Page 13 of Guilty Mothers

She’d never believed that. They had clicked the minute they’d met. To some it had seemed a little soon after the loss of her husband, Logan’s father, but she had known Joe’s passing was coming, had been allowed to prepare for it. Following the grief, self-preservation had kicked in. She hadn’t been looking for love, but she had wanted to laugh again, to dance, to go out to dinner with someone who wasn’t slipping away day by day. She and Joe had made the most of those last few months, but every smile, laugh or moment of intimacy had been grasped under the shadow of death.

Just four months after his death she’d met James, a confirmed bachelor who loved working for himself as an odd-job man and spent his free time fishing or travelling and sometimes both.

Despite his confirmed singledom, something had been growing between them. Their nights out had been increasing, and there had been more than a few occasions of staying over at each other’s homes.

The only negative had been Logan, who had taken an instant dislike to James.

Standing here now, it was hard to remember the time when it really had felt that simple and Logan’s animosity had just seemed like an obstacle, but oh, how her life had changed in the two years since James had disappeared.

Hot, angry tears burned in her throat, but she knew better than to let them out.

Had James been depressed and she hadn’t known it? But why would he have shared that with Logan when they could barely stand the sight of each other?

Instinctively, she felt her son’s presence somewhere behind her. Her body tensed.

‘Well done, Mom. You behaved impeccably.’

She relaxed only slightly as he closed the distance between them. She felt the heat of his body even though they weren’t touching. Despite her best efforts, her knees began to tremble.

‘But haven’t you forgotten something?’ he asked, as though talking to a child.

‘N-N-No,’ she said, turning to face him.

He’d already said she’d behaved well. She had done nothing to raise suspicion.

He held out his hand. ‘Your phone. You know you’re not allowed to have it.’

‘Logan, let me?—’

The punch to her stomach forced her back against the sink. The same sink where Logan had held her hands under the hot tap just an hour earlier. Nausea rose inside her.

‘Don’t make me ask again,’ he said, opening his palm, flexing his fingers and then making another fist.

Experience told her that the next blow would be even worse.

Shame warmed her cheeks as she handed him the phone.

ELEVEN

Katie Hawne’s home was just a few miles away from Lye on the outskirts of Pedmore.

Stacey had phoned ahead to the landlord, who was waiting outside the premises.

It still amazed Kim how quickly the detective constable had bounced back. Only a couple of months ago she’d been a shell of her former self after her ordeal at the hands of Terence Birch. There was no question that she had returned to her previous level of performance, and Kim’s trust in her had been restored.

‘DI Stone and DS Bryant,’ Kim said, showing her ID.

‘Derek Hudson, owner and landlord,’ he responded, leading them into a small corridor. There were three doors, and he paused at the one on the left.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked before putting the key in the lock, as though entry was dependent on information.

‘Not at liberty to share right now, Mr Hudson,’ Kim said, nodding towards the door.

‘Is she dead?’

‘Any reason you’d ask that?’ Kim shot back, growing impatient.

‘Rent’s due in two days, that’s all.’