CHAPTER TWO

YOU OWE ME

The next morning, Bonnie felt as if she hadn't slept at all. She was up for most of the night packing away most of her bedroom. She felt a sense of moving forward while she put clothes and books in boxes. She wanted a life with him.

She quickly got dressed for work and opened up the store as Denise arrived for her shift. The women idly discussed Denise's timeline for moving – since it was for her husband's new job – and her possible replacements that could fill the job on time. About an hour into the work day, a local delivery man popped into the door, "Morning ladies."

"Morning Todd," Bonnie greeted him, noticing the package under his arm. "That for me? I didn't order anything."

He shrugged, "S'got your name on it. All I know. Sign?"

"Of course," she said, signing his touch-pad and accepting the package.

"Secret admirers usually send flowers," Denise commented.

Bonnie rolled her eyes, "Just in case it's some lingerie I forgot I ordered, I'll take this upstairs real quick."

Denise snorted and waved her off.

Bonnie quickly jaunted into her apartment and grabbed scissors to open the package. On top of a small rectangular object wrapped in paper – it looked like a book – was a note in her Aunt's handwriting.

I know things have always been difficult between you and Marge. But mothers and daughters have a bond that should never be sacrificed or torn apart by personal differences. She loves you.

Bonnie already felt irritated. Jay's wife, Uma, had always stuck her nose in it. She believed that family was everything and required fidelity no matter what. And because neither Jay nor Bonnie herself could ever tell her the root of her issues with her mother – i.e. their shared abilities and her mother's manipulations – Uma often saw Bonnie as the ungrateful daughter who abandoned her mother. It led to some strain between Uma and Jay, but they survived.

She picked up the paper wrapped object and discarded the note, ripping the paper off of it. She blanched when they saw it was a book.

Fifteen Years Later, Still Missing Her; The Marjorie MacQueens Story.

It seemed her mother had abandoned her idea for a sequel to her memoir about the Lila Davidson case – though the case was mentioned as central to the new book – and instead made it a saga about distant mother and daughter, a tale of mother's woes.

She felt disgusted. She felt angry. She felt disrespected. She opened the cover on accident while turning it around to read the back summary and noticed another note had fallen out. This time, she vaguely recognized her mother's handwriting.

I want to talk to you. I want my daughter, my little Marjorie. You owe me.

She scoffed, tossing both of the notes away. But she couldn't throw the book away. Not yet.

Teaching may have been Bonnie's dream, but it was Hardy's purgatory. He couldn't muster up the anxiety and chase that came with his former position and push it into his energy at this new job. He barely had enough pupils to fill one row in the amphitheater classroom and the dribble he was pouring over them sounded like tapes people used to help them sleep.

"At fixed intervals during the probationary period you'll have a review. Conducted by the Learning Development Officer." Even his Chief's watchful eye as she stalked down the steps and observed his teaching couldn't encourage him to muster up more enthusiasm. "This will establish whether or not you have met the required standards to be an efficient and effective police officer."

After he'd finally been able to conclude and dismiss his pupils, she followed him out of the building berating him, "Why the hell did you say yes to this job if you don't enjoy it?"

"Not that bad, am I?" he asked.

"You'll demotivate our entire intake. The boredom drips off you," she admonished him.

"I was good at my job," he griped at her. He wanted DI back. He wanted to close cases, not set up a generation of young idiots to do it and screw it up.

"Yeah, and you're no longer fit for it. So, get good at this one or do something else," she said with a final tone.

He was nearly back to his house when his phone rang, "Hi."

Claire's panicked voice startled him, "Alec, Lee just called and left me a message. How did he get my number?"

He remained calm, like he had to. He had never told her that his guy watching Lee informed him that he'd been back from France for four days now. "Okay. What did he say?"

"He said he's close," she emphasized, almost shaking.

Feeling eyes on him, Alec turned his head to see none other than Lee Ashworth standing a handful of yards away from him. "Claire, I promise you're safe. Just stay there. I've gotta go."

"Alec, please don't go!" she tried to beg but he already hung up on her.

Walking slowly up to meet with Lee, he demanded, "What do you want?"

"Where's Claire?" Lee requested in an even tone.

Alec feigned nonchalance, "Why would I know?"

Lee glared at the other man, but still kept his tone even, "Don't mess me about. I wanna see her."

"Lisa Newbury's parents wanna see their daughter," Alec said.

"For the last time... I had nothing to do with that," Lee slowly snarled.

"I don't believe you," Alec retorted.

"You got it wrong," Lee repeated, like a mantra. "It's over."

"Not for the parents. Not for me," Alec said.

"What about for me?" Lee stepped up to him, finally showing an ounce of heat in his face and voice. "I lost my whole life cos of you. I had to leave the country."

"So, why'd you come back?" Alec asked him.

