by M. A. Hunter
The pieces of the puzzle are falling before my eyes like giant snowflakes, settling in place on the ground. Beauchamp’s surprise visit this morning to thank me for saving Daisy was exactly the ruse I suspected. He must have been trying to suss out whether I knew the others had broken through his firewalls. Even though I didn’t actually know at the time of his visit, I can’t have been sufficiently convincing. Daisy said there was no way he would know she’d got in, and maybe he doesn’t know it was her specifically, but clearly he knows something was taken.
Rick sits down beside me, his hands fidgeting as he stares at them and tries to make sense of this place we now find ourselves in. He isn’t the only one.
I think back to the first time we met. It was only a couple of months ago when he appeared on my doorstep to escort me to the police station in Portland; Jo-Jo Neville’s parents had reported her missing when really they’d faked the whole thing to cash in on media exposure. He’d seemed sweet, and fairly full of himself, but I don’t remember any kind of vibe that he wasn’t on the level. I’m usually such a good judge of character, and now I’m feeling nauseous.
‘You were the one who helped me track Cormack Fitzpatrick’s grave in Hayling Island,’ I say quietly. ‘But all this time you’ve been working for them. How could you?’
He is quiet for a moment. One, two, three, four seconds pass, and then finally he looks up at me, his eyes narrowing as he speaks.
‘It wasn’t like that… in the beginning… Our meeting was by chance. I meant it when I said I’m a big fan of your work, and I meant it when I told you I care for you. I do, Emma. I really do.’
‘Then why? How could you…?’ The words trail off as I hear doors being slammed outside, and clomping footsteps moving towards the door.
‘It isn’t what you think, Emma,’ he says, glancing nervously at the door. ‘I’m not one of them… Not like you’re thinking. I got into some trouble, and they found out, and then they told me I was to keep tabs on you, to update them on your activities. I didn’t know who they were at first, but then I started to realise, only, by then it was too late.’
There is a loud thump at the door, and I can see the concern in Rick’s eyes as he turns back to face me again. ‘It isn’t too late, Emma. Just tell me where the data is. You must have downloaded it to some kind of drive, right? That’s all they want. Tell me where it is and I can make all of this go away. Please?’
There’s a second thump, and his concern now has my pulse racing. I shake my head as vehemently as my anxiety will allow.
Rick shakes his head in silent resignation, before standing and moving back to the front door. With a deep breath, he unlocks it and steps to one side. The two men who enter can barely fit through the door without turning sideways and ducking slightly. The moment I lay eyes on them, I hear DI Oakley’s words in my head: the footage shows two heavyset individuals in designer suits pushing Mr Tomlinson about and threatening him.
The light in the hallway reflects off their shiny suits as they speak privately to Rick, who promptly closes and locks the door behind him.
This cannot be happening. I’ve always been so careful about who I welcome into my life since Anna disappeared.
And then another piece of the jigsaw slots into place.
‘You were the one who uploaded the tracking software to my phone and laptop,’ I say, but it isn’t a question.
He breaks away from the two men who remain lurking near the door, but thus far their threat is worse than their bite.
‘Yes, I did. Okay? You want honesty? Let’s do honesty.’ The words are tumbling so fast from his mouth, it’s as if he’s jacked up on something. ‘Ask me anything you like, and I’ll tell you the truth. Okay? I want you to trust me, Emma, but we don’t have much time. Let me convince you that I’m here in your best interests, and then maybe… maybe there might just be a way out of all this for us.’
He falls onto the couch beside me and dares to take my hands in his. I try to snatch them away, but he grips them firmer.
‘They know that a copy of Beauchamp’s files was downloaded. Okay? They don’t know how you or your sister did it, but they know you did it. So there’s no point bullshitting and claiming otherwise. The only question is what you did with the download. Is it here? Please don’t make us ransack the place looking for it.’
