Once I’d explained to Caro and Viola that Roane was on board, we settled into the living room again, and Viola and I tried to distract Caro from the thought of tomorrow. We talked about the market, about the villagers, and I took the opportunity to mention Annie and Maggie.
Caro seemed grateful for the distraction. Between the three of us we decided there had to be a way to bring mom and daughter back together, and I’d been elected to plant the first seed of reconciliation. I listened to their suggestions on how to do that, glad we’d found a way to focus Caro’s mind on something other than the upcoming biggest confrontation of her life.
Twelve
It occurred to me, not for the first time, as I leaned against Roane’s Defender, how appearances could be so deceiving. That had never been truer as I looked at the woman standing in the doorway of the chocolate-box cottage in the forest.
Summer was in full bloom in Alnster, the leaves of the surrounding trees thick and lush. Rosebushes and hydrangeas grew lavishly around the double front windows of the house, filling the air with their heady scents.
This place looked like a little paradise tucked away on the outskirts of the village.
Yet for Caro, reality had been the opposite. It had been a place of oppression and abuse.
Well, no more.
Caro stood before the cottage with her hand on Shadow’s head, Roane on her other side.
Helena stared warily at us from the doorway, her gaze flickering to the police officer who stepped in front of her.
Patrick O’Malley, I discovered, was around Roane’s age. Friendly, all smiles, when we were introduced. However, as soon as he’d gotten out of his car at the cottage, his countenance had turned impressively stern. It had taken Roane over an hour to convince Caro to file a report against Helena for stealing her bank details, knowing that without that report Patrick couldn’t act in the capacity of a police officer.
“And what’s the meaning of this?” Helena asked calmly, her gaze moving back to Caro. “What have you done now?”
“Ms. Mordue, I’m Officer Patrick O’Malley with the Northumbria police force. Your niece, Caroline Robson Mordue, has filed a report accusing of you illegally accessing her bank accounts.”
I tried to keep the smug look off my face as Helena paled. Considerably. Her surprise lasted merely seconds, however, before she straightened her shoulders to peer down her nose at Patrick. “She’s lying.”
Caro took a step toward her aunt. “L-Let us in, give me my bank cards, my online banking details, and . . . and . . .” She took a deep breath. “I-I’ll consider this matter dropped, Aunt Helena.”
Her aunt shook her head as if abjectly disappointed. “You ungrateful girl,” she whispered, as though Caro had broken her heart. Then she turned to Patrick. “This is my home. You’ll need to come back with a warrant.” Helena moved to step back into the house, and suddenly Roane was striding forward.
Patrick called out his name and reached for him, but Roane shrugged him off and slammed his hand on the door above Helena’s head, pushing his way in.
“You’re trespassing!” Helena cried out, cowering beneath his intimidating build.
Roane bent his head toward her, his whole body bristling with restraint, and I found myself moving toward him. “You’re lucky I don’t sweep in here with a team of police and lawyers and have you put away for years for what you’ve done to Caro. Physical and mental abuse is a crime, Helena.”
Her eyes flashed. “What nonsense.”
“Not nonsense. Now you may be an abusive old cow, but you’re not a stupid one,” he seethed. “You and I both know that if I put my lawyers on it, it is more than likely you’ll go to prison for defrauding Caroline of her inheritance. And believe me, Helena, there is nothing I would like more than to drag your wicked, greedy, grasping bony arse through court. I’d do it in a heartbeat and enjoy every minute of it no matter how long it took to put you in prison where you belong. But Caro wants to move on from all of this, and for her I’ll play nice. Playing nice involves watching you hand over every piece of financial information pertaining to Caro. All of it. Or I will be back with a court order.”
Halfway through his magnificent speech, I’d reached Caro and stopped to take hold of her hand. I squeezed it now, unable to tear my gaze from Roane, who had never been more appealing to me than he was in that moment standing up for his cousin.
Helena stared at him as though she loathed him, and after a moment of contemplation, she leaned back into the door so it swung open. “Very well.” She cut Caro a look. “Get your things and then get out. The devil will take care of you.”