Bad Sister(94)
CHAPTER NINETY
Connie
Monday 26 June
Everything ached. Connie wriggled, trying to get herself comfortable between the cushions Lindsay had positioned for her on the sofa – each movement sending a shooting pain down her left side where Flint had repeatedly kicked her. The doctors had tried to keep her in the hospital for longer, but once she knew she had no internal injuries, only bruising, there was no way she was staying in that place.
Lindsay and Mack had collected her from the hospital and driven her home. The first thing she noticed when she walked through into the lounge was that it’d been tidied. The upturned furniture, the broken vase, the pictures he’d wrenched from the wall – all arranged as they had been, and a new, pretty, blue-coloured vase replaced the old one. The cream carpet had been cleaned – there was no sign of the blood which had burst from her nose when she’d been hit in the face. No one would have ever guessed anything untoward had occurred. A visitor would have had no idea Connie’d been bound and gagged, kicked and beaten on the floor of this room.
Her mum and dad had been contacted – Lindsay made sure they were aware of the facts of what had happened. She hadn’t explained fully the ‘why’, saying that was best left to Connie. The phone lay on her lap – she was waiting for her dad to ring. She’d spoken to her mum, trying hard not to launch into an attack of her father, for the lies he’d fed them. How he was the one responsible for Connie’s current state – and she’d been fortunate to escape with her life. It would need to be discussed when she was feeling stronger. When she could better manage the hurt and pain of his betrayal. Her dad was lucky, in most ways. When he wasn’t merely giving ‘no comment’ answers, the evidence Flint gave the police was all circumstantial – nothing would stick in relation to her dad, she knew that. He’d taken care of all eventualities, no doubt.
Lindsay was apologetic. Upset knowing she’d left Connie alone for that hour. No matter how Connie tried to reassure her the fault was not hers, she’d remained pensive. Lindsay had come to her rescue; hopefully she’d take comfort from that once the dust had settled and she could look at her actions objectively. It had been Connie’s fault for leaving the relative safety of her office and going home. Flint had let himself in her house, again – it had been him who had left the rat before. He said it was a reminder of her dad. He seemed to be one for leaving convoluted clues, with some deranged idea that he was clever. As it turned out, he hadn’t been as clever as he imagined, and he’d made mistakes.
He’d been waiting in her lounge for her with a pretty annoyed, reluctant-looking Miles by his side. Seems as though the police retirement package hadn’t been enough for Miles. He’d become embittered with protecting criminals – helping them make a new life, getting away with the parts they’d played in breaking the law just by making a deal to testify against other, bigger players. Why should they get away with their criminality, gain money from it, when he’d worked within the law all his life and was going to retire on what he saw as a pittance in comparison to the money they were making? Being his last year in the police force, he thought he’d be untouchable.
Connie’s initial shock at learning he’d been taking bribes was soon replaced with anger. How dare he leak confidential information about her and Steph? She held him responsible for Steph and Dylan’s deaths. His assertion that Steph had been lying all the time was likely to have been to cover his own arse. What else had he failed to reveal? What information had been manipulated where Steph was concerned? Whatever his involvement though, he clearly wasn’t impressed that Flint had dragged him further into his plans. The arguments between those two had bought her time when she was on the floor, awaiting her fate. It appeared that Flint had threatened to expose Miles’ corrupt practices unless he went with him to Connie’s, to help him make her suffer. Apparently, harming Connie had been a step too far, though, an act too low even for a bent copper. That was something. At least the man still had an ounce of morality and sense of what was right and wrong.
Connie checked her mobile volume was turned up – she had a habit of forgetting to take it off silent. It was at full volume. She hadn’t missed a call from her dad. Was he afraid of speaking to her? She gripped the phone tightly. He ought to be.
The irony was that justice had been done for Ricky Hargreaves, someone who in most people’s eyes didn’t even deserve it. The news, radio, and newspapers would run his story for weeks. He’d forever be remembered. Yet Steph and Dylan would be all but forgotten. Their story had been overtaken.
Questions remained for Connie. Whilst she believed Brett’s story about the fire, there were other things that bothered her. She’d never know for sure, now. She’d have to accept she’d missed the signs that Steph was going to take her life. Maybe Lindsay and Mack were right, she’d simply had enough of hiding, running – enough of the guilt. For her, maybe there was only one solution. Connie had failed her. But trying to find a reason to stop her own guilt was not the best way to allow Steph to rest in peace.
Finally, her mobile rang. The caller ID – Dad.
She waited, taking a few deep breaths, then pressed the accept button.
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
Connie
Wednesday 28 June
The bouquet of red carnations fluttered gently in the breeze. Connie bent to place her own on the mound of earth of the newly dug grave. A small wooden cross denoted who was buried beneath – Jenna Ellison, Dylan Ellison – written in black on a gold label. The dew and showers they’d had over the last week had caused the label to fade and curl at the edges.