‘It’s not George I want, it’s you. It’s always been you. Why did you have to go and ruin it all? We had a good thing going, didn’t we?’
He sounded drunk, and pathetic, and she wanted to tell him to get out and never come back. She also wanted to scream at him and hurt him for what he’d done to George, but she knew she was in danger. There was only one way she would get out of this alive, and that would be if she could keep him calm and reasonable. He wasn’t a big man, but he was certainly strong enough to hurt her. Unshaven and dishevelled, the darkness under his eyes told her that he hadn’t been sleeping. It also made him look terrifying, and it chilled her to the core.
‘We did have a good thing going Mark. Maybe we could again.’ She was lying but desperately wanted him to stay calm. ‘But you need to understand that George is the most important person to me and always will be.’
He pushed his chin up into the air and stretched his neck, causing a bone inside to crack. He was clearly trying to decide what to do; he’d arrived full of anger but her reaction seemed to puzzle him. He started to pace the length of the modest kitchen like a wild animal kept in an undersized compound.
‘That fucking child,’ he muttered, and Chelsie knew he was struggling with his emotions. She started to have doubts that she was playing him the right way, but she knew there was no right way to play him, just different ways, and his unpredictability had always scared her.
‘Why don’t I make us a cup of tea and we can talk about this?’ She didn’t know what else to say.
‘I don’t want a cup of tea. Why haven’t you been returning my texts? Why didn’t you answer the door when I came round last time? I knew you were in, I could see the curtains moving.’ He wasn’t looking at her as he spoke. His head was down and he looked only at the floor. Still pacing, Chelsie flinched a little every time he came towards her.
‘I was scared. You were shouting and swearing. Even the neighbours were scared. You’re lucky they didn’t call the police Mark.’
He breathed deeply.
‘Those fucking nosey wankers. I’ll kill that bitch next door if I see her again.’
Chelsie tried to stay calm. She reached into her dressing gown pocket but she remembered her phone was on the settee in the next room.
It was then that he started smashing things. He swept a tray onto the floor that she had used last night when she’d had a cup of coffee in the lounge. The tray clattered across the floor and the mug smashed into several large pieces. Next went a line of wine glasses from a shelf on the wall, leaving broken glass scattered across the floor.
‘Stop it, please!’ cried Chelsie. ‘What do you want?’
He grabbed a chopping knife from a wooden block on the kitchen worktop and held it out in front of him. Her blood ran cold as she realised her tactic had failed.
‘Mark, please. Think about George!’ As soon as the words were out she knew they were wrong. His eyes narrowed and he started towards her.
Chelsie screamed and ran down the hallway to the front door, fumbling with the lock. Before she could open it he slammed into the back of her, crushing her against the solid structure. Blood spurted from her nose and she cried out in pain, sure that she had felt the bone crack. He pulled her back and threw her to the floor, then sat on top of her. Holding her arms out wide, he leaned over so that his face was uncomfortably close to hers.
‘I loved you,’ he shouted, so ferociously that his spittle showered her face.
She was visibly shaking as she looked into his eyes, regretting that she had ever let him into their lives. She knew this was her last chance to get out of the situation unharmed.
‘I know you did,’ she whispered back. ‘I loved you too. I still do.’
He pulled her wrists together onto her chest and held on to both her hands and the knife. He let out a sob and she felt him relax his grip just a little. Using the additional strength she acquired from the adrenaline pumping round her body, she heaved her arms apart and broke his grip. The knife flicked out of his grasp and landed on the carpet next to her head. Without thinking she took hold of it and thrust it deep into his upper body, just under his left armpit, all her anger and frustration surfacing in an instant. George flashed through her mind and gave her the strength to pull the knife out and ram it in again. He shouted in agony as he wriggled on top of her. Fresh red blood dribbled from the side of his mouth and a look of shock appeared in his eyes. But he was still strong. He gripped her hand and managed to pry the knife from her fingers. She covered her face with her arms and braced herself.
