Page 164 of Beautiful Scars

Unexpectedly, she doesn’t glare back.

She’s poker faced.

In some ways I wish she could be my mother-in-law for real, if only so she could teach me how to do that.

“Follow me.”

She gives me her back, so I follow her, and try my best not to imagine knocking her clean into the nearest wall.

The building is quiet because it’s the weekend and it’s early, but the people who are here make sure to smile and give her polite good mornings. And Helen smiles back. Helen nods her head. Helen walks like she’s determined. Strutting in her heels like she owns the building and everyone in it.

I know what she’s doing, because I’ve done it myself in my nightclub.

She’s showing—which is far more effective than telling—that this is her house now. Her house, her rules. Her game. And if I want her help, which I do, I’ll need to play along nicely.

Her blatant attempt at establishing control is solidified when she takes the chair behind a huge mahogany desk and gestures for me to sit on the much smaller one in front of her.

There’s a painting on the wall behind, a couple of feral looking kids from the eighties coal miner’s strikes holding a blue and white flag. The thing clashes with her red suit.

Helen leans back in her chair, saying nothing.

Of course she does. She wants me to have my cap in hand.

“Meisie’s gone.” I try to stop my voice from cracking and fail spectacularly. So what? I haven’t slept.

Helen watches me from across the desk, no surprise, no shock, nothing. She does it for so long that I shift uncomfortably. Her tongue peeks out from behind her lips and she clicks it. “Let’s go back to the start, shall we?”

I roll my eyes.

“You took my child. Committed what can only be described as atrocities against her. Forced her into marriage. And then...she vanishes. Just like that.”

“She didn’t vanish. Someone took her. But the rest of it... well, that’s pretty spot-on.”

She lets out an exasperated laugh and looks out of the window.

“Do you know where she is, Helen?”

Her eyes don’t move from the window, although her face softens. There must be something pretty fucking interesting out there.

When she finally turns her head her expression isn’t as dead as it was. “I have my suspicions.”

“Then please, share.” I gesture to the table between us.

Helen’s laugh is sounding more amused now. “So you can kidnap her again?”

I shake my head. I’m trying to be patient. I’m trying to play her game, by her rules, but it’s becoming harder with every second that passes.

“What do you know about Alex?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I know he was granted entry at Edinburgh Airport three days ago on a tourist visa.”

Something jerks deep inside me and I sit forward. “So what was the address on the visa?”

Helen leans back in her chair, playing it cool. It takes everything I have not to march around the desk and slam her head into it.

“I knew he would come for her. Eventually.”

“If you knew, then why the fuck didn’t you protect her?”