Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

on the wrong side of the road, not that I’ve driven much. But most of all I am going to miss Jack. He has been so kind to me. He brought me flowers yesterday to tell me he loved me, and to tell me he didn’t want me to go. He is soooooooo sweet. But if the truth be told it is me who should be saying sorry. I can be such a b**** at times. I was so pleased you got to see him at Xmas. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to invite him over for the summer (if I can wait that long). I have enclosed some more photographs. In case you’ve forgotten, Jack is the tall handsome man standing beside the good-looking blonde (ha ha). He is so sad that I’m leaving. One part of me is sad that I’m leaving, too, while another part is looking forward to coming home. I can’t hardly wait. Do you know if I received any response to my job application? If not, I’ll give them a call on my return. See you soon. Tell Scamp I’ll be back soon. I’m going to bring her some Scottish treats and some tartan catnip.
Love you both,
Kelly xxxxxxx
     
    Gilchrist read the letter again, letting his eyes linger over every word. Any thoughts he may have held about Kelly going to Mexico were dispelled then and there. This was a homecoming letter from a daughter to her parents, her excitement about returning, her sadness about leaving, written down in black and white.
    He scanned the page again, his eyes settling on his brother’s name.
    . . .
most of all I am going to miss Jack
.
    How could he have been so wrong? Jack and Kelly could not have split up before she disappeared. This letter told him they were two young people in love, both saddened by the prospect of her imminent return home.
    He brought me flowers yesterday to tell me he loved me
. . .
    Gilchrist thought he now understood Jack’s despair in the weeks before his accident. With Kelly’s sudden disappearance, he would have thought she had ditched him in a hurry, perhaps taken up with one of her other lovers. With no explanation, Kelly’s non-response to his own letter would have convinced Jack she wanted nothing more to do with him. Gilchrist knew that Jack would have been too proud to try to win her back. Instead, he had withdrawn into his own shell of bitterness, hurt and isolation.
    He read the letter one more time, but found nothing that would indicate anything other than Kelly’s love for Jack. No indication she was planning to do anything other than return to the States, and that she was sad about leaving Scotland. She even planned to invite Jack to the States for the summer, to continue their romance. And the reference to the job suggested she had every intention of settling down for the long haul. If Jack’s emotional collapse had been caused by thoughts of Kelly no longer loving him, then he’d had it so wrong.
    Gilchrist folded the letter and returned it to its envelope.
    He now had a clearer understanding of Kelly’s emotional state in the weeks before her disappearance. But he was no further forward in his search for her killer. What he did know was that Jack had not killed Kelly. Of that he had no doubts. But without physical proof, how could Gilchrist convince Tosh and others?
    He tried to recall the last time he saw Jack, what they had said. Had Jack spoken the last word, or had he? But each image he pulled up vanished at the moment of its appearance. One instant Jack would be grinning, the next his face would fold into sadness, then vanish. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself reach out to Jack. But the closer he came, the more Jack faded from sight. It was like trying to start a conversation with a ghost.
    Or maybe it was the lack of sleep catching up with him.
    His watch told him it was 9.37. His body told him otherwise.
    Sleep came at him in waves, their heavy undercurrent pulling him down.
    He struggled to stay awake, but Jack’s ghost whispered in his mind, telling him he loved Kelly. And in his mind’s eye he watched Jack lie down beside her, wrap his arms around her, heard her husky voice say, You’re so sweet. So sweet.
    I love you
,
too
, Jack whispered.
    Sleep took him in its warm breath.
     
    Gilchrist wakened to the blackness before dawn, his heart pounding.
    Silence filled the room.
    His fumbling fingers found the bedside lamp, then the switch. He clicked it on.
    Light stunned him. He lay still, letting his heartbeat slow. Something had jerked him awake. But what? The bedside clock told him it was 5.42, as his memory fought to recover