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  "Or the rejection saw him lash out at another woman, much like when his first wife left him?"

  Tom grimaced. "Yeah … I'll give you that as a possibility. Maybe sending Eric off to speak to Tim Hendry's first wife isn't such a long shot after all."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Eric slowed the car, giving the horses a wide berth as he passed by them. The lead rider tipped her head in his direction, offering him a wave. The estate was sprawling. He couldn't remember how large it was but the network of rambling paths and cycle tracks spread throughout the woods in all directions. In the summertime every car park on the estate was full and even in the off season the locals made daily use of them to walk their dogs or spend time with the children. The Royal family spent the summer here and Eric wondered if Her Majesty was present as he parked the car, the wheels crunching the gravel beneath them.

  By the time he got out the riders were approaching. Two of the three continued on past him, their mounts' hooves clattering on the cobbles as they passed under an entrance arch and entered the courtyard beyond. The lead rider came across to Eric, taking his measure. Everyone else who was milling around was dressed for their role, either in equestrian or outdoor clothing, Eric was in his suit and tie, sweating.

  "Can I help you?" she asked,

  "I'm here to see Victoria Riley," Eric said, reaching up with one hand to hold the horse's bridle and patting its neck with the other. The rider glanced to her right and gestured towards a row of small cottages a short distance away.

  "Vicky has the day off today. You'll find her in the last but one cottage: The Hawthorns."

  He thanked her and she turned her mount, ambling after her friends in the direction of the courtyard and presumably the stables beyond. Eric locked his car although, in reality, it probably wasn't necessary. The cottages were cosy, that is to say small and were clearly residences tied to working on the estate. Eric knocked on the front door and immediately he heard a dog bark aggressively from the interior. He waited and then heard the dog again only this time louder as it must have come to stand on the other side of the door. He wasn't concerned; he loved dogs and by the tone of this one he thought it must be tiny, whether it was a terrier or one of the yappy sort that seemed popular with film stars and eccentrics, he was keen to know.

  Moments later the door opened and he was met with a warm smile by a woman in a loose-fitting pink blouse, her sandy-brown hair tied up, who eyed him expectantly, looking past him. It was so obvious that he followed her eye but was stumped by what she was apparently searching for.

  "How did it go? Any problems?" she asked.

  Eric must have looked puzzled, his brow wrinkling.

  "Have you brought back my car?"

  "Um … no," Eric said, taking out his warrant card. "DC Collet, Norfolk Police. Mrs Riley?"

  "Miss." She corrected him and the smile faded to be replaced by concern. "Is everything all right with Michael?"

  "Yes, I'm sure it is," Eric said. He had no idea who Michael was. "I'd like to speak with you about your ex-husband, if you don't mind?"

  Her expression darkened.

  "Which one?"

  "Tim Hendry. May I come inside?"

  "Tim?" She was surprised. "That's a name I haven't heard spoken in years."

  Victoria opened the door, beckoning him inside. The dog, who had been held at bay thus far by its owner’s leg, rushed forward to inspect the newcomer. It was a terrier, but not one Eric could identify, and he was usually good with dogs. It was jet black, wiry, in the same way as a Westie, but its nose was longer, thinner and without the whiskers. The animal also belonged to the bark is worse than its bite category because as soon as Eric knelt to acknowledge the dog, it turned tail, ducked between its owner’s legs and disappeared from sight.

  "She gets nervous of strangers. Come through and I'll pop the kettle on."

  Eric smiled, righted himself, and followed Victoria through the cottage. The hallway was tight and it opened into a kitchen to the rear that Eric figured was a newer addition at some point because the head height was much improved and the windows larger. The view from the window above the sink was over the manicured grounds towards the stables where Eric had come from.

  As his host busied herself filling the kettle, Eric assessed her, wondering what she did on the estate? She was slim, athletic and one of his first thoughts was that she was quite attractive. Becca's image immediately came to mind and he felt a stab of guilt. Brushing the thought aside, he found Victoria looking at him, eyebrows raised, kettle in hand.