‘I loved you,’ he repeated, choking on blood as he spoke.
Then he sank the knife into her chest before collapsing on top of her.
57
Chloe sat there staring at Drake. The lines on his face drew a picture of absolute concern. Whether that was for her or for his precious law firm she didn’t know, but it was certainly genuine. She hadn’t really got to know him very well in the couple of weeks she’d been there. If she was honest, she could have made more of an effort, but he was always so busy and distant. They’d found some brief connection when she discovered he had a daughter her age, but there was never any time for chat, or niceties; it was all business, and then only important business. He seemed like a decent bloke, but she couldn’t put her hand on her heart and say she knew that for sure.
‘Chloe, are you okay? Did you hear what I just said?’ He ran his fingers through his hair, stood up and walked over to the window. ‘It’s not your fault, you know that don’t you?’
Chloe looked at the framed picture of Drake and his wife that sat on the desk. They were dressed for skiing, stood on the top of a snow-capped mountain and smiling widely into the camera. It was a picture of normality which seemed a million miles away from where she was now. Drake’s relaxed face grinning out at her from the photograph bore stark contrast to the anxiety he was displaying now.
‘What…’ Her voice was trembling and she cleared her throat. ‘What happened?’
‘They don’t really know. There were signs of a struggle in the kitchen, and they were both found in the hallway. He was declared dead at the scene, and she’s now in an induced coma at the hospital, lucky to be alive by all accounts. Very serious internal injuries, apparently. Fortunately a neighbour heard screams and called the police. They broke the front door down and found them both lying just inside.’ He walked back to the desk and sat down again.
‘I only saw her a couple of days ago. We went to a meeting in town together. She seemed really optimistic about things.’ She took a sip of the tea in front of her. ‘Oh God, what about George? That poor little boy. What will he do if she dies?’ She was crying now. How much had she cried in the last few days? Drake passed her a tissue.
‘Well let’s hope for all our sakes that she doesn’t…’
‘For all our sakes? You mean for your own bloody sake. For the sake of this bloody firm…’ She had so many emotions surfacing at once she just couldn’t control them all.
‘The firm that pays your wages young lady, don’t forget that. And yes, we really could do without the publicity that comes with this kind of thing. But it’s happened now, and we’ll deal with it. As I say, it’s not your fault, but it would be better for everyone, obviously, if she pulls through.’ He was assertive but not angry, aware that the girl sat before him was battling with her conscience.
‘I feel so guilty. I should have applied for a non-molestation order to restrain him before it went too far. I knew he was violent, I knew that he’d already hurt George and I knew he’d been harassing her. What more did I bloody well need, a sodding dead body?’
‘Chloe, go home. I’ll pass the file on to Ray…’
‘No!’ she barked. ‘Not Ray. I mean, don’t pass it on. I want to deal with it. I need to make sure that George’s interests are protected. I know more about this case than anyone else.’
Drake stood up again and paced across the room again, thinking. He seemed genuinely unsure as
to the best thing to do.
‘Okay,’ he agreed at last. ‘You keep the file, but I still want you to go home now. Come back tomorrow and we’ll have a chat about it in the morning.’
She stood up and walked to the door, still dabbing her eyes with the tissue.
‘And Chloe?’
She turned to look at him.
‘It really wasn’t your fault.’
She nodded, giving him the best half-smile she could muster, and then left the room.
Maybe not, but I’ll make damned sure that George is well looked after now.
58
Chloe turned the key in the front door and pushed it open. She was home early for the second day in succession and she knew her father was going to have a lot of questions. She loved living with him, but just very now and again she longed for the privacy and independence that would come with having her own place.
‘I know I know, please don’t go on dad,’ she begged as he looked up from his chair in the lounge. ‘I’ve had another shit day and I just need some space. I’ve got another cracking headache. I’ll be going back in tomorrow and things will settle down soon, I promise.’
