Tell Me A Lie (The Dan Forrester series)

by CJ Carver

  Lucy felt a fleeting satisfaction that she had followed the killer’s footprints through the snow. ‘Where you were waiting to pick him up on the lane.’

  A gleam of triumph entered Finch’s eyes. ‘We got away with it. We ran rings around you.’

  ‘How does it sit with you, being a child killer?’ Lucy asked. ‘You murdered Lewis Stanton’s little boys. One was two years old, the other barely six months.’ How could you? she wanted to scream, but kept quiet.

  Finch pulled her lips back, baring her teeth in an empty and chilling smile. ‘We faced up to it. Other families wouldn’t. They were in denial. They decided to ignore the past, sweep it away as though it didn’t exist. The Australians simply said it was all lies and told their kids that their grandfather died of cancer. We couldn’t do that: lie to ourselves, the family. Robin and I are riddled with guilt even though we weren’t there. We’re ashamed too, for what our grandfather did. But we’re alive. Why? The only reason we exist is to put things right.’

  Lucy stared. ‘You can’t play God.’

  ‘Robin and me, we sterilised ourselves.’

  An icy shudder gripped Lucy’s stomach.

  ‘Aleksandr,’ Lucy said. ‘You needn’t have killed him. He’d had a vasectomy.’

  Finch sent her a withering look. ‘They can be reversed.’

  ‘What about your father?’ Lucy tried to think what role Timur, Irene’s brother, had in this. ‘Surely he –’

  ‘It was Dad’s idea, ages ago. He nearly didn’t have us, you know, but our mum . . . she really wanted kids and he . . . well, he caved in. But he made us aware right from the start who we were, and where we came from. And how it was our responsibility to cut the line. Stop it from ever happening again.’

  Finch’s gaze turned distant. ‘There are just two descendants left who are able to breed.’

  Jenny Forrester and her daughter, Aimee.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  ‘I don’t know who it might be,’ Dan told Jenny. ‘Lucy didn’t say, and now she’s not answering her phone.’

  He had loaded a shotgun and propped it amongst the umbrellas in the stand near the front door. A box of cartridges went into the hall table drawer, some in his pockets. He’d primed two handguns that made Jenny’s eyes widen – she’d never seen them before – tucking one in his waistband, the other down the side of the armchair in the sitting room. Knives were to hand in the kitchen, pepper spray in the bedrooms, and he was now placing screwdrivers and hammers at strategic points around the house.

  ‘Lucy didn’t say when they might come,’ he added. ‘It could be today or tomorrow. I want to prep first, then I’ll ring her boss.’

  His nerves hummed like electricity through a wire. Whoever it was, he would be ready for them.

  ‘We’ve got to warn the cousins,’ Jenny told him. ‘We shouldn’t let them come. They’re in danger too.’ She glanced at a large pair of scissors he’d put casually next to a china vase filled with silk roses: another potential weapon.

  ‘What’s their number?’ Dan asked.

  Jenny went and fetched her phone, passed it across. He dialled. Waited almost a full minute. ‘They’re not answering.’ He tapped out a text asking the cousins to stay away, and to ring back when they got the message. He passed Jenny her phone. ‘Keep trying. If we don’t get hold of them before they arrive, I’ll go out and put them off.’

  Dan rang Lucy’s boss, DI Faris MacDonald.

  ‘What did she say, exactly?’ the DI asked.

  Dan repeated her message, word for word.

  ‘And she’s not answering her phone.’ MacDonald was brisk, but Dan could hear his concern for Lucy in his voice. ‘If you hear from her, call me immediately. In the meantime, I’d like you to stay where you are. I’ll ring the Gwent Police and get a car sent over until we know what’s going on.’

  Dan then called Ozzie.

  ‘What do you mean, it’s still going on?’

  Dan explained.

  ‘What can we do?’ Ozzie asked.

  ‘Nothing. The police are on their way. I thought you should be made aware.’

  ‘Keep me informed.’

  Dan went and found Jenny. Her face was pale but she wasn’t panicking. ‘I think we should talk to Aimee,’ she said. ‘Join me?’

