Sweet Peas in April

by Clare Revell

  Only this was leading Adam to find her. Had he got her message? Was he as clever as she hoped he was? Or had time away from her dulled that quick thinking brain of his and turned it to mush?

  Either way, Peter now had custody of her mobile, and he’d hidden the landline phone so she had no way of contacting anyone. He’d also locked all the doors and had the keys on his person somewhere.

  The doorbell rang.

  Peter put a finger to his lips and went to answer it. After a moment, he came back in. “Present for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Open it and see.”

  Sam opened the envelope, her hands trembling. Two passports fell out. She looked at them and then up at Peter. “Passports in the names of Mr. and Mrs. Brown?”

  Peter grinned. “So we can leave and start over. Your company is in trouble.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” she muttered.

  Peter nodded to the TV. “There is no way that Sam Reece or Sam West could leave the country. But you’re now SuAnne Brown, housewife, and I’m your husband William. And if you give the game away at customs and try to make a run for it, they’ll arrest you.”

  Sam shook her head. “They won’t.”

  Peter turned up the volume on the TV. “Yes, they will.”

  Sam turned her head. Her picture was on the screen.

  “Police are tonight searching for Samantha Reece, also known as Samantha West, in connection with the sudden closure and massive theft from Wyatt Finance Inc. Several accounts run by Ms. Reece have been drained of money over the past few months. Police have also arrested her lawyer and estranged husband, Adam West, in connection with the missing funds.”

  “What?” she whispered. Her stomach turned and bile rose in her throat. How was any of this possible? Adam had nothing to do with any of this.

  Peter moved over to her, a pair of scissors in his hand. “See, baby, I told you he was no good. But I’ll protect you. We’ll be safe in Switzerland.” He kissed the back of her neck. “So, let’s cut your hair and make you look like your photo.”

  “Peter, wait—”

  He ignored her. The scissors were cold on the back of her neck, the snip loud in her ear, as Peter cut off the first length.

  Tears burned her eyes. She hadn’t had her hair cut since Immy died. Didn’t Peter realize by cutting it, he was putting her right back in the hole she’d crawled into on that dark night. It had taken her so long to find the light again. “Please, don’t…”

  “I need to finish here. Make it nice and short. You could do those plait things.”

  “It isn’t easy to do them on yourself.”

  “Do your best.” He finished cutting and set a mirror in front of her. “Beautiful.”

  Tears ran down Sam’s face. Every single horrible thing she’d said to Adam that night and the succeeding nights flooded her mind. He hadn’t deserved any of them. It wasn’t his fault, and, she realized, wasn’t hers either. So many wasted years, when they should have been comforting each other.

  Peter rubbed her arm. “It’ll be OK, you’ll see.” He sat next to her, his foot rubbing against her leg. “I was thinking.”

  Sam began plaiting her hair, needing to keep occupied and her mind working. Perhaps she could get away from him at the airport or before. Maybe when he slept tonight. “About what?”

  “We could start up another business in Berne. I’ll be the CEO this time and you can stay at home with the kids.”

  “What kids?” She kept her eyes on her reflection.

  “Our kids, of course.” Peter kissed her cheek. “The girls will be as pretty as you. I’ll teach the boys rugby and cricket. I’ll be a great dad.”

  Images of Adam and Immy unfolded in her mind like a movie. Him singing to her, feeding her, sitting on a swing in the park with her on his lap. Carrying her on his shoulders on the beach, Immy’s first paddle in the sea. Adam was a great dad.

  She kept plaiting her hair. She was the one who’d ruined things. She’d failed him and Immy. And now she’d never see him again because he’d been arrested. His career was over because of her.

  Sam glanced at Peter. “Did Adam ever reply to my text?”

  “I haven’t looked. Your phone is off.” He pulled it out and turned it on. “What’s your passcode?”

  “Let me put it in.” She held out a hand.

  Peter frowned but handed over the phone.

  Sam typed in the code, but before she had time to look, Peter grabbed the phone back. She sighed and finished plaiting her hair.

