Gardners, Ditchers, and Gravemakers (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 4) by Oliver Davies (free e books to read online TXT) 📕

“We think so. It might explain how she ended up with some of those bruises as well.”

“Killer must have got the recipe well off,” she added. “This threat, this would be older than the recent ones? From the young protesters you spoke to?”

“Lin Shui would have been in school still around that time, but we’ll speak to her, see if she knows anything or anyone that might be of help.”

“Speak to Paige,” Sharp instructed us. “If this threat scared Abbie too, she might have mentioned it. Sisters tend to know about those of sorts of things,” she added, “especially ones as close as they are.”

I nodded. “We’d need to speak to her about the new security around Abbie anyway, so we’ll start there. Maybe whatever she tells us can help Lin fill in the gaps.”

“Right, you are then. Time to speed things up, though, chaps. You’ve more at your disposal, but HQ’s been in my ear. Apparently, the press is starting to gnaw on this one, and a journalist from the Post was outside earlier.”

I froze. “A journalist from the Post?” Sharp looked up,

“Not her,” she stated very clearly. “Go on, get on with you.”

Mills took my arm and tugged me from her office, fishing his phone from his pocket. I shook him off when we were away from her door.

“I’m fine. It’s good.”

“It’s good?” Mills repeated. “One mention about a journalist from the Post, and you look like you’ve had a bucket of cold water thrown in your face.”

I felt like I needed a bucket of cold water in the face. Of course, it wasn’t Jeannie. She hadn’t been in the city for some time now, and she certainly wouldn’t have stood outside, waiting quietly for someone to give her a scoop. She’d have been up here, rattling on the door to our office like Hamlet’s ghostly father.

I shook my head, casting away the images of bright red curls and beaming green eyes as Mills spoke to whoever he had called.

“Paige? It’s Mills here. No, everything’s fine. We wondered if we might have a little chat with you.” He was quiet for a moment, nodding along. “The hospital? Perfect. We’ll see you in ten.”

He hung up, putting his phone away. “She took Grace to see Abbie, so we can meet her at the hospital.”

“That’s convenient,” I remarked, following him down the stairs.

The rain still fell, though it wasn’t quite as heavy, but I was glad to have my big coat back on as we clambered into the car yet again and whirled through the city, the end of the day starting to draw people from offices and shops, hurrying to buses and cars with umbrellas propped between their shoulders and chins or holding bags above their heads.

The hospital was fairly quiet, so we found a place to park and made our way to the reception, where we were kindly directed up a floor and along the hallways to Abbie’s room. I glanced in the window, spotting Grace perched on a chair by Abbie’s head, her own small face pressed against her shoulder. Paige sat on a chair opposite, and when I knocked lightly on the door, her head whirled around, and she nodded and waved us in with a smile. As we entered, closing the door, I looked her over with some concern. She’d been crying, that much was evident, and she was holding Abbie’s limp hand in her own like a life raft. She looked young, very young, too young in fact to have everything that she’d had thrown at her on her shoulders.

“Hello again,” she said with a twinge of humour. “We must stop meeting like this.”

“Hello, Paige. I pulled a chair over to sit beside her as Mills stood watch at the door. I didn’t speak to Grace, didn’t pull her away from where she was nestled into her mother’s side. “I’ve got some news,” I told her in a quiet voice so that Grace couldn’t hear, my head angled low to hers. She looked up at me with wide eyes and nodded.

“Sonia Petrilli was found dead a few hours ago,” I murmured, “we believe from the same substance used to harm Abbie.”

Paige gasped and blinked rapidly, wiping at fresh tears and sniffing loudly. “Christ. Do you think it was the same person?”

“That’s what we believe, yes. Sonia’s father mentioned a threat that the two of them would have got early on in their career together. One that frightened Sonia. I was wondering if Abbie ever made mention of it. It would have been eight or so years ago. A study to do with immune diseases.”

Paige’s eyes brightened, and she nodded. “Immune, yes. I remember. It was her first proper study, a big research project she was excited about.” I sat back, letting her think back and recall those past years.

“I mean, I was what, seventeen at the time? So, I don’t remember much. She told me a bit about it, or more about the plants themselves than the actual study. And then one day, she comes home, and she doesn’t look right. Her face is all sad, her eyes are a million miles away, and she shuts herself in her room and won’t talk to me. I just figured that something had gone wrong at work. But they shut the study down not long after.”

“Was there ever any mention of a threat?”

Paige shook her head. “Not that she ever told me. But she acted a bit weird for a few weeks until the study got shut down and then even after that for a while. Double-checking the door was locked, snapping at me if I left it open. She didn’t normally do that,” Paige added. “She was on edge, but it got better, and I sort of forgot about it.”

“It was good that you noticed,” I remarked.

“She’s my sister,” she answered, stroking Abbie’s hand. “I’ll always notice.”

I smiled at the two of them as Paige reached up and