Inheriting Fear Page 15

  It was imperative that he interview Natalie as soon as possible. She was flighty last night. After sleeping on it, she might’ve changed her mind about testifying against Willy. But he didn’t want to knock on Mya’s door too early. He looked at his black and red dive watch—seven thirty—and dialed Kate’s number.

  “Sorry it’s so early, but I need you to accompany a patrol car to Willy Mason’s house and arrest his arse.”

  “Wow. What happened?”

  “I’ll meet you at the station in an hour and explain. I’m bringing a witness.”

  “What are the charges?”

  “Jewelry theft, forgery, battery.”

  “Okay. See you in an hour.”

  He tucked his uniform shirt into his slacks, shoved his feet into black sandshoes, and tied the laces—comfort and style. As he walked along the footpath to Mya’s house, Willy’s connection to Kevin Barnes, Melanie Lane, and Mya were swirling through his brain. His gut instinct told him that his sassy, long-haired neighbour wasn’t involved, but ten years on the force meant he knew better than to assume anything.

  “Morning, Luca.”

  He balked as the neighbour who lived between his and Mya’s houses appeared from behind a standard rose bush: a thin, old man wearing a pressed white shirt, grey shorts, and long socks .

  “Bert.”

  “Calling on Mya, are you?” A slight smile played at the corners of the old man’s mouth and his eyes sparkled.

  “Police business, Bert.”

  “Oh? She’s not in trouble, is she?” Bert rested one hand on his hip and twirled secateurs in the other.

  “Nothing to worry yourself about. I’m pretty sure Mya can handle trouble.” Luca tried hard to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

  “I know she can, but—” Bert pursed his lips and glanced over his left shoulder at Mya’s house. “She acts tough, that one,” he flicked a thumb toward her house, “but only because she has to, you know? She’s a good girl.”

  Luca blinked. Did he imagine Bert frowning at him, almost like a warning? He nodded goodbye and pushed Mya’s front gate open. The curtains were still closed, so he knocked gently. After a minute, he raised his hand to knock again, but a floorboard inside the house creaked. He heard the bolts slide and the door cracked open. One hazel eye stared blankly at him.

  “Hi. I’m here to take Natalie to the station.”

  Mya sighed and opened the door all the way. “You could’ve waited until a decent hour.”

  She looked pissed off, but that was nothing new.

  “I didn’t want to give Willy Mason an opportunity to flee, so I’ve sent a car to pick him up. I need to get Natalie’s statement and find her somewhere safe to stay for a while.”

  He stepped across the threshold, but Mya didn’t budge. Now there was only an arm’s length between them. He scrutinized her long caramel hair, which was sticking up at all angles. His gaze lingered too long on the erect nipples under her cotton tank top, but he couldn’t force it away. Warmth rose up his throat as he finally dragged his line of sight back to hers. The faint horizontal lines on her forehead had smoothed and green and gold flecks glittered in her irises. Her lips parted.

  “Hi, Luca.”

  Natalie came into focus behind Mya and, in the time it took him to focus on her and back, Mya had turned away.

  “Make yourself at home while I get dressed.”

  Luca refocused on the task at hand. “How are you feeling this morning, Natalie?” The teenager shuffled into the lounge room and sat on the edge of the farthest armchair. “Fine.”

  “Are you ready to come down to the station and give me your statement?”

  “Didn’t I do that last night?” The marks on her face were turning purple and black. He’d need to get photos of her injuries. Without all the makeup, she looked considerably younger.

  “I need to get the whole story down on paper, and I’ve got a few questions for you.”

  “Oh.”

  “We also need to find you somewhere safe to stay for a while.”

  Her shoulders drooped. “Can’t I stay here?”

  His eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t expected that. Then again, Mya was the person Natalie ran to last night. Perhaps they already knew each other. There was definitely some connection between the Masons, Natalie, and Mya.

  He lowered his voice. “Can I ask why you came to Mya’s house last night?”

  Natalie chewed her bottom lip. “She protects people.”

  Now he was downright curious. He leaned forward on the couch. “Why do you say that?”