"I want my life back," Lee insisted. "Now tell me where I find Claire. Or do I have to follow you around everywhere?"

"Yeah, give it a go," Alec bluffed.

Lee slowly took out a card from his pocket and stuffed it into Alec's coat, "Here's my number. You tell her to call me." He turned his back and started walking away, but not without snidely commenting as he did, "Sorry about your health."

"What did you say?" Alec asked him, hiding how the words affected him.

Lee turned to him and spoke too casually, "Someone said you were sick."

If that confrontation hadn't been the perfect topping to the shit sundae that was his day, as he walked into his home, he caught Ellie on the couch with one of his Sandbrook case files. He could immediately feel the anger well up in his voice as he shouted, "What the hell are you doing?"

Like a teen boy caught with a nudie magazine, Ellie quickly closed the file, "Nothing."

He grabbed it out of her hands and shoved it back in its place in his desk, "Put it away! God's sake!"

"Don't have a go at me," she cried, defensively.

"How dare you!" he yelled. "I ask one wee favour."

"Why have you got that?" she wanted to know.

"None of your business," he growled.

"You've made it my business," she pointed out.

Their next argument was paused when his cell phone rang, and he opted to answer rather than explain to her why he had that file. "What?... Yeah. Actually, I'm with her right now."

Bonnie still felt like crying even thirty minutes after receiving her summons to testify at Joe's trial. She didn't want to get dragged into the trial and she had no idea what kind of questions his attorney would want to ask her and where they would lead. She couldn't possibly ever mention anything to do with Danny in the moments after his death. She couldn't let on that she'd seen him. What she could do. She had to be very careful not to expose herself and seem crazy and also not perjure herself.

She decided while she had multiple employees working to cover the floor, she would busy herself packing. Distract her mind. Only, her mind was as much of a busybody as her and she had to sit down at her table with her computer and do research into the type of people who might defend the monster.

She knew his representation from the what-should-have-been arraignment and sentencing was a young woman named Abby Thompson. It was easy to look up her name and find out where she worked and who she worked for. Sharon Bishop. It was easy enough to get public information about her life as well, to get a feel for what kind of person she was. No matter what, Bonnie felt all her respect for either parties dwindled into ash as result of their taking Joe's case. No person with integrity could willingly help a child killer get off.

When her distraction was satisfied enough, she went back to packing. The last time she'd packed up her things, it was to run away to Broadchurch to start her life over. It had felt like boxing her life away into parts and rearranging them into some play for the town to pass off the new person she wanted to become following her total breakdown in the city. It had felt heavy and like she was breaking her life apart. This time was different. It didn't feel like she was packing her life away to start over. It felt like she was packing pieces of her current life to move them onto a new and better one. It was moving forward, not away.

It brought a smile to her otherwise anxious face as she taped and labeled boxes and decided what she was going to have loaded into a cab and what she was going to move into the back room of the store for storage. She felt she had to hurry on before Hardy got too buried in his second wave of the Sandbrook case. She wanted to settle into her new life with him. And soon.

"Did she say what she wanted?" Ellie asked Hardy as they trekked up the coast towards the home of the well-known solicitor who agreed to take the Latimers' case against Joe. "What do you think it is?"

"I don't know. Stop wittering, Miller," he complained. But then he added, "Ashworth came to see me earlier. Said he's looking for Claire and he's not gonna stop till he finds her."

"Well, you said that's what you wanted. Now you've got it," Ellie muttered as they approached Jocelyn's gate as the older woman walked out to meet them.

"Alec Hardy," Hardy introduced himself.

"I know," the woman answered in her deep, old voice.

"Ellie. Ellie Miller," Ellie said first.

The woman didn't seem all too pleasant as she only opened the gate and said, "Come in," ushering them into her home.

Ellie looked out the sliding glass door at the cliff, beaches, and water, "Wow. Look at that view. I've always envied this house. How long have you been here?"

"Please have a seat," the woman made no efforts to welcome them, right down to business. As they sat down on a couch across from her in a rocking chair, she began, "Do both of you understand how a prosecution case is built in court? It's my responsibility to prove your husband's guilt beyond doubt. And I do this by building a wall of evidence, in front of the jury, brick by brick. Each piece of evidence is a new brick. When it's built, the wall is unassailable." When they made no move to seem confused, she understood that they understood and moved on. "Right. Some bricks are more important than others. Cornerstones, for example. A confession by the accused. Absolutely crucial."

"What did you call us here for?" Alec asked, tired of hearing all about what he'd already had experience with over the course of his career.

With a frown, Jocelyn took out one of her own files and opened it to show them the photos of Joe's injuries after Ellie had kicked the crap out of him after being told he was the killer. There were nasty bruises up and down his sides that made Ellie flinch. She only cringed harder at Jocelyn's accusatory tone, "You assaulted Joe Miller in the interview room at Broadchurch police station." She turned to Hardy, "While you stood and watched."