  “There are two. First one reads, hope you will be happy with P. Have filled in divorce papers. Will file them in morning.”

  “I guess that won’t happen now,” she said. “He must have sent that before he was arrested. Or he got bail.”

  “Or he wasted his one call on you. Either way, he got the message.”

  Sam tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. Why did it hurt so much? It was what she’d asked for, nay, demanded. But it was the last thing she wanted. What was it her mother used to say? Be careful what you wish for… “What was his second text?”

  “Power to the people.”

  Her fingers froze. “I’m sorry?”

  “I don’t get it either,” Peter said. “Power to the people. What on earth does that mean?”

  Sam allowed herself a small smile and a slight hope filled her. “It means he got the message.”

  Peter ran his hand over her arm. “Then it’s just you and me now, baby.”

  “I guess it is.”

  Peter turned off the phone and slid it back in his pocket.

  Sam took a deep breath. Adam knew where she was. She prayed he’d tell whoever was interviewing him and they’d come and find her. Spending the rest of her life in prison was infinitely preferable to spending it with Peter.

  Given the choice, she’d rather spend it putting things right with Adam.

  But that wasn’t going to happen.

  Was it?

  ****

  Adam walked along the hill top overlooking the bay. The fog had gradually crept in since they’d arrived at Wolf Point. It dulled his footsteps, made reading house numbers hard. Everything was being swallowed up into the thick, dank, coldness of the mist. In the distance, the fog horn sounded from the lighthouse.

  He flashed his torch up a path towards a house.

  Footsteps trudged beside him. “Which house is it?” David asked.

  “It has roses on a trellis, or it did. It’s been eleven years, and we only came here the once.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  Tires crunched to a halt. Doors opened and shut. Adam marveled at how the ordinary sounds became muted and spooky simply because of the weather. Two uniformed officers loomed out of the mist.

  David stuck out a hand, illuminating his warrant card. “DS Painter. Her last phone signal put her in this area. Mr. West can’t remember—”

  “I just said it was over eleven years ago,” Adam said. “The cottage belongs to her aunt.”

  The taller of the two uniformed cops looked at him. “What’s her name, sir? It’s a small community here, everyone knows everyone else.”

  “Lydia Wells.” At least he remembered that.

  “Ten Hedgeway,” the cop said. “Last house on the right.”

  Adam set off at a run, trying to call Sam. The phone went straight to voicemail. The house was in darkness.

  “Maybe they’ve already left,” David said.

  “She’s here.” Adam headed to the path.

  David caught his arm. “Adam, wait. You can’t just waltz in there.”

  “Why not? He isn’t going to be armed, is he?”

  “You don’t know that. Let the uniformed officers handle this.”

  “Why?”

  “They might not be there. There is no car, and we don’t need a second hostage. If that’s what this turns out to be.”

  “Fine,” Adam muttered. “But I’m not happy about it.”

 
“That’s why I’m the cop and you’re the lawyer.” David looked at the uniformed cops and pulled out a photo. “This is the bloke we’re after. Ask if Ms. Wells is there. If she isn’t, then just leave. If she is, find out if anyone else is. If you can, get her out of the house.”

  Adam moved back out of the light of the street lamp, his gaze firmly fixed on the house. His gut told him Sam was in there and in trouble. He’d learnt to trust his gut feelings over the years. He’d only ever been wrong once. And that was when he’d left Sam. Please, God, let me have one last chance to put right all that went wrong between us.

  The uniformed officer headed up the path and knocked on the door. He knocked three times before the door opened.

  Adam took a step forward. “That’s him.”

  David caught his arm. “Let us do it.”

  Adam scowled as the door closed and the cops left. “Why didn’t they arrest him? He’s not stupid, he’s going to watch from the window and wait for them to leave.”

  The cops got into their car and drove around the corner.

  David rolled his eyes. “Just wait here a second.” He headed around to the car.

