We had to wait for confirmation that Hughes had left the island before DI Paul came out to the cottage to get the intel from us. He was frustrated by the lack of recording but told us he’d relay the information to DI Smith and DC McCubbins and we’d go from there.
The event was to take place the week after London’s trip to Glasgow for Taran’s bridal shopping thing. It reassured me that London would be safe and back on the island while it all went down.
I didn’t want to think too long and hard on what I’d have to do in several weeks’ time. I just wanted to forget for a while and bury myself in something good.
Therefore, I decided to practice my song change for open mic night. Hopefully, it would lead the way in transforming what was between me and London.
The day dragged as the sky sprinkled intermittent spells of drizzle in between outbreaks of mild sunshine. After practice, I returned to the office to catch up on work. Distracted, I texted back and forth with London, checking in to make sure she was recovered from yesterday’s panic attack. When she didn’t respond to my last inquiry, I called her.
“Is Kelly okay?” she asked without preamble.
It gratified me that her first thought was for my daughter. “Kelly is fine. You didn’t respond to my last text. I wanted to make sureyou’reokay. And I want an honest answer.”
She’d blown out a shaky breath, making the line crackle. “He used to warn me—Nick. He used to insinuate that his family could get away with murder. Being this far away from him makes me feel somewhat safe but, despite Ramsay’s assurances, I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe until … I don’t know. Ramsay said something big was coming for the entire family. Maybe if the Hustons have less power, I’ll finally feel safe.”
The very idea that London always felt like she was looking over her shoulder made me desperate to take that fear from her. “Youaresafe, London,” I insisted. “But I can come get you right now if that’ll help.”
I thought I heard a smile in her voice. “No. I’m good. I really am. I’m stronger than I look. Like you said, I’m safe. I’ll see you soon.”
Deciding to wait until we saw each other at dinner, I left it at that. The next step for us would be one I’d have to learn to navigate in balance. Clearly, I’d been treating her like she was fragile, and I had to stop that. But I never ever wanted to cross a line with her either. London would have to get used to letting me into her thoughts, letting me know what she needed and didn’t need. I was a quick learner.
Mum picked Kelly up from school and insisted on making dinner for us all. Kelly tried to insist she didn’t need a babysitter while London and I were out at the Lantern, but I wasn’t taking any chances with her safety now. Not until the Walshes were permanently out of our lives.
While I had a moment to check in with London, it wasn’t until we were in my SUV heading toward the Lantern that we could speak about the Hustons.
Thankfully, London seemed much less shaken up than she had earlier. “Ramsay can’t say what’s happening, but I keep reminding myself that Nick is under house arrest. He’s not going anywhere … One day, I know I’ll feel like I’ve rid myself of him forever. But for now, he’s the boogeyman. The monster in the closet. All I can do is trust Ramsay is right and that hopefully Nick and his whole family will one day find themselves stripped of all their power, and it will finally, finally be over for me.”
“Whatever happens, London … I would never let Nick get to you, even if he wasn’t in prison,” I promised. “He has to get past me now.”
There was a moment of tense silence, but I felt her eyes on me, and when I glanced over her lips were parted, her expression confused … but hopeful, perhaps. “Murr?—”
My phone rang through the car, blaring and cutting her off.
It was Kelly.
I laughed under my breath because my daughter was becoming a bit of an unintentional block between me and London. “M’eudail?” I answered as I pulled in the carpark off Main Street.
“Just calling you to remind London to film everything.”
London chuckled beside me. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I promise.”
“Cool, cool. Have fun!”
“Go to sleep.”
“Dad, I’m fourteen, not six. Nana and I are bingeing an interior design program and it’s giving me lots of ideas for the house.”
“Ooh, yes.” London leaned in. “I’m up for some decorating.”
“Great. Because I was thinking?—”
“Why don’t you two talk about this later?” I interrupted, amused at their plans to redecorate our home withoutme, apparently. “London and I need to get to the pub if I’m to go through with this open mic stuff.”
“Go, go! We’ll design later. Hey, maybe we can ask Ms. McQuarrie if she’ll help us.”
“She’ll charge a fortune, so please don’t. ’Night, m’eudail.” I hung up before she could delay us further, and London giggled.
That sound scored an ache through me.