Chapter 5
Chapter Five
It was almost midnight when Flynn messaged to say he was only just getting home and would call Lily the next day. He didn’t give much more information about his evening, other than to say that there’d been another break in but the culprit was long gone by the time they arrived.
As she got ready for her run the following morning, Lily messaged to ask if he wanted to join her. While she waited for a reply, she went to the kitchen for a glass of water, then wandered into the living room.
In the doorway, she stopped short and stifled a shriek. With her heart pounding, she raised a hand to wave at the window cleaner.
“Morning, Len,” she shouted through the glass.
“Hi! Did I startle you?”
“Took a few years off my life.”
“I have that effect on people,” he said, the weathered skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiled. He touched a hand to his neat brown hair and gave a quick salute, then set off down his ladder.
“Creepy,” Lily muttered, then felt a pang of guilt. Len was warm and cheerful and obviously loved his job.
It was the concept of unannounced window cleaners that bothered Lily. Surely it should be a job that you booked a time slot for, so you could be prepared for a face at the window, or make sure you weren’t at home when they came around.
After checking her phone, she decided Flynn was probably still asleep after his late night. Jogging alone wasn’t something she was used to any more, but she wanted to get a run in before she opened the shop.
Len was finishing the large windows at the front of the shop when she stepped out into the salty air. Finally, there was a bit of blue sky, but it looked set to be a blustery day.
“You’re getting started early today,” she said to Len.
“The early bird and all that.” He worked his squeegee deftly across the large window, pressing onto his toes and stretching to reach the highest places.
Barely taller than Lily, his short stature was surely a hindrance to his job.
He set his squeegee in his bucket and flexed his fingers.
“Making the most of the decent weather too. I’ll bet this last week hasn’t been good for your business either. ”
“It’s been slow.” Further along the promenade, Pippa was setting up the tables outside the cafe and waved in greeting. Both Lily and Len returned the gesture.
“Hopefully we’ll get a few more weeks of good weather,” Len said and idly massaged his hand.
“Are you okay?” Lily asked.
He looked confused until she nodded at his hand.
“Oh, this. A bit of arthritis. Nothing serious, but it niggles at me.” After shaking his hand, he reached for his bucket and looked set to leave.
“I should get going too,” Lily said. “Have a good day.”
“You too!” He smiled warmly and tipped his head.
Easing into her run, she was at a slow pace at the end of the promenade when she glanced down to the vast stretch of beach. A couple of kids paddled in the shallows with their parents, and a variety of seabirds hopped along the sand while others glided on the breeze above.
Further along, a small group congregated around several picnic blankets. Artists, by the look of it. A couple of them stood in front of easels, and others sat with sketchbooks in their laps.
Lily looked out at the waves churning onto the shore and all the stunning shades of blue in the sea and sky. Boats of varying sizes broke up the smooth line of the horizon.
Paradise for artists, she thought as she followed the path and left Porthcressa Beach behind.
Running without Flynn beside her felt odd, and it occurred to her it was something she’d have to get used to.
They’d probably only fit in a few more runs before he left for London.
With a shake of her head, she pushed that train of thought aside.
She’d deal with not having him around once he’d left, and not a moment before.
She’d see him later, so she currently had no reason for self-pity.
Maybe this evening they could continue where they left off before the sergeant had interrupted them the other night.
That positive thought had her smiling as she meandered along the eastern part of the island, sticking to the coast and then taking a more direct route back.
Back at the flat, she gulped down water and went straight to her phone to click into a message from Flynn, saying he’d had an early start at work but would call in on her if he could.
Setting the phone aside on the kitchen counter, her gaze snagged on the junk drawer, which was slightly open. Bumping her hip against it was ineffective, so she jiggled the assorted flyers and random items until it closed again. The cutlery drawer was open too, and she pushed it in with a frown.
In the hallway, the drawer of the console table wasn’t fully closed either, and the sight of it made her pause.
For the briefest moment, she wondered whether she’d left a window open – as though a breeze might have been strong enough to open drawers.
A shiver ran up her spine as she realised she’d left the door unlocked when she’d gone on her run.
Given the recent spate of crimes, she had thought about locking up, but then she’d operated on autopilot and gone with her usual routine.
Apparently, she’d acclimatised quickly to island life.
She almost never locked the door to the flat, and she didn’t even bother too much about the door to the shop unless she’d be away for a while.
Distracted by Len, she’d forgotten her previous thoughts about locking up. Which was really stupid now that she thought about it.
With a weight tugging at her stomach, she pushed open the door to her bedroom and felt a wave of nausea – the drawer of the dresser was open and clothes were clearly disturbed. She definitely hadn’t left it like that.
And the wardrobe certainly hadn’t been open.
“No,” she muttered, going over to it. “No, no, no.”
How could she be so stupid to not lock the door?
She knew before she even looked that her backpack was gone. Of course it was. That didn’t stop her from turning the room upside down looking for it.
Ten minutes later, she sank onto the bed with tears streaming down her cheeks.
All she could do was berate herself for her stupidity.
There were tens of thousands in cash in that backpack. And her passports. Two passports. One real, one a forgery. At least as far as she could tell.
She should have destroyed the fake one the moment she’d found it after her uncle died. There’d been a false passport for him too, and she hadn’t hesitated in burning that one. Why had she held on to hers? Clearly, nothing good could come from it.
And now someone else had their hands on it.
She pressed a hand over her mouth as bile rose in her throat. If anyone found out she had a forged passport, it was going to raise questions she didn’t have answers to. Slowly, she exhaled a breath and forced her mind to focus.
Somehow, she had to find her backpack. Preferably without letting anyone know she’d lost anything.