The Passengers

by John Marrs

  But why was she using Sam’s surname? Heidi visited Josie’s Facebook page, but the rest of her settings were set to private. Heidi had to expand her search and called for a taxi.

  “I thought you were off with the kids today?” asked DS Bev Saxon when Heidi brushed past her in CID.

  “I have some admin I want to get a head start on,” Heidi replied coolly. She waited until the office was empty before trawling the National Identity Card and Police National Computer databases to learn more about Josie.

  She discovered that she was a full-time mother, a year younger than Heidi, and she worked part-time at her local Baptist church’s admin department. Hesitantly, Heidi’s finger pressed the marital status icon—Josie Harmon had wed Samuel Cole ten months after he and Heidi had tied the knot. His name was also on both children’s birth certificates—he had even replicated his and Heidi’s kids’ names.

  Breaking more rules governing the use of police data for her own means, Heidi picked a terrorism protocol as an excuse to access Sam’s business accounts. There, she discovered he was paying dividends from it into a joint mortgage taken out in his and Josie’s names. They also had joint credit cards and two bank accounts. A search of his business revealed it was based in Halifax and not Sheffield like he had claimed.

  Heidi hunched forward in her chair, trying to absorb what she had learned. All at once, so many aspects of her marriage were becoming clear. There was Sam’s mistrust of social media and his reluctance to take more than a handful of holiday days at a time; his Christmas visits to his mother’s home in the Algarve were always alone. Sometimes on his return from Halifax, he’d be wearing clothes she hadn’t seen him in before. Most nights when he was at home, he would disappear behind the closed bedroom door to answer “work” telephone calls. All this time, you were talking to them. You were talking to your other family under our roof.

  Heidi alternated between fury and confusion, but she was too angry to waste a tear on Sam. Many times over the next few days, she had come within a hair’s-breadth of telephoning him and screaming at him for the truth. But a man who could hide a second family from his wife was a man skilled in the art of deception. She could not expect his honesty, and he didn’t deserve hers. When Sam returned home from Halifax later that week, she said nothing about her discovery.

  Trying to contain how she felt and prevent it from revealing itself in words, moods, or behaviour was close to impossible. Heidi was yearning to hurt her husband like he had hurt her. And this contempt spawned an idea.

  Maintaining two houses, two wives, and four children could not have been easy for Sam. So she was going to see what happened when she piled more pressure upon him in a series of different ways.

  She began gradually, first by setting him up on extramarital-affair dating apps and websites with fake profiles but using his real contact details. And as the calls and emails came thick and fast, she viewed in quiet amusement as he squirmed each time his phone rang or a new message arrived. Eventually he kept his phone switched off when he was at home. She was sure to include the locations of Halifax, Sheffield, Luton, and Dunstable—it meant someone out there knew of his secret.

  Next, and knowing exactly how much money he was siphoning from his accounts to his second family, she upped the ante by making her own financial demands. A request for a new high-spec kitchen with all the fixtures and fittings was followed by suggestions for a replacement bathroom and then quotes for a new conservatory. She revelled in Sam’s awkwardness as he became tongue-tied making up excuses as to why they didn’t have the available funds to afford them.

  The more discomfort she saw him in, the more pressure she would heap upon him. And while her demands made for a promising start, they didn’t come close to the hurt she felt. Heidi had to up the ante by really hitting him in the pocket. She wanted to know just how far he was willing to go to keep hold of his secrets. She would blackmail him.

  She plucked a figure out of thin air—a ridiculously large sum of £100,000. He didn’t have that kind of money readily available, but it was going to be enjoyable imagining him squirm via email. And she spaced her demands a week apart to maximise the discomfort. It was only when he agreed to the preposterous figure that she sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her from discovering his lies.

  But in the days leading up to the cash handover, there was one last thing on her “to complete” list before bringing her campaign to a close. She wanted to see her husband’s wife in the flesh.

