Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Richard

Mitch descends the stairs carefully, gripping the rail with one hand, a great wad of glossy something-or-others tucked under the other arm.

“Here, Mitch. Let me help you with those.” Although the swell on her stomach is only just visible, and Mitch is by no means ungainly, I think we’re all conscious of her age and the need to pay her extra attention…

A pregnancy she didn’t expect.

The father’s reaction uncertain…

Even if we knew where to find him….

“Thank you, Richard.” She passes me what turns out to be a stack of knitting patterns. Tucking them under my arm, I accompany her down. As we reach the last step, the doorbell rings.

“You get it, Richard. I can manage now.” Mitch takes the patterns, heading toward the kitchen where, from beyond the door, James’, Michael’s and Charlotte’s voices carry. Then Elizabeth’s too.

It’s a bright day, the sunshine warm, and the door standing open. Hickman’s on the step.

“You could have just knocked and walked in you know.”

“The door may have been open, Mr Haswell, but a home is still private space.” His expression tightens. He peers beyond me, over my shoulder and into the hall. Keeping his voice low. “Do you have a minute? Mr Alexanders and Mr Summerford too.”

“Of course, come in.” A glance over my shoulder, back to where Mitch is vanishing into the kitchen. Keeping my voice low. “Klempner?”

“Yes.” He looks over my shoulder again. “You might want to be private from the women.”

For a man who, on the face of it, is no more than paid muscle, Hickman surprises me with his sensitivity.

“I’ll see if I can get Mitch and Charlotte out of the way before you say anything. You go through to the dining room.”

“Hmmm, yes.” He nods; a short, terse gesture.

In the kitchen, Mitch, Charlotte and Elizabeth are sitting together at the table. Mitch has a stack of knitting patterns, all featuring some woolly item in pink or blue. Elizabeth holds up three or four, comparing designs. Charlotte’s eyes are glazing. Beyond the women, James, in jeans and riding boots, stands side-by-side with Michael, leaning back against the counter. The pair, coffee mugs in hand, are chatting, laughing over some joke.

Hovering in the doorway, I catch Michael’s eye and jerk my head back to the dining room. His smile fades and he nudges James. Both men, apparently casually, stroll towards me, following me back to where Hickman is waiting.

dining room, James props himself back against the table, arms folded. “So, Hickman, any news. Anything from Klempner? Anything

“No. I’m here to say that there’s

It’s what, three weeks

“That’s right.”

weeks?” It’s Charlotte, framed by the doorway,

his cheeks. “Does it occur to you, Charlotte, that if we gather in a different room, then perhaps we would like a private

that there’s something you’re trying to hide, and

Charlotte stepping

going on?” Elizabeth appears, Adam wrapped in

mouth to speak, but Georgie strolls in, wearing a rough jacket and riding boots. “Ready, Dad?” Her head

much for privacy.” Michael sucks in a

“Dad?”

just wanted a word. But… there’s no news of

way to contact me by now. I’m sure of it. I

very pale. “You think that woman who

Fuck…

to catch her gaze, eye-pointing Mitch, but she doesn’t

no more tact than

eyes roll, but it’s

A sob…

Mitch…

her throat rippling, “You’ve

slowly, regretfully. “I’m sorry, Miss Kimberley. But

Mitch sits, rocking in her seat, hands over her mouth, shuddering. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Georgie’s right. Something’s happened

lays a hand on her shoulder. “Mitch, don’t assume the

face to another, her eyes wide with distress… “Even if it wasn’t much. I know he’s not a talker, not demonstrative. It’s not his way.” She huffs a humourless

pipes up. “Maybe he’s emailed

of that, Mrs Summerford. I’ve checked emails, phone apps, messaging systems… Anything I could think of where he might try to get in touch,

two women, brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand…” Her finger vacillates between Mitch and Charlotte. “Miss Kimberley

Oh, Crap…

fucking time

roll up as