Discarded by M. Hunter (fantasy books to read .txt) 📗

With Precious also dressed, and the platinum-blonde wig secured over her tight black knots, they admired the results in the mirror. ‘Grey will probably spunk himself when he sees you walk out,’ Precious said, as if that was a perfectly normal reaction to a child dressed to look older than her eleven years.

Exiting the room, Precious wolf-whistled as she presented the new Kylie, but froze when she saw Mr Brown glaring back from the table.

‘Change of plans,’ he barked. ‘Tonight we’re going to the studios. And take that ridiculous-looking thing off your head. When the client orders a coloured girl, he doesn’t expect half-measures.’

Precious pulled the wig from her head, without even removing the pins, and allowed it to drop to the floor. Lowering her eyes, she walked quietly to the door, Joanna cowering behind her, and then both climbed into the back of Mr Brown’s waiting 4x4.

Chapter Thirty-Two Now

Hayling Island, Hampshire

Poor Victoria doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself as we continue to use the vicarage as a makeshift base of operations. Jack has taken his phone call with his boss at the NCA outside, and I don’t blame him for desiring a bit of privacy; I too wish I could go for some air and try and get out of my own headspace.

Rick is still sitting in the tall-backed armchair, but judging by the way he keeps glancing at his watch when he thinks I’m not looking, I sense there is somewhere else he needs to be. However, when I meet his gaze – inviting him to say something – he just smiles empathetically, before breaking the eye contact.

‘Do you need to go?’ I venture when I can’t take the suspense any longer.

He checks his watch again, even though it’s only ten seconds since he last looked. His jaw tautens into a grimace as if he’s just pulled a muscle at the gym. ‘I do kind of need to head back in a bit. I’m on an early shift tomorrow, and want to grab a few hours’ sleep beforehand. I can wait with you a bit longer. Hopefully your… I mean, Jack will get an answer on next steps soon.’ Another check of the watch. ‘I’d have said if it was my relative’s grave where a body was suspected of being hidden, I think I’d be comfortable with the coffin being exhumed to check. Don’t you think?’

I don’t blame him for his naivety because he hasn’t lost anyone dear to him, so can’t imagine the heart-wrenching pain that such a request could cause to Jean-Claude Ribery’s family. That said, I share his frustration that, without an exhumation, we’ll never know for certain whether Cormack/Chesney is buried there. If the suspicion was that Anna was buried in the grave, would I be so considerate of the Ribery family? In truth, probably not.

‘We’ll just have to wait and see what Jack can sort,’ I say diplomatically. ‘But listen, if you need to get back, I don’t want to be the reason that you stay out. I can probably get a taxi and a train back home, which I’m absolutely fine with.’

There’s a momentary widening of his eyes – excitement maybe? ‘Are you sure? I feel responsible for you, as it was my idea that we come here and I was the one who drove you.’

If only all men were so considerate!

‘Listen, seriously, you’ve already done enough for me, Rick. I really appreciate you being here today, and if it weren’t for your eagle eyes, I probably wouldn’t have spotted that postcode, and I’d still be at home scratching my head about why the two pictures had been sent to me.’

‘Pretty incredible that Jack was the one who found Faye McKenna’s remains so soon after you were sent the picture too.’

I don’t correct him on the fact that the remains were discovered on Thursday before Maddie received the image, but there’s no doubt that the timing feels a little too coincidental. So much so that I can’t accept it as merely coincidence. Whoever sent Faye’s picture to me must have known that we’d discovered remains, or that we were about to. It still feels like there’s someone taunting me. It also has me terrified at the prospect another photograph might turn up tomorrow or in the days to come.

‘At least her family will be able to lay her to rest at last,’ I agree, not adding how envious that makes me feel.

Rick sits forward in his seat. ‘Listen, it’s fine for me to wait around for a bit longer. I’m sure traffic on the way home won’t be too heavy, and I don’t mind dropping you in Weymouth before heading back to Dorchester.’

I actually look at my watch as I don’t know how late it is. ‘Thank you, Rick, but I really can’t ask you for anything else. You go on and get some rest. The last thing I want is for you to be tired when you’re on duty tomorrow.’ I stand, offering a mock salute, and putting on a fake drawl. ‘The good people of Weymouth need you, son.’

He frowns, and I cringe inwardly at the lame impression, but he stands and comes towards me, taking my hands in his. ‘I’m sorry we didn’t manage to solve the mystery of who is sending you those photos, but I don’t doubt you’ll crack it as you always do.’

This is not a good moment for my hands to become clammy.

‘And in case I haven’t made it clear to you yet, Emma, I want you to know how much I dig you.’ His cheeks redden as he half-smiles. ‘I understand if you’re already spoken for, or if whatever you have with Jack is where your head’s at, but if not, I’d love to ask you out on a proper date.’

What I would give for the chance to live in Jane Austen’s England, where such courting was only