Page 134 of Arran's Obsession

It was time to get to the truth.

From the car park, I took on the hill that rose steeply beyond, passing rows of terraced houses and blocks of flats. I didn’t stop until I was outside the church where Cherry had been murdered, but I passed that, too, continuing on until I reachedthe Crescent. On the steps outside Gen’s flat, I barged the street door. It popped easily, and I was inside.

Up the stairs, I revisited the route I’d taken on my first and only other visit, then I was outside Gen’s flat. The lock was busted, tape keeping it closed as if someone had broken in and a proper repair job hadn’t yet been carried out.

I prowled through the shadowed rooms until I found the master bedroom. Entered and sought out the pictures on the wall. Enough light came through the uncovered window to fall on two girls in a family photo in the middle of many. A twelve-year-old Genevieve and a toddler.

I unhooked it and slid to the floor.

After all these years, I was finally getting to see another picture of my sibling. Gen was right—all kids didn’t look the same. Addie was so recognisable, grinning and in a padded snowsuit, not the rainbow dungarees. They were outdoors, and from the warm clothes, it was autumn or winter. Months after our mother’s death.

Addie must’ve known Flora well to have been so content so soon. Was Flora in a relationship with Audrey? Were they neighbours or co-workers? One thing was clear. Audrey had a contingency plan for her baby after she died. She’d supplied evidence on my dad then expected the worst from it, and he’d delivered.

Another point hit me. Genevieve had told the truth. Her story was real, and Addie existed in her past. Her dad would be able to help me fill in the gaps.

In a decade of creating my own world, and bringing people closer to me, this route in through my past tripped me up. Connected up parts of my life that in the same moment felt out of control and utterly needed.

Another photo caught my attention—a family portrait. A very young Gen and her brother, and their parents with their armsaround each other. Even after they’d separated, and the mother died, her dad kept the picture up. Not out in the living room for the sake of his kids, but in here, right in his eyeline when he was at rest.

“Hello? Who’s in there?” an elderly female’s voice came.

With a sigh, I stood, taking the picture of Addie with me. Out in the hall, a woman poked her head in the door. She spied me and reared back, her stick raised.

“I’ve called the police already. Don’t you move.”

I did move. My time here was done, and I had a home to go to. I exited to the hall, the woman cringing away. Then recognition dawned, and she narrowed her eyes.

“I know who you are. Your face was on the late-night news. I have an alert set up and I saw everything about you and those… those naked women! You should be in prison.”

“And yet here I am,” I drawled, dropping down a couple of steps. Wait until she copped the news about the second murder. She’d probably be fainting away and calling me the Devil.

“What are you doing breaking into people’s homes? Even the lowlifes who live here don’t deserve that.”

With annoyance, I turned around. “I didn’t break into anywhere. I own the place.”

Her mouth opened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

The woman set her stick down, her stance wobbly. “I had a message from my landlord saying he’d sold the Crescent. Surely not to you?”

I gave her a winning smile. “Correct, Arran Daniels, strip club owner and your new landlord. Actually, to be more specific, it’s in Genevieve Jones’ name, so she’ll now be collecting your rent, and that of everyone else who lives here. I was looking for property to invest in, somewhere to renovate and offer as ahome to my staff. This is close to work and will do nicely, if Gen agrees.”

Bullying old ladies wasn’t in my nature, but the neighbour was pissing me off.

I tapped the wall to mark my point. “Be nice to your new neighbours, or it’ll be you with the eviction notice on your door.”

At the warehouse, the front was even busier with two new reporters doing pieces to camera about the murder. I stole in through the back and took the stairs up to my apartment, knocking on my own goddamned door so I didn’t end up almost dead like earlier.

Returning here had never felt like this in the past. The desire to stay in, rather than always be out. I had someone to come home to now.

From the sofa, Gen watched me enter, Jamieson and Cassie with her and Shade on the phone. I held her gaze, recognising fear and worry, and my fucking heart hurt.

“Everyone out,” I ordered.

Cassie’s jaw dropped in outrage. In her hands, she brandished a notepad and pen. “Hell, no. A dead woman was dumped on your doorstep. We’ve been continuing the detective work. Give us five minutes then you can have the room, m’kay?”

Gen’s gaze held mine, the space shrinking to just the two of us. “Where did you go?”

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