  “I saw … some girls picking on a kid in the park the other day and she protected him. She knows how to handle herself.”

  “That she does.”

  Natalie pushed a collection of bracelets up and down her forearm.

  “Do you want anything to eat before you go?” Mya stepped into the room wearing tight denim jeans. Soft curls fell over her shoulders and the lines were back on her forehead.

  “Hey, are you a Linkin Park fan?” He nodded at the stellar LP symbol on the front of her black T-shirt.

  “Huge.” Her head cocked to one side as she studied him.

  His gaze traced a line down the side of her soft throat. He didn’t understand this woman at all and was worried by how much he wanted to.

  “Nah, no breakfast,” Natalie said.

  “Okay, then I guess we should get going.” Luca smiled at Mya. “Thanks for taking care of her last night.”

  “I didn’t do it for your benefit.”

  “No, but thanks anyway. Do you mind if we go out the back way? So we can get into my car without being seen. And I’ll need to talk to you again later, if that’s all right.”

  “I’m going to visit Mum this morning and I’m working this afternoon, but you can get me on my mobile.”

  Luca took his phone from his pocket and navigated to the address book. “What’s the number?”

  She rattled it off. He followed her into the narrow back yard appreciating the way her rear end sashayed in the tight denim. Vegetables crowded along both fences. Huh. Mya gardened. Well, it made sense with her being a chef and all.

  Stay focused.

  Once he’d dealt with Natalie, he needed to have a serious chat with Mya about her involvement with the Masons and exactly how she fit into the jewelry and nursing home drama that was unfolding, not to mention why she had applied to Deed Poll to change her name again.

  He tried to think of her as Lara Roach, but the image of a frightened little girl was all that came to mind. Hopefully she understood that becoming Sophie, or Jennifer, or whatever name she picked this time, wouldn’t help her outrun her past. Neither would it change the woman inside either, and he wouldn’t want it to. Mya Jensen was a whirlwind of fury and irritability, but she seemed to bring that same passion to everything she did, including making love. No, he wouldn’t want to change her at all. If anything, it would be nice to acquaint her with the softer side of humanity.

  Chapter 24

  The humidity battled against a cool breeze. There had only been patchy clouds in the sky when Mya left home, but now dark swirls moved along the horizon and she could smell their dampness. Weather like this made her wish she had a car.

  She planned on spending a couple of hours with her mum before catching up on chores at home. Her shift at the Croydon Hotel didn’t start until four that afternoon.

  Rich Haven’s Victorian building looked ominous beneath the purple sky. Using her tiptoes for purchase, she waddled the motorbike backward into a parking space and kicked down the side stand. The moment she pulled her helmet off, a large blob of rain landed smack in the middle of her forehead.

  Great.

  The slate staircase darkened with moisture as she dashed up it and into the reception area. She pushed damp hair from her brow and swiped her hands down the back of her jeans while her eyes adjusted to the dull interior.

  Beverly Aldridge wasn’t behind the reception desk. Mya signed the registe
r and took the western hallway. Footsteps approached fast and she stepped to one side just as Beverly trotted around the corner.

  “Oh! Did someone call you?” Beverly reached out to take Mya’s forearm.

  An odd way to start a conversation. “No.”

  “I was just going to call you. Perhaps you should come with me.”

  Mya found herself being steered back to the reception. It felt a lot like being manhandled, so she snatched her arm back.

  “If this is about Mum’s jewelry, it can wait until after I visit her.”

  “Perhaps you should sit down for a minute, dear.”

  Dear? Her eyes travelled up Beverly’s pastel-pink clad arm, across her ruffled bodice to sympathetic eyes. A knot formed in her stomach and she swallowed shallow breaths.

  “Have a seat.” Beverly waved a hand toward a row of carved chairs against the wall.

  “I want to visit Mum first.”

  “I was just about to call you.” Beverly reached for Mya.

  Her pink fingernails patted the back of Mya’s hand. Mya’s mouth dried.

  “Rosalie passed away this morning.”

