Chapter 39
John’s right. It feels like it’s going to be a long day. So I follow his lead and stock up on coffee, except I don’t join him on one of the couches in the summer room to drink it. Instead, I have mine poured into a takeout cup and go for another walk, lapping the grounds, mulling things over. So many things. I feel weirdly vacant, and it’s beginning to piss me off. My head’s scrambled, so when I see Cook finally pull through the gates, I’m grateful, despite knowing my attention is likely to be focused on something unpleasant.
I call John to let him know he’s here and that I’m on my way, jumping when someone honks their horn at me. Sam pulls up, his window down. “What are you doing?” he asks, a monster frown on his face as he flanks me.
“Walking.”
“From where?”
“Just walking.” I give him an accusing look. “Did you get my text?”
“Yeah, I got your text.”
“Get it sorted?”
“No need.” He inhales and looks down the driveway toward The Manor. “I’m quitting.”
I try and fail to contain my surprise. “You’re quitting?”
“Me and Kate are...” His head tilts one way, then the other, as if he’s pondering how to explain.
“Going to try a normal relationship?”
“Normal?” he asks, and I smile. “What the fuck is normal? We’re going to try a relationship with no sex manor.”
“Good for you,” I murmur, looking up at the stained-glass window again. The heartbeat’s getting duller.
“But for the sake of old times.” Sam grins at me. “Mind if we have one more play?”
“Keep it between the two of you.”
“Of course. It’s like a farewell thing,” he says wistfully, eyes back on The Manor in the distance. “She’s been a part of my life forever.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, studying her. Imposing. Magnificent. Full of pleasure-filled promises.
And tragedy.
I feel like I’m subconsciously trying to come to terms with the end of an era. Is that what this odd feeling I have is? Or just the aftermath of seeing my mum? Or both?
“How was your break?” Sam asks.
I breathe in and exhale, finishing my coffee. “Nice while it lasted.”
“Well, welcome home. I’ll catch you later.” Sam races off, and I carry on walking, finding the picture of the twins again. My eyes remain on the little undistinguishable blobs all the way back to my office.
I walk in and find Cook and John on a couch each. “It wasn’t Van Der Haus who drugged Ava.” Cook gets straight to business, stalling my arse midway to the couch opposite him. I look at John. He’s removed his shades for this meeting. “He also didn’t steal your car.”
“Right,” I say slowly, lowering to the couch next to John, hoping Cook’s going to give me more than his baseless conclusions. He tosses some papers on the table between us. “What are they?” I ask, leaving them where they are.
“Passenger records for flights from Heathrow to Copenhagen in the past few months.”
“You’re going to tell me he was in Denmark on both occasions, aren’t you?” I scrub a hand down my face, breathing out my frustration. Cook doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. “Fuck.”
“I started a deeper dive into his finances before I had it confirmed he was out of the country, therefore out of the frame.”
“And?”
“And I found out his credit records have been looked into recently, along with his business accounts. Requests to Companies House being made, things like that.”
“Who’s looking into his finances?” John asks. “And why?”
“The who is easy.” Cook pulls his phone out and shows me the screen. “Haskett and Sandler. They’re specialists and advisors in selling small to medium-sized businesses. The why?” He shakes his head, putting his phone away. “I’m working on the why.”
“Is he selling up?” And fucking off back to Denmark, because that would be perfect?
“No, it looks like he’s buying.”
“Buying what?”
“That goes with the why, Ward. I don’t know.”
I huff, sinking back into my seat, thinking.
“So, if it wasn’t him in the bar, or who stole your car,” Cook says. “Surely you can forget about Van Der Haus.”
“He still wants my wife.” My voice is low, a bit like my mood. I mean, yes, it would have been convenient if it was Van Der Haus, but I think I knew deep down that he’s not capable. So the question remains—who is?
Cook nods slowly, thoughtful. “Because you and Freja?—”
“Yes.”
“Well, he’s been seeing someone, so perhaps he’s moved on.”
“Seeing someone?” I ask, shocked.
“Yes, it’s somewhere here,” he says, riffling through some more papers. “He met her for dinner. Petite, young, blonde.”
I glance at John, seeing his curious expression. “Interesting.”
“When was the last time you heard from him?” Cook asks as I rub at my forehead, trying to remember. I can’t. It’s been weeks. He hasn’t called Ava—not that I’m aware of. Have I been worrying over nothing? Has Van Der Haus slithered off under his rock with his young, petite blonde, never to bother us again? I can’t imagine so. He still has one big fat juicy detail I’m certain he wants to share with my wife about his wife briefly being on the end of my dick during my four-day meltdown. “I don’t recall,” I admit. I should be forgiven. A lot has been going on.
