Never Coming Home (3 page)

What the hell is something this hot doing in your living room?

‘Mum?’ Her heart had picked up a little speed. She felt it bump gently against her ribs. Something was stirring. She remembered it vaguely. Lust. This guy had danger written all over him. Sexy danger.
Oh boy!

With difficulty Kaz hauled her eyes away from Danger, and his fabulous mouth, and towards her mother. Suzanne’s face was strained. There were lines creasing her forehead.

‘Darling, this is Mr Devlin
 
… er
 
… Devlin. He
 
…’ Her mother’s voice faltered. ‘He’s from America – to see you.’

‘America?’ A sudden blast of inexplicable cold lurched through Kaz, thoroughly dissipating lust. She could see now that Suzanne’s eyes were half-closed and hazy with tears.

‘He was there, darling. He was there
 
… when Jamie died.’

‘What?’ Kaz blinked, swallowed. Cold, lust, everything was gone. Something squeezed her chest, and kept on squeezing. White, hot rage.

‘What the hell kind of freak are you? And what do you think you can get from us?’

Devlin took an involuntary step back. He’d imagined tears, shock, confusion. He hadn’t expected blazing anger. ‘Mrs
 
Elmore
 
–’

‘Get out! Get out of my house – now!’ Her voice was like a blade, thrown directly at his unprotected rib cage. He knew his hands had gone up to defend himself. He put them to better use waving her off. She was advancing towards him, blood in her eyes.

‘Kaz!’ Suzanne’s voice was a strangled gasp.

‘Stay out of this, Mum.’ Kaz barely spared her a glance. ‘I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, Mister, or what you expect to get out of it. I don’t want to know. How dare you soil my daughter’s memory!’ Her voice was shaking. ‘My uncle is a policeman.’ She hauled a mobile phone out of her pocket, brandishing it like a weapon. ‘I’ll give you twenty seconds to leave, then I’m calling him.’

‘OK.’ Devlin opened his palms. ‘I hear you, and I’m going.’ He didn’t know what was going on here, but the way out was that way. He took a step, then paused. Bugger it, he wasn’t running out, tail between his legs.
Try for a little dignity here
. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t intend to add to your distress.’ Deliberately he turned to Suzanne. Her face was white. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms Saint. Goodbye.’

He was going to have to pass Mrs Elmore to get to the front door. Her body was almost vibrating with fury. He side-stepped quickly. Even brushing against her arm might
shoot sparks. And probably be construed as assault. He skirted
carefully around her. She swung in a circle to watch him.

‘No!’ Suzanne’s shout stopped him at the door. ‘Don’t leave, Mr Devlin.’ He turned cautiously. Tears were coursing silently down the older woman’s face. ‘She was your daughter, Kaz, but she was my granddaughter. I loved her, too. I believe him. I want to hear what he has to say. I wouldn’t let him tell me until you were here. Darling,
please
.’

She crossed the room to her daughter, putting an arm around her. Devlin saw Kaz quiver, but she didn’t shake her mother off. Suzanne’s voice was low and intense. ‘When it happened
 
… we were devastated. Jeff did everything he could to spare us, I know, but
 
… but maybe it wasn’t the right thing after all. I wake up nights and I wonder
 
… whether
 
… whether
 
…’ She half-choked, then tried again. Devlin found there was a lump in his throat. ‘We know so little. You didn’t even see her
 
… If Mr Devlin can tell us something, I want to hear it. Then we can judge. Please, darling,’ she begged again. Her voice was brittle, and almost too soft to hear.

Devlin stood, poised, for a very long three seconds. He almost felt Kaz Elmore’s breath shudder out.

‘All right.’ Her shoulders sagged a little as she rounded on him, then jerked back. The sparks were still there, but she’d damped them. He could feel the effort zinging off her. ‘I’ll listen, because my mother wants it. Sit there.’ She glared at him, pointing towards the sofa in front of the fireplace.