  A grandfather clock chimed. Mya flinched as each peal reverberated through her bones. One, two, three, her knees faltered, four, five, six, a crushing weight pressed on her lungs, seven, eight, nine, her head spun from the lack of oxygen, ten, her mind went blank.

  This time she let Beverly guide her to a chair.

  “Are you all right, dear? I’m so sorry for your loss. Would you like a glass of water or something?”

  It can’t be true. Mum isn’t even fifty. Beverly must’ve made a mistake. Someone else’s mother died.

  Bitter saliva flooded Mya’s mouth and nausea twisted her stomach.

  • • •

  Luca reclined against the wall of the interview room, his narrowed eyes locked on Willy Mason—a silent battle of wills. He waited until Willy looked away and then pushed off the wall.

  “Thanks to your overreaction last night, Willy, Natalie Andrews is cooperating fully with the police. I have photographs of the injuries you inflicted on her, and she explained exactly how your little scam operates. By the end of the day, I’m going to have enough evidence to put you away for a long time. I even know who two of your acc—”

  “That little tart doesn’t know shit!”

  “Does Kevin Walker sound familiar?”

  Willy sat straight and crossed his thick arms, hands clenched. Luca imagined the man would like to wrap them around his throat. They glared at one another.

  “What I don’t know is who is running the show. I want Ev’s full name.”

  “Now you’re just clutching at straws. Besides, I don’t know any Kevin Walker.”

  Luca shook his head, as though pitying Willy. “Maybe Kevin Barnes didn’t tell you he was operating under an alias.”

  Willy swallowed and his left eye twitched minutely.

  “Do you think they’re going to help you out? You know as well as I do they’ll hang you out to dry.”

  “Look, I just move the goods. I don’t steal the stuff and I don’t replace it with the fakes.”

  “Well, unless you start telling me exactly how the operation works, I’ve got more productive things to be doing. So what’s your final answer?”

  “Bite me.”

  “Bite me it is.”

  Luca strode from the room and locked the door behind him. Negotiating with criminals was like a waltz; one step forward, one to the side and back. It wasn’t until you reached the twirl of new information that you got forward motion.

  Kate stood in the hallway. “I’ve been waiting for you. Any luck with Willy?” She fell into step beside Luca.

  “Not yet. Did you get Natalie’s statement? I was afraid she was going to spook.”

  “Yes. I think it was wise for me to talk to her. She’s a bit man-shy after her run-in with Willy.”

  Luca lowered his voice as they entered the lunch room. “Any information I can use?” He grabbed a mug from the overhead cupboard, dangled an English breakfast teabag in it, and poured water from the urn to two-thirds full.

  “She can list most of the items she made and approximate time frames, but she doesn’t appear to have knowledge about the other members of the scam. I tell you, she’s talented. There’s no way I’d pick the stuff she makes as fake.

  “Anyway, I explained she might face charges for her part in the scam, but her cooperation was in her favour. She doesn’t care. Her main concern is that Willy won’t get his hands on her again.”

  “I understand.” Luca splashed milk into his mug and jiggled the tea bag. “Natalie wants to stay with Mya—the neighbour whose house she ran to last night—but I’m worried it’s not far enough away from the Mason family. I guess I can put her there for another night, until we sort out something more permanent.”

  “This is the same woman who helped you beat up Willy Mason and gave Pete from the pawn shop two black eyes?” Kate asked warily.

  “Well, yeah.”

  She shook her head. “You really can pick ’em.”

  “Speaking of which, did you ask Natalie what I wanted you to?”

  “She swears Mya isn’t involved with Willy,” Kate mumbled begrudgingly. “Hey, before I forget, a Beverly Aldridge left a message on the landline late yesterday, so I only just got it. She has collated the statistics about deaths at Rich Haven during the past nine months. Do you want me to pick them up?”

  “Thanks, but I want to pay another visit to Pete’s Pawn Shop, so I’ll drop in on the way. Can you keep Natalie safe for a few hours and keep trying to track down Melanie Lane’s real identity?”

  “Sure thing. And I looked into that Balhannah address you gave me. The property is owned by Evan Smith, runs an accounting firm, clean record.”

