Takedown Heather Atkinson (rosie project txt) 📖

and had therapy, which helped me recover. If I hadn’t got that help I would have continued spiralling into depression until something really bad happened.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I need to get help?”

“Yes.”

“Well, for your information I’ve started seeing a counsellor.”

“And let me guess – you refused to tell them anything.”

“Actually, I did talk to her.”

“But you didn’t let out what you really need to let out.”

“I’m not sitting around here listening to this,” she said getting to her feet.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. “I’m not finished.”

Faith sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Talk to the counsellor Faith, let it all out. You can’t be the strong leader your family needs you to be if you’re crumbling inside.”

“I know. It’s just so hard for me to admit that I feel…”

“Feel what?”

“Afraid,” she said, shame in her eyes.

“You’re human Faith. We all have times in our life when we feel like that.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. I’ll talk to her.”

“Good. And I’d better get back to the station and interview Snappy McMichaels before he starts feasting on my colleagues.”

“You’d be doing Blackpool a favour if you managed to keep that nasty little sod locked up.”

“I’ll do my best but I don’t think he killed Dillon.”

“I’ll take your advice and ask around, pretend I want to get justice for Dillon, even though he was a total arsehole. If I win the sympathy of the dodgy bastards in Lil’s pub they might open up to me.”

“And if they don’t?”

“They wouldn’t be so stupid.”

Young smiled, reluctantly admitting to himself that the threat in her voice was pretty sexy. “I’m sure you’ll easily get them to open up. If you do find out who killed Dillon, will you be sharing that information?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you can make it look like you got the information from another source. I don’t want everyone thinking I’m a grass.”

“I’m sure I could manage that. If my actions damaged your reputation around here Jules would put my nuts in a vice.”

“She told me to confide in you. She wants us working together on this and if you hear of a large amount of drugs flooding the market, or if you come across any in a raid…”

“I’ll let you know but if the latter does happen you do know I wouldn’t be able to give them back to you.”

“Of course but it would be good to find the product, even if we can’t move it on. It’s a point of principle.”

“I suppose I can understand that. Right, as much as I love chatting to you Faith I must get on.”

“Thanks for meeting me at such short notice.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave first. Give it ten minutes before following.”

“How wonderful. Ten minutes sat here with nothing but the dead for company.”

“You should enjoy the peace and quiet. With everything going on you’re not going to get much of that in the near future.”

She smiled as she watched him walk away. She was very fond of him and she did find him very attractive. If her heart didn’t belong to Vance she might well have continued her affair with him. Faith inwardly chuckled. The two men she liked she could never be with publicly. Some of the people in her world would probably think her sleeping with a copper more shocking than sleeping with her own brother.

Getting to her feet, she decided to wander through the graveyard as it was getting too cold to sit still. She found herself in the Church of England graves. Many of the gravestones were aged and weathered as the cemetery had opened in 1873. Young was right, it was peaceful here, the only sound the caw of a crow flying overhead and the vague rumble of traffic from the main road behind her. An icy breeze wafted through the graveyard, agitating the grass, making her shove her hands deeper into her coat pockets.

Glancing at her watch, she saw ten minutes had elapsed, which came as a bit of a shock as she hadn’t realised so much time had passed. She turned and headed back to the main gates, passing through the more recent Church of England plots.

Faith stopped in her tracks when confronted by a gleaming new tombstone that read Marlow.

She gasped for breath and suddenly she was back lying on the pavement, feeling her lifeblood draining away, Marlow straddling her, looking demented, ramming the knife into her stomach.

“You son of a bitch,” she muttered, tears prickling her eyes as fear and anger waged war inside her. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

Drawing deep on the back of her throat, she spat on his grave, which did nothing to ease the torment inside her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped at a passing couple, who scowled at her for her irreverence. “The bastard tried to murder me,” she told them, pointing at the grave.

The couple just hurried on without speaking.

Faith looked back at the grave, wondering if she was always going to be haunted by him. Maybe she hadn’t been followed at all? Perhaps it had been Marlow, still wanting revenge from beyond the grave?

“That’s the stupidest thought you’ve ever had,” she told herself.

She didn’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural. It wasn’t that she’d discounted the possibility altogether, it was just that she’d had no personal experience of it, so she had no reason to believe it was true. Although, during that moment when she’d been technically dead, she’d seen beautiful vivid colours that had taken away her fear and pain but the memory was so vague she could never really grasp on to it, no matter how much she wanted to.

“Look at me Marlow,” she told him. “I’m still going strong, living the