Page 70 of Three Widows

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Jackie glanced over quickly, then stared. Her eyes were not deceiving her.

She couldn’t believe she was looking at her son walking on the opposite footpath. He was with a tall teenage girl, his hand clasped in hers. The girl’s blonde hair, tied up in a tight ponytail, swayed as she chatted with him. She looked familiar. Then it struck her. She was one of Inspector Lottie Parker’s daughters! Her ex-husband had really gone and done it now, entrusting the care of her son to that lot.

Pressing the button on the crossing, she waited for the traffic to stop so that she could follow them. She wanted to hug and kiss Sergio. To whip him away from the Parker family, away from grotty Ragmullin, and never have to set foot in the town again.

She paused.

That’d be rash, wouldn’t it? She needed to do this correctly. If she crossed any lines, invisible or not, she might lose her son for ever. Her past would cloud any judge’s decision if it came to a court case. And given that Mark was under Lottie Parker’s influence, this could very well end up in court. Jackie did not want to enter any courtroom. With Lottie in the picture, he would never accept her deal. She wanted her son, but she needed safety. Mark Boyd could guarantee both.

Waiting until the traffic flowed again, she watched them entering a pub. How was this allowed? An eight-year-old boy and a teenage girl walking into a pub in the middle of the day. She should take a photograph. It might help to have proof of Mark’s ineptitude as a father. Once again she mentally kicked herself, like she had done every day since she’d told him about the existence of his son, even though it had been necessary at the time. She had been under pressure, her cover almost blown in her quest to bring down a drug gang in Malaga, and she couldn’t place Sergio in further danger. She’d taken the step she’d avoided for eight years and contacted her ex-husband. She’d thought it was for the best at the time, but the threat to her life hadn’t surfaced, and now she was back in the town she hated, having to rectify a problem of her own making.

Making up her mind, she followed them into Fallon’s pub.

* * *

Chloe fetched two bowls of soup and brought them to the table. The light shining in the window gave the pub a brightness that wasn’t there when she worked behind the bar at night. It seemed like a different place.

‘You’ll need to blow on it, squirt. It’s hot.’

‘That’s not my name.’

He was so serious, it was cute. ‘If you drink all your soup and eat two slices of bread, guess where I’ll bring you later?’

‘Papa told me this morning. You are bringing me to swim in the lake.’

‘It’ll be fun. Now drink up. Soon as we’re done here, it’s the lake for the whole afternoon.’

She watched as he paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. ‘Why are you rushing? Do you not like me, Chloe?’

‘Of course I like you. You’re like a little brother.’

‘But you have a little brother. Sean isn’t that little because he’s taller than you, but you’re older than him, so that makes him your little brother. Isn’t that right?’

She grinned. ‘Sean isn’t as much fun as you are. We’ll have such a good time at the lake, you’ll sleep like a baby tonight.’

‘I don’t want to be like a baby.’ He slurped a spoonful of soup. ‘Do you really work here?’

‘Yeah, for my sins.’

‘What sins?’

‘It’s a figure of speech.’

She was about to explain the turn of phrase to him, but he nodded. The kid was bright, but way too serious. Just like his dad. Not like her dad, who’d had a funny bone and liked to find hers by tickling the life out of her. She smiled at the memory.

The pub was pretty full for lunchtime. Her eyes landed on two women nestled in the corner snug, heads close as if they were discussing a conspiracy. Hadn’t they been in the other night? At the widows’ thing? She’d read online from an anonymous source that the woman found murdered had been part of that group. With her curiosity piqued, she drank her soup without noticing and kept her attention glued to the pair.

‘Do you know those women?’ Sergio asked.

‘Nope.’

‘It’s not nice to stare.’

‘Are you finished? We should get a move on while it’s still warm enough for the lake.’

She waited while he slurped down the last of his soup, then told him to sit tight while she brought the dishes to the bar. She caught sight of a woman seated at the end of the counter, her eyes fixed on Sergio. What the hell was Jackie Boyd doing back in Ragmullin?

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