A Deadly Imperfection: Calladine & Bayliss 3 by HH Durrant Read Free Book Online Page A

were still things to do. Like the voice kept telling her, time was running out.  Any day now she could become bed bound and her task would end frayed and unfinished.  So if she was going to complete this then she had to get on with things. 
    Gordon Lessing – he’s the next one , the voice whispered contentedly.  You know how evil he is, you know the truth about him.  He finished your poor sister, Sybil.  But it wasn’t just Sybil was it?  The children Harriet, you know, you’ve suspected all along, and still you’re silent.  Your silence is deafening!  You know what he’s done and you know too that he won’t stop.  So why in all these years have you never spoken out?  That’s bad Harriet, very bad.  Think of the misery he’s given all those families, think of the children….  But you can put that right now, can’t you?
    Yes she could, and Sybil would want that.  Suddenly she understood.  She knew what to do, but she’d have to plan carefully.  It had to be an end befitting the cruel bastard.  It had to be something satisfying to watch after what he’d done to those children and to Sybil. 
    Sybil – her poor dead sister, she sobbed and dabbed her eyes.  She never used to cry like this but these days, she couldn’t help it.  Everything seemed so sad, so pointless.  Sybil had never been able to stand up for herself, so she never had a chance against that pig of man.  Lessing was a bully, a controlling, wicked bully.  To everyone who knew them as a couple he gave the impression of being a caring, good provider.  But that was a sham.  He pretended to be the successful business man, always boasting about his haulage company and how it gave his family a very good living.  But Harriet couldn’t see it – he only had two wagons and they were run into the ground.  No – she knew how he earned his money alright – he didn’t fool her, and it wasn’t by transporting goods across Europe.  It was about the children.  He was involved in people trafficking – a trade so wicked, he deserved all he was going to get.  
    But getting Lessing would mean going out into the world again, during the daytime.  He did most of his driving at night so she had no choice.  So far Harriet had managed everything during the hours of darkness.  Daylight was not flattering.  She looked ill, like death itself, in fact.
    However one way or another Harriet would have to conceal the ravages of her illness, cover them up behind makeup and a wig.  Chemotherapy had robbed her of both her looks and her hair.  She’d wear the titian one - it was nearest to what her old hair colour had been. 
    The voice purred quietly at last, happy with the plan.  He has a cellar , Harriet, everything you need is there.
    Was it?  Why there, she couldn’t think, was she missing something?  
    Harriet looked at her reflection – the makeup helped, but not much.  The wig looked garish against her sick pallor.  She screamed in frustration and threw the thing across the bedroom floor.
    That’s it girl , the voice encouraged.  She was hardly a girl, she sniffed - she was fifty five and terminal.  Her illness had stolen her energy and her looks.  All she had left, all that was keeping her going, was the voice with its burning, all consuming need for revenge.
    If she didn’t get caught this time then it was back to the treatment.  Harriet couldn’t understand why she was still free.  She was no expert, and she’d killed two people with no repercussions – not even a visit from the police, well not yet anyway.  But it had made her nervous, every phone call, and every knock on the door made her sick with worry.
 
    ***
 
    ‘Long didn’t hang around, did he?’
    ‘You don’t really want that man nosing into everything we do, do you Sergeant?’
    ‘That’s not the point.  He knows we’re short on the team.  He could have offered to help. I’ve no idea what he finds to do in that office of his all