Friday's Child (2 page)

Patrick stood still, the book loose in his hand. He and Elle had been at university at the same time. Two years above her, he’d been post grad and assigned as her mentor, but they had been inseparable none the less.

Until she’d vanished into thin air partway through the spring semester. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since.
Perhaps he had hurt her after all, though she had seemed pretty happy about their relationship, from what he remembered.

Shaking his head, he went to the desk and checked out the book. He glanced casually over his shoulder, always on alert, and saw her watching him.

Maybe he should go back over and speak to her. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he should. He might never have this chance again. He took a step towards her. A hand on his arm stopped him mid stride. He glanced around to see Shay. “What is it?”

“Sorry to bother you, sweetheart.” She leaned into him, her hand squeezing him in an intimate gesture. Her voice was husky and low in his ear, as she played her part to perfection as always. “We’ve got to go. Suspect is on the move and we need to tail him. Did you get the intel?”

He nodded, pushing all thoughts of Elle from his mind. “I’ll drive.”

****

Eleanor watched as Patrick and the woman left. He’d filled out a little in the past few years, his shoulders were broader, his dark hair flecked with grey over his temples. She couldn’t help but notice the snug fit of his shirt, how the cotton caressed his chest, and the way his long dark overcoat swirled around him. A shock of heat had flooded her traitorous body at their unexpected meeting.

He was the only person to have called her Elle. His Irish brogue was as strong as it had ever been and still thrilled her.

She clutched the books tighter in shaking arms, her breath fluttering and heart pounding.

This wouldn’t do. She walked past the window, and glanced through the rain, in time to see Patrick climb into a smart black car. He smiled and joked with the woman accompanying him and her heart sank. Just as well she was steering clear of men. Apparently, the only one she’d ever been interested in was taken.

“So, who’s the hunk?” Tina’s sudden voice made her jump. “He seemed quite taken with you.”

“Just an old friend,” Eleanor whispered.

Tina’s brows furrowed in thought. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Eleanor sucked in a deep breath. For all intents and purposes she had. Patrick Page was from the past, her dark past, and that was where he had to stay. What occurred between them should never have happened and she was still living with the choices, consequences, and responsibilities of her actions.

She looked up from the books in her arms. “I’m fine. He’s just the last person I expected to see here.”

“When you say old friend, do you mean friend or boyfriend?”

The sixty-four thousand dollar question. “Yes, I dated him—for a while. Then I left university and never saw him again.”
And tried not to think about him. Not that it worked.
She managed a smile. “But that was almost fourteen years ago.”

Tina tilted her head and looked long and hard at her. “Is he the reason you swore off dating?”

Eleanor’s cheeks burned as Tina hit the nail on the head. “One of the reasons, yeah. Granted there have been very few men in my life since, and those I was interested in wouldn’t look at me twice. Sometimes I think I should be living in a convent.”

Tina laughed softly. “First you’d have to become Catholic.”

But they wouldn’t want me either. What I did was unforgivable. Nothing will give me atonement for my sins. No matter how much I wish something could.
The Ten Commandments weren’t made to be broken, and even though her mother told her many times, “Break one and you break them all,” she’d probably broken half. But two things haunted her day and night, things so terrible she’d rather forget them, but knew she never could.

“I guess so. I’d best get on.” Eleanor headed back down the aisle, and slotted the books on the shelf with a little more force than necessary. She hadn’t been able to get Patrick out of her mind since she left university years ago. He had been in the forefront of her thoughts, controlling her every word, deed and action since.

Had he really been here in this town the whole time? Where either of them were from had never really come up in conversation, although she knew from his accent he was Irish and born in Belfast. But she and her parents had moved constantly over the years, before finally arriving here in Headley Cross a few months ago. She doubted they were here to stay. Since her father died, her mother’s itchy feet had increased. It made finding part time work hard.