I look over to the goons by the door, but I can’t tell from here whether they’re carrying weapons. Even if they aren’t, I don’t doubt they could be just as effective with their hands as with a gun. There is no backdoor out of this flat, and they’re blocking my only exit. My only chance is to keep Rick or them talking, and hope that by some miracle someone comes by that I can call out to, or that they move away from the door for long enough that I can make a bolt for it. If I could just get out I’m sure I could outrun both of them. But maybe not Rick. I’ll need some means of incapacitating him if I’m to escape.
‘How could you work for an organisation like that?’ I ask Rick, softening my voice. If he’s looking for absolution, then maybe I can convince him it’s available here.
‘I told you, it isn’t like that. These people… they’re connected. It’s all connected. Don’t you see, Emma? I’m not working for them directly, but the people I owe money to, they’re making me help them indirectly… I’m not even sure how it all works. I only know what I’m told to do down a phone line. It’s only because I know the work you’ve been doing that I’ve even managed to connect the dots.’ He glances nervously back at the duo before meeting my gaze, his eyes imploring me to give him what he wants. ‘Please? Just tell me for both of our sakes.’
‘Is it drugs? Is that what you got caught up in?’
His eyes are watering. I’m sure I’m getting through to him, but he’s resisting. He lowers his face. ‘Mum’s care doesn’t come cheap… On my salary there isn’t a lot I can do to help them financially.’ He sighs, but his shoulders relax a fraction, like some great weight is finally being lifted. ‘So I did what I could to scrape together more by any means I could. But I ran up gambling debts, and then I had to borrow more from others to pay back what I owed to the first, and things just spiralled. They didn’t give me any choice, and I didn’t think I was doing anything that would jeopardise your investigation. It was like I was just giving them an advanced look at your next book.’ He snorts slightly, maybe seeing how lame an excuse he’s offering. But then his face snaps back up. ‘These people, Emma… they don’t react well to bad news. I don’t know who these two guys are, but I do know they’ve been sent here to get those files by any means necessary. Please just tell me where it is. I’m desperate.’
I lean in closer to him, even though I’m sure he must be able to hear my racing heart. ‘If you really do care for me, Rick, you won’t let them hurt me.’
He snatches his hands away, standing and turning his back to me. ‘I don’t have a choice, Emma. Why can’t you see that? You either give them what they want, or… or neither of us lives to tell the tale.’
I keep trying to think what Rachel would do in this situation. She’s the bravest and most forthright person I know, and she wouldn’t give up without a fight. But then, she’s also fairly pragmatic, and I can almost hear her telling me just to give them what they want. It’s not like the drive is here. It’s safe with Jack and Rawani. When they learn I don’t have it, there’s a chance – and I realise now just how slim a chance this is – that they’ll leave and go on their way.
I stand, figuring that if I’m moving about, there’s a chance the goons might follow, or at the very least, clear a path to the door.
‘All right,’ I say desperately, trying to keep the quiver from my voice, and channelling my inner Rachel. ‘Yes, we did download a copy of Beauchamp’s files. That’s what Anna and I were doing in his study when the alarm sounded. We managed to smuggle the drive out of there and gave it to the police.’
I pause and study their three faces, waiting to see any look of resignation or acceptance, but th
ey’re giving me nothing.
‘It’s over,’ I say firmly. ‘The police know that Beauchamp is involved, they have the evidence and all the names of everyone connected, and now it’s only a matter of time before the lot of you are arrested and locked up. So you can come here and threaten me, but you won’t find the drive, because it isn’t here. Ransack the whole sorry place: you won’t find it.’
The apparition of Rachel to my left is punching the air and cheering me on, but vanishes in an instant as the nearest of the thugs marches through her and I feel the pressure of his fat, warm fingers thrust against my throat. But he doesn’t stop once he’s made contact. Instead, he’s thrusting me backwards until I slam into the wall, sending the table lamp crashing to the floor. I claw at his hand, but it’s so big that my tiny fingers can barely grip it, let alone pull it off. His palm is crushing my larynx, and suddenly I can no longer breathe, and that’s when the real panic cuts in.
