Tell Me No Secrets

by Lynda Stacey

  ‘What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you have a home to go to?’ Kate asked as she pushed past him. She’d watched Gloria that morning and, like an expert, pressed all the right buttons and watched as the coffee poured into the mug. ‘There, is that what you wanted?’ she said smugly.

  ‘Ben rang. He said we all had to wait here till he gets back,’ Patrick said quietly as he sipped at the coffee, and Kate noticed that he was looking everywhere in the room except at her.

  Something was wrong. There was something she wasn’t being told, but for now she chose to ignore it. ‘I’m so tired,’ she said, pulling a big fluffy cardigan from the back of Gloria’s chair. Wrapping it around her, she lay down on the leather settee. ‘Wake me up when he gets here,’ she whispered as she moved a cushion, rested her head on it and allowed her mind to drift into a deep and peaceful sleep.

  It was two hours later when Ben’s voice woke her.

  ‘Kate, Kate, wake up, we need to talk.’ He spoke calmly and stroked her cheek, waiting for her to wake. He then closed his eyes briefly, before continuing. ‘Rob, Luca and Isobel, they either got away, either that … or … or they are all missing at sea.’

  ‘Could they be dead?’ Kate whispered the words, barely able to say them out loud. ‘Is Rob dead?’ She’d hated Rob after what he’d done, but now, thinking that he might have died confused her. She had no idea how she should feel and curled her legs up before her on the settee, hugging them as closely as she could.

  ‘The truth is, I don’t know, but I doubt it,’ Ben said, his hand resting gently on her knee. ‘The drugs were missing and the authorities suspect that Rob took them with him.’

  ‘Do you think Rob killed the others?’ Kate already knew the answer before Ben spoke.

  Everyone sat in reception and stared at the walls, while Ben explained what had happened over the course of the night.

  ‘A decision was made to go out to the Red Lady. It’d been stationary for hours and intelligence decided to go out to it. When we got there, they’d all gone, even the captain of the Red Lady, Sharky. The underwater search teams have gone in. But it will all take time.’

  ‘Do you think they got spooked, you know, maybe they knew we were watching?’ Kate asked what everyone else was thinking, and they all looked toward Ben for an answer.

  Ben shook his head. ‘I don’t know, but whatever happened, they certainly had a plan. They could still be out there, and for that reason alone, tonight I think you should come home with me,’ he said directing his words at Kate. He then turned to Eric. ‘And you, young man. You need to go and stay with Eve. Don’t leave her side, not until they’re found, just in case.’

  Eric agreed and immediately picked up his coat. ‘Ring me if you hear anything.’ He held his mobile up and waved it around in the air, before walking out the door.

  ‘What do I do, boss?’ Patrick asked as he looked toward Ben for instruction.

  ‘Patrick. I need you to go over to Isobel’s. Take the small van. I need to know if any of them go back there.’

  ‘But if Rob isn’t dead, do you think he’d hang around?’ Kate suddenly said, worry spreading all over her face. ‘He’d be crazy to hang around, wouldn’t he?’

  Ben pulled her into a hug. ‘I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances. I need to keep you close for my own sanity. I can’t risk him coming after you. I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else that I love.’

  Ben kissed her on the forehead and Kate allowed him to hold her. It occurred to her that he’d used the word love. Did he mean her? Or was he talking in general, about everyone at the office?

  Kate followed Ben through his house and towards the stairs. Early morning sunlight was already making an attempt of creeping through the windows and had begun to light up the stairwell.

  ‘Kate, do … do you trust me?’ Ben softly asked her.

  ‘Of course,’ Kate replied, and all at once she realised it was the truth. She did trust Ben more than she’d ever trusted anyone in her whole life. After all, if it hadn’t been for him saving her, she’d already be dead.

  She turned into his arms as a light kiss was placed on her forehead. Taking her hand, he led her to his bedroom. The curtains were closed and the security lamp was already lit, and the room offered a soft welcoming glow.

