Page 11 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

It’s not like this was my dream. I’d had plans for my career, but all that changed in one fateful night. Now those old dreams feel like a badly fitted suit. The truth is, I don’t know what I want from my life.

As soon as I was released from hospital, I gave notice on my flat, packed up, and headed far away from Leeds. London had been a logical choice. I was used to living in the city, and there are plenty of chances to earn money here. It also offered the option of anonymity, where my scarred face would be lost in the crowd.

Where my life goes from here is the question though. I feel like I’m standing at a crossroads, and I don’t know which direction to take. Or if it even matters.

I lift the glass and drain it, then make myself place it and the bottle back in the drawer. A single drink in the middle of the afternoon is one thing; after that, it’s a slippery slope. Given what my grandfather was like, I would do well to use him as a cautionary tale. My own personal beer-swilling Jiminy Cricket to keep me in check.

Scooping up the photographs, I tuck them neatly back into the envelope. Time to drop these off and get paid. But as I shift, my gaze drops to the manila folder on top of the mess of papers littered across my desk.

It was a favour for a friend, the one person left over from my old life. The man who had my back even though it cost him. I owed him. It didn’t take me long to find what he’d been looking for, but I’ve hesitated to call him back.

I haven’t seen anyone else I knew from before, not since I left Leeds. Danny left just before me. He’d lost his job at West Yorkshire Police too, all because he’d stood up for me. The last time I’d seen him, I was lying in a hospital bed, battered and hooked up to machines, and I’d barely been able to look at him.

The guilt had been too much. Him speaking out for me had cost him the job he loved and made things difficult with his family. Fortunately, he managed to land himself a job with New Scotland Yard and moved to London. Maybe I should’ve looked him up long before now, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready. What do you say to a man who went to bat for you and almost lost everything because of it?

I pick up the manila folder along with the envelope of photos and push up from my desk. I guess this is the least I can do. Heading out of the office and locking up behind me, I step out onto the busy street and pull my phone from my pocket.

“Sam,” he greets as soon as I call. The deep burr of his northern accent gives me a quick and unexpected pang of sadness for everything I left behind. “That was quick. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

I shake off the pensiveness and project an air of upbeat confidence into my tone. “Yeah. Well, what can I say? I’m very good at what I do.”

“You found something?”

“More than something,” I murmur, my thoughts drifting to the rabbit hole I’d fallen down tied to Danny’s current investigation. “Let’s just say Maeve Landon’s real name is just the tip of the iceberg. You’re not going to believe what I dug up on her.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

I glance at the tide of people flowing around me and shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “Not over the phone,” I reply, looking down at the folder in my hand. “Can you meet me?”

“You’re not in Leeds?” he says, and I can hear the surprise in his tone.

Feeling another echo of guilt, I draw in a breath. “I’m in London, have been for some time.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” he asks, and I’m sure I’m not imagining the note of hurt.

“I–” I hesitate for a moment, but this is Danny, and he deserves honesty from me. I owe him that and much more. “I had some stuff I had to work through first, but that’s part of the reason I’d like to see you face-to-face. There are some things I need to say.”

There’s a short pause and then, “Okay, where are you?”

“I’m at Charing Cross at the moment.” I glance down at the envelope of photos pressed against Danny’s file in my hand, then tilt my wrist to get a look at my watch. “I have something I need to do first, but can you meet me in Covent Garden in about an hour?”

“Sure, where?”

“There’s a coffee shop called The Black Penny on Great Queen Street.”

“I’ll find it,” he rumbles.

“And Danny?” I say impulsively.

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you,” I mutter. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, me too,” he says quietly.

He mumbles a goodbye and hangs up. I sigh and slip my phone back in my pocket. This is a meeting that’s long overdue. I guess it’s time to start facing my past and figuring out if I have a future.

I arrive at The Black Penny before Danny. The café has a laid-back urban vibe to it, with blackened cladding and exposed brickwork, and is lit by Edison-style lightbulbs. I briefly pause at the long galley-style counter and get myself a black coffee. Taking a seat at one of the free tables in the back, I set the folder on the table and wait.