Her Sister’s Secret

His jaw clenched. At that close proximity, I could almost hear his teeth grind his fillings to dust.

“According to Fliss Fiander, Scarlet suspected you were having an affair. Hell, she probably knew.”

“She had no damn right to say such a terrible thing.”

“Scarlet or Fliss?” I sniped back.

Nate tensed. Lines carved deep grooves in his forehead and his eyes became angry slits. “It’s none of your business.”

Given the circumstances, I strongly disagreed, and I was furious with Nate for making me his secret-keeper.

“How do you think Scarlet’s bracelet wound up in Heather Bowen’s hand –by teleportation?” Nate didn’t wait for an answer. “The woman must have gone through her husband’s things and found it.”

As one picture smashed in my head, another ugly image revealed itself. The note now assumed new significance. Scarlet was apologising for what she was about to do, not something she had already done. She’d planned it. That note, damn it, demonstrated a degree of premeditation. And Nate had burnt it.

Tears sprung to his eyes. “Even if she were sleeping with Bowen or having sex with someone else, what the fuck does it matter? She’s dead.” He let out a weary ragged sigh. “Don’t you see that I’m trying to protect her?”

The sincerity in Nate’s expression made my pulse jive. He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped. Childe was back. Focused. Determined.

“We’re going to need to conduct a search of the property, Nate.”

“Why? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“We know that,” Childe said, with a modicum of sympathy. “And I genuinely understand.”

“Do you? Have you ever lost a wife?”

“No,” he said plainly. “But I have plenty of experience of those who have.”

“Not quite the same thing, is it?”

“Nate,” I said, glancing at Childe, desperate to dial down Nate’s bellicosity. “The guy is simply doing his job, trying to help.” It’s what Dad would say.

“Molly’s right, Nate,” Childe said, flashing me an appreciative look.

Nate glowered then let out an enormous sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“Good.” Childe seemed glad the conversational dynamics had altered in his favour. “Did either of you have laptops or computers?”

Nate’s pallor turned a shade lighter. “Well, yeah.”

“We’ll need those too.”

Nate closed his eyes. “Jesus,” he said, not angrily, as if he was cursed but as if the game was up. Was Nate worried a taste for porn would be disclosed, or concerned that emails to a woman he was sleeping with would be revealed? And what about Scarlet?

Everything seemed to be running away, notching up several gears. “Isn’t this a little over the top? It’s not a murder investigation.” As my words broke loose, I sparked inside. If the police could prove beyond any reasonable doubt that Scarlet deliberately targeted Bowen, she would be branded a murderer.

“Standard procedure in the circumstances,” Childe cut in. “Along with checking Scarlet’s phone records and call log.”

“Fuck’s sake.” A vein in Nate’s temple stood out proud.

“Is that a problem for you, Nate?” Childe’s tone was even, but his expression razor sharp.

Nate tilted his head, jutted out his chin. Guarded. I shot him a look. “Nope.”

“Good,” Childe said. “Is there somewhere close you can go for a few days?”

“He can stay with me.” This time Nate shot me a look.

From the expression on Childe’s face, he clearly favoured my suggestion. “We may need to ask further questions.”

My thoughts entirely and the only reason I was about to take Nate captive.

“What sort of questions?” Nate said.

Clues to whether Scarlet had a prior relationship with Richard Bowen, whether or not she had a motive to harm him, I thought. I bet her bracelet would fall under the forensic microscope too. Whatever I believed or wanted to believe; I couldn’t argue with the facts.

“Simply routine,” Childe said, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.

“Ridiculous.”

Forcing a breezy note into my voice and looking Childe directly in the eye, I said, “That’s settled then.” And before Nate could protest, I added. “I’ll give you my address and contact number.”

Chapter 19 (#ulink_b195e610-a8dd-51bc-beeb-12039a8cc78d)

Begrudgingly, Nate got his shit together. His words, not mine, and we set off. As if to taunt us, signs that said ‘Think Bike’ appeared at regular intervals along the route.

“Those witnesses should have their eyesight tested,” he grumbled.

“Never mind them. I’m going to stop the car and you and me are going to have a chat.”

“Christ, do you have air conditioning in this thing?”

Dutifully, I rotated the control on the air con. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not. Pull over.”

“So that you can do a runner? No chance.”

“So we can talk.”

I cast around, thinking I’d need to choose exactly the right spot, somewhere Nate would feel comfortable, but also not the kind of place he could easily make a break for it. Turning off the main road, I found a place a few miles on. Random. Surrounded by fields. Nearest house half a mile away. I pulled up next to a tree stump that resembled an animal carcass. Blinking away unwanted memories, I killed the engine. Turning around to face my brother-in-law, I thought he resembled a man about to chuck himself off a multi-storey. His skin was pearly white, almost translucent. All I saw were his eyes, which were deep dark squirming pools.

“Did you know that Scarlet asked Fliss for a loan?”

Nate half-smiled, disbelieving. “That’s rubbish. Fliss must be mistaken or she misunderstood.”

I repeated what Fliss had said. Nate’s body seemed to fold in on itself. “I don’t understand.”