Sara's Child (14 page)

She looks down; he looks bigger and harder than ever from this angle. “Will it hurt?” she asks, moving her hands over the length of him.

Logan shakes his head. “No, you have full control,” he assures her, “depth speed and rhythm are all up to you.” He lets out a groan, her fingers working him gently.

She is already hot and wet so entry is no problem, but she is nervous of the size of him so only slides a little way down before moving back up. Catherine places her hands either side of his head, her breasts falling just right for his mouth to reach and she groans when he tastes and rolls their tips between his lips and teeth. Catherine starts slow then, as her needs grow, she moves faster taking more of him inside. She doesn’t need to ask him if she is doing it right, his breathing is as ragged as hers. The slow boil in her loins is making its way up her body demanding to be satisfied. As the crescendo builds she pushes back hard, taking him fully inside and sitting upright rocks her hips without thought, just following the rhythm of her need.

Logan groans as he feels her tighten around him and topples with her off the edge of the world.

This time they lay silent and spent content just to lie in each other’s arms. Their hearts are hammering and their breathing laboured, but both are smiling foolishly.

“It’s a good job Mrs Baines isn’t due in today,” Logan observes, and clamps his arm over Catherine when she makes to jump up. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to stand again, let alone walk,” he laughs softly.

“Bloody hell,” she gasps, “I completely forgot all about her – what if she’d walked in on us. I’d never be able to show my face again,” and she blushes deeply at the awful thought.

Logan eases them both up to sit leaning their backs against the settee. “I’ll race you for the shower,” Catherine challenges, then reaches over for the shirt she had been wearing earlier and pulls it on.

Grabbing his clothes up, Logan follows behind her then scoops her off her feet when they reach the top of the stairs. Catherine is laughing and kicking, “You brute…that’s cheating,” but he holds on to her until they are in the bedroom.

“Being as I’m such a gentleman,” he laughs as she wriggles and squirms in his arms, “I’ll let you use the shower first, just this once. Then, I suggest we get back to work – we found one other victim, who’s to say there aren’t more.”   Letting her feet slide back to the floor, he manages to side step a swipe at his bottom.

Catherine is working on her laptop – it is top of the line and she has made some of her own adjustments to give it more speed and abilities. If she had wanted to she could have made a good career in computers, designing building and programming come easily to Catherine. For now, though, she is putting her considerable skills to work on finding her mum’s murderer; determined to stop his reign of terror. Getting up to pour another mug of coffee, she moves over to Logan first. “I’m going to get some more coffee, do you want some?” she asks.

His computer screen changes before she gets near enough to see it and Logan nods his head. “That’d be great,” he yawns before he can stifle it, “then maybe we should call it a night.”

Bringing a mug of hot coffee over to him, Catherine takes a sip of her own then shakes her head. “I’m good for another couple of hours, but you go up,” she tells him, “I don’t mind.”

Logan’s back straightens. “I can manage another couple of hours,” he states firmly. “I just thought you might like to get some sleep and come at it fresh in the morning.”

Smiling, realising that she has touched a nerve, Catherine crosses to kiss him. “I’m tired too,” she tells Logan, and does indeed have to smother a yawn, “but I think I may be on to something and want to keep going while my thoughts are on track.”

“What is it?” he frowns up at her. “Have you found another victim?”

“I’m not sure what I’ve found, or if I’ve found anything,” she replies cryptically. “I just want a chance to work this through a bit longer and then we’ll go up.”

He nods and Catherine moves to retake her seat and buries her head back in her computer. Logan also goes back to work – he has some decent computer skills and has used them to find Catherine’s father. Maybe she doesn’t want to know who or where he is, but Logan is curious and thought he would save the information until she is ready to hear it – but he has hit a snag; a big one. The snag is named Caroline Thornton, a gifted pianist she is currently touring Europe with her father Thomas Thornton. In approximately six weeks, on July 15th, she will be twenty-six years old, the exact same age as Catherine, her twin sister.

