Blood Feud (37 page)

“Perhaps we could have left it until the morning. Your questions brought up frightening memories for him. It’s always better to avoid upsetting someone right before bed, particularly someone elderly who’s had a recent shock.”

“I have a lot to learn, don’t I?” I slumped glumly in my seat.

“Yes, you do,” he answered bluntly.

“And I was so excited at the prospect of passing on my knowledge to Kevin and it turns out I don’t have much.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You do have plenty of knowledge and we all have a lot to learn in a profession where the work is so unpredictable. Make one miscall or run into the wrong guy during your shift, and that could be it for you as a cop. Nobody can know it all. It’s impossible.”

I nodded silently in agreement and sat back up in my seat again. It was quite late by the time we returned to his house. I spared only enough time to brush my teeth and change into pyjamas before collapsing into bed. Although needing to catch up on my sleep from my night out the previous evening, I had a few things to do.

Retrieving my borrowed phone from the pocket of my jeans, which I’d earlier carelessly discarded on the floor, I rang Dad to assure myself he was okay and coping with staying at Adele’s. The truth was that Adele was probably pampering him and attending to his every need, which like most men, he rather enjoyed.

I decided to also send Jake a goodnight text before I went to sleep. We hadn’t spoken since our tiff yesterday. It sometimes seemed to me there was a growing chasm between us brought on by the Sarge’s arrival in town. I spent less time with Jake and more with the Sarge every day. And the time we did spend together lately seemed to hinge more on sex than anything else.

I scrolled through the menu to ‘new message’. Tiredly, I mispressed and accidently opened the inbox instead to find a number of text messages already sitting there. Although it appeared the Sarge regularly cleared his inbox, he’d neglected to totally wipe the phone before he lent it to me.

I paused, staring at the messages, all of which were dated a short space apart from some months ago when he’d replaced this phone with his new one. There were a couple of texts from ‘Mum’, a couple from someone called ‘Trig’ and the remaining ones were all from Melissa.

Should I or shouldn’t I?

I knew it was impolite, reprehensible and an unforgivable breach of his privacy, but my curiosity overwhelmed me. I opened the first two messages from his mother.

Mum (1):
Negotiations went well. All sorted now. No thks to RC tho. What a jerk! Was embrssd 2 be in same room with him!

Mum (2):
How sweet u are Finny! See u soon I hope (hint hint) Mum xx

Finny!
I giggled to myself. He obviously had a close relationship with his mother which was nice. Or possibly weird. I moved onto the two messages from ‘Trig’.

Trig (1):
sure u will! heard all that b4 but u nvr turn up! btw loved photo u sent. vry vry nice!!!! can see why u said what u did but what does M think about the situation??!!?

Trig (2):
better u than me :-P talk 2 u soon & expect 2 hear more abt yr fascinating life in little town!!

Hmm. Trig? Male, female? Friend, relative? Who knew? And what on earth was the Sarge saying about life here in Little Town? I was dying to find out.

I could have stopped then and regained some semblance of decency as I hadn’t read anything too personal. But I reasoned that I’d come so far now, I might as well finish what I’d started by reading the rest of the messages. So, to my shame, I opened the ones from Melissa.

Melissa (1):
cant believe u have 2 wrk on wkend again!!! GRRRRR!!! I made plans!!! yr th boss so make her do it 4 once. shes a fkn lazy cow >:-(

Melissa (2):
u know I dont want 2 visit u in that dump. I hate it. its fkn boring & I hate driving there. u have 2 come here!!!

Melissa (3):
WORK WORK WORK!!!!!!!! its all u evr thnk abt. yr so boring

Melissa (4):
stop blaming me 4 evrythng! i cant plan wedding if I nvr c u! u got 2 move back 2 city. Y do u even want 2 stay in that dump?

Melissa (5):
whats she got 2 do wth anythng? im yr fiancee not her in case u hav forgttn

Melissa (6):
yr such a selfish arsehole
sometimes

Melissa (7):
i hate u. yr ruining my life wth yr selfishness!!!!

Melissa (8):
yr so mean 2 me all th time. I hate u. u dont want 2 marry me anymr. u dont luv me

Melissa (9):
yr just saying that 2 shut me up

Melissa (10):
really? wd u ask her? wdnt kill her 2 pull her wght 4 once & wd mak me so so SO HAPPY!!!!!!! xxx

Melissa (11):
thks sweetie. C u on wkend. im buying sexy new drss jst 4 u. u cn pay ;-) I luv u. big hugs & kisses & promise wkend will b vry vry hot & horny!!!! xxx

I felt grubby and ashamed after reading all that but I had no one to blame except myself. Despite that, I still checked the ‘sent messages’ to read the Sarge’s side of the exchanges. It was empty. He didn’t keep copies of his outgoing texts.

I lay in bed, looking up at the moonlight playing on the ceiling and thought about those messages. I didn’t appreciate being called a lazy cow and accused of not pulling my weight, particularly by a manipulative spoilt brat who’d never worked a day in her life. That old saying about an eavesdropper never hearing any good of themself was apparently still true, even in this digital age. And it was galling to know just how ungrateful she was for all the times I’d stepped in to take on the weekend shift so the Sarge could travel to the city to join her. It was a complete mystery to me why the Sarge put up with someone so immature and self-centred.

I settled down to sleep and as usual, I dreamed.

In a beautiful old church I’d once visited in the cit
y, a wedding was taking place, a huge, lavish affair. The church was festooned with large ribbons, loops of delicate gauze hanging from the ceiling. Crowds of guests sat and smiled, enjoying witnessing a display of love so strong it must be formally united for life.

