’d have to address some of the points he’d been accused of during Delilah’s rant, but for now he had murders to solve.

  25

  Albie drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. The annoyance he’d felt from the silent treatment he’d endured throughout the journey heated the insides of his head like a steam kettle as it reached the boil. It was problematic that Olivia chose to abstain from conversation, but even more so that he was as stubborn as his passenger.

  “Do we turn off soon?” Albie forced a grin. He felt his skin tighten around his mouth as he spoke into the silence. “Some instructions would be good. A clue at least.”

  Straightening in her seat, Olivia turned her head and spotted the remains of his false grin before she broke her silence. “Take the next junction and follow the A2079. Follow the signs to Lydd.”

  “You seem to know where you’re going. Are you familiar with the area?”

  Olivia coughed as if to remind her voice how to work. “Let’s just say I was. It was a large part of my teenage life. But not since.”

  “How come I’m hearing this for the first time? I mean, you never mentioned this place before. Not to me anyway.”

  Olivia focused on the sheep feeding on the short clumps of grass as they sped by. “You’d be surprised how much I kept from you.” She swallowed a trace of saliva gathered in her mouth which barely coated her throat.

  “Sure. But I thought we’d got to know each other pretty well.” Albie ignored the brittle feeling of betrayal that knotted in his gut. He shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject.

  “So. What is your connection with this place?”

  Reaching for her mobile, Olivia scrolled her phonebook, found the name she was looking for, and hit the call button.

  “If I’d wanted to share with you, don’t you think I would have already?”

  Before he had a chance to answer, Olivia’s attention was drawn to the person at the other end of the call.

  “Hey, Maureen, it’s me. I know this is short notice, but I’m on my way to see you…No, it’s not really a social call. Sorry. I have a detective with me. Has there been any change with Mitchell? Okay. Has he settled in? We have some bad news, Maureen. You may want Ozzie with you when we arrive. It’s Mitchell’s mum…I’m afraid so. Her body was found yesterday, and the detective has come to break the news to him. Can’t hold off, I’m afraid, it’s going to be all over the news. Yes, see you in about half an hour. Love you too…See you soon.” She switched off her phone, clasped it to her chest, and waited for the inevitable questions.

  “You were fostered. Mr and Mrs McNally fostered you.” Albie announced as if to the universe. The knot in his stomach tightened. He’d known her for a while. They’d been intimate, and yet the pain nibbling at his insides was laid raw by her betrayal. Even though logic told him he had no right to feel that way, the knot twisted.

  The time and effort Olivia had invested into her new life had all but eradicated her life before, or so she’d thought. She’d detested her past, and the last thing she wished to do was bring it to the forefront. Then she would have to accept it was real. The only guilt she felt about her denial was the implication that Maureen and Ozzie were part of the horror. On the contrary, they’d been her sanctuary. Nevertheless, they were just one step on from the past she’d managed to bury and had no wish to exhume. No doubt disclosure of part of her previous life to Albie was unavoidable, especially as photographs of her and others adorned many walls and surfaces in the McNally’s house.

  “I’m sorry, Eddie,” she said, finally acknowledging him and noticing the hurt in his eyes. “It’s not something I’ve ever shared. To be honest, it’s a part of my life I like to forget. It’s actually best forgotten.”

  The use of his nickname didn’t go unnoticed, but Albie had questions he needed answered.

  “So the Devines adopted you? You weren’t born into the family?”

  Olivia raised her hands. “That’s right. I was adopted.”

  His grin was subtle but not quite hidden enough. “Well, that might explain why they were so pissed off with you going into social work.” Taillights ahead glowed red as he feathered the brake. “Which turning on the roundabout?”

  “Left.” She answered as they inched closer. “Towards Old Romney.”

  Albie indicated and pulled out. “In fact, it’s more obvious why you’d want to be a social worker. You want to help children like you.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. Now can we stop talking about me? We’re here for Mitchell, remember?”

  Olivia eyed the passing shop fronts. Memories flooded back. Tranquil sunny days spent at Ozzie and Maureen’s. Bike rides, swimming in the cloudy green sea, sandcastle competitions with her temporary brothers and sisters, digging holes in the sand and burying each other. Those were the times she allowed herself to remember. They were good times, and she refused to allow thoughts of her non-life before the safety of the McNallys darken her memories.

  As they grew closer to their destination, Olivia noticed changes to the area, insignificant and too few to mention. The Jolly Fisherman still stood like a sandstone castle— a landmark announcing the entrance to The Parade where individual, originally designed houses were nestled. The gardens were extensions of the sandy beach just metres from the sea at high tide. It was a sunbathers and dog walkers paradise when the English weather decided to favour them with sun rays on lazy days.

  “Just up here on the left. There’s a car park,” she said as they rounded a bend in the road.

  Albie indicated and took a sharp left-hand turn into an uneven pebbled area that boasted just two other cars. One of them looked as if it hadn’t been driven for some time.

  Olivia jumped from the car, and he watched fascinated as she shielded her eyes from the late afternoon sun and perused the view. A soft breeze caressed her body, sending her flowery skirt bustling around her legs and her hair jittering to the tune of the breeze.

  Albie climbed from the car, locked the door, and took a deep breath. Salt from the air clung to his tongue and to his nostril hairs. The last time he’d had this experience was when he’d helped uncle Morgan move to Penzance five years before. He’d been overwhelmed by a sense of peace then as well. It was not the life for Albie though. He preferred to live life at a faster pace. In his mind, life wasn’t lived unless it was spent keeping ahead of the game and looking over your shoulder. He strolled towards Olivia and stood next to her in silence, so close that his knuckles brushed her hand. Instead of acknowledging his presence, she turned and headed towards the road, crossed, and walked around the side of a pub called The Tavern. Albie followed in a slow jog, waiting for oncoming cars to pass. He watched from a distance as Olivia pressed the latch on the garden gate. The front door flew open before she’d managed to step onto the path, and Maureen McNally rushed towards her, arms spread ready to wrap her in a warm embrace.

  “Detective.” Maureen acknowl
edged him over Olivia’s shoulder with a nod while he hovered by the open gate. She eased her arm around Olivia’s shoulder and guided her through the front door.

  “It’s started to get a bit nippy here in the evenings.” She wrapped her free hand over both of Olivia’s. “Let’s put the kettle on and make you a nice cuppa. I made your favourite as well. Lemon drizzle cake.” Before Olivia could open her mouth, Maureen continued, “You could do with feeding up. There’s nothing of you. And I’m sure you won’t say no to a piece of cake with your hot drink, Sergeant?”

  Albie followed them inside, thankful for the civility of Mrs McNally. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food, and he rubbed his hands together to fight off the bite from the sea breeze as it whipped through his thin jacket.

  A substantial hallway covered in framed photographs led off into three different directions. Albie followed the women through to a room on the right—an airy lounge with pale green walls and chintz curtains and sofas. The walls, like the ones in the hallway, were covered in photographs of a number of children of all different ages.

  “I lovingly call this my rogue’s gallery.” Maureen smiled as she caught Albie glancing around at all the framed faces. “I won’t be a minute with the tea. You’ve got until I get back to find a photo of Olivia.” She smiled as he jumped from his chair in response to her challenge.

  “Ozzie, bring Michelle down. We’ve got visitors,” she shouted up the stairs on her way to the kitchen.

  “Surely these aren’t all the kids they’ve had in their care?”

  Olivia shrugged. “They’d only been married for two years when they started fostering. It’s surprising how many kids are out there who need care.”