Читать книгу One Little Lie: From the best selling author comes a new crime thriller book for 2018 - Sam Carrington, Sam Carrington - Страница 27

‘Any men on the scene, Connie, love?’

Connie slumped against the high back of the dining chair. She’d been waiting for something like this all evening; her mother’s idea of small talk at the dinner table.

‘No, Mum. It’s been a while since I’ve been on the dating scene – no time for all that.’ It was the easiest and quickest way to shut that particular conversation down. She’d had issues trusting men ever since her teenage trauma – ‘That Night’ at the party where things had gone terribly wrong and she was taken advantage of. It was a time in her life Connie didn’t like to dwell on, or revisit.

‘Oh, that’s a shame. You’re not getting any younger – I suppose I’m not going to be a grandma anytime soon then.’

Connie’s face flushed.

‘What about you, dear, anyone special?’ She directed her probing question to Lindsay.

‘About the same, I’m afraid, Bev.’ Lindsay took a large gulp of red wine. ‘My divorce came through a few months ago.’

‘Ahh, I’m sorry. Is that why you’ve got a room in Connie’s house?’

‘That, and it made sense financially and geographically. I was travelling to Coleton every day from Plymouth, it was a long trek. After Connie’s … experience … last year, we decided it would work well for both of us. And it does.’ Lindsay turned to Connie and smiled as she raised her glass in a toast.

Connie noted that her mum had inched forwards in her seat, clearly itching to interject. She certainly didn’t waste any time.

‘So, tell me, Lindsay, what big case are you working on right now? The missing girl I heard about on the news?’

‘You can’t ask that, Mum! Lindsay can’t talk about cases outside of her work.’

‘I’m sure she talks to you about it though, doesn’t she?’ Her mum gave a cringeworthy wink as she passed Lindsay the dish of vegetables. Connie threw an apologetic smile at Lindsay.

‘It’s okay.’ Lindsay slyly jabbed her elbow in Connie’s side and widened her eyes at her before turning back to her mum. ‘If I don’t divulge anything that could compromise any ongoing investigations, I can talk about them. You know, in general.’ She smiled. ‘I don’t tell Connie very much, actually.’ Lindsay pushed the serving dish towards Connie.

Connie took it and dolloped a small spoonful of veg on her plate. Her appetite had waned the minute Lindsay had turned off the main Teignmouth road and crossed the bridge into Shaldon. As soon as Connie had walked through the front door of her mum’s terraced house, her gut had twisted into a painful knot and hadn’t relaxed since. At least the emphasis so far had been on Lindsay and her role as detective inspector. She hoped she didn’t feel uncomfortable with her mum’s questions. Judging by the dig she’d been given in the ribs, she guessed she must be fine with it. She should try to relax a little.

‘See, Connie, Lindsay doesn’t mind.’ She smirked teasingly at Connie and then took a mouthful of food.

‘I am involved in the missing person case, yes,’ Lindsay said.

Connie looked up sharply. ‘Are you? I didn’t realise.’

Lindsay had worked long hours the last couple of days, but hadn’t told Connie why. She should’ve guessed it was on the missing twenty-one-year-old’s case, which had been widely reported since Wednesday evening.

‘See, Bev, I don’t tell her everything.’ Lindsay laughed.

‘Terrible business. That poor family. I do hope it’s a happy ending. Do you think it will be, Lindsay?’ Connie watched as her mother’s eyes darkened. This topic of conversation wasn’t a good idea; her mum would be thinking about Luke, especially given today was his birthday, and how she’d lost her son under such tragic circumstances. It would make it difficult for Connie, knowing what she now knew. She’d tried so hard not to think about Luke, not to contemplate the hows, whys and whens. Tried hard not to spill everything to her mum, often wrestling with her decision not to disclose the details.

Lindsay placed her knife and fork on her plate and leant back, exhaling loudly. ‘If I’m honest, Bev, it doesn’t look very hopeful. In this kind of case we’re searching for proof of life. It’s been over forty-eight hours and we haven’t found any evidence of that yet. Those first hours are critical.’

‘But maybe she’s gone off with friends without telling anyone?’ Her mother’s voice was filled with a hope that made Connie’s heart ache.

‘It’s a possibility,’ Lindsay said, ‘but she hasn’t accessed her bank account, her mobile phone hasn’t been used, so …’

‘Must be a hard job, dealing with something so awful – having to be the sole hope for her family.’

‘Yes, it is. You never really get used to it, although you do learn to manage. All my major cases have been challenging, each one for different reasons.’

‘You must be very strong, Lindsay. I’m glad there are people like you who work for the victims, their family. Get justice.’ Tears sparkled in her eyes.

Connie looked down at her plate, not wanting to witness her mum’s pain.

‘I try to be strong. You have to be, really, to keep on doing the job. We don’t always serve justice though, I’m afraid. Not every case results in a conviction.’

‘No. I know. We never got justice for our Luke.’

Connie’s stomach flipped. She shut her eyes tightly, not trusting herself to look into her mother’s eyes. The silence stretched.

‘I’m really sorry about your son, Bev. I’m sorry closure wasn’t gained.’

Connie felt a hand on hers and opened her eyes. Lindsay had her other hand on her mum’s. Connie wondered if Lindsay felt guilty too. She had confided in her, and so she also knew about Luke being alive and well. Not dead.

The weight of the lie dragged Connie down; made her heavy. Almost twelve months of keeping this huge secret. How had her father done it for twenty-two years? Unbelievable.

‘You are back working in the prison on Monday then, Connie.’ Her mum’s sudden change in direction was both welcome and unwanted. At least she wasn’t talking about Luke. It wasn’t long ago that she’d wanted to hear her mum talk about her brother, encouraged her – manipulated situations in order to make her talk about him. Now she was quashing her attempts, changing the subject and avoiding any talk of him. It was unfair. Cruel.

She hated her father. For lying in the first place, for hiding the truth for so long. And for dragging Connie into his deceit, making her a co-conspirator. A liar.

At the same time, she didn’t want to discuss her decision to go back to HMP Baymead, to go over her mother’s fears yet again. Didn’t she have enough to feel guilty for?

‘Yes, Mum. It’s going okay, actually. It’s not the same as before.’ She smiled at her mum. ‘Honestly.’

‘Good. I’m glad. They won’t keep asking you to do these … report things, will they?’

‘Oh, don’t worry. I’ve made it perfectly clear this is a one-off. Even if they ask again, I’ll say no …’

‘No you won’t, Connie. You’re like your dad in that way.’ Her voice was flat, monotone.

Connie’s heartbeat jolted. Like your dad. The words cut deep.

But there was a truth in them that Connie couldn’t deny.