  Adam stood there, then using the thickening fog as cover, moved across the road towards the house. If he remembered rightly, there was a side alley where they’d parked. He nodded, seeing Peter’s car tucked away. He touched the bonnet. The engine was cold, so they hadn’t been anywhere recently. Peering through the passenger window, he saw Sam’s scarf on the floor.

  He pulled out his phone. “David, I found his car. Sam’s scarf is in it.”

  “Adam, where are you?”

  “Side alley.”

  “Get back here now.”

  Adam hung up and crept around the front of the house. He peered through the gap in the curtains. Peter stood on one side of the room, his arm around Sam. She moved away and he followed her, his voice rising.

  He had to act, if the others weren’t. He prayed as he moved swiftly to the door, and knocked. He had no idea what he was going to do or say, but he knew he had to do something.

  The door opened. Peter scowled as he saw Adam. “You!”

  Adam looked at him. “Where’s Sam? Sam! Are you—” He got no further before Peter grabbed hold of him and pulled him inside. The breath was knocked from him as Peter shoved him hard into the wall, kicking the front door shut. A knife pressed against his throat.

  “You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”

  His heart pounded in his ears. Adrenaline ran rampant through him. His brain could only think of one thing. Sam. This maniac was armed and Sam was in here. What happened to him was inconsequential. He needed to save Sam. “Where’s Sam?” He glanced towards the inner door. “Sam!” he yelled.

  The knife pressed harder and blood trickled down Adam’s throat.

  “Why aren’t you in jail?” Peter hissed.

  “I made bail.”

  “You disgust me. You lawyers all stick together.”

  “Something like that.” Adam tried to reach for the knife, but Peter pressed it harder against his throat. “Where’s Sam? If you’ve hurt her, then so help me I’ll—”

  “You’ll what, pretty boy? Seems to me I’m holding all the cards right now.” Peter turned him around, smacking his face into the wall. He yanked Adam’s hands behind his back and tied them tightly.

  Adam bit his tongue, wincing. He swallowed hard. Breathing was difficult.

  “Sam’s in here.” He held Adam’s arms tightly and pushed him in front of him, the knife back at his throat. Peter forced him to walk. “Hey, babe, we got visitors. Only this time, I’m not going to let him leave. This one I’m going to kill.”

  12

  Sam looked up at the figures in the door. She would have called back when she heard Adam shout her name, but after the cops left, Peter had tied her to a chair and put duct tape over her mouth. Her eyes widened at the sight of the knife and the blood. But at the same time her heart thrilled at the thought that, despite everything, Adam had come for her.

  Peter shoved him across the room. Unable to save himself, Adam tripped and fell into the table, catching his face on the corner.

  Peter smirked. He kicked Adam in the stomach, making him groan and curl up into a ball. “He managed to get bail. Funny that. But what I want to know is the answer to one simple question. How. Did. You. Know. She. Was. Here?” He punctuated each word with a kick to whatever part of Adam’s body he could reach.

  Adam lay there, gasping for breath, face creased in pain. “Is…it…a crime to visit her aunt?” he managed.

  Peter kicked him again.

  Adam cried out in pain, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.

  Sam tried to scream, but all she managed was a muffled cry.

  Peter glared at her. “Shut up.” He leaned down and jerked Adam roughly to his feet. He pushed him down onto the chair next to Sam.

  Adam’s fingers touched hers. She looked at him. His eyes glistened, his lips taut and his body stiff with pain.

  Peter waved the knife in Adam’s face. “I’m only going to ask once more. How did you know she was here?”

  Adam eased his jaw. “I thought maybe Lydia knew where Sam was.”

  Peter glanced at the window. Blue flashing lights shone through the curtains. “Great.”

  “Let her go,” Adam said.

  “She’s with me now.” Peter pulled the duct tape of Sam’s face. “Tell him, babe.”

  Pain ripped through her lips as the tape came loose. Why didn’t anyone ever react to that in the movies or in books? She edged her fingers towards Adam’s hands, feeling for the bonds. Good—rope, not plastic ties. Should be easy enough to untie. At least she prayed it would be. “It’s all planned,” she said quietly.