  He followed her to the kitchen where Aimee was colouring in a fairy book on the kitchen table. He watched Jenny fetch the kettle and fill it, switch it on, creating a sense of normality. She said to Aimee, ‘Do you remember what we said about what happened to me? Those people who took me away?’

  Aimee looked up at her mother. ‘The man who shot Poppy?’

  They’d shared the bare bones of her experience with Aimee after they’d returned from Russia. They hadn’t wanted to frighten her, but they hadn’t wanted to lie either. When Aimee asked why anyone would do that, they said things like, There are people in this world who do bad things. This happens for many reasons. Some people are mentally ill. Others are just different from us, some full of so much hate that they become violent.

  ‘Yes,’ Jenny said. She sent him an enquiring look, to which he responded with a nod. ‘Well, they might come back. And if they do, we will be much, much better prepared. But if anything happens, I want you simply to do as Daddy and I say. Without question.’ She looked at her daughter. ‘OK?’

  Aimee’s eyes went to Dan, round with apprehension. ‘Will they shoot Poppy again?’

  ‘I hope not.’ Dan walked to her, bent down so he was at her eye level. ‘But we don’t want you worrying about Poppy. If Mummy and I tell you to run, you run into the village as fast as you can and get help. Go the secret way, round the back, to the Taylors’. See if they’re in, and if not, try next door. OK?’

  ‘OK,’ she whispered.

  He looked at her calmly, wanting to instil confidence, not panic. ‘And I know it may be scary, but if we tell you to hide in a cupboard, or the attic, you do that too, OK?’

  Aimee nodded solemnly but her eyes were frightened.

  ‘We’re pretty sure nothing’s going to happen,’ Dan said, ‘but we’re prepared, just in case. We’re all together and we’re going to take care of you.’

  He opened his arms a little and she stepped into his embrace. He lifted her up. ‘Love you munchkin.’ He pressed a kiss against her head before putting her down. He nodded at Jenny, who said, ‘Now, Aimee. I think you were right, after all. We need some chocolate brownies. Could you fetch the butter for me?’

  He left them in the kitchen. Toured the house. Checked and double-checked everything was secure.

  The time passed slowly.

  Four o’clock came and went. The police still hadn’t arrived but they were, apparently, on their way. Jenny tried to calm the dog, but Poppy knew something was up and insisted on tottering to the front door and lying there, growling softly.

  Dan checked the perimeter of the house again. He returned and double-checked that all the windows and doors were locked. With the Glock pressed against the base of his spine, he stood in the kitchen and watched his wife and daughter make a batch of brownies.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  The instant Dan Forrester said the words and she’s not answering her phone, Mac experienced an elevator-drop in the pit of his stomach.

  He’d continued the conversation quite calmly before hanging up and ringing the Gwent Police, but inside something was screaming, howling with a fear of loss so great he thought he might implode.

  He wanted to leap into his car and drive south, scour the hospital, track Lucy down, save her, but he knew he’d help her more if he stayed at the station where she knew where he was, and at the centre of comms on the case.

  In his mind’s eye he could see Lucy lying naked in bed, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders, her dark eyes on his, her beautiful body lit a rosy pink by the bedside lamp.

  She was all that he wanted. He could see that now.

  He was pacing the office like a demented creature when Detective Chi
ef Superintendent Beacroft walked in.

  ‘I heard your little constable might be in a spot of bother,’ he said.

  Mac stopped in his tracks. ‘I’m sorry?’

  The DCS held his gaze. ‘I think we need to have a chat, don’t you?’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  ‘You won’t get away with this,’ Lucy warned Robin.

  They’d driven for just over four hours, mostly on motorways or dual carriageways, and the cousins had swapped drivers a while back. While Finch drove, Robin rummaged through one of the boxes. He brought out a Beretta and, as Lucy watched, he racked the slide to chamber a round.

  She couldn’t help it. She started to tremble. Her muscles were aching from being restrained. Her head continued to thump from where Robin had hit her.

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Robin said. ‘Just because you know what we’ve done, doesn’t mean we can’t disappear. Who says we don’t have passports in different names? And why should we return to South Africa when there are so many other interesting places to live?’