Mrs Baines serves breakfast in the conservatory the next morning. “Are you sure you don’t want some more, dearie?” eyeing Catherine’s slender frame it is obvious that the rotund housekeeper thinks she needs feeding up.

With a hand to her well-filled stomach, Catherine declines politely. “That has to be one of the best breakfasts I’ve had in a while,” she beams at the housekeeper then turns her eyes on Logan. “In fact, I’d have to say that it comes in neck and neck with your father’s cooking – and that was bloody brilliant,” she confirms to both of them.

“If that bacon is going begging,” Logan eyes the warming plate that the housekeeper is about to take away, “I wouldn’t say no to another helping.”

Mrs Baines thrusts her impressive chest out proudly. “Always a pleasure to cook for a man who enjoys his food.” Emptying the last of the bacon onto Logan’s plate, she moves off into the kitchen.

Catherine watches as Logan devours his second helping of bacon then smiles teasingly. “You know, with you not playing rugby at the moment, and not going into work either, you might need to watch your waistline.”

He almost splutters on his last mouthful but swallows manfully. “There’s nothing wrong with my waistline,” Logan sits up even straighter, patting a hand against a firm wall of muscle that forms his abdomen. “Though I must admit, I could use a workout in the gym – it seems I’ve been a bit distracted from my usual routine, of late.” His voice and smile are playfully rebuking, and then openly loving. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he reaches across the table to pick up her hand and brings it to his lips.

Catherine pulls it sharply back, her cheeks reddening as Mrs Baines brings a tray of coffee into the conservatory. “Thank you, Mrs Baines, would you mind closing the doors on your way out,” Logan smiles. He waits until the housekeeper has gone, then turns serious eyes to Catherine. “I think it’s time to bring each other up to date on our progress. You’ve been looking at some kind of new lead, I think you said?”

She is suddenly animated, sitting forward in her seat and hotching it over to move nearer to Logan. “I’ve been searching the police databases for the injuries inflicted rather than the whole profile of injuries and attack pattern,” Catherine tells him excitedly. Then, watching as Logan pales she adds,” Don’t worry, I’ve done it loads of times, and I made sure to use my own laptop – I’m sure your security is fine but mine is top of the line; my line that is,” she clarifies.

“You’ve been hacking into police records,” he frowns, his face now full of concern, “do you have any idea of the trouble you could get in if they even suspect that’s what you’ve been doing?”

She waves his concern aside. “I’m not stupid, I’m careful not to leave traces – there is no way they can trace any activity back to me. In fact, I’m damn sure they have no idea anyone has been looking through their records; I wrote the program I use to get in and out myself.”

Logan still looks concerned, but smiles resignedly. “Well, I hope whatever you found is worth the risks you took?”

Sitting back in her chair, Catherine looks pleased with herself. “I went back twenty-five years,” she begins, finishing her coffee and placing the cup back on the table, “and I looked for any kind of injury that would take some kind of implement to inflict.” Sitting forward in her seat again, her eyes take on a brilliant blue light of excitement. “I found loads; young boys with their knuckles crushed, or their nails pulled out or some kind of heated needle pushed up underneath them.” She watches Logan grimace. “I know; there were some seriously gruesome injuries depicted with photographic documentation. I swear, Logan, some of those photos could have been of my mum’s injuries. They were carbon copies,” she finishes, waiting expectantly for his opinion.

“So, you’re thinking these could be practice attacks prior to moving on to actual murder?” he asks, then continues when she nods. “And you found the first sign of this type of injury when?”

“Twenty-three years back,” she smiles then her eyes take on a determined gleam. “They started out in a small cluster,” she states then watches as the penny begins to drop for Logan. “Glywyth in Wales, which ties right in with the Welsh accent my mother’s murderer had,” her chin lifts defiantly, triumphantly, “and the Welsh accent that your friend, Mr Charles Llwyd, still has to this day.”

They watch each other in silence, Catherine leaning over to the coffee filter jug to top up both their cups. Picking hers up she says, “So…no comments?”

