A Body in the Lakes by Graham Smith (great books of all time .TXT) 📕

back on the road to happiness involved redeveloping her sense of worth. It didn’t matter how many men fancied her, or chanced their arm with her tonight, one already had and that was enough for Willow. If more guys showed their interest, so be it, she’d already had more attention than she’d expected to get, so any more that came her way would be a bonus.

Fifty-Three

Beth lay back on her sofa and stared at the ceiling. Her mind was awash with thoughts about her day. She’d looked at the evidence and her spreadsheet until all the details were burned into her brain. Nothing had come of it.

With all the evidence they had, there had to be a clue of some kind that had been overlooked, but no matter which way she examined the known facts, she couldn’t identify that one detail she knew would break the case wide open.

After such a good end to yesterday, she should have known that today wouldn’t go so well. The summons to Hilton’s office had been the first sign, but she’d thought it would be the only negative as she’d been swept up in the thought of Gracie being the Lakeland Ripper. Not only had their suspect almost escaped, she’d had his hands pawing at her to contend with.

In terms of being molested it could have been a lot worse: the way he’d gripped and twisted her chest spoke of anger rather than lust. It was his words that disgusted her more than anything. There had been malevolence in his tone as he’d snarled at her. She knew that the question, ‘you like that, don’t you, bitch?’ would stay in her mind long after the bruises on her chest faded.

Ethan had called, and while it had been good to hear his voice, he’d also had a rough day at work, so they hadn’t chatted long. She’d told him about having to chase down Gracie and the subsequent struggle, but had omitted the molestation from her story. She didn’t know Ethan well enough to predict how he’d react to such news and she didn’t want to give him reasons to worry about her.

Her left arm still twinged when she moved it in certain ways, but it was bearable. The pain in her ear had dissipated after an hour or so, and the police doctor had glued her split eyebrow closed.

There was also the business with Forster to resolve, not just the charity but the fact he’d wronged the Lakeland Ripper enough for the killer to try and frame him.

Beth remembered Forster’s ex-colleague Claire and her coded message. The computer programmer had referred to herself as someone who was ‘paid to do a job’, and she’d described Beth as a ‘pretty young thing’ and a ‘potential conquest’. Beth’s current train of thought solved the riddle with ease. Claire had made it known how she felt about Forster; but had her advances been rebuffed, or worse, had he slept with her once and then returned her to the status of employee?

Claire had also intimated to Beth that Forster would make a move on her as the mayor would see Beth as a challenge. When she thought back to Forster’s behaviour over dinner, Beth knew he’d held back the flirting, but instead given her a full enough blast of his charm and charisma for her to change her opinion of him.

If nothing progressed with the case by noon tomorrow, she’d speak to Claire again, pull at that thread until it unravelled a little. Perhaps speaking to the woman at her home on a Saturday would be better; she might talk more freely away from work.

Beth levered herself off the couch and made her way upstairs. Perhaps tomorrow would be an improvement on today. It couldn’t be much worse. Maybe that’s the way things would be: one good day, one bad one.

Fifty-Four

Willow cackled with laughter as she dumped the polystyrene tray into a bin. She’d forgotten how good chips with cheese and gravy tasted after a night on the town. With a cheery wave to her friends, and promises to repeat the night soon, she turned and looked for a taxi to take her home.

There was only one in sight and it was loading up people, but she spoke to the driver and he promised to come back for her in ten minutes. Waiting wasn’t a problem: the night air was warm and there was that once-familiar teenage feeling that as long as she didn’t go home, the party was still happening.

A guy was walking along the street with an open pizza box. He shut the lid and licked his fingers as he tossed the pizza box into the same bin Willow had used. Willow recognised him. He’d chatted her up about an hour ago; he’d even bought her a couple of shooters, something she hadn’t had in years. He was nice with a friendly face and decent manners. Not handsome in the traditional sense, but nor was he ugly. He was well fit though; his shirt was tailored to be snug against his body and she could image the six-pack beneath it.

She gave him a little wave; he’d maybe keep her company until the taxi returned. ‘Hello again.’

‘Hi there, gorgeous.’

‘Give over.’ Willow gave a playful swipe with her hand. ‘You’re drunk if you think I’m gorgeous.’

‘Assh not dwunk.’ It was a mock slur that widened Willow’s smile. ‘Seriously, I’m not drunk, you are gorgeous; in fact, I’d go so far as to say you’re the best-looking woman I’ve seen all night.’

‘We’re in Maryport, that means you’ve probably only seen a couple of dozen women.’

‘It would apply if we were in Carlisle, or even London.’

‘You’re such a charmer.’

The guy looked into her eyes. ‘I do my best when I meet someone as gorgeous as you—’

Willow silenced him with a kiss that was returned with lust.

Her hands found the small of his back and pulled him forward. His body was as hard as she’d imagined it would be.

She