  "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Eric asked.

  "Tea or coffee?"

  "Yes."

  "Which?" she asked, smiling sympathetically.

  "Tea please," Eric stammered, grimacing as soon as she turned her back and set the kettle on its stand. He produced his notebook from his pocket, feeling his face reddening. She turned back to him, leaning against the worktop and folded her arms across her chest.

  "What's Tim been up to that could possibly involve me after all these years?"

  Eric angled his head slightly, his curiosity piqued by something unsaid in her tone. "Was he often up to something then, in the past I mean?"

  She offered him a coy smile. "During our marriage Tim was away a lot – with work – and when I met him, he was quite a party animal, fashionably late but always the last one to make his way home. Unless he got lucky, of course, in which case he'd end up at someone else's home."

  "Quite the ladies' man, was he?" Eric asked, returning her smile.

  "Before and during our marriage, yes," she said glumly. "I guess it doesn't matter now. It was a long time ago after all."

  Eric glanced at his notes. "When did the two of you divorce?"

  "My reprieve came through in the August of 2009. It took two years but the wait was worth it … I had a celebratory weekend away with the girls afterwards." Her smile widened to a grin but Eric saw the sadness reflected in her expression, she wasn't quite as upbeat about it as she suggested. The grin faded and her brow furrowed. "What is this about?"

  "We're investigating an old case and Tim's name came up, so we're doing some homework on him, that's all," Eric said, not wishing to cloud her memories with the significance of the subject matter. "Specifically, I need to speak to you about an incident that happened a couple of years before you split up—"

  "2007," she said flatly. "We'd split by then but it took the paperwork a few years to catch up."

  Eric nodded but didn't say anything. Victoria held his eye, taking a deep breath.

  "Now that was a long time ago," she said quietly, turning her gaze to the window and the expanse of open ground, her casual references to the past forgotten.

  "I understand that I'm raking up a difficult—"

  "It's not difficult," she said, turning to him, her expression fixed and uncompromising. "I'm glad it happened when it did."

  "Why are you glad?"

  "Because it reinforced my decision to leave in the first place," she said flatly. "And he would never get the chance to do that to me again."

  Eric remained impassive, focussing on the detail. "What brought about the assault, do you remember?"

  She stared straight ahead, her lips pursed. The kettle gently rocked on its stand as the water came to the boil and the switch clicked off. Victoria didn't notice.

  "Do you remember?" Eric repeated.

  "No, not really," she said, sniffing and brushing her hand across the tip of her nose as she turned away from him to pick up the kettle. He wasn't sure but he thought he saw her eyes welling up as she did so. She poured the water into the cups, Eric watched the steam rising from them, curling up into the air. She was taking the moment to gather herself, so he allowed her the time to do it. "Sugar?" she asked without looking round, her voice quivering slightly.

  "No thank you," Eric said, feeling bad for forcing her to recall the memory without warning. "I'm sweet enough."

  She glanced over her shoulder at his poor attemp
t at lightening the mood, offering him an appreciative smile. She finished making the tea, turning and passing a mug to Eric, which he accepted, promptly looking for somewhere to put it down because it was far too hot to hold. Victoria suggested a small dining table, only large enough to seat two people, behind Eric in the corner with a flick of her hand and he set it down.

  "That was the first time Tim had done anything like that to me, or to anyone as far as I know," she said as soon as Eric turned back to face her. She was still staring blankly ahead. "Don't get me wrong, we'd argued enough over the years: about him being away as much as he was. That was largely down to my mistrust of him and what he was up to."

  "Where did that come from do you think?"

  She thought about it folding her arms across her chest, now looking at Eric. She glanced at the floor, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

  "A mixture of my own insecurity and his inability to control himself, I should imagine." She sighed. "You know he was engaged to someone else when I started seeing him? I didn't know, by the way. Not at first anyway. I should have walked when I found out but I didn't; figured I was the one for him, you know?" She tilted her head towards one shoulder, eyeing Eric and searching for his approval. "I really should have known better. Anyway … I had my suspicions around Tim during our marriage; that he was putting it about while he was away. I never had anything concrete to go on, he was very shrewd, but my instincts were shouting at me and, in the end, I listened. It was then that I left."

