Harbour No Secrets: A Welsh murder mystery with a huge twist (DI Winter Meadows Book 8) by Cheryl Rees-Price

Author:Cheryl Rees-Price [Rees-Price, Cheryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: THE BOOK FOLKS bestselling crime fiction publisher
Published: 2023-08-28T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Christie turned the volume up on her car radio as she drove to work. The traffic was moving slowly and she wished she’d taken the back roads. She tried to sing along to the song that was playing but she couldn’t remember the words. It didn’t matter. She just wanted to distract her wandering mind. It wasn’t working. She felt constantly on edge. It was like she had to keep looking over her shoulder. Her eyes felt heavy. She couldn’t get off to sleep at night no matter how tired she was. The music was interrupted by an incoming call. She looked at the display. Iona.

She hit accept. ‘What’s up?’

There was a moment of silence, then a whimper and gulping of air.

‘Iona, what’s wrong?’

‘You have to come. Now.’

Iona’s voice was so shrill Christie felt like it would pierce her eardrums. She turned down the volume. ‘What’s happened?’ She heard the quiver in her own voice. Her heartbeat quickened.

‘Someone’s been in my flat,’ Iona screeched. ‘I’m scared.’

‘I’m on my way. Call the police.’

‘No, I can’t. Just come as quick as you can.’ Iona hung up.

Christie sighed. Why is she calling me? she thought. It would’ve made more sense to call Macsen or Rhodri. She put in a call to work. Her boss as usual was understanding, nevertheless she asked him to put it down as a holiday. She would make Iona call the police no matter how much persuasion she had to use.

It took another forty minutes until she pulled up outside Iona’s block of flats – a red-brick building which had been converted from a factory. Iona had obviously been watching for her because she was standing at the door. Her face was streaked with tears, her hair a mess, and she was still in her pyjamas.

‘Thank God you’re here,’ Iona said and ushered her inside.

‘Why do you think someone was in here?’ Christie asked.

Iona grabbed her hand and led her to the kitchen. ‘In the fridge. I can’t look again.’

Christie opened the fridge. Inside she saw a tub of low-fat spread. The lid had been removed and it was standing on its side. The letter J had been cut into the pale-yellow fat. On the next shelf was a packet of condoms and on the top, a fishbowl with blue liquid.

‘Did you call the police?’ Christie asked.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I can’t?’

‘What’s going on?’ Christie asked. ‘First Alys, then Sammy’s house gets broken into and now this.’

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Fine,’ Christie said. ‘If you don’t feel you can trust me then at least tell the police. Are you trying to protect someone?’

Iona shook her head and fresh tears ran down her face.

‘I’ll make us a cup of tea.’

‘No,’ Iona said. ‘What if he comes back, or is still here?’

‘Who?’

‘I don’t know,’ Iona said.

‘You’re not making any sense. You said “he”. You must know who it is.’

Iona put her hands to her head. ‘I told you I can’t tell you.’

‘How did he get in?’ Christie asked.

‘I don’t know.’

Christie made two cups of tea and handed one to Iona.

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