“I think you’re barking up the wrong tree, Ward,” Cook goes on, saying what I’m slowly accepting myself. “From what I can see, he’s clean, respected, and he has an alibi on both of the occasions Ava was targeted.”
Targeted. Jesus, it sounds so much more sinister when he says it like that. I look at John. He knows what I’m thinking. Lockdown. I’ll have to explain to Ava, and she will have to accept that she won’t be stepping foot anywhere without John or me.
Welcome fucking home.
“Before I go.” Steve hands something to John, and both men ignore my questioning frown. “Listen, Ward, I understand your concern, naturally, but you really should have let the police deal with this from the start.”
I’m beginning to wish I had. I thought it was cut and dry. I just needed to prove it and send that fucker out of the country with a threat and a mangled face that no woman would ever find attractive again. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem. When’s Ava available to give a statement? We’ve been talking to the other drivers, but she’s obviously a key witness.”
“I’ll ask her to call you.”
“Thanks. Let me know if you need anything else.” He walks to the door and takes the handle, looking back. “And there’s no one springing to mind? Bitter exes, men you’ve stolen wives from?”
I lift my tired eyes but not my head, and Cook nods, reading between the lines, before he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.
I turn to John and show the ceiling my palms. “What now?” I ask, getting up and starting to pace. “And what the fuck is that Cook gave to you?”
John unfolds the paper, and his eyebrows lift.
“What, for God’s sake?” I press, going back to the couch and lowering, craning my neck to see.
“I had Steve look into Ava’s brother,” he says, holding the paper up.
“To see if he had a criminal record?”
“Well, yes, that, but also his financial situation.”
“How the fuck would Cook—” It occurs to me. His wife. Juliette. That’s how he got Mikael’s financial situation too. He got his wife to look, because she would have access to credit reports and records.
“He’s skint,” John grunts, tossing the paper on my lap. “Brassic, broke, potless.”
I scan the paper, seeing bank account records, credit reports, defaults on credit cards, loans, and car finance. “Fuck,” I breathe. “What a mess.”
“So that’s why he’s not going back to Australia.”
“He can’t afford the airfare,” I say, suddenly parched. I get up and grab some water, swigging as I pace around the office. “So how did he afford his airfare here, and why the fuck would he come back to the UK to that mess?” Surely, he’d want to duck and dive around that financial shitshow.
“No idea,” John says. “I’ve got to go collaborate the new system and sync the settings—make sure everything is still running smoothly before we sign off on the contract.”
“That’s it?” I ask, watching him leave. “You’re going?”
“What do you want me to do, sit and brainstorm with you for an eternity? There’s shit to do. I’ll think while I do it. And by the way...”
“What?”
“Sarah doesn’t know it’s twins.”
I groan and drop my head back. “Great.”
John pulls the door open and bumps into Sam. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he grunts. “You’re barred until you produce valid, clean medicals.”
Sam slaps his shoulder and passes him. “I’m no longer a member, big man.” Dumping himself on the couch, he puts his feet up, all comfy. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh dear,” John quips, leaving us.
“What about?” I ask, laughing at the filthy look Sam chucks back at John.
“I think I may have been a bit hasty.”
I put myself on the other couch. “I already said you can play one more time—no medical necessary.” For old time’s sake.
“Yes, and Kate will be here soon. It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
“Well, the food’s great.”
“I know.”
“And the spa facilities the best in the area. Probably the whole of the south.”
“I know.”
“And I love hitting a ball over the net every now and then.”
“Cause what else will you do while your girlfriend works and you... don’t?”
He smirks, not offended. Kate won’t need to work either, but she will. And her cakes really are masterpieces. “Girlfriend,” Sam muses, rolling the word over his tongue, falling into a brief daydream as I study him, amused, grateful for the respite from my troubles. “Weird.” He shakes his head, sitting up on the couch. “And my mates are here,” he adds, smiling.
For now, yes.My thoughts jar me. “What are you saying?” I ask, frowning to myself.
“Can I have a reduced mate’s rate for use of the facilities, minus...” He points to the ceiling.
“Sure.” And that is that. Talking of mates. “Drew coming by later?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Sam gets up and gets on his way. “He’s been weird since—” He stops halfway across my office, his body still.
“Weird since what?” I ask, slowly rising too, certain I don’t like his persona. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine.” Sam nearly knocks me out with the width of his smile. “He’s got a lot of pressure at work. I didn’t see him much this weekend.”
“He’ll put himself in an early grave.”
“Yeah, anyway, I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah,” I say, absentminded again, slowly lowering to the couch. I need some fucking answers.