"Oh, God," Ellie muttered under her breath.

"I have seen the tape. What the hell were you doing?" The solicitor stared at Ellie like she was a child who knew nothing.

"I was upset," Ellie excused weakly. "I didn't believe what was happening and I asked to see my husband."

"Police brutality?" Jocelyn scoffed incredulously. "Extracting a confession through violence?"

"It had been a very intense day," Hardy explained stoically. "It was an error of judgment, but I had her removed as fast as I could."

But Jocelyn wasn't pacified but exasperated. "How am I supposed to deal with this in court? Hm? Do you realize how the defense will use this?"

"Yeah, I do," he answered.

"But how can you not have realized this was coming?"

"Well, he confessed. He was gonna plead guilty," Ellie said, blindsided by the recent actions of her husband.

"And you giving him a kicking gave him an opportunity not to," Jocelyn shot at her. "If they don't get it excluded straight away, which is a definite possibility, you have to go on the stand and defend it. So, you better start thinking how you're going to justify what happened that day. Because we need this evidence in. We can't afford to lose this confession."

"His confession happened before I even saw him," Ellie pointed out.

"Won't make a blind bit of difference," Jocelyn said. "All the defense needs to do is connect the two events by suggestion. You have jeopardized my best chance of success before we even got going."

"Why didn't you stop me that day?" Ellie asked as she and Hardy sat on the boardwalk at the beach, the same place they'd last spoken after arresting Joe – when she determined that she would start over with her boys far away from Broadchurch.

"Oh, it's my fault now?" he retorted sarcastically.

"Why did you let me see him?" she asked again, ashamed of herself.

"I felt sorry for you," he lamented. "I didn't expect you to go all Bruce Lee on him."

"Everyone will find out now," she complained. She put her face in her hands, "Shit. Tom will hear about it. His mum beating up his dad in a police station. Oh, God. What do I do? I just wanna run away or hide of emigrate or... Oh, God."

"What have you eaten today?" he asked abruptly.

"KitKat and a Scotch egg."

Bonnie had tried and tried to keep distracting herself from the package, the note from her aunt and mother, her summons, her research into Sharon and Abby and even her packing. But the notes, mail, and summons had arrived, she'd done her research, and she'd finished with most of her important packing. Now all she had to think about was work and the glaring anger bubbling inside of her at her aunt's actions and her mother's continued efforts to intrude in on her life.

All her life she had run away from her mother and her old life and rebuilt herself. But she needed to not run, to doge instead. But she couldn't hide her anger either. So, she called up her Uncle Jay. And he could tell it wasn't good to be getting a phone call rather than a skype call or text message.

"Bonnie? Is something wrong? I heard about the trial."

"This isn't about the trial." She couldn't keep the anger from her voice and tone. "It's about your wife and my mother."

She could hear Jay repressing a sigh. "Did Uma call you again?"

"Oh, no," she scoffed, building herself up to a rant. "She really one-upped herself this time. She's taken it upon herself to pass on messages from Marge to me."

"What?" Jay sounded genuinely confused. "I didn't even know she was talking to Marge anymore. I haven't heard her bring any of that up for a few years now."

"Well, she's been keeping some secrets," Bonnie spat. "Because they're close enough for Marge to be sending her copies of her new book to send one to my store with a note from Uma that personal differences shouldn't get in between mother and daughter. And maybe – maybe – I'll give her some benefit of the doubt and assume she didn't know about the note my mother had slipped into the book jacket talking about how she wants to see me and that I owe her."

"Jesus," she heard her uncle breathe out. "I don't know what on Earth could have gotten into her. Either of them. I'm sorry, annwyl."

Bonnie wanted to be pacified. She wanted to be comforted and know that she had her Uncle on her side. But she was too angry, betrayed, and violated now. "I wish sorry was enough, Uncle Jay. But she has massively overstepped and even violated my wishes for privacy and for Marge not to know where I live. If she's sent mom's package to me on her behalf, then how am I supposed to trust that she hasn't given out my address? Huh?"

"I will talk to her," Jay promised. "I will make her give up all contact with Marge and make her see that stepping into your life and relationship with Marge this way is not all right."

"If she's gone this far, what makes you think that either of them will give up until they somehow get me and my mother together?" she said. "Have you seen the book?"

"You mean the follow up about Lila?" he asked.

"That's not what it is anymore," she told him. "Now, it is some sort of memoir about our relationship as mother and daughter and how I abandoned her fifteen years ago. Or I assume from the summary and title. I haven't bothered to read any of it – it makes me so angry."

"I understand, I'll talk to her. I'll make her apologize to you-"

"I don't want to hear from her," Bonnie quickly interjected. "I'm not interested in her apologies, or her justifications. As far as I'm concerned right now, I don't want to hear anything from her again."