  Heidi’s car pulled up against the kerb on the opposite side of the road to Josie’s house. It was a home not too dissimilar to her own. Same kids’ names, similar-looking wives, same house . . . at least he’s consistent, she thought. She remained in her vehicle, watching from a distance as, one by one, Sam’s second family left. First came his son when friends came to call, then his daughter, who left on a motorised scooter. There were more than passing resemblances to her own children. Finally, Josie appeared. Heidi turned on the privacy windows and watched intently as her opponent passed the car.

  Suddenly, a fleeting glimpse of the enemy wasn’t enough. Heidi needed more. Without thinking, she began following her by foot, trailing her for twenty minutes before reaching the grounds of the Princess Royal Hospital. As Josie entered the doors to the breast screening unit, an awkward Heidi hesitated outside. Her head told her to abandon this fool’s errand and return home, but her heart demanded she stay. She listened to the latter until, almost an hour later, Josie eventually reappeared.

  Immediately, Heidi noticed the paleness of the woman’s skin, the redness in her eyes, and the sweat patches on the underarms of her top. Josie hurried along the corridor towards the exit as if being chased. But she hadn’t shut her handbag properly and, in her haste, it slipped down her arm, and the contents poured across the floor. As Josie crouched to pick them up, Heidi broke her cover to assist.

  “Thank you,” said Josie, and then burst into tears.

  “Are you okay?” Heidi asked hesitantly. Josie shook her head.

  Behind her, Heidi spotted a café. “Let’s sit down,” she said, and helped Josie back to her feet.

  What the hell are you doing? Heidi asked herself as she returned from the counter with two cups of tea. This isn’t part of the plan!

  “I’m sorry,” offered Josie, and blew her nose into a tissue.

  “Have you had some bad news?”

  Josie nodded and spoke quietly. “I received some test results that . . . weren’t good.”

  “Is it treatable?”

  “It’s one grade away from being the most serious cancer. The specialist said they need to test if it’s a secondary tumour that’s spread from elsewhere before they start treatment. I need to come back for more scans.”

  “I’m sorry,” Heidi replied, and to her surprise, she meant it.

  “It’s just come as such a shock,” Josie continued. “I lost my sister to it, so I can’t help but think the worst.” She buried her head in her hands and cried again. Without thinking, Heidi reached out to hold Josie’s hand. Josie grasped it firmly, and the two women remained in a contemplative quiet.

  “You must think I’m mad unloading my problems on a complete stranger,” Josie said eventually.

  “Not at all. Do you . . . do you have a family who can support you?” Heidi asked.

  “Yes, my husband and two kids.”

  Heidi bristled at her use of the word “husband.” “Does he know?”

  “No. He works away from home a lot, and I’d rather tell him about it in person but I don’t know how to. He’s been under so much pressure at work lately, he’s not eating or sleeping properly, and I don’t want to make things any worse for him.”

  Heidi knew she was likely to blame for his angst, and suddenly, revenge didn’t taste so sweet. “Is he a good man?” she asked.

  “He does hi
s best. Money is tight, he’s a hard worker, and I know he loves us. There’s my mum too. She’s in the early stages of dementia and I’m her carer. I don’t know how I’m going to look after her and fight this at the same time.”

  “Sometimes we surprise ourselves, we don’t realise how strong we actually are until we’re pushed.”

  Heidi had dealt with enough bad people in her career to recognise the best and worst of them, her husband aside. Her instinct was that Josie was one of the good ones whose only mistake was to fall in love with a man she hadn’t known was already married. She didn’t need to know the truth, at least not now.

  By the time Heidi’s car pulled out of the driveway the morning of the £100,000 handover, she had made a decision. She’d met a woman who needed her husband more than Heidi did. Revenge no longer mattered; for Sam to watch Josie fighting cancer would be more punishment than Heidi could ever inflict.