  Ben padded over to the bed and pulled back the duvet. ‘I really don’t want to leave you alone tonight. Not after what he did to you before.’ He paused and looked at the clock. ‘Let me stay with you, I’d say tonight, but it’s actually morning.’ The words were more of a statement than a question and Kate nodded as she walked to the side of the bed.

  ‘Here,’ he said as he passed her the pyjamas she’d been wearing the night before.

  Kate grinned and went into the en suite to change.

  Ben had disappeared from the bedroom when she returned, giving her time to slip beneath the duvet. The bed was familiar, soft, warm and cosy and she lay anxiously waiting for his return.

  When he came into the bedroom just a few moments later he’d changed into jogging pants, a T-shirt and held a phone in his hand.

  ‘Sorry, just checked in with the authorities. Still nothing.’

  Kate patted the bed in invitation and Ben climbed in beside her. His strong arms pulled her toward him and wrapped themselves around her. Kate inhaled deeply. The musky aroma of his aftershave filled her nostrils and for the first time in weeks Kate felt surrounded by safety.

  ‘Ben?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Kiss me.’

  Her words were a whisper as she turned onto her back suddenly realising that she was exactly where she wanted to be.

  Ben’s lips lowered and brushed hers with a single, soft, gentle kiss.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Eric pulled up outside Eve’s. The bungalow should have been in darkness, but a soft light came from a room to the front of the house and Eric smiled, knowing that the room was Eve’s bedroom. He presumed that she’d either fallen asleep with the side light still on, or she was trying to finish reading The Secret Keeper, the book they’d started at the book club.

  Eric looked down at his mobile phone. Should he text first, or knock on the door? If Eve were asleep, a sudden knocking on the door could scare her. It would take her time to get into her chair, get to the door and open it. Again, he looked at the phone and began to text.

  Hey. Are you awake? Would you like a visitor?

  He pressed Send, leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes and waited.

  Where are you? Came the response just a few moments later and Eric smiled.

  I’m right outside. x

  He once again pressed Send and then thought about his response. What if Eve thought him to be stalking her? After all it was the middle of the night, and sitting outside someone’s house in the dark wasn’t exactly the normal thing to do, was it?

  He quickly began to type on his keypad.

  I’m not stalking you. Honest. Ben sent me. There’s been an incident, but don’t worry, Kate is fine. Could you open the door? I need to come in.

  A few moments later, Eric was in the kitchen, while Max ran, jumped and bounced around his unexpected visitor.

  ‘Oh, no, now I’ve got you all excited, Max, haven’t I?’ Eric said as he went to kiss Eve on the cheek, but she moved quickly. His lips caught hers and she responded hungrily. He broke off from the kiss. ‘Okay, I … I … I think I should … you know, I think I should take Max out for a quick walk, I’ve got him a bit giddy and he probably needs to … you know …’ He blushed, put Max on his lead and left through the back door.

  Eve leaned back in her chair and watched as Eric left the house. She sighed, knowing that once again he’d done the gentlemanly thing and confusion went through her mind.

  Had he left because he hadn’t wanted the intimacy, or because he had and hadn’t known what to do about it? Was it up to her to make the first move and was it too soon? She trembled at the thought. After all, they really hadn’t known ea
ch other that long.

  ‘Is time a factor when you love someone?’ Eve whispered to herself. ‘Would it really be different to make love now?’ She thought of all the men she’d been with in the past; she’d been a wild child and sex had been the one thing she’d loved without thinking of the consequences. Or had she?

  She wheeled herself back to the bedroom, threw back the quilt and inched onto the edge of her wheelchair.

  ‘What do I do?’ she said out loud. She looked at her bedside drawer and sighed. Opening the drawer, she began digging inside. ‘Come on, where are you?’ Eve finally laid her hand on the soft, pink nightie. It was satin, long and had the most delicate shoe string shoulder straps. She stroked the material and smiled. Taking a deep breath, she changed into the nightdress, rearranging the pillows, and pulled herself into a sitting position on the bed and waited.

  ‘Wow. Slow down, Max. Eve, are you there?’ She heard Max bounce through the back door, with Eric close behind.

  Once again, Eve stroked the material and took a deep breath. ‘Eric, come on in, I’m in here.’