She guessed he wanted to argue that point. He didn't want to be caught between his wife and his brother's daughter, even if he knew his wife was in the wrong. "I understand. I'll fix it. I promise."

"Just tell her to stay out of my life, Jay," Bonnie said before hanging up and tossing her phone on her bed. She needed to finish up packing her bedroom and get a cab ready to take them over to Alec's house – their house.

Cutlery scraped and bumped into glass plates as Hardy and Ellie mutely ate lunch at the small table in his water-side home. "Claire needs to meet Ashworth. I wanna put them together."

"And you don't see that as a risk?" Ellie asked him.

"No. No, it's not a risk, it's an opportunity," he corrected. "It's only gonna come once."

"Do it officially," she suggested. "Talk to Jenkinson or one of your old bosses."

"Nobody cares, Miller," he snarled, more at the situation rather than at her. "The case is tainted. Nobody wants to get near it. That's my failing. I've got to put it right."

"What if he didn't do it?" Ellie almost hesitated to ask. "What if you're wrong?"

He couldn't directly answer her, "Just help me convince Claire."

"You risked everything for me and I let you down," Hardy admitted, trying to convince Claire to agree to meet with Lee.

"Yes."

"But there are two families back in Sandbrook. The Gillespies still don't know who killed their daughter. The Newburys don't even have a body," he implored with her.

"Why is this on me?" she asked, desperate to keep out of it.

"Cos he trusts you," Hardy explained, knowing how much Lee wanted Claire back.

"Don't make me see him," she begged quietly from her little couch.

"We'll protect you," Hardy promised.

"No, I can't go back into that place," she shook her head, not even hesitating.

Ellie suddenly stood up, "Come on, get your coat."

"What for?" Claire asked, confused.

"Miller?" Hardy asked.

Ellie slipped on her orange coat, "Ignore him. We're gonna get some air. Come on."

The abandoned wives sat against small bathing sheds on the sand with greasy paper plates of chips, snacking and chatting. Claire even commented, "These are the best chips I've had in my life."

"I'll let you into a secret. I had salad earlier. I hate salad," Ellie said with a grin. After a quiet interlude, she asked, "How have you not gone crackers up in that cottage? No work, no friends?"

Claire scoffed, "I know. I used to be a hairdresser before all this. Talking all day."

"Will you do mine one time?" the former DS requested.

"If you like."

"Is that how you met your husband?" Ellie asked more somberly.

"More or less," Claire said before pausing. "Client of mine was having a barbecue, I was new to the area, he was there. Fancied him soon as I saw him. It was like a chemical reaction. Three hours later I was shagging him on his floor."

"You weren't," Ellie guffawed. "Wow. I've never done anything like that."

"You must have," Claire responded with disbelief.

"I haven't," Ellie said.

"How'd you meet your husband?" Claire asked.

"Best not," Ellie tried to hedge.

"Oh, go on."

Ellie quietly stared out at the water, reliving what should have been some of the happiest moments of her life but were not forever tainted. "It was a traffic accident. A little old lady in a Nissan Micra. Gone into the back of a Land Rover. Bit of a bump. Just minor whiplash. I was a WPC and Joe was a paramedic." She couldn't help but smile, "He was kind and twinkly. And I thought, 'I like the look of you.' I didn't tell him, though, for another six weeks. Then we kept bumping into each other. He said, 'We must stop meeting like this.'" A pregnant pause enveloped them before Ellie finally asked, "Do you think he killed those girls?"

"I can't bear to think about it," Claire said.

"Do you think he was capable of it?" Ellie asked, trying not to slip into cop-mode.

"I don't know. Do you think your husband was?" Claire responded with a bit of malice, instantly sobering once the words were out of her mouth.

Ellie fought her flinch and tried again to start convincing Claire, "Claire, if you did agree to meet Lee..."

"I put myself on the line before and it went wrong, and I ended up a prisoner down here, Ellie," Claire replied.

"I understand what you're going through," Ellie pointed out.

"No, you don't," Claire snapped.

"But if you're still hiding, what happens? The Sandbrook family will never get the truth," Ellie tried to appeal to her.

Claire looked away, "Not my responsibility."

Ellie frowned at the other woman, "I know you don't want it to be, but I think it is."

Claire scoffed, "Look what these men have done to us." Her face and hands with chips became more animated as she described the toxicity she'd suffered with Lee, "It was like I was addicted to him. Like he was my drug. And I broke that habit, Ellie, and I'm... I'm afraid if I'm near him again... I'm scared."

"We'll look after you," Ellie promised.

"Why would you do that?" Claire asked, honestly baffled at this stranger offering her protection. She was never involved with Sandbrook and didn't even work with Hardy anymore.

Ellie looked away now, "Cos my life, my old life, is gone. And I made so many mistakes. Some big ones. And I need to put something right. We could do it together."

Rolling along...

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