SEVEN DEADLY THINGS (Henry & Sparrow Book 3), A FOX [good books to read for adults .TXT] 📗

Now, he wrenched himself back out of it and sat up. The smell of scrambled eggs and toast made his stomach growl involuntarily.

‘So…’ said Grace, putting an extra pillow behind him and placing the tray on his knees. ‘You’ve helped to put an end to another murder spree with your lovely detective friend. But did you get a chance to have that frank conversation with her? I’m guessing not.’

He shook his head, shovelling down a mouthful of hot, fluffy egg on thickly buttered toast. He swallowed and then said, ‘We were both taken away for a massive debrief. And checked over for injuries, of course. Nothing serious for either of us this time… which makes a change.’

She touched his bruised face. ‘You still took quite a pummelling.’

‘You should see the other guy,’ he said, and then closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Bad joke. Other guy’s dead.’

‘But you didn’t kill him,’ she said, pouring coffee into a bone china mug. ‘You have nothing to reproach yourself for… apart from not speaking to Kate about what’s on your mind. So, I’m hoping you have made plans to do that.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We’re meeting up next week, back in Salisbury. It’s time.’

‘Good,’ said Grace, dropping a lump of Demerara into the coffee. ‘Get it all out of your system. Say everything you need to say. Get it off your chest. It’s the only way to move forward.’

Lucas struggled to swallow his next mouthful. He had plenty to get off his chest… but he suspected it was only going to move him backward.

Could anyone ever escape their guilty past?

‘Sorry about your car,’ Kate said, as the Ford Capri was winched up the ramp of the RAC truck. The police had cleared them to take it away, but its speedy journey across the lumpy field had cracked the chassis and it was unsafe to drive.

Francis sighed. ‘I wish I could tell everyone it was me doing the stunt driving… but it was Backflip Barney. I did crash into him earlier, though,’ he assured her. ‘Knocked him off his unicycle.’

‘Bravo,’ she said. ‘That was bound to get him onside.’

After the police had released them the previous evening, they’d got a cab into Lowestoft and managed to bag a room each at a budget hotel. Neither of them fancied trying to sleep back at Buntin’s. Now, following her off-the-record briefing with Stuart and Upton that morning, she was back in practical mode. She had hired a car, and they had returned to collect their belongings from the chalet and oversee the recovery of Francis’s pride and joy.

‘Well, I wouldn’t normally drive at someone on a unicycle,’ Francis went on. ‘But I thought he might be planning to kill you at the time. He was behaving like a total weirdo.’

She sighed. ‘That’s just Barney. He is a total weirdo — but a lovely weirdo.’

‘If you tell him that, he’ll probably get it tattooed on his other arm.’

‘What..?’

‘Oh yeah… you need an update. Ah — no problem. Here he comes now.’

Kate spun around to see Barney strolling across the field towards them, his car and caravan parked up at the edge of the gravel track, close to the road. He grinned as he got closer and waved his right arm before clutching it to the shoulder of his left.

‘Ah yeah…’ muttered Francis. ‘That’ll probably be where he got hit by my car.’

Kate found herself grinning back as something like relief flowed through her. She had only thought about Barney being the killer for long enough to dismiss it, but it was good to be proven solidly correct. She held out her arms and Barney, after pausing and looking endearingly awkward, ambled across and allowed the hug.

‘Sorry about my brother trying to run you over,’ she said.

Barney flicked a glance at the Capri, now being secured on the flatbed of the RAC truck. ‘I hope I dented its bodywork more than it dented mine.’ He rubbed his arm again. Francis dug his hands in his pockets and bit his lips together, guiltily.

‘Are you OK?’ Kate asked. ‘I haven’t had the chance to thank you for knocking out Mike yesterday. You and Lucas — and Francis,’ she grinned toward her brother, ‘you won us enough time to get out of that bunker. You saved us.’

Barney shrugged again. ‘Group effort,’ he said. ‘And… I owed you.’

She wrinkled her brow. ‘Why? Francis was saying something about… a tattoo?’

Barney pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt up over his left bicep. There was a graze and a bruise on his upper arm, but encircling the blue, purple and green was a beautiful Celtic–style ink bracelet with lettering. She tilted her head sideways and read the words.

You are always enough.

She had a sudden flash of memory. She had taken Barney into town. The other Blues had been taking the piss out of his clothes and his hair that week, and she’d said, ‘He just needs a bit of styling, that’s all. Give him a break.’

And then Talia had said, ‘Well — go on then. Style him. I bet you can’t make anything out of that. I mean, god… look at that those joggers! Look at that little orphan Annie haircut.’

And then Nikki and Bill had chimed in, daring her to go and proposition Barney; to convince him to go into Lowestoft and buy some decent outfits. In the end Bill had shouted, ‘Oi! Backflip Boy! Kate wants to get you out of those clothes.’

Barney, doing some work under the bonnet of his Land Rover, had looked quizzically at Kate, unsure how to react. So, she had shot a look of poison at the rest of them and marched across to the young man, taking a deep breath.

‘I’m sorry about them,’ she had said. ‘They’re a bunch of tossers. They take the piss out of everyone, and I just said… I just said I could maybe help you… choose some clothes. If you fancy it.’

He had wiped his hands on a cloth and