  “Not much to work on, but thanks.”

  • • •

  The rain on the roof of Luca’s old Toyota Corolla sounded like static on a radio. He squeezed between a Bentley and a Jaguar at the far end of the Rich Haven parking lot. If these rich bastards learned how to park their cars between the lines, he wouldn’t need a can opener to get his in.

  With a black jacket pulled over his head, he ran for the building, past Mya’s red motorbike. He’d forgotten she was coming here today.

  Great, another reason for her to think I’m stalking her.

  He’d have to make more of an effort to keep his distance. This morning in her entrance hall, his self-control had been close to nonexistent. The woman’s soft floral scent and supple skin were irresistible, and that long, luxurious hair …

  If Natalie hadn’t appeared, there might have been an unwise repeat of tangled sheets. Mya certainly acted like that should be avoided. Then again, the way she looked at him gave her desire away, and now that he was sure she wasn’t in on the jewelry scam, maybe he didn’t have to keep his distance.

  A rumble of thunder accompanied him through the front door. He shook moisture from his jacket and surveyed the room. The reception desk was unattended, and he heard a familiar sound. Grief. He recognized the efficient Beverly Aldridge bent over a woman who was sitting on the floor. The woman wailed and resisted Beverly’s attempts to pull her up.

  Although Luca was sure the Rich Haven staff was trained in grief counselling, he offered assistance anyway. “Is everything all right?”

  Beverly straightened and turned a phony smile to him. Perspiration beaded on her upper lip and her pencilled brows were pulled out of shape with worry. He smiled reassuringly and looked down at the stricken woman. His inhalation stopped mid-breath as he recognised the caramel waves of Mya’s long hair. Her face was buried in her hands and her whole body shuddered.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Her head jerked up at his familiar voice, her eyes pained. Tears streamed down her cheeks and stuck hair to the edges of her face. Something wrenched inside him and he lurched forward. He understood that look. He’d felt it.

  He knelt beside her. “Wh
at happened, Mya?”

  “Oh, you know one another?” Beverly sounded relieved.

  Mya buried her face in her hands again and wailed loudly.

  Beverly put a hand on his shoulder. “Mya’s mother passed away this morning. Usually I’d call a relative to be with her, but there isn’t anyone else listed in Rosalie’s file.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll stay with her,” he offered.

  He noticed a family make a wide berth around them, as though grief was contagious. Who cared what they thought? He sunk to the floor and moved within a centimetre of Mya, so she could feel his presence. Beverly handed him a box of tissues and returned to her desk.

  For a few minutes he just watched Mya’s body tremble. It looked like she had hypothermia, but it was just a sign of her suffering. Nauseating gurgles emanated from beneath a veil of hair as she struggled to breathe through a torrent of tears.

  Eventually he whispered in her ear, “I’m really sorry about your mother, Mya. Have you been to see her yet?”

  Her head whipped sideways. The horrified expression made him recoil. Perhaps that wasn’t the right thing to suggest.

  She shook her head infinitesimally. “They won’t let me.”

  “Do you want to?”

  A slow nod. He pushed onto his knees and then feet and offered her a hand. She stared at it blankly and then at his face. Tentatively she placed her hand in his. Once she was on her feet, she teetered, so he wrapped an arm around her waist. With her head down and body silently trembling, he guided her forward.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Beverly called.

  “Yes.” He sounded decisive. If there was one thing he was familiar with, it was grief, and Mya needed to say goodbye on her own terms.

  Beverly considered for a moment before pointing toward the left hallway. “Number thirty-two.”

  Was this a good idea? They’d shuffled past the door with a brass twenty on it; too late now. He should’ve checked on the state of Rosalie’s body before he brought Mya to see it.

  Shadows moved back and forth across the strip of light on the carpet, and he attempted to put himself between Mya and the room. Not a chance. She struggled past him, ran to the bed, and threw herself over her mother. Mercifully, Rosalie had been laid on the made bed. She wore a floral nightie and her hair was neat. Her face looked peaceful.