In the Mists of Time (4 page)

Louise, who was sitting beside her, gave her a friendly nudge. “I'm sure you and Glenn have lots of little moments. I don't. Not with strangers. Or anyone much, really. That's why I don't want him around.”

“In case he thinks you're easy?” Chrissy said.

Louise blinked. “Because I
was
easy. Seriously, have you not heard a murmur of this up at the big house?”

“Not a whisper,” Izzy assured her.

“I don't think he's a blabbing kind of guy,” Chrissy added. “The opposite, in fact.”

They'd all been leaning forward over the table, talking in discreet undertones that couldn't carry across the room as far as the bar. As the pub door was flung open with a blast of icy March wind, Louise actually jumped. But it was her brother, Aidan, who stepped in the door.

As Louise smiled with as much relief as welcome, Chrissy threw herself out of her chair and flew across the room to hurl herself into Aidan's arms. It was one way to defy gossip—be open. In fact, neither Chrissy nor Aidan cared what other people said, and Louise was the first to admit that Chrissy was good for her brother. Izzy, who knew Chrissy better, had said that worked both ways.

As Aidan hugged Chrissy, murmuring something in her ear and pressing a brief, forceful kiss on her lips, others pushed in behind him—residents from the big house. Archie, Rab…and Thierry.

“Put her down and shift,” Archie commanded, shoving past towards the bar.

Before she could be seen, Louise jerked her head away, towards Izzy, who grasped her hand briefly under the table, presumably in support.

Aidan was walking towards their table, his arm still around Chrissy. “Evening, all,” he said, ruffling Louise's hair by way of brotherly affection. “What are you drinking?”

“Oh we've still got plenty,” Izzy demurred.

“Line them up,” Louise commanded, “while you have the chance!”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Thierry ordering drinks at the bar while Archie and Rab wandered over and sat two tables from Louise's. The Ardknocken House residents were careful never to force their company on the villagers, and the presence of Louise and Morag meant they would keep their distance, although they did murmur civil hellos.

At the bar, Aidan and Thierry seemed to be exchanging idle chat while the drinks were being poured. Thierry didn't so much as glance towards Louise. She should have felt grateful rather than piqued. Beside them, Kenny was holding forth to Ron the fisherman, whose gaze, however, was focused not on Kenny but on Thierry. Well, Ron had already stated his views on the ex-cons. Perhaps he had difficulty marrying up his prejudice with the quietly spoken man talking to the ex-cop.

After a moment, Ron's voice drifted over. “Are you Aidan Grieve? Believe I'm staying at your place!”

Aidan smiled with his usual friendliness, murmuring a reply as he gathered his drinks. Again Ron's gaze flickered to Thierry, who, oblivious, was walking away with his own pints. Still he didn't glance at Louise.

I've seen him off,
she thought and couldn't understand why she didn't feel more relieved.

Because she'd never known sex like the sex she'd had with him. So urgent and intense… She blinked, trying to refocus on the conversation around her.

“How's the house?” Aidan asked Chrissy. They were doing up an old, ruined cottage by the shore.

“Looking good!” Chrissy enthused. “All the walls are plastered and we're ready to decorate. Kitchen's going in on Monday. We should be able to have that housewarming party pretty soon.”

“Before you furnish,” Morag advised.

“It's not going to be that kind of party,” Chrissy said with dignity.

“Course it is,” Morag argued. “Everyone in the village will be there. The walls will be heaving.”

Chrissy looked thoughtful. “More room without furniture,” she said.

“Exactly. We'll be there on Saturday. Cheers.”

Everyone laughed, although Chrissy and Aidan were exchanging glances as though seriously considering it. At least, if not this Saturday, then some time quite soon.

Later in the evening, as Louise brought her round from the bar—one for the road—she discovered her table empty, apart from Aidan, who was leaning across the table between to speak to Rab. Izzy was standing beside Archie, but there was no sign of either Morag or Chrissy, who'd presumably gone to the ladies.

As Louise set down the drinks and sat, a shadow fell over her. She glanced up quickly, and her heart leapt when she found Thierry standing there.

