“In my notebook.” Gemma found the number and dialed her mobile. “No answer.”
“Try Lewis Finch.”
“At home?”
Glancing at his watch, Kincaid nodded. “It’s already after five.”
But Lewis Finch didn’t answer, either, and after a moment Gemma disconnected. Slowly, she said, “If it was William Hammond Lewis meant, and he thought he might find him at the warehouse …”
“It’s worth a try,” Kincaid said as a flash of lightning illuminated the long line of cars crawling down Westferry Road ahead of them. “But we’re not getting anywhere in a hurry.”
AS LEWIS PULLED UP THE MERCEDES on Saunders Ness, the square bulk of the Hammond’s warehouse was scarcely visible in the blinding rain. His hands shook as he lifted them from the wheel. He was sweating and nauseated, as powerless to stop the flow of memories now as he had once been to stop Freddie Haliburton.…
He had passed the night in a black fury unabated by exhaustion. Unable to bear the thought of seeing anyone, or speaking to anyone, he had started on his chores in the barn without going up to the Hall for breakfast. He didn’t know what he would do if he saw William—he didn’t even want to think about William—but Irene was not so easy to avoid.
She came looking for him, as he knew she would, gliding silently through the barn door and stopping in the shaft of sunlight that fell from the high window. “Lewis? What happened to you last night? Why didn’t you come to breakfast this morning?”
“Just go away, Irene. I don’t want to talk to you,” he said roughly, turning back to the hay he was forking into Zeus’s manger. He felt her watching him, but she didn’t speak, and after a moment she went out again. Knowing how much he’d hurt her only stoked his rage. How could he touch her after what Freddie had done to him? And how could he stop it from happening again? Freddie had made clear that his refusal would mean compromising Irene, and that was the one thing Lewis could not allow to happen.
It seemed to him that he had only one option … and that would mean never seeing her again.
IT WAS MIDMORNING WHEN FREDDIE FOUND him, sitting hunched against the stone wall that ran behind the kitchen garden.
“There you are,” Freddie said sweetly as he came round the corner. “It’s not like you to miss lessons, Lewis. Whatever is the matter?”
Lewis rose, fists clenched, but Freddie stopped just out of reach.
“Cook’s quite worried about you, you know. If you miss another meal she’ll feel it’s her duty to tell Edwina, and I don’t think we want that, do we?” Freddie stretched his face into the grimace that mimicked a smile. “Oh, and when you’ve had your breakfast, you can get my car ready for me, there’s a good boy. I’m going up to town for the night and I want everything shipshape.”