‘Rick…’ I manage to gag, but he isn’t even looking. His back is turned, maybe so that he doesn’t have to watch as I’m throttled.
The goon’s hand is so hot, and I can feel my life suddenly slipping through my fingers… and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. And then I realise that none of these men is wearing gloves, and that sends a shudder the length of my spine. They’re making no effort to cover their tracks, and the only people who do that are naïve first-timers or those who consider themselves above the law, and these aren’t the former.
‘R-Rick,’ I try again, but there is no breath left in my lungs, and I can see black spots as my vision starts to blur.
The grip around my neck loosens a fraction, and a tiny, fresh wave of air sneaks through, as the man is distracted by crashing on the other side of the room. I can just about make out Rick and the other goon fighting. My laptop crashes to the floor, and then the two of them roll into the coat stand, sending that against the front door.
Another gust of air seeps through as the grip loosens a little more as he weighs up whether to help his partner or finish the job.
I kick out with my right leg and stub my toes against his knee, but it has no effect other than to draw his attention back to me. A sickening grin spreads out across his fat face, and I have no doubt that he’s enjoying this power over me.
I kick out again, this time aiming more centrally, but he blocks the attempts with his knee, and I slip down as my standing leg slides on the floor. Suddenly, his fat hand is the only thing keeping me up, and that puts even more pressure against my throat.
The black spots grow larger, and despite wanting my fingernails to scratch at his hand, my arms drop uselessly to my sides, and I have to accept that this is the moment it will all end.
The front door crashes open, and this time the gorilla does let go of my throat, and I plummet to the ground, unable to feel any pain when my bottom breaks my landing. I focus on the door as I will my body to find the energy to kick-start my lungs, but I can no longer tell if what I’m seeing is real, or whether the vision of Freddie Mitchell is another apparition, come to escort me to the afterlife.
I cough, and breathing returns in stuttering waves as I suck in new air. I can’t yet move, but I silently champion Freddie as he squirts hot soup into the face of the gorilla who had, seconds earlier, been killing me. He squeals like a piglet as his hands shoot up to his eyes, and he flails around in the direction of Freddie, who simply steps to one side, before driving a heel into the goon’s lower back, sending him tumbling into the sofa, where he flips over the top and crashes down onto my antique coffee table, smashing it into a thousand splinters.
Freddie hurries over and helps me to my feet. ‘Come on, let’s get you out of here,’ he says.
But just as we’re standing, he’s suddenly yanked away from me, and I crash back to the ground, but this time I’m able to use my hands to take some of the pressure off my bottom. The second thug has pulled Freddie into a bear hug from behind, and it looks like he’s delivering the Heimlich manoeuver. He lifts Freddie’s legs into the air, and I desperately want to help him, but as I stumble to my feet, I see Rick lunge at the two of them and smash the fallen table lamp over the aggressor’s head, and suddenly Freddie is free.
‘You two go!’ Rick shouts over their moans and groans. ‘Get her to safety, and I’ll sort out these two.’
Freddie doesn’t need telling twice, slipping the soup canteen from his back to the floor, and then thrusting my arm over his shoulder, helping me back up and leading me to the door. Rick is now kneeling on the back of the goon he hit with the lamp, and is securing his wrists behind his back with two cable ties.
‘I’m sorry, Emma,’ I hear him calling out as we bustle through the splintered doorway. ‘I’ll do what I can to fix things.’
Chapter Forty-Four
Now
Dorchester, Dorset
It’s been twenty minutes since Freddie and I arrived at Dorchester police station, and my heart rate is yet to slow. It was my idea to get a taxi here, even though I knew they wouldn’t be open to the public this late at night. Having phoned 999 on the ride over to report Rick and the goons in my home, I told them I was making my way to the police station, and was assured we would be given refuge. What the telephone operator couldn’t have known is we’d have to wait in the reception area for someone to come and deal with us.
