‘Yes, I know Sam. We work for a different company, but he’s up at Walney regularly, so I see him around. He’s a good guy, he knows his stuff. How did you come across him?’
‘I work for the Morecambe newspaper,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I did an interview with him. I’m just thankful these turbines are here; I don’t know what I’d have done otherwise.’
‘Do you mind if I ask how you got out here?’ Tina probed.
Charlotte took a chance. Bill sounded like a by-the-book kind of guy, but she sensed Tina wasn’t.
‘I’m in a spot of trouble—’
‘You can say that again,’ Tina laughed. ‘Most women just forget their handbag or break off a heel.’
‘Yes, well, I don’t like to do things by halves.’
Charlotte took another sip of her soup, now it was cooling. The sea was rough, tossing the boat around and making it tricky to keep the cup steady. She hoped she wouldn’t throw up; it would add insult to injury.
‘Bill was talking about reporting this incident. Is there any way we can avoid that?’ she chanced. ‘Can you delay things until I sort myself out?’
Tina studied her face.
‘Are you running away from somebody?’
‘Something like that,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I’ve got myself into a scrape and I’m figuring out how to get out of it. I’d rather not get the authorities involved just yet. My husband is in danger too.’
‘Jeez, Charlotte, why does it feel like the female James Bond just washed up on my wind turbine? I thought something was up when you didn’t have a wetsuit on. Nobody rides a jet-ski at sea without a wetsuit. At least you had flares with you to alert us.’
‘The jet-ski wasn’t even mine. I stole it.’
Tina looked at Charlotte again, a twinkle of admiration in her eyes.
‘I hope I’m still stirring up shit like you when I’m your age. No offence meant. I’m late thirties, but you must be... what, late forties?’
‘You’ve just improved an unbelievably bad day.’ Charlotte laughed. ‘I’m early fifties. It must be the bedraggled hair that makes it difficult to tell.’
Charlotte was relieved to see Tina seemed to be in charge; Bill might not be so accommodating. However, when he knocked at the door and announced they’d managed to haul the jet-ski out of the water, she felt a gush of gratitude towards him. At least taking the vehicle out of circulation for a few days would let Jed have his peace and quiet.
‘Here’s what I can do for you,’ Tina said after a while. ‘I’ll need to report this in our logs, but I can hold it back a day or two if that helps. I can see this wasn’t an attempt at vandalism or a protest, and we didn’t need to call out the rescue services, so I can probably make this go away for you—’
‘I’d be so grateful if you could,’ Charlotte said. ‘Just for a day or two; I’ll have this sorted out soon.’
It was easy to promise. It would be much harder to deliver. But Charlotte did have half a plan, at least. And it involved Toni Lawson, the police press officer.
‘I know it probably doesn’t feel this way, but it’s your lucky day. We’re heading for Barrow Docks right now, but Dae-Ho lives in Galgate; I’m sure I can sweet-talk him into giving you a lift back to your neck of the woods. How does that sound?’
‘Perfect, thank you,’ Charlotte replied.
‘Can I encourage you to get yourself checked out by a doctor or go to A&E?’ Tina suggested. Her tone implied she wasn’t hopeful about that happening any time soon.
‘I feel much better now, honestly, I do.’ Charlotte did her best to sound reassuring. ‘I’m so grateful for what you’ve done; I can’t tell you how much it’s appreciated. But I must get home as soon as possible.’
‘I thought you might say that.’ Tina said. ‘But at least I can say I tried. Do you want me to tell your husband... partner, or family that you’re safe?’
Charlotte shook her head.
‘No need to do that. I intend telling my husband in person.’
Chapter Two
Charlotte had never been more grateful for a lift than on the drive back from Barrow Docks to Morecambe. Dae-Ho made easy company and seemed to have been warned by Tina to refrain from asking too many questions. Instead he chatted to Charlotte about foreign travel, his love of science fiction and his penchant for sled racing with his Siberian Huskies. The obscure nature of their conversation would have sat well in a bizarre dream, but it provided a welcome distraction from what she’d just been through.