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Roberto rummaged in the trees. He was looking for dry wood in the rain. Wood that he could burn. It was the best excuse he could think of, to keep him busy and away from Isobel.

  They’d only been at the hideout for two nights and two days, but already he was sick of hearing her constant moaning, her constant criticism and her constant lectures. True it wasn’t a palace, but it was practical and just what they needed while they waited for Giancarlo’s instructions. But the longer he waited for the call, the more nervous he got.

  Using the machete, he cut away the undergrowth, searching for what might lie beneath. He walked back to the hideout, checked for signs of disturbance or visitors and then entered with caution. He’d been out for an hour, but that would have been plenty of time for the authorities to have turned up, and he knew that they could easily be waiting inside.

  He entered the dismal, candlelit room. He was wet from the rain, but his arms were full of wood and he saw the look of hope in Isobel’s eyes.

  ‘Is it dry? Can we burn it?’ she questioned as he dropped the wood on the concrete floor.

  He shook his head. ‘Nah. It’s piss wet through, everything out there’s soaked. It’s a good job I did what I could to set the place up ready.’ He wandered out of one room and into the next.

  The crude concrete property was on the edge of the woods, close to the coast, an old shack, disused and abandoned since the 1960s. The rooms had long since lost their décor and rough plastered walls could be seen through the old torn woodchip wallpaper.

  Both he and Giancarlo had always known that one day they’d need a place to hide. The industry that they were in meant it was an occupational hazard and they’d always kept the place simply furnished, just in case it was needed quickly. It had an old piece of carpet on the floor, camp beds and shrink-wrapped bedding, but it was a far cry from the mansion that Isobel had been used to. It was cold, but dry, and the few possessions that Roberto had managed to bring had made it just about bearable for the short time they intended to be there, but a lack of electricity or heating made the days long and unpleasant, especially if the wood was wet and couldn’t be dried in time to burn.

  ‘Beans for tea,’ he announced as he picked up a tin from the pile of food and threw it to her. ‘You might be able to make enough of a fire to warm them up, just don’t use too much wood. Once the food’s cooked, bank the embers down a bit to stop the chimney from smoking.’

  ‘But, Roberto, it’s cold,’ Isobel pleaded and he watched as she sat on the edge of the hearth, close to the embers and held her hands out over them in an attempt to get warmer. Half of him wanted to relent, to allow her the wood and let her be warm. But then he thought of the authorities, of how they’d be searching for them and hoped that they’d now be looking for bodies, rather than survivors.

  Roberto shook his head. ‘Not a chance. God knows how long we’ll be holed up here. I don’t want the police spotting the smoke and we need the wood to last. We can’t leave, not until Giancarlo says so.’

  ‘Why here, Roberto, why the hell did he send us here? It’s freezing and you won’t even let us have a fire that’s big enough to keep us bloody warm.’

  Roberto watched as she poured the beans into an old metal pan. The pan was placed on the fire to warm and the last slice of bread was held over the fire on a toasting fork to brown.

  He glanced across at the supplies piled up in the corner of the makeshift kitchen. Beans, tomatoes, dried pasta and packets of ready to make bread. It had all seemed a good idea at the time but now, he wondered how long even he could live on these rations. But he’d done his best in the small amount of time he’d had. There was the food, stacked in one corner, while in the other corner were toilet rolls and a small pile of clothes, all suitable for men. He sighed. There was no wonder Isobel wasn’t happy. Not only had she been deprived from her warmth, shag pile carpets and luxuries, she’d also been deprived of all her clothes and now wore men’s jumpers and jeans that were all much too big for her.

  ‘Well, for what it’s worth, Giancarlo can’t get here soon enough,’ Isobel smirked.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You don’t think there was only ever you, Roberto, did you?’ Isobel liked to tease him, liked to see him squirm. ‘I like men, not boys, you were just a challenge, to annoy Giancarlo.’

  ‘What are you saying? You’re shagging my bloody uncle? Really? He’s old enough to be your father. Plus, do you know what he’d do to both of us if he found out?’ He kicked the wood pile. ‘You really don’t have any idea who you’re messing with, do you?’

