Free What You Left Behind by Samantha Hayes Page B

Then he hanged himself.
    “What else you got in the bags?” Abby had finally got up off her bunk after the effort of digesting a sparrow’s portion of lunch had worn her out.
    Think enzymes, peristalsis, Crohn’s disease, or celiac sprue , her mother’s voice suggested.
    “There are a couple of T-shirts. They might be good as nightshirts.” Lana pulled out some more clothes, trying to stay dry-eyed and pragmatic about her brother’s possessions. “What about this one? The color will suit you.”
    “Really?” Abby queried, as if she’d never had a gift in her life.
    “Really,” Lana said, pressing it into her hands, noticing the skull ring hanging on a chain around Abby’s neck, the one that Dean had always worn.
    There was a sudden bang as Frank came into the hall, his heavy boots echoing on the floor.
    “I need a word,” he boomed, his voice causing Abby to shrink back onto her bed.
    Lana swallowed. “Yes, of course,” she called back, wondering if she’d not peeled enough potatoes.
    She walked quickly to the kitchen and Frank closed the door, shutting them in together.
    “It’s about the burglary,” he said in a much quieter voice. He came up close to Lana and she reckoned she could smell something sweet and boozy on his breath. “The police were in touch.”
    “Do they know who took the computer?” She couldn’t help the quiver in her voice.
    “Indeed they do,” he replied, his voice now barely there, ghosting out from between his rotten teeth. Frank’s hands reached out to her shoulders, his fingers sinking into her skin. “Indeed they do.”

8

    Lorraine wanted nothing more than to give her nephew a big hug. He looked surrounded, defeated, and utterly miserable.
    “So not even the beer-battered fish and chips would tempt you?”
    Lorraine’s hands twitched, wanting to take hold of him, show him that however much he was hurting she would try to help.
    Freddie shrugged. “Not hungry.”
    Jo stood opposite them, unintentionally blocking his exit from the kitchen. The three of them—Jo, Lorraine, and Stella—were all ready to head down to the village pub for a meal. It was renowned for its good food, and no visit to Jo’s house was complete without a meal at the Old Dog and Fox. It wouldn’t be the same without Freddie.
    Lorraine looked at his clothes. His tracksuit bottoms were grubby and frayed, and the long-sleeved top he wore seemed out of place forsuch a humid evening. His face appeared so gaunt today that she couldn’t help consider the possibility he’d been taking drugs. The idea filled her with dread. She’d have to speak to Jo about it, see if there was any chance.
    “We can have chocolate mud cake, Freddie, like we did last time.”
    Stella’s attempt to get Freddie to change his mind went unnoticed.
    “For God’s sake, what the hell’s got into you?” Jo suddenly snapped. Her cheeks reddened and she glanced at Lorraine. “I …”
    “Go and grab a sweater, Stella,” Lorraine said. “It might be cold later.”
    Stella went upstairs, and Freddie turned and followed her. They heard his bedroom door slam, and Jo sighed. It was all too obvious that he wouldn’t be joining them.

    F ROM THE MOMENT they walked into the Old Dog and Fox, Lorraine sensed that Jo regretted coming out. It could have been because of the upset with Freddie, of course, but as they entered the beery, low-beamed pub, her sister fell into an even stranger mood.
    “This place gets more and more popular,” Lorraine said, sending Stella off to save a table for them.
    She watched as Jo’s eyes flicked around the cozy lounge area.
    “Mmm,” Jo replied slowly, thoughtfully.
    She turned back to the bar, a faraway look in her eyes. Lorraine tracked where she’d been looking, her own gaze settling on a commotion in the corner. Voices briefly became raised, sparking the attention of the other diners and drinkers. “Will you just sit down? Good. You’re doing really well. Drink your beer. There’s