Final Justice (Lorne Simpkins thriller (Book Three)) Read Online Free Page A

alone.
    ‘Lorne, sweetheart. Don’t be daft I dropped off in front of the box that’s all. I was waiting up for your call. How’s Judith?’
    ‘Umm, she’s fine, Dad, she sends you her love. How’s Henry settling in?’ she asked, quickly changing the subject.
    ‘He’s fine. Well that’s a bit of a porkie actually. The damn dog is driving me to distraction, keeps squeaking that damn toy of his, wants to bloomin’ play all the time. The bloody mutt is wearing me out.’
    As if on cue, Henry squeaked his favourite toy in the background. Not just once, but at least a dozen times, she laughed. ‘He loves ya, Dad, he knows when he sees you that you always play with him.’
    ‘That’s when I come to visit you, I accept it then. But non-stop for twenty-four hours a day that’s a bit much, wouldn’t you say?’
    She could hear her dog growling and pictured her father trying to wrestle the "damn toy" off him. ‘Apart from that, is everything okay that end?’
    ‘Why wouldn’t it be? You only left here a couple of hours ago, girl.’
    Because of her exhaustion she’d managed to raise his suspicions. ‘Don’t go getting all defensive on me I was only asking.’ Lorne said, sidestepping her father’s inquisition before it had the chance to get started.
    ‘When did you say you’d be back?’
    ‘Couple of days max, Dad.’ She lied, unsure what the actual timeframe would be for her visit.
    Her father grunted. ‘The sooner you get back the better I say where this bloody dog of yours is concerned.’
    Lorne raised her eyes to the ceiling then said, ‘If he gets too much, Dad, maybe you can give Tom a ring. Perhaps he and Charlie can have him. I’m sorry, Dad, I thought the company might do you some good.’
    His state of mind since her mother’s passing two years earlier was a constant worry. Despite him assuring her daily that he was coping well, the evidence to the contrary was overwhelming. Before her mother’s death, his garden had been an award-winning entrant in the national garden scheme’s "yellow book"; now it resembled her own shabby, unkempt plot.
    ‘Now don’t start all that nonsense again, Lorne. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m all right. Granted, I’m no spring chicken, but given my age I don’t think I’m doing so bad.’
    She imagined him thrusting his shoulders back, pulling the natural curve out of his spine as he spoke. ‘All right, Dad, whatever you say. I’m going to say goodnight now, if that’s okay? You know I’m not the best traveller in the world. Goodnight, Dad, give Henry a kiss from me.’
    ‘I’ll do no such thing you foolish woman. The trouble is you treat that dog like a bloody human. You know what that Cesar Millan says, you know that Dog whisperer chap, he says they should know who is boss, and to stop treating them like babies. But do you listen, do you heck, you see every damn programme and it still goes in one ear and out of the other— ’
    ‘Dad. I said goodnight. I’m going to hang up now, before we fall out.’
    Sam grunted again, before grudgingly saying goodnight to his beloved eldest daughter.
    She shook her head, turned off the bedside light, the only accessory in the sparsely, decorated room and snuggled down under the duvet.
    Despite her exhaustion, sleep evaded her for hours. In spite of her best efforts, her thoughts turned to Robert Baldwin, and the people he’d stolen from her. Jacques in particular. The irony of the situation hadn’t passed her by either, she found herself in Paris without him by her side. It was ironic, and unfair, but then that just about summed her life up, didn’t it?
     Ironic and unfair!
     

 
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
    When the travel alarm her father had given her, filled the room with more noise than its size suggested it was capable of, she woke abruptly and banged the button to turn it off. Her eyes had trouble focusing, the last time she’d looked the time had been five-fifteen.