The only awkward moment had been when Bill and Dae-Ho were lifting the jet-ski onto the trailer Dae-Ho used for transporting his dogs to shows.
‘There are some nasty marks on your bodywork. What caused those holes? It looks like someone’s been shooting at you.’
Charlotte could only muster an awkward laugh, avoiding giving an answer. Dae-Ho looked at her as if waiting for a reply, but Tina kindly moved them on.
‘So, remember, I’ll have to write this up, but I’ll give you a day or two. It might slip through the net, but it might not. Either way, you got carried out by the tide, managed to use your last fuel to steer over to the platform at the bottom of the turbine and you’re very grateful for the heroic efforts of me and my team saving your life against terrific odds. Okay?’
‘You missed out the bit about how you single-handedly leapt from the boat to my rescue, ignoring the ferocious waves and risking your own life to save a fellow seafarer,’ Charlotte laughed.
‘And that bit too,’ Tina continued. ‘Stick to the story and it should all go away. Mind if I ask what was going on out there? Off the record, I mean.’
‘I doubt you’d believe me if I told you.’
‘Try me,’ Tina ventured.
‘My husband is being held hostage because I possess information which might cause a problem for some powerful people. One of them was chasing me and shooting at my jet-ski. I managed to out-run him because I got lucky and chose the vehicle with the most fuel.’
Tina looked at her, her face completely straight. Then she burst out laughing.
‘Okay, don’t tell me then. But that’s a pretty good tale. I like the way you brought in the bit about the gun after what Bill and Dae-Ho were saying.’
She was pleased she’d found an instant friend in Tina, who reminded her of George when she and Will had met him as teenagers at the holiday camp. He was a helper rather than a hinderer; even though he could have made life difficult for them, he chose not to. Tina was a blessing at the end of a challenging day.
As Dae-Ho explained the finer points of sled racing, Charlotte tuned out for a while, enjoying the views along the long road to the motorway as she took stock of her situation.
What had become clear to her from her conversation with Vinnie Mace was that she now had some leverage. Although her hand was weak, given that they were holding her husband hostage, she knew they needed the documents she’d hidden, and they desperately wanted to locate Kate Summers. She had to believe Vinnie had shot at her to disable the jet-ski rather than to kill her. A man who’d been so accomplished in the military wouldn’t miss his prey, even if the waves were a bit wild when he was trying to fire his weapon.
She felt in her pocket for her mobile phone, which she’d transferred to her overalls earlier. It was still there. Now she would see if it was as waterproof as the manufacturer claimed on the box. Charlotte couldn’t believe her luck; it was still switched on and the display lit up when she touched it. She’d be leaving a five-star review on the website, for sure.
What a mess she must look, she thought as she ran her hands through her hair, stiff and unforgiving from being drenched with sea water. She pulled down the vanity mirror and took a cautious look. It was as bad as she feared; a gaunt face stared back at her.
Dae-Ho had paused for a moment, concentrating on overtaking a tractor which had created a long tailback along the road. Charlotte took the opportunity to make some calls.
‘Excuse me while I check in with some p
eople.’
The first message was a text to Lucia. She couldn’t call in person yet, for fear of getting emotional. She had to stay strong and focused; finding Will was her priority.
Next she needed to contact Nigel. She’d left the car unlocked at Sunderland Point and Vinnie was bound to have searched it thoroughly, possibly damaging it in the process. It could also have been caught by the tide in the car park, though she had parked it as high as possible up the concrete ramp. She wouldn’t be able to retrieve it until the next day now. She decided to take a chance and tell a white lie.
‘Hi Nigel, I’m running late. Is it okay if I keep the car with me overnight?’
There was a pause while Nigel checked the booking system.
‘I’ve booked it out all day for you and me. I’ll take it when you get back; I have a couple of jobs tomorrow afternoon.’
