Howard felt like he'd been run over by a bus. His head pounded, his lungs screamed, and his legs felt grounded into the mattress. Tiredness made him feel like a log.

He didn't feel completely disheartened, however. The events from the night before were still fresh in his mind. He'd returned to the hotel a while after Carabella so that she wouldn't see him following her. By the time he'd gotten back to the hotel, it was almost seven and he'd flopped into bed, exhausted.

He flipped to his back and stared at the ceiling, not quite believing what had happened. Had he heard their exchange right? Was Will his step-uncle? If that was true, it must have meant that Carabella had been with Jonathan Coyle. His grandmother did have a few unstable marriages back in her day, he remembered. Howard also recalled how his father never talked about his Carabella's life. It had been something forbidden, something that was never spoken about openly, only in hushed tones or not at all, and certainly not to Howard. But Howard had never been interested in Carabella's past. Until now.

The house had something to do with it. Whatever had happened in that house, it had scarred Will and his grandmother for life. Now they were deranged, unstable, and relied on substances to pull them through. Yes, Howard decided. Something terrible had happened. And it was up to him to discover the truth.

* * *

He found Will's contact on Carabella's phone. She'd not been looking and he'd taken the opportunity to nick her small brick phone out of her bag. It was nothing special, just a battered Nokia that looked like it had survived a few centuries. He'd flicked through her contacts and there it had been. William Coyle. He'd looked through the text history and he found one sent the night before from Carabella's phone at approximately five am.

Meet at the tavern in half an hour? I' d love to catch up.

That confirmed it. Carabella must have recognised Will from when they broke into Tenningway house the other night and wanted to speak to him. And then they'd met at the pub, and the rest Howard had seen and heard.

Howard wanted answers. He needed them, craved them. If anyone was going to find out the truth, it would be him.

So, stealthily, in case Carabella caught him, he typed out a message to Will.

Meet at the tavern again tonight? Midnight?

He clicked send, turned off the phone, and slipped it back into Carabella's bag. A few hours later, neither of them heard the tiny ping in reply.