  "He didn't take it well?"

  A rueful smile crossed her face. "Tim was used to getting his own way. He never did like it when I asserted myself."

  "And that particular night, the night he attacked you, what happened?"

  Victoria picked at the fingernails of one hand with the other, an indication of her anxiety. She lifted her head to meet Eric's gaze.

  "I went back to the house one night – to fetch a few things – and I thought he was out for the night with friends. I'd organised it with Suzy, a mutual friend of ours, and that would give me the opportunity to slip in and out without speaking to Tim."

  "Were you frightened?"

  "No, nothing like that," she said dismissively. Eric thought maybe she was detailing a lengthy cycle of domestic abuse but she'd just waved that away. "I just couldn't face yet another argument but I'd been recycling the same three outfits at work for a couple of weeks by that point." She splayed her palms wide and smiled. "A girl has limits, you know?" Eric returned the smile. "Anyway, Tim obviously didn't fancy a night out as his marriage was ending and came home early. Suzy couldn't get hold of me because the signal was so poor where we used to live." Her expression took on a faraway look. "You know, I can still picture the surprise on his face when he walked in and I was standing there with a suitcase in hand. I'm not sure how I expected him to react, looking back. It was like an affront to his manhood or something, I don't know. His ego couldn't take it, maybe?"

  "You argued?"

  She nodded, pursing her lips.

  "And it was then that he hit you?"

  "More or less. Like you said, we argued. It escalated as a couple of years of marital frustration boiled over from both of us." She looked Eric directly in the eye. "I'll be honest, DC Collet—"

  "Eric, please."

  "I'll be honest, Eric, I'm pretty sure I hit him first. I don't recall what he said, but I lost my temper … then he responded."

  "I see," Eric said, averting his eyes from her and scribbling a few notes.

  "I think that was one reason the CPS weren't keen to press charges; a case of six of one and half a dozen of the other."

  "Only one of you ended up in hospital, though."

  She took a deep breath, appearing a little lost.

  "That's true, Eric, but I didn't want to go to court, have people staring at me as I described his infidelity only to have it thrown at me that I was imagining it, that I was some sort of basket case. My old mum used to say you should never air your dirty linen in public because people will pass judgement on you and you carry those judgements with you for the rest of your life." She was distant now, dejected. "I just wanted it all to go away."

  Eric waited but she didn't say anything further. He sensed that she still fostered similar feelings.

  "I'm sorry to press you on this but," Eric hesitated, searching for the right words, "at any point prior to that incident had Tim ever threatened you either physically or emotionally? Did you feel intimidated?"

  Victoria stared at Eric.

  "What's all this about?"

  "Like I said—"

  "I know what you said but what is this about?"

  Eric ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. "We're investigating the murder of a young woman. She was found at the site of an archaeological dig where Tim was present, back in 2001, quite some time prior to the events of your marriage."

  "And you think it might—?"

  Eric held a hand up to stop her. "No, we're just gathering background on those present at the time. Tim is one among many. Did you ever feel threatened by Tim?"

  Concern was etched into her expression now, the weight of responsibility clear to see. Then she shook her head but wouldn't meet Eric's gaze.

  "No."

  There was something about her answer that bothered him, whether it was the speed of the reply or the intonation contained within a two-letter word, he didn't know. He doubted himself as he wracked his brain for a searching follow-up question but one wasn't forthcoming. Instead, he simply wrote a big question mark in his notebook against her reply.

  "What about the night he assaulted you? Were you worried then for yourself?" Eric asked, picking up his mug and sipping his tea.

  "No, not for myself."

  Eric frowned, mug aloft before him. "Then for whom?"

