Read Online Fairytale of Headley Cross by Clare Revell - Free Book Online Page B

about something else. If someone were receiving threatening phone calls, hypothetically speaking, what should she do?”
    Nate’s gaze darkened. “Are we really talking hypothetically, or are you asking for a friend?”
    “A friend.” Of course, everyone knew the euphemism, so it wasn’t technically lying.
    “It depends if it’s harassment or actual threats. Threats of injury and so on, should always be reported to the police. If its harassment, someone who keeps ringing, won’t take no for an answer, cold callers et cetera, then changing your phone number usually works. As does going ex-directory.”
    “OK. Thank you.”
    “So, which is it?”
    “Bit of both really. Her ex-boyfriend won’t take no for an answer, but said she’d regret it if she didn’t get back with him.”
    “Hmmm…” A thoughtful expression crossed Nate’s face. “Would this be the same ex-boyfriend who beat up a local pastor last weekend?”
    Maggie bit her lip. “I can’t…you don’t know what he’s capable of.”
    Nate held her gaze. “Change your phone number. If that doesn’t stop it, or if he calls around in person, I want to know.”
    “OK. Thank you.” Maggie headed off to find the car. She drove the short distance to the manse. The house was in darkness. Not even the Christmas lights were on. She rang the bell. Silence greeted her. He’s probably walking the dog. She wrote a note and shoved it through the letterbox. She’d try calling later.
    And no, she wasn’t doing to Carson what Wesley was doing to her. If he told her to leave him alone, again, she would. Right now she was a concerned parishioner looking out for her pastor. Or was it looking out for the man she loved? Both, she decided as she got back into the car. She just hoped he’d give her the chance to tell him.
     
    ****
     
    Carson arrived back home in time to see Maggie’s car disappear into the darkness. He let Pilot into the house and fed him. He changed quickly into his biker leathers, and wheeled the bike around the front of the house. Then he started the engine and left.
    He had no idea how he ended up in Whitechapel, a distance of some forty miles. He suddenly found himself parked outside the Rose and Crown public house. Somehow it drew him here like a magnet. At one time, this pub had been his local. He’d hung out here every night, when not on gang related business.
    He pushed open the door. The same smell hit him full on. The same tired decorations hung from the ceiling. The same people sat in the same seats. It was as if time had stood still here. Silence fell as he walked to the bar and placed his helmet on the green toweling mat.
    The barmaid, Kat, eyed him. “Carson. Long time no see.”
    “It’s been a while, yeah.” He leaned one arm on the bar. “How have you been?”
    “OK. Married now, three kids, still working here though. What can I get you?”
    He looked at the bottles. He hadn’t drunk since he went to prison. “Uh…”
    Kat laughed. “It has been a while if you don’t remember. Here.” She poured him a shot of whiskey and slid it across the bar. “On the house.”
    “Thanks.” The conversations around him resumed as he picked up the glass and sipped it. The liquor tasted strange, and he wondered how he ever used to drink it.
    A huge, bearded bloke came over and slapped him on the back. “Carson.”
    Carson stood and hugged the man. “Den, how are you? Drink?”
    “Sure.” He sat down on the next stool. “How long have you been out?”
    “Three years.” Carson downed the drink and looked at Kat. “I’ll have two pints and chasers, please. We’ll go find a table.”
    Over an hour later, the table was littered with empty glasses. Carson sat, nursing the pint glass. He’d had too many, he knew that, but it was easy to sit here, surrounded by people who accepted him. Word had gotten around the former gang members, not to mention some current ones, and it was quite a party now.
    He ran his finger over the rim