The Reckoning by Sue Walker

Author:Sue Walker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2005-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

31

She’d offered to drive and Miller had accepted. The journey had been spent with him slumped in the passenger seat, saying nothing. She’d had the sense and sensitivity to keep quiet. He was more than grateful for that. The plan was to drive to her cottage, drop her off, and then he’d go home to get some badly needed sleep.

He’d wondered if he had imagined Catriona’s initial reluctance as she invited him in for a drink before his drive home. Was it just a perfunctory offer made out of politeness, not meant to be accepted? Did she really want her privacy invaded? Or was she sufficiently worried about his morose, uncommunicative state to want to keep an eye on him? Whatever the reason, once inside, she’d seemed relaxed and happy to have him there. Now, in front of her hearth, he too could relax a bit. Or rather, make the appearance of it. The encounter with Lena Stewart had replayed itself a million times on the way back. It was going to become a torment.

He knew he looked, and was, shattered. The drink was probably a mistake. She’d only given him a single shot, but he was feeling it. Better not have any more if it was offered, which seemed unlikely. He shut his eyes, enjoying the warmth from the fire. She’d said something about checking her emails and had disappeared upstairs. He pressed his head into the soft chair back, listening to the storm trying to make its way inside, along with the waves he knew were hurling themselves at the beach a mere stone’s throw away. But it was all in vain. This was a safe home, comforting…

He’d almost nodded off. Surprising under the circumstances, but forgivable, given his utter exhaustion. Still, it wouldn’t do. He stood up, stretching his arms out and turning his head to ease the painful tension in his neck. His eye caught sight of something squatting in the shadows that he’d missed on the way in. That old sideboard. Quite out of keeping with the rest of her modern furniture. He was sure it was the one that had been in her father’s house. He wandered over to get a better look at what was sitting on top of it. The wood-framed black and white photograph of Forbes Buchan had been taken in the summer. It looked vaguely familiar. He’d probably seen it before. There’d been a lot of showing off of photos, swapping snaps, discussing the latest cameras in those days. Forbes was squinting into the lens, in shirtsleeves, his smile twisted and lopsided by the ever-present pipe. He looked pleased with life. Good-natured. Just as Miller had always, well almost always, remembered him. No photos of her mother, though. Too painful perhaps? He gently replaced the frame and noticed the pipe, lying nearby. The same one? Maybe. Dr Buchan had surely owned a host of them in his lifetime. But it looked the same. She’d kept it. Touching. And then, lying in a corner behind the photo, he saw it, catapulting him back to his childhood.

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