  Isobel just smirked and poked the embers of the fire. ‘You really didn’t know, did you? Well, let me tell you, he really knows how to treat a woman. He’d have known what supplies to provide for me and, what’s more, he’s much better at it than you are, you know, the sex.’

  Roberto exploded. ‘You dirty little …’ His hand grabbed hers and he pushed it toward the hot embers of the fire.

  ‘No, you don’t.’ She lifted the toasting fork with her other hand and held it up to his face, poking him with the prongs. ‘One more millimetre, and I’ll shove this through your face. Now get off me!’ she screamed through gritted teeth as she waited for the pain, sure that Roberto would follow through with his threat and allow her to burn.

  ‘It’s no less than you deserve.’ He threw her away from him and stomped toward the back door. ‘Keep it locked,’ he yelled as it slammed shut behind him.

  ‘Don’t come back,’ she screamed, twisting around to make sure he’d gone. In poking him, she’d accidentally knocked the bread from the toasting fork. It now lay in the embers, ruined, dirty and burnt. Tears dropped down her face as she looked at the small packet of bread mix that stood on the shelf. It would take at least two hours to mix, knead and bake, that’s if she could get the fire hot enough to get a rise from the dough or manage to use the old bread oven that was attached.

  Turning off the beans she set to work. There was no corner shop to go to now. No baker, no butcher, and certainly no hairdresser; which reminded her, her long, lank blonde hair was still full of seawater. She disobediently threw more logs onto the fire and began to boil water in the biggest pan she had, knowing it would take some effort, but she needed to cook and more than that she needed a bath. Even if that did mean using more logs and making more chimney smoke than Rob approved of.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Roberto slammed back through the door, dropped more wood on the floor and glared at Isobel.

  ‘I needed a bath. Get over it.’ The old metal tub stood before the fire and Isobel moved the shallow tepid water round in an attempt to warm her body. Her arms automatically covered her breasts and she glared at Roberto through the corner of one eye. ‘Anyhow, get out. Can’t I get a little privacy around here?’

  ‘You want privacy, do you? Do you have any idea how m
uch privacy you’re going to get when they catch you and throw you in prison? Zero, you’ll get zero privacy.’ He picked up a bucket, dipped it in the bath water and threw it at the fire.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I told you not to build the fire. They’re looking for us; do you want to be caught?’

  ‘Is that where Luca is? Have they caught him?’ Isobel needed to know. Luca had barely been mentioned and she was aware of the tension Roberto showed every time she asked about him.

  ‘He left us out there. Why would you care what happened to him? You were right, he was a traitor. And it’s because of him that Giancarlo must have left the country.’ He stamped over to the door. ‘Now, get out of that bath.’

  ‘I hate it here. I hate you. It’s like camping in a concrete box. I need my luxuries. Even the bloody toilet seat is broken, it’s disgusting.’

  ‘Giancarlo calls the shots, you know that. You remember him, the wonderful Giancarlo, the man who is so good in bed, the man who gave you the best sex ever? Well, he told me to bring you here if things went wrong, and as soon as Luca disappeared on the dive, I knew that the force would be waiting and we had to get out of there.’ He paused, smirked and looked her up and down with disgust in his eyes. ‘You should thank him for his generosity, when and if you next see him. That’s if he didn’t leave us here to rot,’ he said provokingly. He stamped around the room. ‘Simon is looking for Luca, and once he’s taken care of, we’ll have no witnesses. At least we got rid of that damn fisherman. We had no choice.’

  ‘No choice? We did have a choice, Roberto. I didn’t want to get involved with murder.’ She picked up the bar of soap.

  ‘Involved? Oh, let’s not go there, Isobel. You didn’t seem to mind the drugs while they were paying for your luxurious lifestyle. Well, let me tell you now, drugs kill people. Do you know that?’ He slammed his fist into the door. ‘So, like it or not, you are involved with murder and if you hadn’t been shagging half the Bellandini family, maybe your precious Giancarlo would be here, digging us out of the shit, instead of sunning himself abroad, probably laughing at our downfall.’