Picking his cup up, Logan drinks thoughtfully before putting it back down on the table. “Actually, I think this might be an opportune moment to bring you up to date with my own findings,” he tells Catherine and watches her expression shift to one of suspicion. “I’ve been doing a bit of deep digging of my own,” he states cautiously. “As you know, I’ve had dealings with Charles for quite a number of years, as has Arthur Kingsley.” Catherine nods her agreement. “I checked back in my own records to see if we were dealing with Charles around the time of both murders. It turned out that we were not, but when I checked with Arthur he told me that he was dealing with Charles just after the time when Harriet Leavesden was murdered.”

“But that doesn’t tell us anything,” Catherine states hotly, annoyed that her findings are being so easily dismissed.

“No, you’re right,” Logan holds up a hand of peace, “but the reason Arthur dealt with Charles after the date when Harriet Leavesden was murdered is because Charles was out of the country. He flew back three days after her death, having been in Australia for almost a month.” Logan watches the effects of his words on Catherine, first abject disbelief then reluctant contemplation as she tries to put the jigsaw of facts together to form a different picture.

“I was so sure…,” her head shaking slowly as if in denial, “…I mean, you have to admit, the coincidence is hard to believe.”

“I do agree, the coincidence is staggering,” Logan reaches across to take Catherine’s hand again, “but the facts are undeniable and concrete.” Watching her eyes close on a heavy sigh, Logan is loath to add to her misery. “Catherine, I have something else I need to discuss with you,” he tells her gently then waits until her eyes open to regard him. “It has nothing to do with the murders,” he tells her quickly then gives her hand a squeeze and takes a bracing breath. “I’ve found your father,” he informs her bluntly.

Shooting to her feet Catherine snatches her hand out of his and stares daggers into Logan. “What the fuck do you mean, you’ve found my father?”

“I didn’t mean to look,” Logan begins uncertainly, “but I found myself wondering. You have grown up thinking you have no one. You’ve clawed your way to the top of a very competitive business and have never had anyone to share that success with. No one to say well done, I’m proud of you.” He sighs deeply when she remains stiff and unmoving. “Catherine, if I’d found out he is a waster, a user, then I’d never have told you about him –“

She cuts him off abruptly. “I beg your pardon!” It isn’t a question, but a rebuke spoken so deathly quiet that an icy chill hangs in the air between them.

“I just meant…I know how reluctant you’ve been to know anything about your father; if I’d come across something hurtful then naturally I’d have spared you that.” Logan knows he is digging a hole for himself and no matter what he says Catherine will bury him in it if he isn’t careful.

“So, you get to know all my darkest secrets,” Catherine sneers down at Logan, her face a picture of utter contempt, “and then you get to decide just what you’ll let me know. What you think is good for me,” her voice remains quiet but the ice in it is freezing fast.

“That isn’t what I meant at all.” Logan stands his impressive height and build not intimidating Catherine at all. “You’re twisting what I said and deliberately misunderstanding my intent.” His hands rise then fall in front of him, “All I want is to protect your feelings.”

“You trampled all over them the minute you went behind my back.” Catherine turns, striding angrily towards the conservatory door.

“You have a sister,” Logan shoots out, stopping Catherine dead in her tracks. When she turns back to face him all colour has gone from her cheeks. “You have a sister,” he repeats more softly, “her name is Caroline Thornton and she will be twenty-six on the fifteenth of July.”

Catherine feels light-headed and reaches out a hand to the back of a chair to steady her. “A sister…,” she frowns, her mind whirling, “…a twin sister?”

“Yes,” Logan confirms, wanting to go to her but knowing Catherine will not allow it.

Pulling the chair out from the table Catherine slumps down onto it. “That’s enough,” she breathes trying desperately to pull herself together, and when she thinks she has, Catherine looks up at Logan her blue eyes cold as steel. “Not another word,” she tells him and gets slowly to her feet. “If you care for me at all you won’t talk of this ever again – not to me and certainly not to anyone else.”
How could you…I never would have believed…I trusted you.