Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
I growl under my breath in frustration, feeling like I’m hitting dead end after dead end. And yet that horrible, niggling feeling persists. I go to my mobile and dial the medical practice in Scotland again, glancing across at Ava. She’s still conked out, but I disconnect my phone from Bluetooth anyway and take it to my ear. “Hi, yes, my name’s Jesse Ward. I’ve called numerous times about a doctor that used to work there. I’m yet to hear back.”
“Ah, Mr. Ward, yes, you spoke to me. I passed your message and number over to the practice manager.”
“Well, they’ve not returned my call.”
“She’s very busy.”
“I appreciate that.” I grit my teeth, tell myself I’ll get nowhere throwing my weight around. Especially when I’m not there in person. “Listen, this is really quite important.” Like a matter of sanity.
There’s a brief pause before a light sigh. “Bear with me.”
I deflate in my seat, despite there not being a positive outcome yet, as I tap the wheel, eyes between Ava and the motorway.
“Hello, this is Gloria Day speaking, practice manager. How can I help you, Mr. Ward?”
I sit up straight in my seat. “Ms. Day, thank you for taking my call.”
“Yes, well, you caught me between appointments.”
Get on with it. “I’m looking for a friend who used to work there. Dr. Alan Pierce.”
“I’m afraid data protection prevents me from discussing former collogues.”
“So he did used to work there?”
“Yes, Dr. Pierce is a former doctor here.”
I squint at the windscreen, trying to calculate how old Lauren’s father would be now. “Former as in no longer there, or former as in no longer a doctor at all?” Retired? Or is he dead?
“Mr. Ward—”
“Retired?”
“I’m—”
“Moved on to another practice?”
She exhales her irritation. “Alan left a few years ago, Mr. Ward. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Do you have an address?”
“Mr. Ward, come on, you know I can’t divulge that information,” she says tiredly.
“So you do have an address?”
“Yes, but even if I could disclose that information, it would be pointless because he moved away from the area.”
My mind races, trying to build a picture. I glance across to Ava. “And you’ve not heard from him since?”
“No, but I’m not surprised.”
I raise my brows. “Why?”
Silence. She’s said too much.
“I’m an old friend,” I go on. “I was close to the Pierces when they lost their granddaughter.”
“Oh,” she breathes. “Yes, very tragic.”
I wince.
“Look, Mr. Ward, all I will say is this.” My ears prick. “Dr. Pierce was a very troubled man. He lost his granddaughter and his daughter, and his wife was ill and required full-time care.”
I stare at the road ahead. “Lauren’s dead?”
“Yes, you didn’t know that?”
“Yes, of course,” I blurt, feeling every muscle in me relax. A weight lifted. And isn’t that terrible? She’s dead?
“Now, I really need to get back to my patients.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, cutting the call before Ms. Day. “Fucking hell.” I dial John, checking Ava again. “Lauren’s dead,” I say on a whisper as soon as he answers. “I got through to the surgery where her father worked, and they told me she’s dead.”
John doesn’t whoop his joy, and neither do I. But, again, I will ashamedly admit that I’m relieved. “Do you think—”
I blow out my cheeks, hearing him. “She was ill, John.” And her doctor father struggled to accept that. Perhaps he thought he could fix her. Who knows.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Me neither,” I admit, as Ava stirs in her seat. “Is everything okay at The Manor?”
“S’all good. Call me when you arrive in Spain.” He hangs up before me, and I drop my phone into my lap, taking the wheel with both hands.
Shaking.
Because the question remains.
Who?
I’m staggered that she’s still sleeping by the time I pull into her parents’ street. “What a spot,” I muse, crawling along, seeing wet-suited bodies on the beach in the distance running into the water, boards under their arms. It’s sunny but gusty, the waves reliable for the surfers. I frown when we pass a quaint graveyard. “Interesting.”
Craning my neck to see the numbers on the walls outside the houses, I slow to a stop when I reach number twelve, a tidy semi by the sea. The perfect retirement home. And now I need to load up on patience to get me through the evening and into tomorrow morning before I can whisk Ava away to Paradise.
I reach for Ava’s knee and give her a gentle nudge, smiling when she yawns, stretches, and blinks. I unclip her seatbelt. “Where are we?” she asks, squinting at me.
“Cornwall.”
“Stop it.” She wriggles in her seat to wake up her muscles. “I need a wee.” Her hand reaches for the handle but stills, and I see realization fall into her as she takes in the surroundings. “You weren’t kidding?” she breathes, injured. “You’re dumping me on my mum?”