  “What’s planned?” He twisted his body slightly, angling it away from her to give her better access, but to hide her actions from Peter.

  “We’re leaving, me and Peter. We have a flight booked in the morning.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “That’s no concern of yours,” Peter snapped. “You’re going to be dead, and she’s mine. I win.”

  “When do we leave?” Sam asked, trying to stall him while she worked on the knots.

  “Soon.” Peter peered through the curtains. “The weather is in our favor. The fog is pretty thick now. It’ll be perfect cover for us to leave. We’ll go out the back, get in the car, and take the coast road. They won’t be expecting that.”

  Sam freed one of the knots. “It’ll mean Adam taking the fall…”

  “It’s fine,” he managed, hissing in pain. He stiffened as her fingernail caught his wrist.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. It won’t change how I feel.”

  Sam caught her breath. Was she reading too much into what he was saying? Was it the pain talking? “It won’t?”

  Peter turned around, waving the knife in Adam’s face. “He won’t be taking the fall, because I’m going to kill him.”

  Adam kept his gaze on Sam’s face. “I have always felt the same way about you. Nothing will change that. I was wrong about a lot of things--”

  “Oh, please,” Peter muttered.

  Adam’s phone rang. “You’d better get that,” he said. “I’m a little tied up right now.”

  Peter swung at him with the knife.

  Adam jerked his head to one side, but not fast enough, and the knife sliced into his cheek. “Just answer the phone. It’ll be the cops for you.”

  “And if I don’t?” Peter shoved the knife against his throat.

  Adam didn’t flinch. “They’ll come in with guns blazing. By now the ARU will be out there.”

  Sam worked the last knot free. She held her breath, praying hard that this would be resolved without Adam getting hurt any more.

  “They won’t do that while I have hostages.” Peter pulled Sam to her feet, and put the knife to her throat.

  Sam gasped, the cold metal digging in to her skin. Her heart p
ounded and fear paralyzed her.

  Adam’s gaze fixed on hers. “Don’t move,” he told her.

  Peter reached out and took the phone from Adam’s pocket. He hit speaker. “Hello.”

  “This is DS Painter. Is everyone all right in there?”

  “Never better.”

  “That’s Peter I’m speaking to, isn’t it? Peter, I need to hear Sam and Adam speak themselves, so I know that they’re all right. Will you let them do that?”

  “We’re fine, Sergeant,” Adam managed. Pain still came across in his voice.

  “Me too,” Sam said.

  David didn’t miss a beat. “Tell me what you want and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Adam pushed to his feet. “Put the knife down, Peter.”

  Sam bit her lip as the blade cut into her. Pain and fear twisted within her. Was she going to die here? Before she’d had chance to put things right?

  “Keep away or I’ll kill her,” Peter snarled.

  “What’s going on?” David asked over the phone.

  Adam pulled his hands from behind his back and reached for the knife. The suddenness of his movement took Peter unawares. Adam grabbed Peter’s knife hand and twisted it away from Sam. “Sam, run.”

  Sam backed away, mesmerized by the figures in front of her.

  Peter twisted free and advanced on Adam, waving the knife. “I should have killed you when you got here.”

  Adam kicked out, catching Peter in the stomach. As Peter doubled over, Adam grabbed Peter’s wrist, forcing the knife free. As the knife fell to the floor, Adam kicked him again.

  Peter straightened, the punches flying.

  Sam stood there, unable to flee. She could hear banging on the door, voices on the phone, but she couldn’t move.

  Adam staggered backwards, blood trickling from his nose. He caught hold of a statue as he fell and, lunging forwards, hit Peter over the head with it.

  Peter dropped to the floor like a stone.

  Adam wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stepped over him to Sam. “It’s OK.”

  She collapsed in his arms and he held her tightly. Tears streamed down her face. He was hurt, really badly hurt, but all he was concerned about was her.