Page 1 of The Engineer

1

Joanna Smith smoothed her sleeves and tucked her hair behind her ears before rapping on the door. She checked left and right, but her anxiety, for now at least, was misplaced. The village street was quiet. All the parked cars were empty. No one was watching her.

Footsteps echoed from inside.

Oh boy. She stared at the brass doorknob, holding her breath. Last chance to run, Jo. Now or never. Keys chinked on the other side of the door and the handle turned.

Jo blinked. Inside, the light was dim and the woman inside was half-hidden in shadows. A sharp intake of breath was the only acknowledgement as the woman stepped into the light. Her blonde hair was scraped off her face, her lips a crimson slash.

Jo rolled her shoulders back, gathering in the maelstrom of emotion swirling inside her. “Allie.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Her sister-in-law narrowed thickly mascaraed eyes.

Ignore her. “You look well, Allie. How are you?” Jo leaned forward and embraced Allie, far too aware of the other woman’s poker stiff frame.

Jo released her. “Um. Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Hairs pricked on the back of her neck. This was taking too long, but she refused to give in and look over her shoulder.

Allie blew out a breath. “Come in.” She jerked her head and turned from the door and headed up the narrow hallway, her hips swaying within the confines of tight, hot pink leggings.

Jo stepped into the house and after pressing the door closed behind her, she slotted the keeper chain into its slot. Just to be sure. She headed up the hallway. In the kitchen, golden sunshine painted strips of light across an expensive looking tiled floor.

“Wow.” Jo ran her fingertips across the polished counter top. The kitchen itself was sleek, granite with black oak units. Clearly Allie had put the compensation money from Raptor to good use. “Kitchen’s changed a bit.”

A china teapot with a matching mug steamed quietly on a glossy table, scenting the air with Earl Gray. A familiar scent that made Jo’s heart clench for the things of the past that couldn’t be undone. Allie turned from an overhead cupboard, a second mug in her hand. She cranked an eyebrow at Jo’s comment but remained silent.

She placed the mug on the table and poured two cups of tea and pushed one toward Jo. Jo pulled out one of the wooden chairs, wincing as it scraped noisily.

Allie ran a nail edge along the top edge of one fake eyelash. “Why are you here?”

Jo lifted the mug and took a tiny sip that scalded her tongue. Shit. She returned the mug to the table, her skin burning with Allie’s scrutiny. The kitchen wall clock counted down in noisy seconds. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I find the documents relating to Pharmasyn, the sooner I can get out of here.

“Why are you here, Jo? What do you want?” Allie’s tone was tart. “It’s not like you even bothered to come to the funeral. Or visit his grave. That’s not how a family looks after each other.”

Jo let the accusations hang in the air. She had no straightforward answers about why she hadn’t attended Luke’s funeral or why she still avoided his grave. She framed her mug with her palms, the hot tea failing to counteract the chill lodged deep in her bones since Luke’s death. How could she explain the dreams eroding her sanity? Her belief there was still a hidden agenda Raptor had hidden from the world? She cleared her throat. “It’s been a while. I thought perhaps—”

“You never liked me before Luke died. I don’t see why that would change now he’s gone. You don’t even have to pretend to want to see me now.” Allie pulled open a drawer in a nearby cabinet and removed a cigarette packet. The packet was new, and she took her time breaking the cellophane seal.

“I’m not pretending anything. I wanted to see you were okay.” Jo waved at the luxury fittings. “But you seem to be doing perfectly fine. Better than when my brother was alive.”

Allie’s hands stilled, and she looked up sharply.

Shit. Too much. “I’m sorry. That came out all wrong.” Jo raised her hands in supplication. “Look, can we just start again? I didn’t come here to fight. I wanted to see you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” Allie struck a match and lit a cigarette with the flame. She took a deep drag on the cigarette and shook out the match. Waited.

“Good.” Jo laced her fingers together. “Raptor looking after you?”

Allie shrugged. “They paid the money, shed their sins, easy as that.”

Fuck.

“Allie, I’m working on something right now—”

“Yes? How is your fancy career going?”

Jo clamped her teeth together, a hurricane of blood roaring in her head. Memories she’d rather forget flickered through her brain. Packing up the paltry contents of her desk into a discarded frozen peas box. That was what she had to show for fifteen years of journalism. A pen pot, a Dictaphone, a framed picture of Luke. Shit.

“Fine.” Jo placed her hands on the table, spreading her fingers wide as if contact with the wood would bolster her shredded nerves. “That’s why I’m here, actually.”

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