The Dark Places R. Whitfield (read aloud books TXT) 📖

was just so lost after that. He was even going to go to Baltimore to try to win you back, but we convinced him to let you go.”

Surin sat back, stunned.

Parker asked, “He never got over her?”

Wendy looked at him sadly. “I’m afraid not, still had her prom picture in his room.”

Surin sat forward suddenly. This was ridiculous. “I’m sorry, I find it hard to believe that Mr Perfect, Eamon Sutherland, is still pining after me after all these years. Are you kidding!” she said abruptly.

“Surin,” Parker cautioned, but she continued with her outburst.

“I saw him two days after I broke up with him, kissing Jenny Blackwater — he seemed just fine.”

Parker and Wendy were staring at her, a smile playing on Parker’s lips. She instantly realised how immature she sounded. Really, Surin, Jenny Blackwater?

“Mrs Sutherland,” she said quietly, shaking her head, “I am so sorry, that was inappropriate and frankly juvenile of me.” She chuckled. “For a moment there, I felt like I was eighteen all over again.”

Wendy leaned forward and clasped Surin’s hand tightly. “We know what all men do when they are hurt. They try to hurt back.”

Surin smiled. It was the truth. “Wendy, we need to speak to Eamon.” The seriousness in her tone was unmistakable. “It’s a police matter, and it’s urgent.”

Wendy didn’t move. Her mouth kind of fell open in a silent gasp.

Surin glanced at Parker. “Mrs Sutherland?” she said again and gently touched the back of her hand.

Wendy sat back slowly. “Surin, I thought you knew?” she whispered, looking directly at her for the first time.

Surin couldn’t move as everything suddenly came into focus. No photos of grandchildren, no college graduation, no contact information or employment details.

“Eamon is dead.”

32

Wendy held Surin in one last embrace on the steps of her home.

“It really was wonderful to see you, Surin,” she said, dabbing her eye with a tissue.

Surin nodded. “I am truly sorry for your loss, Mrs Sutherland,” Surin replied genuinely. “Eamon was a wonderful person,” she added.

Parker couldn’t help but sense an undertone in her parting comment.

Wendy waved at them as they walked to the car, then turned and walked back inside. Parker sat in the driver’s seat and turned to Surin as she slumped down beside him.

“I’m sorry, Elliott,” he said. “I should have dug deeper.”

Surin brushed her hair out of her face. “It’s not your fault,” she replied quietly. “I can’t understand why my parents didn’t mention anything,” she added and reached over to her seatbelt.

“You were starting college. Maybe they didn’t want to upset you?” Parker said.

“Maybe,” Surin mumbled. “Can you bring the details up?” Surin asked.

Parker nodded, bringing the laptop onto his lap. Surin stared out the window, listening to the monotonous tapping sound of computer keys. Eamon’s house used to look so big to her. There was a time she would never admit to when she did dream of being Mrs Surin Sutherland, a stupid schoolgirl fantasy akin to practising your new signature and secretly thinking of names for your children. That time had faded along with every other good memory of Eamon. She sat there for a moment and decided to let the beautiful moments rush over her for one last time.

Their first kiss, the feeling of butterflies she got whenever he entered the room, the jealous looks from the other girls that used to make them laugh, the heated way he used to look at her. She shook her head.

Parker found what he was looking for. “I have it here,” he said quietly, watching her as she gazed out the window.

“Go ahead,” she answered robotically.

He cleared his throat and began. “Single-vehicle accident, Markman’s Road, driver pronounced at scene.” He hesitated at the coldness of the report.

“It’s fine, Parker. Is there anything else?” Surin asked.

“Blood alcohol was three times the legal limit,” he finished.

“Idiot,” Surin mumbled. “Well, where the hell does all this leave our investigation?” she asked, looking at Parker, who folded the laptop away and started the car.

“Back at the beginning, I guess,” he said, and Surin glanced back out the window at Eamon’s house as they pulled away, a niggling feeling that they had missed something nested in the very pit of her stomach.

***

The phone on his desk rang incessantly. He tried to ignore the grating sound and looked out the window at his fortieth-floor view. A tentative knock on the office door drew his attention.

“Sir?” a meek voice asked.

He swivelled in his chair and stared at his assistant. “What?” he said, not intending his tone to sound so harsh.

“There’s a call for you,” she replied. “She won’t leave a message and keeps calling,” she continued.

He sighed loudly. “Right.” He sat forward in his chair and pressed his temples. “OK, put it through,” he added and watched her scuttle out of the room as quickly as possible. Almost immediately, the phone began its shrill song. He closed his eyes as he picked up the receiver. “Hello?” he said, already knowing full well who it was.

“Why haven’t you called me?” the voice on the other end of the line whined.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. “I have told you repeatedly not to call me here, Mother,” he snarled.

“I know, I know,” she continued, disregarding his tone. “I just thought you would like to know who I saw today,” she said in a sing-song voice that transported him back to his childhood.

“I’m not even remotely interested,” he muttered and stood up, stretching his back.

“Oh, but I bet you will be,” she replied.

He could feel her sneer even on the phone. “Enlighten me then,” he said dismissively.

She paused for dramatic effect. “The ever-lovely Surin Elliott.”

***

Surin