  Lucy couldn’t believe they wouldn’t kill her. Right now, she was the only person who knew the truth and Robin looked at her, seeming to read her mind.

  ‘And no, we won’t kill you,’ he told her admonishingly. ‘We only want to eliminate those related. We don’t want anyone else’s blood on our hands. Just those who might be contaminated.’

  Lucy was genuinely puzzled. ‘If you let me live, you’ll spend the rest of your lives always looking over your shoulder. Do you really want that?’

  ‘It will be worth it.’ Robin was earnest. ‘We’ll be heroes. Just you wait and see.’

  ‘Robin,’ called Finch. ‘Shut her up, would you? We’re nearly there.’

  At that, Robin pulled out a roll of gaffer tape, tore off a strip and stuck it over Lucy’s mouth. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll take it off when it’s all over.’

  Like she believed him. Murdering bastard.

  The van slowed, then slowed some more. Finally, it stopped. The ignition was switched off. She heard Finch open her door and climb out of the van. Heard her footsteps come down the side to the rear of the van. Crunch-crunch. The rear doors opened. Finch stuck her head inside. Lucy caught a view of moorland and cold grey sky before Finch hopped inside. She pulled out a Glock from the same box Robin had withdrawn the Beretta from. Lucy watched her load then attach a silencer to the weapon.

  Lucy’s heart was pounding, her mouth as dry as sand. Through her fear, she felt a desperate hope that they really were going to let her live. She didn’t want to die yet. She wanted to make love with Mac again, swim with dolphins, watch the sun rise over the Pyramids, tell her mum she loved her.

  Would Mac join her swimming with dolphins? He was a strong swimmer, much stronger than her. She wished she could tell him what he meant to her. Faris MacDonald. Faris, Faris, Faris. He’d never know she died with his name on her lips.

  Heart knocking, feeling sick with dread, she watched Finch raise her gun and push the barrel into her forehead.

  ‘Hey!’ Robin knocked his sister’s arm aside. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘She’s right. We should kill her.’

  ‘No!’ Robin looked appalled. ‘We made a promise, remember? Only those with Kazimir’s genes. Nobody else, no matter who they are or how much trouble they give us.’

  ‘Look, it doesn’t matter, OK?’ For the first time, Finch looked tired. She pressed the barrel against Lucy’s forehead once more.

  Lucy lay there, feet and hands bound to the floor, heart pounding, terror bright white and scorched with fire.

  Faris, she thought. Mac. The man who makes my body and my soul sing. My last thought will be of you.

  ‘Of course it matters!’ Robin was incensed. ‘If we kill her, we’re no better than our grandfather! Don’t you get it? We have to let her go!’

  Robin’s gaze suddenly clicked up, past Lucy and through the cab of the van. ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘He’s seen us. He’s coming outside.’

  Finch’s arm lowered. She took a look. ‘I’ll go first. We’ll deal with her later.’

  Incredulous, Lucy watched them climb out of the van.

  Was one them going to come back and shoot her?

  Both doors slammed.

  To her disbelief, they walked away.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  ‘They’re here,’ Dan said.

  Jenny’s nerves instantly wound themselves into knots.

  ‘I’ll go out and warn them. Send them away.’ He looked at his watch. ‘The police should be here any minute.’

  She went to the kitchen window. She wanted to see what they looked like, these cousins of hers. She was surprised they were driving a panel van. She’d expected a sedan of some sort, something they’d hired from the airport. Perhaps they’d borrowed it?

  She watched Dan walk across the drive.

  She didn’t realise she was holding her breath and exhaled when a slim, dark woman slipped around the side of the van. With her small frame and neat, birdlike movements, her name suited her. Finch. Jenny turned her attention to Robin as he came into view. He had similar features, but his face was wider, more open. He was smiling at Dan, but the woman was deadpan.

  As Dan approached, the woman reached around behind her, pulled out a gun and levelled it at Dan.

  She fired.

  Dan staggered back as though he’d been pushed by an invisible hand. He dropped right, twisting, reaching for the pistol in his waistband, but he never made it. He crumpled into a heap.