  She became agitated, twitchy, looking around as she sought a suitable answer and then she fixed her eye on him.

  "I really have nothing more to tell you." She stared at him with her mouth open. To Eric she seemed to be breathing heavily. "I think I would prefer it if you left now."

  Eric was caught by surprise, readying himself for another sip of tea. He'd barely touched the contents. Reluctantly, he put the mug down and bobbed his head nervously. He didn't think he'd overplayed his hand and her reaction certainly threw him.

  "Okay … um … thank you for your time," Eric said. "As well as for the tea."

  Holding an open hand out to her left, Victoria encouraged him back to the front door. He opened it and as he stepped out, he took one of his contact cards from his pocket, turning and offering it to her. She glanced at it, hesitated, and then accepted it without looking at the face of it.

  "Just in case you think of anything you want to tell me," Eric said, smiling weakly and feeling very much as if he was being shown the door for being rude or ill mannered, even though he knew he hadn't been.

  Victoria tucked the card into the rear pocket of her shorts and no sooner had Eric stepped across the threshold, she pushed the door closed without another word. Eric hovered by the front door, hearing a snuffling from the other side; the dog must be there sniffing.

  "Yeah," he said to the dog under his breath, "I thought it was a bit rushed too."

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The house was in darkness; he must be asleep. It looked different to how it had fifteen years ago. She could still picture the image from her memory: blooming flower beds in the front garden, a neatly manicured lawn and an elderly man in a pork-pie hat leaning on the boundary, casually chatting to his neighbour. His gardening attire the same every time; a white shirt rolled up from the cuffs and chocolate brown corduroy trousers with braces over the shoulder and a hand-rolled cigarette seemingly glued to his lower lip that had long since gone out. She'd always felt welcome here, but that was a long time ago.

  The Bed and Breakfast she was staying in was pleasant enough, only three letting rooms in an imposing old Victorian house set back a couple of str
eets from the sea front in Sheringham. The couple who owned it were nice, offering her food even though it wasn't what they usually did. They knew the detective inspector; she couldn't recall his name. She'd declined the offer, company had been the last thing on her mind. These past couple of days had passed in such a blur. It was hard to get her bearings. Was it the right choice to come back to Norfolk; to come here tonight?

  The hinges of the wooden picket gate shrieked in protest as she passed through, looking at the house she was unsure if anyone was home. There was an old brass-plated bell with a clapper hanging beside the front door and she rang it. The sound reverberated, carrying in the night, and she looked over her shoulder, embarrassed to be breaching the silence with such a vulgar intrusion. If he didn't answer, she’d already made the decision to leave; part of her hoped he wouldn't and she could do just that.

  There was movement inside and suddenly she felt like an athlete having run miles, her chest heaving. A light flicked on in the interior behind the door, shafts of yellow visible from the fanlight above the door. Julia Rose was holding her breath as the door opened. It must have swollen in the current climate because it was stiff and needed some force to pull it wide. A set of dark eyes stared at her with a vacant expression and it took a moment for recognition to follow. She smiled weakly. He stared at her his mouth open.

  "Hi Alex."

  Alex Hart flinched at the sound of her voice and he retreated half a step, eyes widening.

  "It–it's me, Julia."

  He bit his lower lip, hesitantly edging forward and looking her up and down. They hadn't seen each other in well over a decade, sharing the occasional Christmas and birthday cards but she'd stayed away. She'd had to.

  "Julia?" It sounded like he was questioning himself as much as he was her. She smiled again, feeling her eyes water. She tentatively reached out with one hand, he didn't move to avoid her touch and she slowly, and very gently, touched his left hand, moving to slip her fingers into his palm. Alex curled his fingers around hers, looking at their hands entwined and he smiled, nervously at first before emotion overcame him and he started to weep. Julia pulled him towards her, shocked at how easily he fell into her embrace and light he felt in comparison to how she remembered him. Dressed in a shirt and jeans, his bony frame was uncomfortable pressing against her.