Abby heard the murmurs of conversation but couldn’t make out what was being said.
“Which alleyway?” There was a moment where Alex just listened. “How many?”
Abby took a long gulp of tea and waited.
She knew it hadn’t been her imagination or paranoia. Locking the bar up by herself was a normal occurrence. She walked around Severton late at night on a regular basis. Never had she had a feeling of being followed before. She only hoped someone had slipped something herbal into a drink that had made her feel like this and it wasn’t an actual person.
Alex said a brief thank you and ended the call.
“You’re staying here tonight. I can lend you a T-shirt. I have a spare toothbrush.” He was standing now, arms back-folded across his chest, daring her to argue.
“Why? What did your colleague say?”
“Found the remains of a joint in the alleyway, freshly smoked. No idea who it is, or why, but there was someone hanging round and that doesn’t happen in Severton.”
“Like arson doesn’t happen and people don’t get kidnapped?” She heard the tension in her voice. Over the last eighteen months, Lena Rowley, who also worked at Sorrell’s hotel, had been kidnapped and Keren’s neighbour’s house had been set on fire. Lena’s sister Lois had been taken – and found. Felley Manor had lost its main building to an arson attack – Alex’s own cousin had been trapped inside - and there had been two bodies found in burned buildings on the nearby moors.
It all coincided with her arrival in the town.
She knew it coincided with something else.
“Okay, point taken. But that means there’s no chance you’re staying at home tonight. If you don’t like the idea of one of my T-shirts, I can drive you home and come in your house with you while you get some stuff.”
She inhaled deeply and looked at the ceiling.
“Do you have a spare room?”
“Yes, but no spare bed. I’ll take the sofa. You can sleep in my room.”
She shook her head. “That’s putting you out too much, Alex.”
“I usually fall asleep on the sofa anyway. Take the bed, Abs.” His voice had gone softer. “Tomorrow I want to come over to yours and check the windows and look at the security again.”
“They probably weren’t even following me. I was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You know, all this with the festival –there are going to be more people hanging around, looking for weak points with the bars and shops.” She didn’t want Alex to think this had anything to do with her, even if she didn’t believe that herself.
“It could be that.” He pushed a hand through his hair, making it stand up. “Or it could be that someone is watching you, Abby Walker, and I think you know that might be the case, you just don’t want to tell me why.”
Abby looked towards the door. “I should go. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” But her feet didn’t move. Gretel rolled onto her back and showed her stomach, the large Alsatian proving yet again she was softer than butter.
“I’m not going to start asking more questions. I know there’s more to you being here than just you looking for a change, but I’m not going to start looking through your handbag while you’re asleep.”
“I really don’t want to put you out. I shouldn’t have disturbed you…”
“And if you hadn’t, whoever was lingering round would’ve either caught up to you or found out where you lived. I’ve asked Ste to drive by your house, check it’s okay, by the way.”
“Thanks for that.” She smothered a yawn. She wouldn’t sleep at home. She wasn’t sure she’d sleep here with the knowledge that she was in Alex Maynard’s bed, but given what had happened two years ago, this was the lesser of the two evils. “Do you really not mind if I stay?”
Alex grinned. “Not at all. But be warned, we’ll be the most exciting news in Severton tomorrow when people find out you were here overnight.”
She managed a laugh. If only those rumours could be true.
Two
She’d insisted he didn’t need to change his sheets when he’d said they’d only been on for a couple of days. She’d also insisted she was fine and that she’d overreacted. The first Alex was pretty sure she was telling the truth about, but he knew she was lying about the second.
But she wasn’t the only one who was lying. He was too and had been for about seven months, because he had a very good idea who Abigail Walker really was.
Alex sprawled out on the sofa, pulling a blanket over him. He had no reason to get up early tomorrow, but he knew around about seven in the morning, one of the dogs would wake him, needing to investigate the long garden at the back of his house and pee in their special spots.
Creatures of habit. Just like him.
Kind of.
He flicked through the channels on TV, looking for something to focus his mind on other than the person who had been hanging around when Abby was locking up, and well, Abby in general.
In the time she’d lived in Severton, she’d never gone on a single date. There had been a line of men who’d wanted to ask her out: several of his constables had asked him if she was single, he’d seen her get hit on when she was working, but she’d never given anyone any more than the polite time of day. She’d kept friends at arm’s length, never getting too close to anyone until recently when she’d let down her guard enough to become friends with Sorrell and Keren, and his cousin Rayah.
Alex scrolled though his phone, checking the message that had just come through from Ste. It was a quiet night overall. The firebugs that had been a problem the last couple of summers had stayed away, there had been no issues with the usual groups of teenagers hanging around and causing a disturbance; even the Coven, Severton’s group of seventy and eighty year old women known for distilling their own gin and sexually harassing men under the age of fifty, had been quiet.
CCTV shows a man in a beanie hat with his coat collar pulled up hanging around near the bar and surrounding areas about five minutes before Abby left. Caught him following her but next camera not working.
Alex read the message twice and responded, telling Ste to check on her house and do a couple of drives past his, just in case someone had followed her there. He put his phone down and rearranged the cushions that were Rayah’s cast offs into some sort of pillow.
For at least a few weekends each year, Alex would camp out in the Peak District, climbing during the day before walking a few miles to the next camp spot and the site of the climb for the next day. Sleeping on a sofa compared with a hard, probably stony, floor, was luxury, so he knew it wouldn’t be that which kept him awake.
It would be Abby.
Slim, pretty Abby with long blonde hair and legs that went on for days. The woman who knew how to give back as good as she got in the bar and could hold a conversation with anyone. The woman who he knew could climb up a sheer mountain face as well as he could, because he’d seen her do it once when she had no idea he was there.
The woman who looked a damn site like a travel blogger he’d followed as she took on some of the most dangerous climbs in the world in between checking out cities. A blogger who’d gone to ground about two years ago.