I should feel safe. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to come after me again behind the locked door of a police station, and yet, until I know who is and isn’t on their books, I may never feel safe again.
‘I used to hate places like this,’ Freddie says beside me. ‘Lots of bad memories.’
Poor Freddie. When I told the taxi driver to bring us here, I didn’t even consider how he might feel to be back in a police station where his cries for help were once overlooked. He smiles reassuringly when I look up, and pats my hand gently.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay Freddie for coming to my rescue like that. In the taxi, he explained that he’d been walking past my place on his way to the shelter, and only decided to call round when he saw the lights were on. He said he heard the commotion inside, and feared the worst, which is why he kicked in the front door. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t.
I haven’t cried yet, not because I’m trying not to, but because I think my entire body is still in shock about tonight’s revelation. I keep replaying my interactions with Rick over in my mind, trying to find the chinks in his façade that I missed. His excuse that he ran up gambling debts trying to support his mother rings true as I’ve met her and I’m aware she is suffering with MS, but it isn’t an acceptable excuse for what he has done. How many more victims have suffered at their hands as a result of his interference? How much quicker might we have found Anna and the truth had he not been helping them stay one step ahead? Rick claims he isn’t like them, but he has collaborated and in my book that means there’s blood on his hands too.
I’ve yet to hear whether the squad car sent to my flat rounded up any of the three of them, but I’d imagine Rick probably set the other two free the moment Freddie and I were out the door. I will never forgive him for putting my life at risk, and I have every intention of reporting him as soon as someone comes out to speak to us.
I’ve tried phoning Jack to warn him, but his phone is switched off. I’m hoping that means he is still in discussion with the Anti-Corruption team, but until he calls me back, I won’t know for sure. I’ve also phoned Rachel to warn her to be careful. She assures me that both she and Daniella are fine, but offered to drive back down here when I told her what had happened; I’ve told her they’ll have to go through Freddie if they want to get to me.
It’s funny how things have come full circle. Meeting and then interviewing Freddie was what sent me along this course, and I wouldn’t want anyone else at my side right now. I have no doubt Freddie will do anything to keep me safe, and as I link my arm through his, he rests his head on top of mine.
‘H
ow’re you holding up?’ he whispers.
‘I’ll be better when I know Jack and Jagtar are safe.’
‘If I’d known how much trouble you’d bring when we first met, I might have thought twice about speaking to you,’ he says, trying to lighten the mood. ‘And to think, you described yourself to me as just a nosy busybody with boring taste in books and music.’
I feign shocked hurt. ‘I never said I was boring.’
‘Oh, didn’t you? I must be misremembering. Seriously though, can I do anything to make you feel better?’
‘Your being here with me is comfort enough.’
A door buzzer sounds at the far side of the reception area and a petite woman in smart trousers and a dark blouse emerges through the door there. The close-cropped bleached locks and stern stare can only belong to one detective I know, and I grimace as she approaches.
‘Well, look what the cat dragged in,’ DI Zoe Cavendish crows as she takes a seat next to me. ‘What brings you to our station this evening, Emma?’
‘They called you?’ I say, feeling as though fate is having a cruel joke at my expense.
‘I am the on-duty senior detective this evening, and from what I’ve heard you called 999 to report a break-in and assault at your home. What have you been getting yourself mixed up in now?’
I feel Freddie tense, ready to leap to my defence, but I squeeze his arm. I lift my head and show her the bruising around my neck.
‘This is what one of them did,’ I say, and her animosity disappears in an instant, as she leans in for a closer look.
‘We’ll need to get that photographed. Have you been checked over medically? Are there any other wounds or injuries we need to be aware of?’
‘No, this is it. Did you send a patrol car to my flat?’