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“Why would your father be sending me flowers?” She flicked Jodie's nose. “Have you got everything?”

“Yes I have. And my food tech stuff. We're making bread this afternoon. There's a card. Can I read it?”

“I'll read it when I get back. We should go or we're going to be late.” She put the flowers on the counter and headed out to get the coats. “Come on, Vicky,” she yelled up the stairs.

Jodie followed her. “Who's Kevin?” she asked holding out the card.

“I don't know a Kevin,” Amy said. “And you shouldn't open other people's mail.”

“I just thought they might be from Dad. What does ‘condolences' mean?”

“It means being sorry for something.”

“OK, so what did Kevin do wrong that he had to buy you flowers to say sorry for.”

Amy sighed. “I told you, I don't know a Kevin. Let's go.”

She took the card from Jodie and shoved it by the telephone.

She walked the girls to school, and waited until Vicky had gone in, before letting her mind run over the flowers. She only knew of one Kevin, and he wanted her dead. But why would he be sending her flowers and how did he know where she was? Was everything else that was happening connected? Was he trying to intimidate her? Or scare her? Because if that was his intention, then he'd succeeded.

The bad feeling in her gut grew as she got closer to the house. Her heart sank as she saw more blood coating the door. This time spelling her name. That definitely was not the work of the cat. And a little sick for a mere schoolboy crush.

She quickly cleaned it off and then deadlocked the front door. She picked up the card and read it, the hair standing on the back of her neck. She shivered and set the burglar alarm before she headed into the lounge.

Booting up the laptop, she carried it into the kitchen and set it on the counter. She poured a cup of coffee, sat on the stool, and settled down to watch a cooking show she'd missed the previous evening. The main news page caught her eye and she clicked on the link. Rosalie's picture filled the screen.
Pastor's wife falls from cliff.

Tears filled her eyes, as her hand rose to her mouth.
Nooooo….

 



 

Dane sat quietly as Nate drove him home. It had been a long twenty-four hours. The guv had been relentless with her interviewing, not leaving anything to chance—taking the rest of the night the drive home hadn't. He rubbed his shoulder, the sling restricting all movement in his left arm.

Nate glanced at him. “I wish you'd agreed to time off.”

Dane pulled a face. “It's Friday. We're off until Monday anyway. I was wondering if you'd take the girls to the church bonfire tomorrow night.”

“What about you and Amy?”

“I can't drive, neither does she. You can't fit all of us in your car. Just take the girls. I can always burn the rubbish in the incinerator if Amy wants a fire.”

“Maybe we do that anyway. Or build a bonfire. I can bring fireworks.”

“I promised the girls they could go to the church one.”

Nate parked outside the house and held his hands up in an expression of defeat. “In that case I'll take them. I'll pick them up at five.”

“Thank you.” He opened the door. “I'll see you then.” He watched Nate drive off, and then headed up the path. He unlocked the door and stepped over the lintel.

The alarm started beeping. “What the…” Maybe Amy was out. He deactivated it and hung his coat on the rack. Something fell in the kitchen.

“Amy?”

No answer.

“Amy, is that you?”

He headed to the kitchen and pushed open the door. Amy sat on the stool, tears streaking her face, totally distraught. Running across the room, he pushed the laptop to one side, before sitting beside her and wrapping his good arm around her. What could have happened this time? He held her tightly as she sobbed. “Lord, I don't know what's upsetting Amy right now, but You do. Be close to her, comfort her.”

He glanced at the laptop, and his heart skipped a beat. Shock flooded him, twisting his stomach into a hard knot. “Noooo—”

He pulled his phone from his pocket, stifling the gasp of pain. He speed-dialed Nate.

The phone rang five times before Nate answered. He could hear the indicator ticking and the car engine in the background. “Holmes.”

“Nate, it's me.” Dane took a deep breath. “Sorry to make you pull over.”

“Are you missing me already?” Amusement filled Nate's voice.

“Something's happened.” He let his tone convey urgency, knowing his partner would pick up on it.