“I've got all the parts for a new computer,” he said. “If you want me to do it for you, I will. Just say.”

His dark eyes held hers only for an instant and then he turned away and went back to his seat.

“Thanks,” Louise croaked after him. As the others returned and conversation resumed, she realized she was joining in far more naturally. Bizarrely, she felt…happy.

Chapter Four

“Got a minute?” Louise asked her brother, who'd dropped in for breakfast with their parents. While Cerys helped them to their armchairs, Louise followed Aidan into the kitchen with the dirty dishes.

“Sure. Everything okay?”

“Yes, fine. Why?”

Aidan shrugged. “You seemed a bit on edge last night.”

“Oh no,” Louise said hastily. “This isn't really anything to do with me. You know Nicole Graham?”

“Of course.”

Louise told him about Nicole's claim to have been attacked and her assumption that no one would believe her. “Would you talk to her? I know you have an instinct for the truth, and if it is true—which I think it is—maybe you could persuade her to go to the police?”

“Sure, I'll talk to her,” Aidan said, frowning.

“When?”

Aidan blinked. “As soon as possible. Now, if she's around.”

“Thanks, Aidan,” Louise said with relief, grabbing her phone.

Ten minutes later, she opened the door to Nicole. The younger woman was very casually dressed, and she wore no jacket, just a baggy shirt and jogging pants, her bare feet shoved into sneakers.

“You remember Aidan, don't you?” Louise said, ushering her into the living room. “And my parents.”

Nicole waved slightly awkwardly across the room to the old people, who smiled at her without much obvious idea who she was, and nodded to Aidan.

“You're not in the police anymore, are you?” she said abruptly.

“No, but I was quite disturbed by what Louise told me. She said you didn't want to go to the police, but do you want to tell me what happened so I can at least advise you?”

Nicole sat on the window seat beside Aidan while Louise leaned against the back of the sofa.

“I didn't notice the mist come down,” she said.

“Were you walking with this guy?” Aidan asked.

“Sort of,” Nicole said doubtfully. “When it got misty, I started to walk back down, but it moved faster than I did. And then I ran into him coming up. I told him he should go back—too many places to fall when you can't see. He said he'd be fine and walked on, but then, a minute or two later, he caught up with me again, said I was quite right.”

“How far did he walk with you?” Aidan asked.

“I don't know. Maybe a hundred yards or so.”

“How did he behave?”

Nicole shrugged. “He was okay at first, but he kept watching me instead of his feet. It made me uncomfortable.”

“Did you tell him that?”

Nicole shook her head. “No, I just walked faster. He kept up for a bit, and then he grabbed my arm. I shook him off, and he grabbed me again. When I told him to let me go, he was panting. He put both arms around me and hung on even when I struggled. So I kneed him in the balls and ran.”

“Then you felt threatened by him?”

Nicole lifted her gaze from her hands. “Very.”

Aidan's eyes were very steady, holding her gaze. “Did you feel there was a sexual element to his grabbing you?”

“Explicitly,” Nicole said wryly.

“He was aroused?” Aidan asked tactfully.

Nicole nodded.

“So he frightened you. You felt threatened. Did he hurt you?”

“He didn't rape me.”

“Can you show me how he grabbed you?” Aidan asked. “Where on the arm?”

Nicole gripped her left upper arm and then her right.

“Are you bruised there?”

Nicole's eyebrows lifted. “I don't know.” Unexpectedly, she pulled her shirt down from the left shoulder. Beneath it, she wore a pretty vest top, but it was the fingerprint bruise on her arm that swiftly distracted Louise. Blue and yellow, it wasn't easy to miss. “Yes,” Nicole said in vague surprise.

Aidan lifted his gaze from the bruise back to Nicole's face. “Did he chase you after you kicked him?”

“I don't know. I heard someone. I thought it was him, but it turned out just to be Louise and that other man.”

Aidan blinked from Nicole to Louise. “What other man?”

Shit and shit and shit.
“Just one of the Ardknocken House men,” Louise said casually.
Just, dear God…

“But he wasn't the man who attacked you, Nicole?” Aidan asked.

