For Rye Gavin Gardiner (best book club books for discussion TXT) 📖

Quentin Rye.’ She switched hands. ‘He broke it off when his daughter went missing. Told me he needed to focus on the search and trying to rebuild his family.’

‘I see,’ Hector said, the sound of his toothpick being chewed coming through the line. ‘And why did you feel you had to lie to me?’

‘I was scared. He’s capable of…things. Quentin Rye is not what he seems, he’s not—’

‘Now, Miss Wakefield,’ the detective cut in, ‘if it ended badly between you two then I understand your anger, but if you’re implying Quentin may have had something to do with his daughter’s disappearance, I’d ask you to reconsider. Everyone knows the man is doing all he can to—’

‘They have her.’

The line went quiet.

‘Him and the ex-wife, they have her. Or at least, they know where she is. I saw things during my time at that house. There’s more to him than you know.’ She made her voice tremble. ‘I’m so sorry I lied to you. I need to tell you everything. We need to save Sandie.’

‘What did you see at the house, Miss Wakefield?’

‘My father…I have to go. He needs me.’

‘Tell me everything you know,’ Hector demanded. ‘This is a missing girl we’re talking about.’

‘I should never have told you to leave us alone. We need you now more than ever.’ She fought back imaginary tears. ‘Please come to the house. Detective, I’m so scared what Quentin might be doing to her. I’m begging you…come to the house. God, don’t let it be too late.’

The call had ended as she’d ripped the telephone cord from the wall.

And now, standing at the foot of the stairs upon the very floorboards where a five-and-a-half-year-old’s beating had set her down this lifelong path of pain, she waited.

Finally, there was a knock.

‘Detective,’ Renata said, opening the front door. ‘Thank you for coming so promptly.’ She adjusted her dark lenses, smiling. ‘Please, come in.’

Her cane tapped across the wooden flooring as she led him to the living room. ‘Can I get you some tea?’ she asked, spraying air freshener around them.

‘No,’ said Hector. ‘Why are you limping? What happened to your—’ He erupted into a frenzy of coughing. ‘Excuse me,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Like I said, the weather. Wreaks havoc on my throat. That cleaning gunk of yours doesn’t help, either.’

Blind old fool.

‘Let me fetch you some water.’

Renata stepped into the kitchen before returning with a glass for the detective. He drained the water then sat back in Thomas’s chair, placing his pocket watch on the arm. The toothpick remained poking out of his waistcoat breast pocket. ‘Miss Wakefield,’ he said, lowering his voice as she perched on the couch opposite him, ‘you’ve not been honest with me. Not before, and maybe not now.’

She felt her toes tighten in her shoes.

The man leant forward. The bags under his eyes had darkened. ‘I’ve known you since you were a girl. I don’t believe you’re capable of any criminality, but you lied to me about your relations with Quentin Rye, and I believe you might have lied to me about them having her.’

She held her breath.

‘Miss Wakefield, this is a girl’s life on the line. You must tell me everything you know. Sandie was last seen with you, and I’m even beginning to believe I was wrong to discount you as—’

There was a scream.

The detective’s eyes darted to the bookcase, then to the wrinkled carpet by its side. He thrust his hands against the arms of the chair and threw himself to his feet.

Except he didn’t.

He remained cemented to the chair, eyes widening as he spotted the ground sediment of the Dexlatine in his empty tumbler on the table. He fought his freezing muscles, but it was no use. The paralysis had him. ‘What…what is…’ he forced. Renata rose. She pulled the bloodstained scissors from her apron. ‘Not…possible.’

‘I’M DOWN HERE, PLEASE.’

Renata’s glare shot to the source of the screaming. Hector watched her limp to the bookcase, one hand clamped against her wounded thigh, the other clutching the crimson-edged blades. She pushed the bookcase aside then hobbled into the darkness. There was a shriek, then nothing.

The woman reappeared. Hector stared in horror as she wiped fresh blood from the scissors. ‘Sandie, you…’ he attempted, wrestling the words from his mouth, ‘…you have Sandie.’

The pattering rain filled a moment’s silence.

Renata removed the wide cataract glasses and locked the inky crater of her eye upon him. She glared at him with vengeful purpose, a glare that told him everything he needed to know. ‘Yes, I have her, but only because you were too blind to see the real monster from the beginning.’

His face tightened under the influence of the Dexlatine. ‘What…monster?’

‘HIM,’ Renata bellowed. ‘You were charmed by the great Quentin C. Rye, just as I was. But it’s not my job to keep people safe, to put beasts like him to justice. You didn’t look, you didn’t SEE.’ She rubbed her temples. ‘And that’s the problem. If you people saw more, then my mother might still be alive.’

‘Is that what this is about? I’ve been trying to bring Sylvia’s killer to…’ His muscles tightened further. Beads of sweat crawled down his face. ‘…to justice. I’m not the villain.’

‘There are no villains,’ she said, pulling back a strand of hair as she reset a hair grip. She ran her fingers over her bun. ‘Just monsters inside us all.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Precisely, I’m your proof.’ Then, lowering her mouth to the side of his head, ‘Tell me you see, Detective.’

‘But what do you hope to achieve with all this? Revenge, is that it? Miss Wakefield, you have to let…let me help you, you have to—’

‘I shouldn’t have had so much faith in your skills, Detective. I really believed you’d find my mother’s