  When she was to confront him later at the locker in Milton Keynes where he was to leave the hold-all, she would tell him their marriage was over, but wouldn’t mention that she had met Josie or that she was unwell. That was for his other wife to decide.

  On her return home, she would, however, tell the children the truth about their father. She was not going to lie to them; they deserved to have at least one honest parent.

  Now, Heidi’s plan was in tatters, and to all the world, she was as deceptive and secretive as her husband. The realisation was sudden and the emotion hit her hard. And for the first time since discovering the truth about Sam, she released the grip on her tears. The woman her colleagues had nicknamed Elsa the Ice Queen was starting to melt.

  CHAPTER 50

  Do I need to ask where your vote is going, or can I assume?” Fiona asked Libby.

  Libby’s eyes flitted from screen to screen, skipping over Sofia, who remained hidden behind a covered lens. She took in Claire and her unborn baby; Sam, a father of four and husband of two; and his wife Heidi, the woman scorned. Finally, she settled on Jude, the man she had been infatuated with but who no longer recognised any worth in living.

  The right thing to do would be to pick someone who wanted a second shot at life, but Jude was not that man. Before her were worthier candidates but who were as flawed as him. She was aware that whatever decision she made, it would weigh heavy on her shoulders. However, try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to condemn him to death for an illness he had no control over. Libby considered that perhaps he was right in his suggestion that by trying to save Jude, she was making up for her failure to save her brother. She couldn’t be sure. All she knew for certain was that hers was the only vote he was likely to receive, and she could not let him down.

  “I’m supporting Jude,” she said finally, and Fiona added his name to her tally.

  “Waste of time,” grunted Jack.

  With Sam also earning one vote, Claire awarded another, and Heidi receiving two, Jude’s death was not a foregone conclusion. Everything now depended upon the public. But they had a taste for blood. They had hounded Shabana to her death and sought to turn Sofia’s car into a travelling pyre. The depth of their hatred without knowing the Passengers’ entire stories appalled her. It was unlikely they would develop compassion for a man who had already planned his own death.

  “Cadman,” said the Hacker suddenly, and the social media expert jerked as though he’d been stung by a wasp. “Can you tell us where collective public opinion lies?”

  “Of course,” he replied. His colleague passed him a tablet, and he raised a neatly plucked eyebrow at the data scanning across the screen before him. “Well, this makes for interesting reading.”

  “Interesting in a good way or a bad way?” Fiona replied.

  “That depends on whose car you’re in.”

  Jack looked to the ceiling as if appealing to the Hacker’s better nature. “Could you kindly ask your monkey to stop dancing around the organ and inform us which Passenger the public has chosen? Is it Mr. or Mrs. Cole?”

  “Now, now, Jack, stop playing hard to get,” Cadman retorted. “If the answer is based only upon the word ‘save,’ then the most frequent trending tag across all social media platforms is #saveHeidi.”

  The result was as expected, but it still felt to Libby as if the rug had been pulled from under her feet. She glanced at Matthew and Fiona, who had both vocalised their support for Heidi. She assumed they were pleased, but out of respect to the other Passengers, they kept their gratitude restrained.

  “However,” added Cadman. The jurors turned to face him as he made his way into the centre of the room, leaving a dramatic pause. “If we tally all the independent hashtags generated and spread by social media users, regardless of whether they include the word ‘save,’ then another name tops the list. Two names, in fact. And they amount to almost double the number of votes #saveHeidi received.”

  “And?” asked Jack, growing impatient.

  “And,” Cadman repeated, then swiped his tablet so that one hashtag appeared on a wall opposite the screens. “Members of the jury and ladies and gentlemen at home, may I present to you #givejudeandlibbyachance.”

  Libby’s eyes opened wide like saucers. “I’m sorry?” she asked, perplexed. “What did you just say?”

  “#givejudeandlibbyachance,” Cadman repeated. “Your ten-minute conversation with Jude is the only thing the world is talking about right now. They’re not ready for your story to come to an end. They’re desperate to know what happens next. Look.”

