Mina and Mark Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

What Lingers

Mina stripped the sofa, tugged off the cushion covers, and shoved them into the washing machine. The dried blood Mark had left behind clung to the fabric like it had a right to be there.

The next day filled her head with old memories. Their relationship. The broken promises. The day she finally chose herself and walked away. Mark had always been mysterious. She’d never been under any illusion that his dealings were legal. That had been part of the attraction once, she supposed. The danger. The unknown. The way he could make trouble feel like a story instead of a warning.

The door banged suddenly and she jumped.

She snatched up her phone and opened the doorbell camera.

A smart, dark-haired man stood on her step, wearing a dark navy suit and a crisp white shirt. Still as a photograph.

Mina spoke through the camera. “Yes?” she asked, keeping her voice steady, trying not to sound as fragile as she felt.

“Hello,” the man said. “Detective Warren. Thames Valley CID. Would it be possible to ask you a few questions? It won’t take long.”

Mina hesitated. “Do you have ID on you? And what is this about?”

He held his warrant card up to the camera. Close enough for her to see the crest, the name, the photograph. He waited while she checked it, not rushing her, not softening.

“I’m looking for Mark Kibby,” he said. “We need to speak to him urgently. It’s in connection with a robbery, and other matters. He was seen at this address last night. We’d like to speak to you.”

Mina’s mouth went dry. She unlocked the door and opened it, just wide enough to keep control of the space.

“Come in,” she said, wary.

Detective Warren stepped inside and looked around in a way that made her feel exposed. His eyes didn’t dart. They travelled. Sofa. Corners. Hallway. Back to her face.

“Do you know where Mark Kibby is?” he asked.

Mina told him what she knew. Not much. Mark had turned up injured. Mark had left. He hadn’t stayed. She didn’t mention the blood. She didn’t mention the way his silence still filled the room. She kept her voice level and her answers simple.

“A large amount of cash has gone missing,” Warren said. “We need to speak to him in connection with it.”

He watched her for a beat longer than necessary, as if deciding whether she was lying or simply unlucky.

Then he reached into his pocket and held out a business card.

“If he comes back,” he said, “you call me. Immediately.”

Mina took it and nodded.

When he left, she locked the door and stood still, card in her hand, staring at the black print like it could rearrange itself into something safer.

She felt unsettled. This wasn’t hers to sort.

It never had been.

She packed what she needed and decided to go to her mum’s house.

Her mother was away in America with her new husband, and Mina still had a key. The place was in Scotland. Far enough to feel unreal. Quiet enough to disappear. She could work from home, keep her head down, and wait for the mess to burn itself out.

She didn’t overthink it. Overthinking was how you stayed stuck.

She stuffed clothes into a bag, grabbed her laptop, chargers, toiletries. The essentials. Nothing sentimental. Sentiment was heavy, and she needed to move.

In the car, the hours stacked up like bricks. Motorway. Service stations. Coffee that tasted like regret. Seven hours of pretending she wasn’t running.

She called her boss somewhere north of the border and told her a version of the truth that sounded harmless.

“Family stuff,” Mina said. “I need to go home for a bit.”

Her boss paused, then softened. “Okay. We’ll sort it. I’ll send everything over. Work from home.”

Mina thanked her and ended the call before her voice could crack.

By the time she reached her mother’s street, darkness had already settled. The house sat exactly as she remembered. Neat. Quiet. Watching.

She pulled up, killed the engine, and sat for a moment with her hands on the wheel, listening to the tick of cooling metal.

Then she got out, unlocked the door, and stepped into the hallway.

A faint smell of perfume met her.

Not stale. Not old. Fresh enough to make her pause.

Mina didn’t call out. Didn’t switch on the main light. She shut the door softly behind her and stood still, letting her eyes adjust.

Nothing moved.

She went straight to her old bedroom, as if muscle memory could protect her. She dropped her bag, kicked off her shoes, and climbed into the bed fully clothed. The covers were cold at first, then slowly warmed around her, heavy and familiar.

She curled up and made herself small.

Night came properly then, and with it a sleep that didn’t bother to dream.

Then she smelled it again.

Not her mother’s perfume. Something else, threaded beneath it, too close to ignore. Aftershave. Familiar. Wrong.

Mina lay very still, staring into the dark, pulse thudding hard enough to feel in her throat. For a moment she couldn’t tell what frightened her more.

That someone had been here.

Or that her first thought was Mark.