She finished the call and decided to take a chance. This was too big for her to handle on her own. Telling Tina the truth had felt cathartic, almost confessional, even though she’d thought Charlotte was joking. Kate Summers had warned her off confiding in the officers at the police station. But she hadn’t told her not to speak to the press officer, Toni Lawson, who acted as a go-between for the press, the suits and the rank and file officers. She had access to everybody, yet she wasn’t one of the troops on the ground. The two women had got on well enough on the two occasions they’d met; it had to be worth a chance, reaching out and seeking her advice. Toni owed her one for passing her toilet tissue in her moment of need at Morecambe Town Hall.
She dialled but Toni’s voicemail was on, so all she could do was leave a message.
‘Hi Toni, it’s Charlotte. Charlotte Grayson. From the newspaper. Can we speak? Not on the phone, but in person. There’s a café by the Winter Gardens, it’s called Brucciani’s; how about there, just before closing time? It’s important. Police business, but something I must discuss with you first. Hope you can make it. Shall we aim for five o’clock? No need to call if you’re tied up, just text.’
It was all she could do for now, in her exhausted state. The thought of Will, held hostage and terrified, mortified her, but she could do nothing about it. Vinnie was no amateur Morecambe backstreet hoodlum; they’d keep Will safe until they got what they wanted, and so it was up to her to prevent them getting hold of the documents that she’d taken from Kate’s house.
Dae-Ho had managed to pass the tractor at last and was now in full flow about his love of science fiction. He was rattling through a list of authors, most of whom she’d never heard of. When Ray Bradbury’s name was mentioned, it was enough for her to grasp onto and sustain a superficial conversation until he pulled up at the rear of the Lakes View Guest House. She’d guided him along the back alleyway, firstly because they had to do something with the jet-ski and secondly because she wanted to go in via the back door, in case the building was being watched. In her current dishevelled state, even her family might not recognise her.
With Dae-Ho’s help, she managed to wrestle the jet-ski into a vacant parking place. She removed the key to render it useless should anybody try to steal it, then thanked Dae-Ho for his help.
Charlotte made her way through the back door into the hallway. She stopped dead when she saw who was sitting there. There was no doubt about the birthmark; it was Callie Irwin.
Chapter Three
‘Callie Irwin?’
‘No, Callie Whitehead. But people keep telling me I’m Callie Irwin. I take it you’re Charlotte Grayson?’
Isla stepped out of the kitchen, having heard the voices.
‘Oh good, you’re back, Charlotte. I see you’ve met Callie already. Is everything okay? We’ve been desperately worried about you. There’s been no sight of Will, or Lucia come to that. I hope you’re not in any trouble.’
There was no fooling Isla; she knew Charlotte well enough by now to sense when something serious was going on. They all had past form.
‘Things are a bit fraught at the moment, but I’m on top of it for now. Thanks for asking, Isla. And thank you so much for holding the fort. I promise we’ll be back to normal soon.’
Isla didn’t look convinced.
‘I’ll leave you and Callie to talk. If you need me or George, just ask, Charlotte. You only have to ask.’
‘I know, Isla, and I appreciate it. Thank you.’
Isla returned to the kitchen, leaving Charlotte thankful for the slight lull in bookings which allowed the staff to get on with it.
There was no mistaking Callie; the birthmark was still prominent on her face, and the police had already done the job of confirming the DNA. Charlotte took the chair opposite and tried to decide where to begin. Callie did her a favour and spoke first.
‘I’ve come to you because I saw your article in the newspaper. I did some online research on you after you phoned me in the hospital—’
‘Oh, so it was you who answered that day. I did wonder, as nobody spoke.’
‘I need someone I can trust, someone who isn’t official. My head’s exploding with all this. I just want some straight answers. My life has been turned upside down in the past week.’
‘You call yourself Callie Whitehead,’ Charlotte began. ‘Why, when we all know you as Callie Irwin?’