Nicole shook her head. “No. I'm sure I'd never seen this man before. I'm sure he doesn't live here.”

“Okay. Can you describe him? What did he look like?”

Nicole frowned, gave a helpless little shrug. “Sort of…ordinary. Maybe forty or fifty, slightly balding, darkish hair…”

“Was he clean-shaven? Bearded?”

“Clean-shaven.” She turned her head to one side, gazing out the window as if an effort of remembrance, but said no more.

“What about his voice? What sort of accent did he have? Local?”

“No, it was English.”

“Okay, good. Anything else about his voice? Deep or high or—”

“Ordinary,” Nicole said ruefully.

“Was there anything
out
of the ordinary about him? The way he walked? Any tattoos? Moles? Birthmarks?”

After a few moments, Nicole shook her head again.

“What was he wearing?” Aidan asked.

“Walking boots, and one of those wax jackets with a hood. Khaki coloured. Sorry, I'm not being very helpful, am I?”

Aidan smiled at her, though since she didn't turn to look at him, it was probably a wasted effort. Most women seemed to melt at his smile. “Actually, you're doing very well,” he said. “Do you have any idea why he might have attacked you?”

“I thought at the time it was rape.” Her face had flushed, and she still didn't look at either Aidan or Louise.

“And now?” Aidan asked gently.

She shrugged. “I don't know. It was very sudden. Like he was two different men. Maybe he was…disturbed. Schizophrenic or something.”

“Did anything happen just before he attacked you?” Aidan asked. “What was the last thing you said to him?”

“I don't know. I can't remember. I don't think I was saying anything. He did most of the talking.”

“Did you touch him at all?” Aidan asked.

Nicole shook her head.

“Not even to guide him? Or by accident?”

“No,” Nicole said definitely. A funny little smile flickered across her lips. “The police aren't going to buy this from me, are they? Not without witnesses.”

“Nicole, you're as entitled to protection as anyone else!” Louise exclaimed. “And
someone
caused those bruises on your arm.”

Aidan nodded, opened his mouth to pronounce, when Nicole suddenly sprang up from the window seat, still staring out the window.

“That's him!” she said. “That's the man.”

Louise and Aidan both jammed their faces against the window. Ron from the flat upstairs had just emerged from the front gate and was striding up the road, fishing rod in his hand.

* * * * *

“Well, at least he's not staying in the house,” Aidan said a trifle grimly when Nicole had left. She'd said she would phone Aidan this afternoon about whether or not she was prepared to go to the police. “What do you know about this character?”

Louise shrugged. “Nothing except his name and address. He lives in London and works for an insurance company. Or says he does.”

“Well, it's a start. I'll see what I can find out.” He frowned as he reached for his jacket. “You know, it's funny, I thought in the pub last night he was up to something. I never had him pegged as a rapist.”

“Then you believe Nicole's story?”

“I'm pretty sure she's telling the truth,” Aidan said, “at least as she sees it. Ron'll be up on the river for several hours, I imagine, so I'll do some digging and then go and track him down and have a word.”

Louise jumped up. “What if he's dangerous?” she demanded. “Shouldn't you take Glenn or some of the others with you?”

Aidan glanced at her, a faint smile flickering across his face. “No,” he said wryly. Of course he didn't. As a policeman, he was used to taking care of himself, and Louise was pretty sure he'd been in some kind of special branch before he resigned.

As he opened the front door, Louise blurted, “Thierry at the big house has offered to make us a new computer for twenty quid. I think I should go with it, don't you?”

“Won't get a better offer.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “What? You don't usually want my opinion.”

“You know him better than I do.”

“Not sure I do. Likable bloke, though. And Chrissy approves of him. She's sure he helped Izzy out with something important before he even came here. And he was in there when I needed help a couple of months ago.”

“Well, if you're up at the big house,” Louise said in a rush, “maybe you could tell him I gratefully accept.”

Aidan paused. “If you're using me as insurance—which isn't exactly like you—you probably
shouldn't
be accepting, gratefully or otherwise.”