She continued on to the kitchen before he had chance to reply. She knew his injured leg would prevent him following her immediately and she felt guilty that she was using it in that way. There was a pot of tea on the side and she poured herself a mug full. As she sipped at it she took in the view from the kitchen window. Her eyes wandered off into the distant fields and she wished for a moment that she could do the same. Grateful that her father had allowed her a few minutes to herself, she returned to the lounge and sat down opposite him.
‘Dad, I’m sorry. I just don’t want to have to explain everything to you. It’s just work and it will improve.’
‘Okay love, as long as you’re sure. Here, do you want a biscuit with that?’ He offered her a packet of custard creams and she took one.
‘Thanks.’ She smiled. ‘Dad, I’ve been thinking about what you were saying the other day. About me not having to stay at this firm. I know I’ve only been there a couple of weeks but I really don’t think it’s going to work out in the long run. I’ve had a particularly awful start, and things will get better, but I reckon it’s always going to be very different to where I was before.’
Her father smiled. ‘I think that’s the right choice, love.’
‘I can’t hand my notice in yet. I’ll have to stick it out for a few months, but I’m going to start looking around and getting some ideas about what I want to do next. I think I still want to do family law, but a smaller firm would suit me better. It’s just a little bit too business-like for me there, a bit cold, if you know what I mean?’
‘If you’re really unhappy there, why not just tell them to stick it now? What are they gonna do if you don’t go back, come and find you?’ It occurred to her that she didn’t know the answer to that question. Would they just let her leave? What about Crawford and Peters, what would they do if she left the firm? She felt guilty for the second time as she thought about all the things that she hadn’t told her father, not least the cash that was sitting in her account. It was the main reason she hadn’t been to the police, but she also knew that was exactly why it had been deposited in the first place.
‘That is tempting dad, but I think it’s easier to get a job if I already have a job and anyway, I might need a reference from them, so I don’t want to burn too many bridges.’
‘Well keep thinking about it. You know we can manage on my pension if you do decide that you’ve had enough. Anyway, what are you going to do now? Get some rest?’
‘No, I’m feeling okay actually; my headache’s gone off a little. I think I’ll pop down to the hospital and see one of my clients who’s had a bit of an accident. I’ll take the car if that’s okay, so I won’t be long.’
‘Be my guest.’
Chloe had no idea whether she’d be allowed to see Chelsie or not, but she thought she’d take a chance. She grabbed the car keys and headed off back into the city.
59
The Timer stopped and looked up at the front of the club. He’d been here many times before but this felt like a watershed moment. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going to happen inside, or even what he wanted to happen. The best case scenario would probably be an apology from Drabble and an explanation that the whole thing had been some kind of terrible mistake. But did Drabble ever apologise, had he ever bothered to explain anything to anybody? The Timer knew the answer to that question, and he briefly touched the outline of his hunting knife inside his jacket for reassurance.
He paced up to the main door of the club and pushed it open. As he walked inside, Mickey looked up from the bar, his usual grin replaced by a puzzled frown.
‘You’re a wanted man, you know. Drabble’s fucking livid. I’d do one if I were you before he sees you.’
‘Hi Mickey. Yeah, thanks for the warning, but I need to ask Mr Drabble a few questions. Is he in?’
‘Yeah, he’s in the office. Are you sure you know what you’re doing mate?’ Mickey’s face showed real concern for his friend. Most people treated him like dirt but the Timer had always shown him respect, always stopped to chat, had the odd game of snooker. He appreciated that, and it meant far more than the few hundred quid that Drabble threw his way from time to time.
‘I’ll be fine, Mickey. It’s just a chat I want. Just a few answers, that’s all. I’m not looking for trouble.’
He approached the sturdy wooden door behind the bar and banged his fist once in the centre, entering before anyone could reply. Drabble was sat behind his desk, and Jez was hovering in the corner. Whatever they had been discussing, the conversation ended abruptly. Drabble gawped as if he’d seen a ghost.
