Bad Sister(95)

Who would place the headstone when the time came? Brett? Was he the one who’d left the carnations?

A heaviness lay in the pit of her stomach. A feeling of incompleteness.

If only Steph had felt able to come clean, confide in her. Perhaps Connie could have helped lift some of her guilt. They could have worked through it. Guilt was a destructive emotion, she knew that all too well. Connie’s dad had lived with it, though. With not much trouble it seemed. Those lacking in the ability to show guilt, or remorse, often presented with a personality disorder, or sociopathy. Did that describe her father?

Her dad, the sociopath.

Lindsay said she was being too hard on him, that he had his reasons for keeping the truth from her and her mum, most of which were not necessarily to prevent them from discovering he was to blame for Luke’s death, but to protect them.

That hadn’t worked out well. Connie had hardly felt protected when she’d been tied and beaten because of his failures. Her dad was due from Manchester that afternoon; they were meeting at her mum’s in Shaldon. He promised to be open, tell them what had happened to Luke, and why.

She wasn’t holding her breath for the whole truth to be told.

Connie pulled her cardigan around her tightly, a shudder running through her body. Then heat travelled up her neck as she saw who was approaching.

‘Sorry, don’t get mad at me.’ Kelly put a hand up in a defensive manner.

‘Are you still following me?’

‘Er. On this occasion, yes.’

‘On this occasion, you have been on every one.’ Connie backed away from the grave and stepped on to the path, shaking the soil from her shoes.

‘I wanted to apologise,’ she said. Connie raised her eyebrows. Kelly Barton, apologising? That was new. She played along.

‘What for?’

‘I meddled, as per usual, and by doing so I made your life more difficult than I intended. I’m sorry for that. And for following you – taking pictures. I obstructed the investigation, really, and I was lucky not to get charged.’ Her voice was high-pitched, excitement oozing. Connie almost laughed. The woman was incorrigible.

‘Okay, thanks.’

‘Oh, and also—’

‘Oh, great! There’s more?’ Connie was losing the will.

‘Yeah, I’m sorry for dragging Niall into my plan to get a good story.’ Kelly held both hands out, palms up. ‘I think that’s it.’

‘Did you get a good story? Was it worth it?’

Kelly shrugged. ‘Yeah. I reckon so.’ She nodded, smiling. Connie got the distinct impression that Kelly knew more than she’d let on. Maybe the fact a photo of her father had been among the ones sent to the police was evidence of that – that she also suspected him of dodgy dealings. Kelly would probably never stop digging for a story.

‘Excellent. Now, if you don’t mind, Kelly, I’ve got a train to catch.’ Connie made to move, but Kelly put an arm out to stop her.

‘Wait a second, I wanted to give you this.’ She opened the bag she had with her and took out a large, brown envelope. Connie sighed.

‘Now who’ve you snapped me with?’ She held her hand out to take it.

‘Oh, it’s not like that. This is of the men that followed you – us – the other day. I downloaded it before the police took my memory card.’

‘I knew you’d do that.’

‘You’ll be pleased I did, Connie. I had it blown up. You’ll find it particularly interesting, I think.’ Her voice held a hint of smugness.

‘Perhaps we could keep in touch,’ she said, but didn’t wait for a response – turning her back and walking quickly away.

Connie watched her disappear out of the cemetery gate. An uneasiness filled her as she slowly pulled the content from the envelope. Flint’s shape filled the forefront of the photo, his dark eyes matching the black hoody he wore. Behind him in the alleyway was the unknown figure who’d stopped Flint and fought him to the ground. The man who’d prevented Flint from continuing to follow Connie.

Kelly’s zoomed-in picture perfectly captured the man’s face.

And his piercing green eyes.





CHAPTER NINETY-TWO


Connie


She’d demanded to meet with her dad before they were due at her mother’s. She needed to talk to him alone. Needed to shout, scream, tell him how much she hated him. She wasn’t sure how she’d react when she saw him because, right now, waiting on the strip of beach opposite her mum’s road, all Connie wanted to do was hit him.

When she saw him walking towards her, his face was ashen. He lowered his head.

He knew what was coming.

Connie’s heart pounded, her fists were clenched in readiness.

Before he got level with her, she launched forwards.

His face crumpled as he caught hold of her raised hands, forcing them down. She screamed at him, but in that moment lost all power and sank into his chest, her large sobs muted as she wept into his shirt.

‘I’m so sorry, Connie.’

Once she’d regained some element of composure, she let him talk. She didn’t interrupt him, forcing herself to listen to his attempts at explaining what had gone wrong all those years ago in his business, as if that explained why these people had come after Connie now. He didn’t mention Luke once. She couldn’t bear to hear more of it.