Damn him, he was too bloody perceptive. Except, her purpose wasn't so much insurance as avoidance.

“Oh never mind,” she said crossly. “I'll sort it out myself.”

As she all but slammed the door on him, she was already contemplating her options. Phone Chrissy, or go up to the house?

* * * * *

Thierry leapt up in annoyance, dragging his hand through his hair. A second anonymous email had been waiting in his inbox this morning:

I'M CLOSING IN ON YOU. REPLY WITH THE LOCATION OF THE MONEY TO AVOID MORE JAIL TIME.

He'd been trying to trace the source of both emails without much success. While purporting to come from the same email address, they appeared to have been sent via different and ridiculously circuitous routes that involved Russia and Nigeria.

More worryingly, when he'd opened the second email, it had tried to install a virus. Fortunately, his own protective software had prevented that from happening. If it had succeeded, it could have given the sender complete control of his computer.

Not that that would have mattered. There were no details on it of the missing money, or anything to do with the frauds. But it did argue that the emails weren't just random spam.

Thierry decided to leave the tracer software running, and grabbed the car keys from the desk. It was his turn to go to Mallaig for groceries. As he closed the door of the caravan behind him, his neck prickled.

Paranoia, he told himself, induced by the emails. And yet the sixth sense born in prison, where he'd learned to look out for the guys who meant him harm from innate malice or boredom, was now in overdrive. Somebody was watching him, and not from the house. Perhaps from the trees behind the yard.

Resisting the urge to turn and look, Thierry locked the door of his caravan. He didn't usually bother. For one thing, most of the people who lived in the house would have no problem with a caravan lock; for another, he'd grown to trust their code of privacy. Ardknocken House was the antithesis of prison.

Casually, Thierry walked around the caravan and headed towards the house instead of the garage. Something might have winked in the trees—binoculars, perhaps?—but he saw no one.

Walking into the kitchen, he greeted Jim distractedly, and cast a quick glance at the window before discounting it. Too many obstacles blocked his view. He strode through the kitchen to the hall and leapt up the stairs two at a time. Although it would be easier to see from any of the back bedrooms, he ignored them all and instead shut himself in the bathroom.

Here, the window was covered by Venetian blinds, since the glass was unfrosted. Thierry parted them with two fingers, allowing himself a view between the caravan and the trees. Yes, there was that wink of light again: sun on glass…

Thierry waited patiently. In prison, he'd avoided trouble when he could. He'd been used to waiting for it to pass by. Of course, sometimes it didn't…

A figure emerged from the trees, striding towards the house confidently enough for any casual observer to imagine he'd every reason to be there. It could have been any of the house residents. Only it wasn't. As he drew nearer, Thierry saw that he wore a backpack and carried a fishing rod.

Either the guy was lucky, or he knew the routines of the house, such as they were. At this time of the morning, everyone was busy about their own business. He was easily seen from the house, of course, but no one had time to waste gazing out the window. For most of the residents, it was still enough just to
have
a window.

Thierry's breath caught. He knew the man; he'd seen him before…in the pub last night. In fact, he'd been watching Thierry too closely for comfort, though Thierry had paid little attention at the time. He'd been too aware of Louise's presence in the pub to think much about anything else. But this guy had spoken to Aidan, said he was staying at the B&B.

Thierry's gut twisted. He didn't like that for any number of reasons, most of which had to do with Louise.

As if he had every right, the man strode through the yard, straight past Fergus's caravan to Thierry's, where he paused, set down his fishing rod and delved into his pocket. It took the guy very little longer to pick the caravan lock than it would have taken most people to get in with a key.

“Got you,” Thierry murmured aloud. There was a time to avoid trouble and a time to face it. In prison the facing had got a lot easier with Glenn behind him, but he'd already learned the hard way how to stand up to the bastards just to avoid worse. Somewhere in prison, he'd lost fear. And he certainly wasn't afraid of this guy, who'd no right to be in his caravan.

He'd stroll down there and have a word.

He was about to release the blind when another figure entered his line of vision, coming from the kitchen door. A woman. His heart lurched. It was Louise, and she walked straight up to his caravan and knocked.