Devlin scrunched down a grin that had come up from nowhere. It would undoubtedly be seriously misconstrued. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

He folded himself onto the lime-green sofa, as instructed, and waited. Kaz disappeared briefly into the hall and came back without the boiler suit. The jeans fitted as well as the T-shirt. The women sat down, facing him. Suzanne poured tea and handed him a cup. Kaz’s knuckles were tight on hers. She had both hands wrapped around it, as if she needed the warmth. When she looked up, her eyes were still combative. Devlin leaned forward, opening up, letting her come to him.

‘If you were there when my daughter died, why is this the first we’ve heard of you?’ she demanded at last.

‘I don’t know, Mrs Elmore.’ He’d been wondering that himself. ‘The cops certainly knew all about me.’ One detective in particular had shown a disturbingly high interest in what he’d been doing on that road. The guy’s enthusiasm had only waned when the lab results confirmed the cocktail of drink and drugs in the driver’s bloodstream. ‘Maybe they didn’t pass the information on to your ex-husband?’

‘Or he didn’t tell us,’ Suzanne suggested. ‘You remember how it was.’ She looked at her daughter. ‘And Jeff had to cope with the guilt he felt, as well.’

Kaz shrugged and fixed dark eyes on Devlin.

‘Your daughter was in the States, with your former husband, on an access visit, right? She was in the car with your husband’s PA when the accident happened?’

‘PA!’ Kaz snorted. She dumped her cup down on the table, fiddling with the ends of her scarf, as it brushed her shoulder. Devlin breathed in, wondering if she was going to let that wild hair loose. There was a pang of disappointment when she dropped her hands to her lap. ‘I didn’t want to let her go, not all that way, but he’d promised her Disney. They could have gone to Paris. And then he leaves her with his girlfriend while he’s off on some deal or other. They weren’t anywhere
near
Disneyworld.’

‘No,’ Devlin agreed. Not by the direct route.

Suzanne put her hand over her daughter’s, stilling the working fingers. ‘Jamie would have been happy, darling. She was seeing new things, and having some attention from her father. And she liked Gemma.’

‘I know.’ The fingers convulsed, then her eyes were back on Devlin. He waited, but she didn’t speak.

‘I didn’t know whether I should get in touch with you,’ he said softly. ‘A phone call didn’t seem – if I did it, I wanted it to be in person
 
… I figured you might contact me – but if you didn’t know, then that explains that one.’

‘If I’d known about you, I would have got in touch.’

He didn’t doubt. Something subtle unknotted in his chest. It had been hard not to wonder
 
… if it was simply that no one had cared enough.

Her gaze was impossible to look away from, it simply nailed him to the lime-green sofa and kept him there. He sensed the shift in her. The anger was receding. Now she wanted to know. He took a breath. ‘It was almost dusk, but still quite light. Something on the road – I don’t know – made me stop. As soon as I was out of the car I could see the smash. It was quite a way down the slope.’ Abruptly he was back on the edge of the highway, feeling the shale under his feet, hearing it slide. ‘Once I got down there – there was nothing to be done for the driver. Then I spotted your daughter. She’d been thrown clear.’

He swallowed, reaching for his cup. He took a swig of cold tea, felt rather than saw Suzanne’s half-hearted move to re-fill his cup and Kaz’s answering move to stop her. The eyes didn’t let him go.
Finish this
.

‘She was still alive when I got to her, but the injuries were bad. I was there with her for
 
… maybe less than two minutes. She knew I was there, though. She smiled
 
… I think she was trying to speak. She didn’t seem to be in any pain. Then she died.’ He’d sat there, for a while, then he’d called 911 and the whole circus started. ‘That’s it.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s not much, but maybe it helps
 
… to know she wasn’t alone.’ He cleared his throat. ‘If there’s anything more you want to ask
 
…’

Suzanne’s hands were over her eyes. Kaz sat straight. Those dark eyes were full too, but he understood that she wouldn’t cry in front of him. ‘I guess I’ll leave now.’ He stood. ‘You had a beautiful daughter, Mrs Elmore. I’m sorry that I never knew her.’ He held out his hand. After a second Kaz rose and took it.