‘Well, well, well. What the fucking hell do we have here then? I have to say, Mr T, you’ve got some balls, turning up here like this. Where’s my fucking package?’ He stared in such a way that his eyes seemed to grow too large for his face.
‘Yeah T,’ added Jez, ‘what the fuck is going on?’
The Timer grinned and held his hands out in front of him, trying hard to stay composed, but also determined to keep everyone else calm.
‘Gentlemen, please. I’ve come to ask you exactly the same question. You sent me out to retrieve some drugs, like I’ve done many times for you before, and what do I find in the truck? Not drugs, but a child. A fucking child! What the hell do you want with a child? I never had you lot down as paedophiles.’
Drabble stood up. ‘We’re not. I’d castrate the fucking lot of ‘em and you know it. This isn’t about that, it’s some kind of adoption racket. I don’t know the details; we were just passing the kid on to the Kirklands. They’re the ones who are organising this whole thing.’
The Timer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘Adoption? You mean rich wankers buying kids for their own satisfaction? How the fuck is that ever gonna work? This girl I picked up must have been at least five, maybe even six years old. How do they expect to stop her telling someone? There’s no way this thing can work.’
Drabble looked surprised. ‘Six? She was meant to be younger - two or three. Those bloody idiots, all they had to do was pick up a young Dutch girl and…’
‘Dutch? This girl was definitely not Dutch. As English as they come in fact. Looks like your boys messed up big style.’ The Timer started to realise that Drabble and his gang were not as organised nor as professional as he’d thought. They were clearly out of their league with this latest arrangement, and the Kirklands would ride roughshod over the lot of them when the truth came out.
Drabble tried harder to hide his surprise this time, but the anger was clear to see. ‘I’ll deal with those two later. How the hell did they manage to go all the way to Amsterdam and come back with an English child? For fuck’s sake, how did that happen?’
He looked at Jez but wasn’t expecting an answer. Pacing up and down now, the lines on his face told the story of a very agitated man.
&nbs
p; ‘Fuck it, there’s nothing we can do about all that now. I don’t really care as long as we get paid. Now listen to me, the Kirklands are coming back in a few days, so we need to get the child here before then. Where is she now?’
And there it was; the question that was destined to be the turning point of the meeting. The Timer looked down at his feet to avoid Drabble’s stare and to buy himself some time, and only then realised that he was stood on a sheet of plastic. They must have laid this out on the off-chance that he’d come round. He’d seen them use it before. Levelling his eyes back to Drabble’s face, the sneer he saw confirmed to him what was about to happen.
60
Chloe pulled up outside the Northern General Hospital in the north of Sheffield. A sprawling complex of traditional brick-built buildings and modern glass structures, it was a huge, maze-like place to navigate. Having parked her car, Chloe headed into the first building she came across and enquired at the reception desk about Chelsie. After a quick search on the computer she was directed to the appropriate building.
On arrival at the correct department Chloe headed to the ward. As she walked the long white corridor a shiver travelled up her back. It might have been the cold, but she had always had a dislike of these places. She was just seven when her mother first became ill and then received her devastating diagnosis. They quickly learned that the cancer had spread and that her mother would be unlikely to live beyond a year or so. And time proved them right. Chloe said her last goodnight to her mother when she was eight years old, and her father brought her the news the next day that she was gone.
There had been many trips to the hospital; this hospital at first, and then to the specialist cancer hospital in Sheffield. They were lucky to have such expertise on their doorstep, and it made the hospital visits easier, but still fruitless in the end. And those visits had scarred her, instilled into her a dislike of hospitals. Of course she knew they did good things, and the people who worked inside them deserved all the plaudits they received. But for Chloe, a hospital would only ever mean one thing. Death.
For the Sake of the Children: The first Chloe Webster thriller (Chloe Webster Thrillers Book 1) Page 13