Page 5 of The Question of Us
Nick grinned and waved the cookie under my nose. “Want a bite?”
Yes. “No... thank you. And it might be an educated guess, but it makes sense.”
Nick shrugged. “It’s still a guess.”
What the hell?We’d talked about this and Nick had agreed it was a logical assumption. I dismissed a growing niggle in my belly and turned back to Gazza. “Samuel’s police contacts in Australia turned up a couple of things. When they first contacted Lee, he assured them that was his name and said he had no idea what they were talking about. He insisted Marty Klein was a friend and that Lee was there of his own free will. But this Marty Klein is a well-known figure in Australian horse racing and is the same Marty Klein who dated a certain Graham Cunningham who we think?—”
Nick cleared his throat and I shot a pissy look his way.
“—whoIthink, or rather know, re-emerged as Lee Shepherd in New Zealand. But social media is thin on the ground for Graham and non-existent for Lee. Marty has a profile related to his racing business and social events, but there are almost no photos of Lee slash Graham, and those we have found are years old and involve large groups of people at various social events to do with racing. Lee is just a figure amongst many others. In his late teens or early twenties, at a guess, and with strawberry-blond hair instead of the dark brownish-black he has now.Ithink it’s him, but apparently that’s not enough for Nick.” I shot the man a pointed look and he sighed. “But no one is reallylooking at any of it because Lee says he’s fine.” I almost ground my teeth at the sound of that damn word again.
Gazza blew a low whistle. “Well, I’m convinced.”
Nick grunted. “But you’re not a court of law. And I have some questions.”
I focused a glare Nick’s way. “Really? Do tell.”
I must’ve sounded snippy because Nick shot me an apologetic look that did nothing to smooth my irritation before he explained. “In his conversation with the police Lee claimed to not even know any Graham Cunningham. And although we found those two names next to each other on that list, there’s zero evidence to suggest they’re the same person, or ifthisLee isthatLee. It was just a list of names with no accompanying explanation.Wemade the leap, but that doesn’t mean it can be proved.”
I shook my head. “That’s bullshit.”
Nick ignored me. “Marty admitted he’d dated Graham for a while but said he hasn’t seen the man in a couple of years since it ended. He backed up Lee’s story that Lee was an old friend who’d simply run into Marty’s PA, Freddie Young, while Freddie was in Auckland on business for Marty. When Lee mentioned to Freddie that he was planning to return to Australia, Freddie passed that on to his boss, who offered Lee a place to stay and a job while he got himself settled. Lee accepted and decided to return with Freddie.” Nick opened his hands. “Nothing to see here, folks.”
“It’s just more of the same bullshit,” I grumbled. “A story concocted to keep us from questioning what really happened.”
“Us?” Nick cocked a brow. “Don’t you mean the police?”
I glared at him, hating that he was right about there being nothing provable linking Lee and Graham.
“All I’m saying is that the police aren’t convinced.” Nick held my gaze unwaveringly. “And neither is Samuel. They’re taken from a distance, and grainy at best.”
I narrowed my gaze, pissed off and confused. “Where is all this coming from? I thought we were in agreement about what had likely gone down.”
Nick doubled down. “Just telling it how it is. We need to stay clear-headed and not get carried away with theories that can’t be proven. There’s nothing more we can—” His gaze drilled into mine. “—or maybe should do. It’s in the hands of the police where it belongs.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And what exactly does that?—”
“Can I see the photos, please?” Gazza interrupted.
I held Nick’s gaze a few seconds longer to make my irritation plain, then picked up my phone and scrolled through the photos. “Here.” I slid the device toward Gazza.
He flicked through the three images I’d downloaded. “Wow. He’s fucking gorgeous.”
“Pot, kettle,” I reminded him.
Gazza’s cheeks pinked. “But I have to say, Nick’s right.” He slid my phone back across the table. “They’re not the clearest photos. You’re positive they’re the same person?”
I didn’t need to think. “Yes. Unlike you, I saw Lee up close that night, and I have zero doubt. But that’s not all.” I shot Nick a fiery glance. “Samuel’s Australian enquiries revealed there’d been some kind of domestic incident on Marty’s property years ago when Lee, or Graham, was living with Marty.”
“It was dismissed,” Nick pointed out.
Gazza’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of incident?”
I cast Nick a defiant look and explained. “A neighbour claimed to have seen a young man being dragged by the hair into the house by none other than Marty. But when the police arrived, the door was answered by a relaxed Freddie whowelcomed them inside, no problem. In the kitchen they found Lee bloodied and walking very gingerly. He had a black eye, a cut to his lip, and visible bruising around his jaw and both arms.”
Gazza blew a low whistle. “Jesus.”
Nick picked up the story, explaining, “But contrary to the witness report, Lee claimed the injuries were the result of a fall from a horse that morning and the neighbour had simply been mistaken in what she’d seen. Rather than any assault, Freddie had actually been helping Lee inside the house after ferrying him up from the back of the property where the incident happened. We might not like it, but the explanation fits.”
