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

him, she was in jeans and a T-shirt, but they were among her favourites. Her tan, faux suede jacket was also something she might select for a casual date. She hadn’t gone the whole hog and put make-up on… well, other than a little mascara and a touch of lip sheen…. because this was not a date. This was very far from a date.

Lucas didn’t look at her as she joined him on the bench. He cupped his mobile in both hands and stared down at it. ‘I keep getting these calls,’ he said.

‘Well… that does sometimes happen… with a phone,’ she said. ‘It’s a glitch they’ve never fixed.’

He made a noise which was not quite a laugh. She became aware of how tense he was. Well, good. So was she. At least they were at level pegging.

‘These calls,’ went on Lucas. ‘I thought they might be from you.’

She tilted her head, perplexed. ‘Well… yes. I have called you.’

‘But not from a withheld number,’ he said. ‘Not in the middle of the night, just to hang on the line, silent and breathing.’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘No. I can promise you I’ve never done that. Normally I just yell accusations down the phone at you.’

He nodded, and clutched at the outline of Sid, under his T-shirt.

‘What are you trying to tell me, Lucas?’ She gulped, suddenly convinced that she did not want the answer. Suddenly certain that this was a very bad idea.

He glanced at her, his eyes shadowed and uncertain too. ‘Sometimes,’ he said. ‘You remind me of her. And other times I’m reminded that you’re nothing like her. Nothing like her at all. You…’ he reached out a hand and stroked a strand of hair from her cheek. ‘…you are so different.’

She breathed in slowly through her nose. Her pulse was pounding through her ears and she wanted it to stop. Wanted it to calm the fuck down. Wanted to have control. Lucas smelled… like Lucas. A mix of warm leather, a faint grassy aftershave and something else… probably just the washing powder he used, combined with the warmth of his skin. Honestly, they had not spent enough time together for her to know his smell. It was ridiculous. But she felt it wrap around her as she sat there, close enough but not close enough. Shit. Stop it. Stop it, Kate. This is not appropriate.

‘How do you remember her?’ he asked.

She looked away down the valley. ‘It fades over time, doesn’t it? The detail. She was… a classic big sister, I guess. I looked up to her. She was cool and pretty, and she had great friends. She was everything I wanted to be. But… I annoyed her. I was too young to really be in her world. She hated taking me out with you and Zoe, when Mum made her. Normal stuff, really. Didn’t mean she didn’t love me.’

He nodded. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. ‘She was cool,’ he said, at length. ‘And pretty. They both were.’ He gnawed on a fingernail; the first time she’d ever noticed him do that. She felt the prickle of unease go up a gear. ‘But she could be mean to you too. I remember that. I remember her telling you to get lost quite a lot.’

Kate felt a sting of defensiveness. He was talking about her sister — his friend — who was dead. But at the same time, she knew he was speaking the truth. Mabel had often been mean to her. She would walk away and hide from her, when they were out and about, sometimes leaving her crying and alone for half an hour before she reluctantly returned, eyes rolling. At home, she refused to let her little sister play with her stuff or try on her clothes or make-up. In fact once, when she discovered Kate had been in her room without permission and tried on a couple of tops, she had gone into her little sister’s room and destroyed one of her art projects; drawings of wildlife Kate had been really proud of. Mabel had then put the ripped up pieces under Kate’s quilt so she would find them when she went to bed. Kate had been distraught, but Mabel had never apologised.

‘I’m not trying to be unkind,’ said Lucas. ‘But I think people tend to talk about victims of crime as if they were angels. Nobody’s an angel and Mabel wasn’t one either.’

Kate wondered where this was going. She decided to cut straight to it. ‘Lucas… what happened that day? What happened in the quarry? Do you know?’

He got to his feet, staring along the path to the north. ‘Walk with me,’ he said. ‘It’ll be easier if I don’t have to look at you.’

Oh fuck, whimpered a voice inside her head. Oh fuck. No, Lucas. Don’t tell me.

They walked in silence for some distance, the view occasionally screened by trees and shrubs. The valley below wore that silvery green sheen unique to the month of May. Birds flew. Tiny cars travelled the skinny thread of the A36. A red tractor slowly worked its way across a field. So much life happening all around them, oblivious to Kate Sparrow and Lucas Henry and their dramas. Her mouth was dry. She could hear his boots crunch, his slightly laboured breathing, the faintest chink of the long steel chain around his neck as he gripped Sid, now outside his T-shirt and in his right fist. Was he dowsing something? Was he… was he taking her somewhere? He had suggested this place, hadn’t he? A coldness settled over her. Maybe there was something to see here.

She fought the urge to turn and run. The disquiet of not knowing… the nagging at the back of her mind… the unsettling wrongness/rightness about her attraction to him… she could live with that. She didn’t need to get the answers to the questions which haunted her dreams and tickled the back of her waking mind. She