“You need me to come back?”

“Ye…” His voice cracked. “Yes.”

“What's up?” Nate's tone turned concerned yet professional.

“Ray Malone's wife was killed yesterday. Fell off the cliff according to the news.”

“Hang on. You're saying she committed suicide?”

“It doesn't say, just that she went over the cliff. But there are references to postnatal depression.” He drew in a deep calming breath. “Nate…”

“What?”

“Just get back here, pronto.”

“On my way.”

Ten minutes later, Nate's car pulled up on the drive. Dane left Amy long enough to let him in. She'd stopped crying, just sat leaning against him, pale and drawn, staring at a bunch of flowers next to the laptop.

Dane took Nate's coat, kicking the door shut with his foot.

Nate didn't bother with the niceties of hello. “Ray's wife? Are you sure?”

“It's on the news. Amy was upset when I got home. The article still up.”

Nate followed Dane into the kitchen. “Amy…”

“Hi, Nate.” She looked up from ripping a tissue to shreds.

Dane sat and wrapped his arm around her again.

Nate stopped at the breakfast bar and pulled the laptop across. It didn't take his partner long to make the connection that he had. “That's her. I don't believe this. We were there. We should have stopped this from happening. You reckon they killed her?”

“That's what I'm thinking.”

“Maybe if we'd gone to see Ray sooner, we could have stopped her from leaving.”

“We were on the way there,” Dane reminded him. “But like you said in the hospital, at least we saved the baby.” But even that felt a hollow victory now.

“I just don't believe what I'm seeing.” Nate looked back at the screen. “Postnatal depression…but even so…”

“You know Ray?” Amy asked quietly.

Nate nodded. “Yes, I do. I met him in London back in April. We've kept in touch on and off ever since.”

“I went to university with Rosalie. She was all I had and now, now I don't have anyone.” She dissolved into sobs again.

Dane closed his eyes, his face creasing with pain as Amy moved against his chest.

“You need more pain meds?” Nate asked.

“It might be an idea.”

“Where are they?”

“Still in my coat pocket, which is hanging in the hall.” Dane nodded to the door.

Nate stood. “I'll get them.”

Amy looked up. “Pain meds?” Her eyes widened as she took in the sling for the first time. “You're hurt? Why didn't you say anything?”

“You were upset. I didn't want to worry you further.”

“What happened?”

“I got shot. It's a very long, boring story, not worth repeating.”

The color drained from her face. “Dane…”

“It's fine. Few weeks and I'll be fighting fit and back to scaling fences again.” He kissed her cheek softly. “I promise, I'm OK.” Her fingers gently traced his collar bone, making him wince. Then hiss.

“Sorry.” She moved her hand.

“It's fine. It's a clean wound, just a little uncomfortable.”

Nate appeared beside him, holding out a glass of water and the pills. “Here.”

He took them. “Thank you.” He looked at Amy. “So, short story is I'll live. Who are the flowers from?”

She shrugged. “They came before I left to take the kids to school.”

Nate picked up the card. “'Dearest Amy. With sincere condolences. Kevin.' Kevin who?”

“I don't know.” Amy shivered. “No one knows I live here.”

“But you knew Rosalie.”

“Yes. But no one knows I live
here
,” she repeated. “I haven't spoken to Ray or Rosalie in weeks.”

Dane looked at her, trying to work this out in his mind. “You didn't give them this address?”

Her voice rose. “I told you. No one has it. No one knows I'm here.”

“Well, someone obviously does.”

“I haven't told anyone, why would I? And you can't go telling Ray where I am either.”

“Why ever not? If you were as close as you say you were, you should ring him. He's going to need every friend he can get right now.”

She pushed up. “I have my reasons. You can't tell him, please.”

Surprise filled him. “It's OK.”

“Not OK. Never OK.” Her voice rose, her agitation tangible. “Please, promise me you won't tell him I'm here. You can't.”

