Page 120 of Freckles

“Hello?”

The woman is aged in her late thirties, chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail that makes her look even younger. I’m shocked into silence for a few seconds, reading all the similarities to Francesca in her face.

“Ms Qualley?”

Expectation turns to alarm, and she tries to slam the door but I’m quicker, shoving my arm and leg into the gap. “Don’t be frightened. I have a proposition for you.”

Words I thought would be calming, but they act as a further trigger. By the time I push into the hallway, locking and bolting the front door behind me, she’s fled into the kitchen.

A second later, she reappears in the hallway holding a knife.

Like mother, like daughter.

I hold up my hands, trying to find the right balance to my smile. “Please drop the weapon. My name’s Kincaid, and I’m friends with your daughter, Francesca.”

Her mouth sags, the blade dipping until it points to the ground rather than my chest. “You know Chess?”

I shrug. “We’re dating.” I nod to the knife. “Do you mind?”

She grips the handle more firmly. “What d’you want?”

No queries about what her only child has been up to. No expression of concern. I should have expected it, given the circumstances she left her daughter to solve alone, but I’m caught off guard enough to duck my head, battling my fury into submission before I look her full in the face again.

“As I said, I’ve got a proposition.” I watch her through narrowed eyes. “If you’re worried about the problem left back at your last house, rest assured, that’s all been taken care of.”

Her chin juts into the air, so reminiscent of Francesca it’s like a punch in the chest. She frowns, then raises her voice louder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I spread my arms as wide as they can go. “Don’t worry. I’m not wearing a wire.”

“Well, good.” The knife drops to her side, though she still keeps a firm grip. “What’s this offer, then?”

“The same gift my uncle provided me when my mother’s neglect put me in danger. Your absence. Stay the fuck out of your daughter’s life, and I’ll pay you a million dollars.”

Shock freezes her expression, then her face creases into laughter. “Yeah, right. Who sent you?”

“Nobody sent me, Ms Qual—”

“That’s not my name.”

I shrug, leaving a long enough pause for her to provide an alternative, but she doesn’t. I step forward and she retreats an equal distance along the hallway, nearly at the lounge. One more and I’m level with the kitchen.

“Can I get myself a glass of water?”

By the time she says no, I’m already in the room, taking a bill from under a fridge magnet. “Lisa Crowley. That you?”

Her face has already told me before she thinks to deny it.

“Nobody sent me, Lisa. I’m just here out of an abundance of caution. My intention is to love your daughter, forever if she’ll let me, and I don’t want the spectre of your reappearance hanging over our heads.”

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are—”

“I think I’m a very well-connected man from a very dangerous family, who’s presenting you with a onetime-only offer.”

“And what happens if I turn it down?” She barks out a laugh. “Are you going to ban me from my daughter?”

“No, I’ll kill you.” Along with the bills, the fridge has a few pictures held by magnets. I pick up the one closest to eye level. A woman with curly brown hair and a button nose, holding the hand of a small boy, aged maybe three or four. “Is this your partner?”

“She’s no one,” Lisa says quickly, growing more alarmed. “I’m just renting this place.”

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