  The contents of Cadman’s screen filled the rest of the wall, dozens and dozens of messages and hashtags, including #Libby4Jude, #HappyEverAfter4J&L, and #Savethestarcrossedlovers, along with memes and GIFs.

  “Has the world gone fucking mad?” asked a stunned Jack.

  “People always love an underdog,” Cadman said, and shrugged.

  “And people have always been wrong.”

  “I’m sorry, Jack, but the public have become invested in these two lovebirds. They’ve even spliced their names together so that ‘#judy’ has the honour of being the fastest-spreading hashtag of all time. Social media is very clear about this—their votes go to Jude.”

  Libby looked to him; Jude’s bewildered face mirrored hers. Against all odds, there was now a chance he might survive. “I don’t understand it,” Libby continued. “People who don’t know us actually care?”

  “They don’t care about you!” Jack hissed. “You’re as real to them as bloody Santa Claus. People want something to believe in even if it’s made-up rubbish like you and Mr. Harrison. Don’t fool yourself into believing anyone inside or outside this room gives a damn about what happens to either of you after these cars collide.”

  “With two votes apiece, it’s a tie between Heidi and Jude,” said Fiona, resting her tablet on the tabletop. “So what happens now?”

  “One of you must change your vote,” said the Hacker.

  “And if we don’t?”

  “Then you will be sending them all to their deaths. Who would like to begin?”

  CHAPTER 51

  Muriel was the first juror to turn to Libby to offer a heartfelt apology.

  “I am so sorry, I really am, because I know what Jude means to you,” she began. “But my heart lies with Claire’s unborn baby. No matter what she might have done to her husband, I can’t punish that little mite because of it.” She grasped Libby’s hand and squeezed it to emphasise her remorse. Libby nodded, not trusting herself to speak, before turning to Matthew. She already knew what his answer would be when he struggled to meet her eye.

  “I have given it thought, honestly, but I can’t rob Heidi’s children of their mum. And for that I apologise.”

  “It’s okay,” Libby replied.

  Fiona was next. “And I’m sure you’ll also understand that, as a mother, I can sympathise with what Heidi must be going through. I’ve been trying to imagine what it would be like n
ever to see my children again . . . it just breaks my heart.”

  Everyone’s attention shifted towards Jack, with the exception of Libby. There was no reason for him to offer her or Jude a lifeline, so she wasn’t going to waste her time and ask.

  “Hmm,” he began. His index finger tapped against his bottom lip in a theatrical manner. “Now this is quite the conundrum, isn’t it, Miss Dixon? It appears that I am the one who gets the final say in your future. Perhaps this court is more under my control than your Hacker friend assumed. Now, who to pick, who to pick . . .”

  His voice trailed off as he pointed his finger towards the screens and moved it between the faces of the Passengers. “Eeny, meeny, miny, mo, whose car should I let explode?”

  “What is wrong with you?” snapped Matthew. “We are talking about the lives of people here. This isn’t a game.”

  “Of course it’s a game! Can’t you see the Hacker has been playing with us from the moment he made himself known? So why shouldn’t I too be allowed to play a game of my own? And if you honestly believe that he’s going to let one of those poor bastards escape the collision, then you’re a bigger fool than I already had you down for.”

  “He has no reason not to stick to his word,” said Muriel.

  “You misguided idiot.” Jack laughed. “Get your head out of your Bible or Quran or Torah or Vedas or whatever religion you’re pandering to this week and join us in the real world, will you? Sofia was half-right . . . all this . . . it’s the ultimate television reality show.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Jack, just pick someone,” said Fiona. “We only have a quarter of an hour left.”

  Jack rose from his seat and moved into the centre of the room. He made a big deal of turning to each Passenger, stretched out a hand, and cracked his knuckles. Finally, his head turned and his eyes met with Libby’s. Instantly she regressed into the woman who had first walked into the jury room yesterday morning, feeling small and insignificant.