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‘Katrina!’ Jarrad roared, and she looked back as she let go of the wall, screaming, just catching sight of her husband before she disappeared. He lunged forward but was swiftly yanked back by Curtis, and the two men struggled and fought. ‘Katrina, no!’
Her scream faded to nothing.
And she was gone.Chapter 25RYAN
I’m unable to talk, and Lucinda is silent on the line, obviously letting my shock settle. I can’t form a coherent sentence, can’t even think one. I’m shaken to the core. I look across to the cabin where Hannah is sleeping. My messy, cute, wild Hannah. She’s nothing like the woman I see in this picture. ‘She faked her own death?’ I mumble mindlessly. ‘What would push a woman to do that?’ I can’t go on knowing this and say nothing to her.
‘I don’t have the answer to that, Ryan,’ Lucinda says softly. ‘I’m telling you what I found out.’
I smack my palm into my forehead a few times, a feeble attempt to knock myself out of my shock. Knight’s remarried. He’s over the death of Katrina Knight. Should I leave her dead? ‘Get me everything you can on Knight. If he so much as took a bar of soap from a hotel, I want to know about it.’
‘I have no info on stolen bars of soap,’ Lucinda quips drily. ‘But I’ll trump that with a suspicious death.’
‘What?’
My phone pings again with another text. ‘That’s Quinton Brayfield,’ she declares as I stare down at the picture of an elderly well-dressed man. ‘Owner of Brayfield Technologies. He was found dead at his home in Suffolk just over five years ago. Everything points to suicide, except for one thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Brayfield wasn’t suicidal,’ Lucinda says. ‘My sources tell me that Knight wanted to buy Brayfield Tech, taking out one of his biggest rivals. Except Quinton Brayfield wouldn’t sell. His son and heir, Dale Brayfield, however, would. But he couldn’t do a thing so long as his old man was chairman of the board.’
‘So you think Knight killed Quinton Brayfield?’
‘It’s rather a large coincidence, don’t you think?’
‘Was any of this ever investigated?’
‘Knight assisted the police in their inquiries. He was never a suspect, and he had a very solid alibi on the night of Brayfield’s death. Guess who.’
My heart sinks. ‘Hannah,’ I barely whisper.
‘Hannah,’ Lucinda confirms. ‘Or Katrina.’
I find a tree and slump against the trunk, utterly staggered by the barrage of information. It explains so fucking much. Hannah’s jumpiness, for a start. She’s worried he’ll find her. Is that what she meant by unhealthy? Lying for him? But to fake her own death?
‘My head hurts,’ I admit to Luce. I honestly don’t know what to do with all this now that I have it. Do I tell Hannah I know? What will she do? I can’t answer. But I do know that if I don’t say anything, she’ll let me love her. It’ll just be like before. I accepted I’d let it go. I promised her I’d let it go. I should just take this information and use it to understand Hannah and why she’s like she is. Maybe that’s the answer. She’ll never have to know that I know. If anything, it’s stripped the curiosity away and I won’t live each day looking at her and wondering. Because I know.
‘It’s a lot to absorb,’ Lucinda says more gently than is in her nature. ‘Let me know if you need anything else.’
‘Have Knight watched,’ I blurt, knowing I’m asking for too much. ‘Just for a while so I know he’s out of the picture.’
‘You really do owe me,’ she says, and then she hangs up, and it’s just me, the dark, the crickets, and a head about to explode. And then there’s the sound of my phone again, too. I see Jake’s name, and I feel bad for not answering. I just haven’t the brain capacity to explain. But he texts me.
I’ve spoken to Lucinda. Answer your fucking phone.
It rings again instantly, and I answer. ‘I’m stunned, Jake. How does someone pull off their own death like that?’
‘A lot of planning and fake documents,’ he says, and I could laugh. Hannah? She wouldn’t know how to get a fake handbag, let alone fake documents. ‘I put a few calls in,’ he goes on. ‘After our conversation and speaking to Lucinda, I got the bug.’
‘What bug?’
‘The digging bug. It’s been a long time since I got to sink my teeth into something like this.’
‘Glad I’m providing an outlet for your boredom,’ I retort.
‘I’m not bored. I’m restless. Don’t tell Cami.’ He drops his voice to a whisper. ‘I saw Reggie Pike.’
My ears prick up. Now, there’s a blast from the past. ‘He’s still alive?’ The old crook has been forging new identities for years. If someone wants fake papers, he’s the man to get them from. He doesn’t ask questions, he works fast, and he’s discreet. The latter being key here.
