She missed Jaxon. She missed the work that gave her so much distraction, and she missed the banter of their late-night emails.
But more than anything, Helen missed Ada. Not how she was at the end, but how she’d been before, strong, matter-of-fact, positive, loving and caring. Understanding and accepting.
And adding to the misery last night, as if she’d wanted to punish herself further, Helen had also cyberstalked Sebastian Clarke, delving into his life, learning all about his career highs and lows—particularly his misadventures in Vegas. She’d even come across a dodgy mobile phone clip, recorded in a dark, noisy bar, of a drunken Sebastian slating Sucroz’s poisonous crap drink.Ouch. No wonder those big guys wanted to get their own back by dragging his good name through the mud.Poor Sebastian.His father had just died, he’d wanted to let loose, but he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
And now he hated her guts for making things worse for him.
Helen puffed out her cheeks. Well, as Ada would say, today is a new day. She threw the bedcovers back, pushed her feet into her welly boots and headed out to the garden to let out her hens. After she filled their feeder and changed their water, she watched the hens flap and shake out their feathers. She picked up the small speckled one that always pecked her legs and stroked her for a while, then made her way to the old shed.
The early morning air was still very chilly, and she shivered as she creaked the door open. Decades of farming supplies and tools were piled high against the far wall, but one corner—in which hung an old punchbag—always remained clear of clutter.
Helen pulled on her boxing gloves and bounced on her toes, warming up, loosening off her body before attacking the bag with her usual determination to beat the bad guys.
Jab, jab, hook. Jab, jab, hook.
The punchbag, now frayed at the seams and held together with duct tape, had been Ada’s idea as a way for Helen and Tom to manage their grief and anger over their father’s sudden death. He’d been dead four years by the time they’d come to live here. Two frustrated, angry teenagers full of attitude and self-preservation, Helen and Tom had had enough of bouncing from foster home to foster home. Ada had offered them a fresh start, a home, and a new way of life. She’d been welcoming and loving, filling the void their father had left behind.
Jab, jab, hook. Jab, jab, hook.
Punching high and low, abs and arms burning, Helen pulled her fists back in quick-fire exchanges, until the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway had her steadying the bag and her breathing.
She checked the time. Not yet seven, it was too early for Tom to pick her up and Helen wasn’t expecting anyone else. She ripped off her gloves and wandered up to the house, suspecting yet another driver who’d been directed down her lane by dodgy satnav. That had been happening a lot lately.
She rounded the side of the cottage, and DC Nazir stepped out of a shiny silver car. Helen dove back behind the corner.
“Good morning, Helen!”
Damn. She came back out.
“It’s a delightful day after all that rain yesterday, isn’t it?” Nazir continued, her gray suit dull and drab against the sunshine. With a wide smile, she gazed out across the orchard and made a noisy show of breathing in the fresh country air. A stocky man in a dark blue suit climbed out of the passenger side.
“We came by yesterday afternoon but no one was home,” Nazir said. “Go anywhere nice after your court hearing?”
Helen folded her arms. “What’s it to you?”
“Ah, keep your knickers on, Helen,” Nazir said. “This is what some might recognize as making polite conversation. Unless you were with Jaxon Bates, I’m not interested.”
“I told you, I don’t know where he is.”
“And we believe you.” Nazir glanced at the man beside her who was silently studying the cottage. Standing with feet wide apart, shoulders back, he looked familiar—like all the policemen she’d ever known when she’d been growing up. Dad hadn’t been a stranger to petty crime.
“This is DI Sheldon from the NCA,” Nazir said. “That’s the National Crime Agency.”
“I know what it is.”
“Good. Then you’ll want to know that Bates is now officially listed as a most wanted. As I’ve said before, we’d appreciate your help in finding him.” Nazir smiled, her eyes focused on the cottage as if Jaxon might be hiding inside. “We have more questions for you. May we come in?”
“No.”
“Suit yourself. It’s not like you have neighbors out here twitching their curtains to get a better look at what’s going on.” Nazir nodded toward the orchards. “It’s pretty around here, but very isolated. I think I’d get lonely all by myself.”
Last night scraped at her nerves. Even though Tom and Emma were close by, she did get lonely here sometimes. Not that she’d admit that to DC Nazir. “Ask me your questions, then please leave. I have things to do.”
Nazir didn’t blink. “Did Bates ever mention a business partner to you? Did you ever see or hear him working with anyone else?”
“No. I told you. He emailed me his requirements. I did the work and, usually, he paid me.”
“Did you ever hear him talk about anyone? Any names mentioned?”