  Jenny froze in shock.

  She watched Robin spin to his sister. His jaw was hanging open. Then the blood rushed to his face and he started to shout. Finch didn’t seem to take any notice. Pistol in both hands, she moved towards the house.

  Jenny turned round, grabbed Aimee, and said, ‘Run.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  Lucy heard the phut of the silencer, then Robin was shouting at his sister, asking her what the fuck she was doing, had she gone crazy, what was she DOING?! – and then everything went quiet.

  She yelled behind the tape but it was muffled, pathetic. The sound wouldn’t be heard outside the van, but she couldn’t stop yelling. What else could she do? She bucked against her bonds. Yanked and pulled against the plastic cuffs. Yanked and pulled again.

  She kicked and lashed and pushed her feet. Flung her body from side to side. She felt the van rocking, and hoped someone would see, maybe be alerted that something was wrong.

  She pushed her face against the van’s floor, trying to scrape the gaffer tape from her mouth, so she could yell properly but it was stuck firmly. She fought and screamed, chafing the skin at her wrists and ankles. The blood made the plastic cuffs slippery, but they were still too tight to escape.

  She kept fighting. She wouldn’t stop until she’d cut her wrists to the bone. Her friends were in danger. She wouldn’t give up.

  Never.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  Jenny watched Aimee race across the lawn and scoot round the stone wall, out of sight from the front of the house. She was doing what Dan said and taking the back route to their neighbours’. She’d be there in five minutes, maybe less. She was going like a rocket.

  Jenny picked up the phone and dialled 999. Her voice was trembling but she made herself clear. She needed armed police and an ambulance.

  She felt a terrifying sense of déjà vu.

  It was happening all over again.

  But this time she wasn’t going to be kidnapped.

  She was going to be killed.

  And if she didn’t stop them, they’d kill Aimee too.

  Jenny ran to the hall. Grabbed the shotgun. Flicked the safety catch to off. She didn’t know much about guns, but she was pretty certain she could aim this thing and pull the trigger. Could she kill her cousin?

  Damn right I could.

  With the shotgun in one hand she grabbed Poppy in the other and hauled the dog into the utility room. Even though Poppy was dreadful
ly weakened after various operations she would still defend Jenny, but there seemed no point in letting the dog get shot a second time. ‘Stay,’ she hissed and shut the door. Turned the key in the lock and dropped the key in her pocket.

  When she heard the front door opening, she slipped to the kitchen door and stood with her back against the wall, gun levelled at her waist, her finger resting on the trigger. The second one of the cousins walked into her line of sight, she’d take aim and fire.

  Silence.

  She couldn’t hear anything above the beating of her heart, her ragged breathing.

  Was anyone inside? Or were they standing still, listening?

  She stood with her back to the wall, unmoving, alert.

  No sound reached her. Nothing.

  Then came a man’s voice. He sounded furious.

  ‘What the fuck, Finch?’

  ‘Shut up!’ the woman hissed.

  ‘Why did you kill him?’ Robin demanded.

  Light footsteps on the hall floor. Jenny tensed. Finch was creeping into the house.

  ‘Dad told us not to kill anyone who wasn’t related, remember?’

  ‘Fucksake, he’s ex-Security Services,’ Finch whispered furiously. ‘I had to eliminate him.’

  Standing in readiness, sweating, her heart knocking, Jenny didn’t let Robin’s words sink in. She couldn’t afford to. She had to concentrate.

  She heard a soft metal click. A safety catch being released? A weapon being primed?

  ‘I smell baking,’ Robin murmured.

  ‘Shhh.’

  Those light footsteps again. They were coming her way.

  A moment later, Finch’s slim form came into the kitchen.

  Jenny stepped forward. Levelled the gun between the woman’s shoulder blades. Squeezed the trigger and at the same time something came at her fast and the gun barrel was knocked high.

  BLAM!

  Her shot went high. Pieces of ceiling plaster drifted down.

  Desperately she tried to wrestle the gun away from Robin, take another shot, but he was much stronger and in two swift moves he’d turned the shotgun against her. It was now levelled at her stomach. Instinctively, she put her hands over her belly.