‘Thank you.’ Her voice choked. ‘For coming, and for telling us. I apologise for my anger. I thought – I don’t know what I thought. When it first happened, there were a few reporters
 
… I wasn’t in any state to give interviews, but one of them talked his way in. I gave him a couple of quotes and I thought he’d left. I found him in the kitchen. He had Jamie’s drawings
 
–’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Devlin broke in. ‘I wish you well, Mrs
 
Elmore, you and your other little girl. I’ll see myself out. I think your mother needs you.’ Suzanne’s face was buried in her arm, shoulders shaking. ‘Tell her goodbye for me.’

‘I will.’ Kaz turned towards her mother.

All he wanted now was to get out. Leave them alone with their grief. Grief he’d stirred up.
Shit.
The next thing after that he wanted was a stiff drink. Something was making his eyes heavy. Maybe it was jet lag?

He’d reached the door, in three quick strides, before she spoke again. ‘Mr Devlin? What made you think I had another daughter?’

‘What?’ He swung back towards her. ‘It was the pictures.’ He nodded to the photo frames on the shelves behind her. ‘The little girl. I assumed she was Jamie’s younger sister.’

His breath jarred. In a second her face had gone from soft to sharp again, the eyes hostile.

‘Those photographs are all of Jamie.’

Devlin felt as if a pit had suddenly opened at his feet. He scraped his hand over his face. ‘I don’t understand.’ Cold sweat was settling between his shoulder blades. He crossed the room quickly, to pick up the nearest of the frames. He had to be sure. He held it out to her. ‘You’re telling me
this
is Jamie.’

‘Of course it is. I only had one daughter, Mr Devlin.’ She was moving towards him, tense with suspicion. He didn’t blame her. ‘Look – I don’t know what’s going on here
 
… If this is some sort of game
 
–’

‘No! It’s not a game.’ He held up his hand, mind reeling.
What the fuck is this?
‘I don’t know what’s going on either
 
… but I have to tell you that this is
not
the child who died in that car wreck.’

Chapter Three

All Kaz could do was stare at him.

Her eyes seemed to be locked on his face. He didn’t look deranged.
Dangerous, but not insane.

Behind her Suzanne had risen to her feet. This was grotesque. She could feel her mouth working, trying to find words.

‘Are you trying to tell me that my daughter wasn’t in the crash?’

Amazingly she’d formed a sentence. Her brain had begun to splutter past the shock, to compute information. Information that didn’t make sense.

She took a long look at Devlin, feeling confusion crowding her again. What she was seeing in his face – it didn’t look like anything she might have expected. His expression was as stunned and bewildered as hers must be. And there was something else in there too. Something that looked like – pain?
Pain?

‘I’m not trying
 
–
 
’ His voice sounded rusty. ‘I
am
telling you. Jamie – she’s what four, five years old?’

‘She would have been five. On Christmas Eve.’ The memory had nausea rising. Kaz gritted her teeth. ‘What has that got to do with it?’ She couldn’t understand why her voice sounded so steady, when inside she was dissolving. Now there was something new in his face – excitement?

‘The girl who died in that car had to be ten, maybe eleven years old. And she was blonde, with braces on her teeth.’

‘Could there
 
…’ Suzanne had moved silently to stand behind her. Instinctively Kaz put out her hand and felt her mother’s fingers grasping hers. ‘Could there have been two girls – did Gemma have a child of her own?’

Kaz felt a rush of emotion, too complex to classify. Devlin and her mother were both looking to her for an answer. She tried to focus. ‘She could have, I don’t know.’ She stopped. ‘She was only twenty-four.’

Devlin was frowning now, turning the thing over. As if he really believed
 
–

‘It’s possible then that she had a child, but not likely.’ He shook his head. ‘There was never any suggestion of more than one child
 
–’