She ran her hand over the shelf of books. How uncomplicated life had been back then when she was with Patrick. Walks in the park, studying together, dinners at the student union, soft drinks in the bar, weekends spent camping in the middle of nowhere simply because they could, house parties—

House parties. The first step on a slippery slope that had changed everything and send her life hurtling in a direction she’d never have chosen in a million years, but one that, despite everything, she wouldn’t change parts of for anything.

Eleanor sighed and pushed her hands though her hair.
If only I could turn back time, and change what happened, but I can’t. What I need is a way to change the present. Put right the wrong I have done, the wrong we’ve all done. I can’t do that either. There is no way out of this mess. Fallen beyond hope of redemption into a hole and I’m digging myself deeper every moment. My life is just one lie after another and I hate it. I wish…I wish I could find salvation, but even that is prohibited.

God had turned His back on her, and she deserved it.

2

Patrick waited at the door to the nightclub and looked at the text on the phone in his hand. Stood up at the last minute by his brother, Liam, who’d decided to stay in and watch football instead, he now had two choices. He could either call Shay, or sit in the club alone like the lonely bachelor he was and hope his cover wasn’t blown.

Not that Liam knew he was going to be the cover story for being here tonight. If he had, he’d never have agreed to come in the first place. His brother had made it perfectly clear he was a teacher, not a spook and had no intentions of pretending to be one again. No matter what the reason.

What was this singer’s name? Lisa something. Lisa Bellamy, that was it. According to Liam, who kept raving on about her, she was the best soul singer around.

He sighed. Normally when he frequented clubs and bars he was undercover and usually with Shay by his side. Tonight she had some social engagement, so he’d “planned” a guy’s night out with his little brother, a rare occurrence since Liam had fallen in love with Jacqui, but as she’d given him his brother back, he’d forgiven her. Liam really wanted to hear this singer in person. And now he’d shied off at the last moment.

What should he do? Ring Shay and ask her to come, assuming she could just duck out of this other engagement? Or was he really that afraid of being alone and ‘on the shelf’ as Niamh put it, that he’d forgotten how to have fun by himself. He chuckled to himself at the thought. Time was he preferred to work alone and had fought tooth and nail about having Shay assigned to him. Now he preferred her being at his side, and not just on these assignments. Of course, there was a safety net there, too. Shay was a very happily married woman. And he was… alone.

Loud music poured from the open door, the thud of the bass vibrating in the still night air. A large purple and green neon sign proclaimed the name of the club, which was incidentally the same as its address: HC1. The letters reflected off the rain spattered windscreens of the cars and puddles on the ground.

Sliding the phone into his jacket pocket, he made a decision. He was here and wired and it would be a waste of resources otherwise. He moved over to the door and showed the bouncer his “driving license.” Not that he looked under twenty-one, but rules were rules. He put it away, making sure it went in the opposite pocket to his actual ID. The last thing he wanted was to whip out the wrong one and break his cover.

Patrick winced as he entered the club. The noise level increased in volume threefold. He hadn’t thought that possible. They weren’t going to get anything over the background noise here. Guess it was old fashioned surveillance time. He crossed the heaving dance floor and reached the bar.

“What can I get you?” The bartender raised his voice above the level of the music.

“I’ll have coke with ice and a slice, please.” Even off duty, he refused to drink. Not that being a Christian would prevent it. But he’d seen firsthand how alcohol had nearly destroyed his brother and had no intentions of going down that path. Patrick pulled money out of his pocket and exchanged it for the drink. “Thanks.”

He turned his attention to the people gyrating on the dance floor. They were all so young, either that or he was showing his age.
Enough of the old. You already had this conversation with yourself once today.
He sipped his drink, the music reverberating within him. Glancing around, he spied a table to one side. Grabbing a handful of peanuts, he crossed over to it and sat down. Hopefully this Lisa would start singing soon, before the bass did serious damage to his ears.

