Page 46 of The Unforgiven

“Maybe we could go out? My treat.”

“I was thinking you could help de-nineties the top floor bedrooms with bin bags and a wallpaper scraper.”

“Maybe.” I shoulder checked him as we headed to the door. “Course I will. It’s what little sisters are for.”

I saw his smile then, one I hadn’t seen before, a confectionary of pear drops and chocolate and sour cherries, and it made me throw my arms around him and hug him, a frozen two seconds before he did the same back.

“I’m glad you’re in my city.” I whispered the words through tears that I refused to let fall.

“I’m glad I’m here. We can ward off Stan together. I have your back.”

“Tell Jenna hi from me.” I tightened my grip, and then I let go, heading off into the night to head to the tram station.

I was never afraid of the dark. I’d learned to enjoy how it offered a cover, a shield, and understood how others use that as a tool as well. The tram stop wasn’t far from Nate’s house, the trams frequent enough and busy enough to not make me feel as if I had to be overly vigilant, but still, I felt a pair of eyes on me, staying on me when I got off, ten minutes away from my apartment.

I upped my pace, keeping near the houses that were lit up, making a point of saying good evening to a dog walker, still feeling like I was under surveillance.

There was only one point when I thought I saw someone, a man, tall and broad and dark haired. His face was in the shadows, probably deliberately so, and there was something familiar about him

One of Stan’s minions, maybe.

I kept my wits about me as I thought about the evening and Nate. I didn’t form attachments easily, which was understandable really, given Carla’s inconsistent parenting and a man who I thought was my dad in and out of my life when he felt like, and not in it very often. I wanted to make connections – with friends, boyfriends, my half-brother, to have what I perceived were ‘normal’ relationships, even though I knew there was no such thing, just healthy and unhealthy relationships.

Nate having been gone from my life for four years and then just turning up without even a warning had spun me round. Could I trust him? Could he trust me? Wasn’t he just as damagedas I was, but how had he healed? Daniel had talked me through some of the insecurities and fears I’d harboured, showing me a mirror where I could see that I was wanted and needed.

Not everyone would reject me, but that didn’t stop me from pushing someone away before I could give them that power.

The man was still near. Was he following me?

Was Nate regretting coming to Manchester because I was there? Did my blowing hot and cold make him think I was more trouble than I was worth?

The overthinking of the last couple of hours was punctuated with me trying to sense where my follower was. But next time I looked around he was gone.

Maybe I was just being paranoid.

Maybe.

Chapter Twenty

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

I smiled, nodded. “Go ahead. The seat’s free.”

A woman in her twenties sat down opposite me, a mug of hot chocolate in her hand. She put it down and took out her phone, scrolling, frowning some. I tried not to pay her much attention; it was just before seven on a Sunday morning and this was the only place open where I could get a coffee so far.

Three bodies in a murder investigation did not equate to a Sunday off, or even a later start.

I looked over at the other side of the McDonald’s where a group of extremely drunk lads, probably making their way home after a big night out, were causing havoc for security.

“I didn’t want to sit near them. I hope you don’t mind,” my uninvited companion said. “I thought if there were two of us together, they’d leave us alone.”

“Sensible.” I managed a smile in between sips of the black coffee I was forcing myself to drink. I hadn’t slept well, but brain overthinking everything in non-sensical flashes from Nate turning up at a crime scene, to Cavan, to the murders, to the manI’d thought was following me. Sleep had been there somewhere, but it had been buried under a pile of unprocessed issues.

“Do you work for the police?”

I paused my coffee.

“I do.” I knew where this was going.