‘One month ago, I got an email out of the blue from someone I’ve never heard of before. They told me I was adopted and the people I’ve always regarded as Mum and Dad are not my birth parents. It came as such a shock.’
‘Oh my God,’ was all Charlotte could say. ‘What did you do?’
‘I took the train back from university and asked my mum and dad point blank. That night was horrendous. There were tears, denials and a lot of shouting.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Charlotte said, trying to race ahead and figure out what had happened. ‘It’s a lot to take in.’
‘You bet your life it is,’ Callie continued. ‘It ended with them admitting they adopted me at the age of four. They were desperate and found me through a private agency. It cost them every last penny they had. Until we had that conversation, I’d had a wonderful life with two incredible parents.’
‘What did the email say? Why did you come to Morecambe?’
She stopped, realising Callie was becoming emotional.
‘Can I get you a drink or something to eat?’ she asked.
‘A drink of water would be great, thank you.’
Charlotte went into the kitchen to fetch it.
‘Next time you’re serving chips, would you put some extras in a bowl for Callie, please?’
The way Isla glanced at her showed she knew something important was going on. Her mother had given her a similar look the first time she stayed out all night as a teenager. She’d tell Isla everything as soon as she could.
Callie took the water gratefully.
‘I heard from the police that you have diabetes. Are you okay? Do you need any medical attention?’
‘They issued my prescription in the hospital, so I’m fine for a while, thank you. I made the oldest mistake in the book for diabetics. That day on the seafront, I’d been walking around Morecambe all day, covering miles, and I was exhausted. I’d eaten the wrong food because I was so angry and confused, and I forgot to take my medication with me. You’d think I’d know better, the length of time I’ve had to get used to this condition.’
‘So, you’ve always known yourself as Callie Whitehead. What did the email tell you?’
‘It was anonymous, of course. I didn’t even know whether to believe it at first. But they sent another one, telling me my real name was Callie Irwin and my birth mother was still alive. Then a day later, I received a small package with a wedding ring inside, a newspaper cutting and a note. This belongs to your real mother, it said. It was post marked from Morecambe. I started doing some research, found the news reports online and after questioning Mum and Dad, I came up here to find out for myself.’
‘So how on earth do you know Hollie Wickes?’
‘You know Hollie?
How? I only just found out about her.’
Callie looked shocked, as if everybody else was ten steps ahead of her.
‘My husband knows her; he’s a teacher at the university. How did she come into your orbit?’
‘I got a third note at the hospital, telling me I should call her. I didn’t tell the police. Someone slipped it into my dressing gown pocket while I was in a diabetic coma. And there were those photos in the brown envelope of people I’d never seen before. The police kept those; I had no idea who the people were. The note just had Hollie’s name and a number. It said: You’re bound by blood. Call her and see. What the hell does that mean?’
‘Do you have any clues on who sent the emails?’
Callie shook her head.
‘It was some nondescript email address. Perhaps it was the mystery person who sneaked into my room to leave the note. The police are as clueless as I am. I thought you might be able to help.’
‘You know they’ve been looking for you since you left the hospital, don’t you?’
It suddenly occurred to Charlotte that she was speaking to a fugitive of sorts.
‘I’m not a criminal, I’m a victim here. Besides, the police can’t protect me. Someone just walked into my room in the ICU, for God’s sake. This is my life; it’s not something the police can toy with. I want to speak to Hollie myself and find out what’s going on. I’ll call the police and let them know I’m safe. They can still speak to me; I won’t screw up their investigation. But I have to figure out what’s going on here. If only Hollie would answer my damned messages.’
Charlotte wondered if her expression was giving her away.
‘I’m sorry, I have something to do with that. I have Hollie’s phone, or rather I had Hollie’s phone. It’s a long story, but it’s in the glove compartment of the company car, which is parked at Sunderland Point at the moment. I saw your calls and wondered what the hell was going on. Hollie had you recorded in her contacts as Callie? so I wonder if she received messages from this mystery person too.’
Bound By Blood Page 2