I hadn’t been invited to the ceremony, but I crept into the church unnoticed, my sneakers deadening the sound of my movement. The bride and groom stood with their back
s to the crowd, listening intently to the minister, Len Whittaker. A long row of bridesmaids, ten at least, all dressed in blood red, stood beside the bride. An equal amount of groomsmen stood next to the groom.

Minister Whittaker pontificated on how the curves and planes of a woman were best appreciated by her husband and when the bride and groom said they agreed with him, he pronounced them husband and wife. He called for the rings and a naked Phoebe and Philippe appeared at the door of the church, jointly holding the red velvet cushion on which the gleaming golden rings nestled. I skipped to one side, out of their way, as they solemnly carried it down the aisle to the applause of the guests.

As the groom slipped the ring on his bride’s finger, she
turned her head towards me and I saw it was Melissa, stunning in a beautiful white silk dress that enhanced her curvy figure. She smiled with a smugness discordant with the joyousness of the occasion. Then the groom turned to face his bride with adoration and I saw it was Jake.

“
Jakey
?” I called out in distress. “What about us? What about me?”

He winked, putting his finger to his lips
to shush me. And when his lips hungrily claimed those of his new wife, I thought my heart would explode with pain.

“
And the other groom?” asked Minister Whittaker and the Sarge stepped forward from where he’d been hidden in the shadows
. He claimed Melissa’s other hand, slipping a ring on it and kissing her in an equally passionate way. A huge cheer rose from the guests.

“
There is nothing greater than love in all its forms,” smiled Minister Whittaker, slipping an affectionate, caressing arm around each of Phoebe and Philippe’s shoulders. He glanced up at me. “Though some unfortunates in life are destined to always be without.”

The crowd turned to look at me, collective pity in their eyes. I
felt conspicuous and alone, my face flaming with humiliation.

Hand-in-hand-in-hand, the ecstatic newly married trio made their way down the aisle, Melissa kissing one man and then the other as they did. Forgetting me, the overjoyed guests showered them with warm congratulations and confetti.

“
Jakey?” I asked, on the verge of tears as they drew closer to me.

“
Sorry, babe. I finally found a woman I want to marry.”

“
And so have I,” agreed the Sarge, smiling, leaning down to kiss Melissa again. “Sorry, Tess. You’re on your own now.”

They exited the church, leaving me rooted in place with shock, watching after them. They stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back.

“
She’ll always be on her own,” giggled Melissa and the three of them laughed as they walked away.

Chapter 25

I didn’t wake with a jolt as with most of my nightmares, but instead with a dull moroseness that swamped me all day. Although I knew it was only a dream, a fantasy concocted by my stressed subconscious, like most dreams it held enough power to negatively affect my mood. It made me cast miserable sideways glances at the Sarge who didn’t even know he’d starred yet again in one of my nocturnal narratives.

At the station, when I hadn’t said a word for over an hour, the Sarge asked me what was wrong.

“What makes you think there’s anything wrong?” I asked, keeping my eyes firmly on the screen in front of me, typing up my incident report.

“You’re not your normal self and you’re doing your paperwork without complaining.”

Ignoring that regular jibe, I decided to be honest. “I had a dream last night that Jakey married . . . someone else.”

His gaze was intense. “If you want to marry him, you should give him an ultimatum to get a divorce, Tess.”

I shrugged one shoulder and made a noncommittal noise in response. “I could never marry Jake.”

“Not now, but if he divorced his wife, you could.”

“That’s not the problem. The problem is that he’s a Bycraft. I would never marry a Bycraft. It’s impossible for me to even contemplate.”

“I don’t understand why you’re together then?”

“It’s good when we’re together.”

“Take it from me, that’s not enough for a long-term relationship.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to be twenty-eight in a few months. You should be thinking about what you want for the future.”

“I know.”

“I’m just saying all this as a friend.”

“I know.”

The station phone rang. “Well, as you seem to know everything you can answer that.”

I smiled, some of my humour returning. “I knew you were going to say that.”

And so began a fairly routine day for us. We spent the time filing our incident reports on the knife abduction last night with the Big Town detectives (who didn’t care), processing gun licence renewals, checking on Young Kenny and Phoebe, and answering another pilfered food call-out, this time at an outlying property. The only adrenaline moment was when we unwillingly became embroiled in a spat between Lola Bycraft and one of her unfortunate neighbours that required the threatening use of our spray to force her out of her terrified neighbour’s yard. And in the afternoon, we walked the beat.

“God, what a day! Even when it’s an ordinary day here, it’s busy,” complained the Sarge as we packed up for the evening.

“Agreed. All I want is a nice dinner and a glass of wine. Maybe even some crappy TV. And just forget about everything.”

“The young lady’s wish is my command.”

My phone trilled. “Tess Fuller.”

“Tessie, babe.”

“Jakey.” He seemed to have forgotten about our recent sharp words, but my greeting probably wasn’t as warm as it should have been, remembering my dream again.

“Great news! I’ve been forced to swap shifts with someone, so I’m free tonight. You and I now have a date and I can’t wait.”

Desperate to push those feelings of his rejection of me in my dream away, I jumped at the chance. “Oh, but I’m at the Sarge’s house at the moment.”

“I’m not staying there. We’ll go to your house.”

“Um . . .” I glanced over at the Sarge. “I guess that will be okay.”

“See you there in thirty minutes, babe. I’ll bring some dinner with me and then you are going to feast on me.”

My smile was unstoppable. An evening of good loving and physical release was exactly the antidote I needed to all the horrible things that had happened so far this week.

“You’re not going to your house,” decided the Sarge with imperious directness when I told him of my new plans, immediately raising my hackles. “The Super said we had to stick together.” His lip curled with unconcealed scorn. “Jake can come to my house.”