Dangerous Discovery. Laura MartinЧитать онлайн книгу.
escaping from her lips, stood aside, wrapping her arms around Joseph’s body, watching despairingly as Hunter’s large, capable hands swiftly examined the door and the frame.
‘Stay here! I’ll check it out.’
‘But...what if—?’
‘Be quiet!’ His commanding voice was weirdly reassuring in the gloom. ‘Just stay here and don’t move.’
She watched, every part of her alert and on edge as Hunter opened the door wide and moved cautiously into her flat. What would she do if there was someone still in there? More to the point, if there were several of them what would Hunter do? However much she despised him, the possibility of some thug violently attacking Hunter filled her with horror.
After only a few short seconds he reappeared, and even in the failing light she could see that his expression was grim.
‘There’s no one here now.’ He flicked on the light switch by the door. ‘But I’m afraid you’re in for a bit of a shock. Come on, look for yourself.’ He took her hand and she knew automatically by the faintly reassuring squeeze and the strength of his grip that she must prepare herself for the worst.
Estelle stood motionless just inside the door and scanned the one large room that served as her and Joseph’s bedroom and living area with disbelieving and troubled eyes.
‘There are some pretty mean, low-down swines around, aren’t there?’
Estelle swallowed, aware of the hard, disgusted tone of Hunter’s voice as he stood beside her and surveyed the scene. She tried to reply but she couldn’t. Her eyes saw, but her mind didn’t want to register the mess and destruction that was facing her right at this moment.
‘Are you feeling OK?’
She heard Hunter’s deep voice and turned towards him, not aware of what he had said to her, not aware of anything at that moment except the agonising feeling of dreadful despair and desolation, the feeling of utter hopelessness that was so sharp and so strong.
‘Hey...’ He paused and gently twisted her towards him. ‘Look, I don’t even know your name. What is it?’
She felt his hands touch her shoulders, was aware of their strength and steadying firmness. ‘Estelle Rogers.’ It was a whispered reply. Her lips hardly moved. She stared blankly across at a wall where vivid slashes of red paint had been daubed in an incomprehensible mess.
‘Look, I’m going to call the police,’ he informed her briskly. ‘You haven’t a phone in here, have you, by any chance? No, I thought not,’ he added when she vaguely shook her head. ‘Now just stay where you are and don’t touch anything.’
‘But where are you going? Please, I...I don’t want...’ Estelle blurted unsteadily, her eyes widening with alarm as Hunter moved towards the door.
‘Don’t worry,’ he replied swiftly. ‘I won’t be more than a minute or so. I’m going to use the phone in my car.’
She hardly moved a muscle. Her back ached with carrying Joseph for so long. Her throat ached from trying not to cry, her head was thumping violently with shock or tension or just plain weariness and misery, but she didn’t dare sit down, didn’t even want to so much as look at the scattered belongings and ruined objects that lay all around her.
‘How could anyone do this?’ she asked helplessly as Hunter reappeared through the doorway. ‘I’ve got so little, nothing of any real value.’ She shook her head and threw him an agonised look. ‘I...I just don’t understand.’
That makes two of us,’ he replied grimly. ’God! It really is one hell of a mess, isn’t it?’ His hard jawline tightened as his eyes swept over the scene. ‘’Well, the police will be here shortly. But until then all we can do is sit and wait.’
The shock was subsiding a little now. Estelle struggled to get her mind functioning again. ‘There’s no need for you to stay with me,’ she murmured quietly. ‘I mean, this has nothing to do with you... God. I’m sure you have more important things to see to...’ Her wide green eyes slid away from his face. Please! she cried silently. Please, please don’t leave me here alone like this! ‘I’ll be all right,’ she added, raising her head again to stare determinedly into his face. ‘I’m perfectly capable of—’
‘Stop trying so hard to convince yourself!’ Hunter ordered bluntly. ‘I’m not going anywhere until the police arrive. Now, you look absolutely worn out so let’s get this thing upright.’ He moved over to the far side of the room, to the corner where Joseph’s cot was kept, and picked it up in one swift movement. ‘Then you can at least be relieved of some of your excess weight.’ He moved towards Estelle and cast intrigued eyes over the baby sling. ‘So how do you get this thing off?’
‘I’m all right, honestly!’ Estelle tried to twist away from Hunter’s enquiring hands, but he was far too swift for her.
‘You’re absolutely exhausted,’ he said patiently. ‘Now stop arguing and let me help you.’
She didn’t have the energy to make a fight of it. Besides, he was right—she was worn out with carrying Joseph for so long. ‘There’s...a tie at the back and a clip,’ Estelle murmured, acutely aware of his touch as his hands roamed over the fasteners at her back. ‘But the cot—is it OK?’ she asked, glancing worriedly over to the corner of the room, automatically calculating the extortionate cost of a new one should it prove to be beyond repair. ‘Did...did they do anything to it?’
‘Don’t panic. It’s fine. Now, are you ready to take the weight? I’m going to untie this thing.’
Estelle placed Joseph, still thankfully fast asleep and totally unaware of the awful atmosphere that surrounded him, in the cot. She stared down at the huddled form as she placed a blanket over him and felt the sting of tears filling her eyes. What a world, she thought miserably. Such a start for you, my poor, poor baby. Motherless at three months, brought up by an aunt who hasn’t a clue, hasn’t the means or the intelligence to make things better for you...
She was crying and she really had promised herself she wouldn’t. Annoyed by her lack of strength, she spun away, kicking some books and clothes that had been ripped up and thrown on to the floor out of her way in a gesture that revealed all of her anger, frustration and helplessness.
‘Don’t, Estelle.’ Hunter was beside her in an instant, his voice more gentle than she ever would have believed. ‘Don’t upset yourself. Everything will be all right.’
Estelle covered her face with her hands and squeezed her eyes tight shut, fighting against the tears. ‘No, it won’t,’ she murmured unsteadily. ‘Just look at this place!’ She opened her eyes and stared anywhere except at Hunter’s face, her gaze finally coming to rest on the corner where her canvases and easel had at one time been neatly stacked. She rubbed her wet face with the back of her hand and sniffed hard. ‘Just look at what they’ve done.’ She walked over and picked up a brutally torn painting, one that she had been working on for weeks, one that she had hoped to be proud of before too long. ‘Oh, God! Why is everything so hard?’ she murmured quietly, turning blindly away. ‘Why can’t I cope?’
And then Hunter’s arms were there, around her shoulders, drawing her towards him, pressing her close against the fine woollen cloth of his suit. He held her tightly, stroking the tumbling locks of bronze-coloured hair, saying nothing, just holding her so that Estelle, her body stiff with misery at first, gradually found herself relaxing against the rugged, solid strength of him, tentatively resting her head against his broad chest, sobbing over and over, allowing, for the first time in weeks, the release of all the grief and tiredness and tension that had built up since she had first heard of Connie’s death, since she had first shouldered the responsibility of bringing Joseph up alone.
‘No more tears now.’ His voice, sounding strangely sympathetic, shocked her back to reality. With a jerk Estelle lifted her head, wiping hastily at her wet face, embarrassed and uneasy because of his close, close proximity, because she was aware of the fact that, in that