“All right, we won't say anything.” Dane reached for her, but she pulled away and ran from the room. He sat there stunned.

“Well, that was weird,” Nate said quietly.

“Yeah, right.”

“Did you ever do a background check on her?”

“I didn't think I needed to.”

“Maybe you should.”

Dane drew in a deep breath, trying to ignore the growing nausea. “Why? Because I'm falling for her? Because she's my daughters' nanny?”

Nate shook his head. “No. Because she knew Rosalie. Someone sent her flowers the day after we saw Rosalie Malone kidnapped and she winds up dead. She jumped off a cliff because of screwed-up hormones? I doubt that very much—not the way she reacted when that guy grabbed her. Then there are the phone calls Amy got.”

“Not since the number was changed.”

The phone rang three times and stopped as Dane picked it up. “Amy must have gotten it.” He put the phone down again.

It rang again, and then stopped.

Nate raised an eyebrow. “You were saying?”

It rang a third time. Then stopped. Dane stood. “OK, this is beyond a joke now.” He moved to the door. “Amy? Who was on the phone?”

“It was a wrong number. I'm going for a shower.”

“OK, but let me get it next time.” He went back into the kitchen.

Nate stood by the kitchen window and glanced over his shoulder at him. “I didn't think you were doing a bonfire this year.”

Dane shook his head, rubbing his arm. It really hurt now, not that he was going to admit it to anyone. “I'm not. We already discussed this. You're taking the girls to the church one. Amy and I are staying here.”

Nate nodded to the garden. “Then what's that?”

“I don't know. You tell me.” Dane turned to the window. “What the…”

A huge bonfire made of twigs, leaves and branches sat in the middle of the lawn. A scary looking guy made of black cloth with a red wig, and dark red cricket balls for eyes rested on the top.

He swallowed. “I don't remember it being there.”

“Maybe the kids built it while we were up north.”

“No, I mean that wasn't there when I got home. I'm sure it wasn't. And no one's been outside. The kids are at school, and I've been in here with Amy. I would have noticed a bonfire and a guy that scary.” He pulled his mobile from his pocket and, pulling up the camera app, snapped several photos.

The landline phone rang again. Dane answered it. If this was another prank call, he was getting the line traced, no matter what Amy wanted. He didn't say anything, not wanting to tip the caller off that it wasn't Amy answering the phone.

Heavy breathing hissed in his ear, followed by a husky voice. “Burn in hell, Amy.”

The bonfire in the garden exploded.

 

 

 

 

15

 

Amy watched from the kitchen window as Dane put the fire out with the hose one handed. She'd heard the shouts from upstairs and gotten to the landing window in time to see them both bolt outside. Nate raked over the embers to ensure the flames were completely out and no sparks were left to reignite later on.

She couldn't stay here. She was putting everyone in danger. He'd probably gotten shot because of her. There were too many coincidences, and she didn't believe in them on a good day. And this was definitely
not
a good day.

There was the blood, dead critters, phone calls, the man outside the house. And now this. She hadn't built the bonfire. The girls hadn't. And it hadn't been there when she left the house that morning. She knew that because she'd been in the garden clearing up the dead animals.

Why are You letting this happen? Haven't I paid enough without Dane, the girls and now Ray paying for my mistake? I heard what they said about the woman being kidnapped and they thought it was Rosalie. It's my fault. All of it.

The men came in, wiping their feet on the mat. Dane looked right through her as he shut the door. “Well?” he demanded.

Nate leaned against the back door, arms folded tightly across his chest.

She held Dane's gaze. “Well, what?”

“What are you hiding?”

Amy swallowed nervously, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. “Nothing.”

Dane moved over to her, blocking her exit. “Don't give me that. Did you build that bonfire and guy?”

“No.”

“Did the girls?”

“No. They wanted to build one, but I said they had to wait until you got home. But as they were going to the church one, there probably wasn't any need to. And besides, I wasn't going to go through your clothes and give them some. That's up to you.”

“So you didn't build the one outside?”