Read Online Ugley Business by Kate Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Johnson
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary Women
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gun he’d left in one of the sinks and dashed out. I followed, limping on one shoe, terrified because I’d left my bag and my gun and everything out there with Angel, all unguarded, and anything could have happened.
Angel was sitting huddled up on the hard blue chairs, a large envelope in her hands, staring at some large, glossy photos. And Luke was crouched in front of her, trying to wipe away the tears that were falling down her face.
“I didn’t know what they were but now I know,” she mumbled. “Now I know.”
“Know what?” I asked Luke quietly, but he shook his head. I held out my wrists and he unlocked the cuffs.
“Angel, where did you find these?”
She rubbed the seat beside her as I hastily rearranged my clothing. “When I woke up. You weren’t here but these were…”
She was sucking in deep breaths and I thought she was going to hyperventilate. I quickly sat down beside her and put my arms around her.
“We’re here now,” I said, shaking myself, horrified that she’d been left alone long enough for someone to plant these things beside her. Or had they been there before? Had Luke and I just not noticed?
Angel cried against my shoulder and Luke gently took the photos from her. I looked up at him, but he was concentrating on the pictures, flicking through them fast.
“Jesus,” he said, and when he looked at me, his face was pale. I’d never seen him like that before. I’d never seen him look so shaken.
“What?” I held my hands out for them, and Luke handed them over, taking Angel into his arms while I tried not to mind that his shirt was undone and she was cuddling up to that fine naked torso.
And then I looked at the photos, slowly at first but then quicker like Luke had done, making a moving sequence out of them. And what I saw was this: a man on a motorbike, moorland around him, the sun just about to come up over the horizon. The pictures were from behind, but getting closer, and then they came to a little bridge over a crack in the moor, and suddenly the biker slewed off the road, through the dry stone wall, and down into the hollow, which was deeper than it looked. I knew this because there were pictures taken looking down at the body as it lay crumpled in the ditch, then pictures taken close up. Of the head in its helmet, the white neck stubbled and dirty, and then suddenly twisted at an unnatural angle, and then there was a close-up of the face.
I’d know that face anywhere.
It was Greg Winter.
Chapter Four
Luke fastened his shirt up and took Angel home and I waited around, nervous and guilty, to meet the Fuerteventura flight. And when I’d seen them all off, I grabbed my bag, which had been no more than six inches from me at all times, and raced down to the car park. So my shift wasn’t over yet, so what? There wasn’t anything else to do. Angel’s Mini was where she’d left it, and I’d got the keys that Luke had remembered to take off her. I drove the little car home, not appreciating it at all.
I got home and threw my clothes on the floor and cuddled Tammy to me, but I couldn’t sleep at all. The sky got lighter and I lay there thinking about Greg Winter. He hadn’t died in a motorbike accident. He’d been forced off that bike, but I couldn’t tell how.
And someone had documented the whole thing. And that someone had been in the domestic satellite, waiting for me to leave Angel.
By five o’clock I couldn’t stand it any more. I threw on jeans, T-shirt and fleece and stomped out to the Mini. I’d been meaning to take it back in the morning—but hey, it was morning now, right?
Nearly.
The sky was lightening, just like it had been when Greg was killed, as I drove up to Angel’s chapel and parked the Mini next to Ted. Luke’s Vectra was there, too, and I felt a surge of relief. I picked up my phone and called his number.
“I’m outside,” I said when he picked up, not waiting for him to say anything. “Let me in.”
Many keys turned in the locks
Angel was sitting huddled up on the hard blue chairs, a large envelope in her hands, staring at some large, glossy photos. And Luke was crouched in front of her, trying to wipe away the tears that were falling down her face.
“I didn’t know what they were but now I know,” she mumbled. “Now I know.”
“Know what?” I asked Luke quietly, but he shook his head. I held out my wrists and he unlocked the cuffs.
“Angel, where did you find these?”
She rubbed the seat beside her as I hastily rearranged my clothing. “When I woke up. You weren’t here but these were…”
She was sucking in deep breaths and I thought she was going to hyperventilate. I quickly sat down beside her and put my arms around her.
“We’re here now,” I said, shaking myself, horrified that she’d been left alone long enough for someone to plant these things beside her. Or had they been there before? Had Luke and I just not noticed?
Angel cried against my shoulder and Luke gently took the photos from her. I looked up at him, but he was concentrating on the pictures, flicking through them fast.
“Jesus,” he said, and when he looked at me, his face was pale. I’d never seen him like that before. I’d never seen him look so shaken.
“What?” I held my hands out for them, and Luke handed them over, taking Angel into his arms while I tried not to mind that his shirt was undone and she was cuddling up to that fine naked torso.
And then I looked at the photos, slowly at first but then quicker like Luke had done, making a moving sequence out of them. And what I saw was this: a man on a motorbike, moorland around him, the sun just about to come up over the horizon. The pictures were from behind, but getting closer, and then they came to a little bridge over a crack in the moor, and suddenly the biker slewed off the road, through the dry stone wall, and down into the hollow, which was deeper than it looked. I knew this because there were pictures taken looking down at the body as it lay crumpled in the ditch, then pictures taken close up. Of the head in its helmet, the white neck stubbled and dirty, and then suddenly twisted at an unnatural angle, and then there was a close-up of the face.
I’d know that face anywhere.
It was Greg Winter.
Chapter Four
Luke fastened his shirt up and took Angel home and I waited around, nervous and guilty, to meet the Fuerteventura flight. And when I’d seen them all off, I grabbed my bag, which had been no more than six inches from me at all times, and raced down to the car park. So my shift wasn’t over yet, so what? There wasn’t anything else to do. Angel’s Mini was where she’d left it, and I’d got the keys that Luke had remembered to take off her. I drove the little car home, not appreciating it at all.
I got home and threw my clothes on the floor and cuddled Tammy to me, but I couldn’t sleep at all. The sky got lighter and I lay there thinking about Greg Winter. He hadn’t died in a motorbike accident. He’d been forced off that bike, but I couldn’t tell how.
And someone had documented the whole thing. And that someone had been in the domestic satellite, waiting for me to leave Angel.
By five o’clock I couldn’t stand it any more. I threw on jeans, T-shirt and fleece and stomped out to the Mini. I’d been meaning to take it back in the morning—but hey, it was morning now, right?
Nearly.
The sky was lightening, just like it had been when Greg was killed, as I drove up to Angel’s chapel and parked the Mini next to Ted. Luke’s Vectra was there, too, and I felt a surge of relief. I picked up my phone and called his number.
“I’m outside,” I said when he picked up, not waiting for him to say anything. “Let me in.”
Many keys turned in the locks
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