He caught a glimpse of a woman making her way to the small stage. Her long white dress, split to mid-thigh, glowed in the blue lighting, her features and very feminine curves enhanced by it. Her brown hair hung almost to her waist. She looked older than the teens bopping to the latest dance hits on the floor. If he had to guess, he’d say around his age.
What is this fascination with age? Sooner I am out of here the better.

The dance music stopped. As the woman sat on the stool near the center of the stage and picked up the guitar, Patrick’s heart stopped. Lisa Bellamy was none other than Eleanor Harrison, his former girlfriend and the dowdy librarian from earlier. Was she really as good as Liam said she was?

In which case, why was she a librarian? Something didn’t add up.

Wow, but she looks cute in that outfit. So much better than the librarian getup…
Then he quickly caught himself. He was working and until proved otherwise, he had to assume that no one was above suspicion of wrong doing.

This was the center of the operation.

It was this bar that the drugs were coming in and out of, as well as the money. On the surface, things looked fine. The place turned a tidy profit, and nothing had come to light during the routine police and health and safety checks. All the employee checks as far as he knew were fine.

But the intel he’d received from Scotland pointed to something far deeper. And if Elle worked here, she could be involved. Should he get someone else assigned? Ring Shay, ask her to come and take over? Catch Elle before he left, find out what she was doing here?

He slumped in his chair trying to make a decision, but as the lights came up he realized it was too late. He was caught in the edge of the spotlight and it would be blatantly obvious if he went anywhere. He nursed his drink, wishing fervently he could sneak out and leave, and glanced at her as she strummed the guitar and began singing.

Wow.
The same word resonated in his mind as he sat up straight.

She was good. No, more than good, she was fantastic. For the next twenty minutes, Patrick sat entranced as Elle sang. Blood pounded in his ears in time to the music, his fingers tapped on his glass and his feet moved in perfect rhythm. He wanted to catch her attention as she glanced around the audience, but she didn’t look his way. Did she know he was there and was avoiding eye contact?

The set finished and he applauded and whistled. His heart leapt as she finally looked straight at him.

He beckoned to her, and his pulse pounded in his neck as Elle finally acknowledged him and came over. Before she could say anything, he stood and clasped her hand. Warmth shot down his arm, straight to his belly. No woman had affected him like that in years. Not since she left him. “That was incredible. Can I buy you a drink?”

“Just a water, please. I have another set to do in a bit.”

“Be right back.” Patrick pulled out a chair for her and helped her sit. He hurried to the bar, afraid she’d be gone by the time he got back. Silent prayers ascended heavenward. Even if it were only a few minutes, simply to talk with her again would be wonderful. Pleased she was still there, he slid back into his seat.

Cool fingers touched his as she took the glass. Her eyes sparkled in the lighting, but there was something else there that he didn’t remember and recognized only too well. Sadness, something almost haunted. What had happened to cause the joy to go out of her? And how could she sing so well without it?

Patrick cradled his drink and sipped it, looking at Elle. Up close that dress was well—too revealing.
Lord, please, a little assistance here. I need to focus on my job right now, not on my past.

“So what’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this, Elle?” He cringed as the cliché was out before he’d realized.

Elle took a long drink. “It’s Eleanor, not Elle—”

“You’ll always only be Elle to me,” he said. “Although I should probably call you Lisa tonight if you’re working.”

She nodded slightly. “Lisa would be better here. And I’m not that beautiful, although you always did know how to flatter a woman.” She managed a faint smile. “The lighting and the amount of make-up I’m wearing make me look years younger. What are you doing here?” The words tumbled from her and she glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Are you following me?”

“No, I’m just checking the place out. My brother’s been raving about this soul singer I should hear. I never dreamed it would be you.” He automatically followed her gaze. A tall, blue suited man stood just off stage, his eyes firmly fixed on the two of them. Patrick’s senses went on full alert. “I thought you worked in the library. I assume you’re not moonlighting?”