Hendrix swore. “She wasn’t. She couldn’t have been.”
“About four months along, the doctor reckons.”
Hendrix was a strong man. Physically, mentally and emotionally, he was as resilient as they came. But his sister had always been his kryptonite. And now she was gone. He dug his hands into the pockets of his suit pants – he hadn’t had time to change after work – and squeezed his eyes shut. “And it was his.”
“No one else in the picture, so far as we know at this stage,” Dick said gently.
“He killed her. And he k
illed her baby.”
“Their baby,” Dick agreed.
“No. Nothing about my sister was his. Nothing.” Nausea rose inside of him. He clenched his teeth together. “He killed her. William Ansell-Johns is a murderer.”
CHAPTER ONE
Present day.
“I’m sorry, Georgia. What did you say?”
“The Voice. I’m asking if you watched the Voice last night.”
Chloe made a sound of surprise as a projectile of toast landed, butter side down, on her suit jacket. She lifted her large blue eyes to her daughter with an exasperated sigh.
“Mummy toast! Mummy toast!” Her daughter’s chubby arm pointed through the air, trailing the journey of the breakfast down her jacket and onto the floor.
“Yes, darling,” Chloe nodded, trying her hardest to keep exasperation out of her words. After all, it wasn’t Ellie’s fault. None of it was. “Mummy is covered in your toast now.” Chloe looked at her suit in despair. “I’m going to have to change.”
“You’ve got time,” Georgia spoke calmly.
“Barely.” She grimaced and caught her reflection in the door of the hip-height oven. Yep. A splodge of butter on her brand new, bought-for-the-occasion, second-hand suit.
“Go on. I’ve got this,” Georgia said, nodding towards the gurgling two year old.
“You’re a life saver.” A lot of things had gone wrong in Chloe’s life in the past two years. But her little girl was one thing that had gone spectacularly right. Meeting Georgia was another. She didn’t like to think of where she’d be without her downstairs neighbour.
She scanned her wardrobe with despair. She’d already discounted everything she owned as being either too casual, too bright, or too cheap. She’d engaged the top law firm in Manhattan, and she needed to look the part.
With a sigh, she reached for her faithful black dress. Teamed with a pair of pumps, a string of pearls and a simple jacket, it would do.
It was an effort worthy of an Olympic dresser. She was out of the suit and into the new outfit in a matter of moments. She paused for just long enough to neaten her hair back into a bun, then moved back through the small apartment. The view of Brooklyn Bridge usually caused her to pause and stare, but on that morning, she was distracted.
“So you know where everything is? And you’ll call me if you need anything?”
Georgia rolled her eyes at her friend and Chloe laughed awkwardly.
“Yes, yes, you’re right. I’m being silly. You know your way around my flat as well as you do your own.” She swallowed. “I don’t know why I’m feeling this way.”
“Don’t you?” Georgia eyed her over the toddler’s crop of blonde curls.
Chloe expelled a long sigh. “Of course. It’s just because of this thing. I’ll feel better when it’s over.”
“Damn right you will. I’d put money on you wishing you’d got this particular ball rolling months ago.”
“Maybe.” Her smile was wistful. That life had taken twists and turns and ended up here was something she still struggled to comprehend. “I’ll probably just be a few hours.”
“Take your time. Go get a pedicure or something while you’re in the city. We’ll be just fine.”