Final Offer
Page 37
Ingrid drained the cup, the alcoholic fire searing through her veins, then poured herself another. She looked again at what Marshall had written. ‘I guess it’s important I’m there for Mom and Dad.’ Not his sister, she noted. But she would always be there for Carolyn. She had promised him that as they lowered him into the ground.
Her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen. Five new voicemails. The first was a courier company attempting to deliver an order from John Lewis. The second was from Jen saying she’d ask John Lewis to redeliver in the morning and that she didn’t need to worry about going to the office until Monday.
“Hey, mate.” The next message was from Cath. “Not sure what time you’re getting in or what state you’ll be in. I’ll be driving by your place on the way to the match, so let me know if you want picking up.”
“Hey, me again. Just letting you know we’re all in the Warrington, a pub on Randolph Avenue. We are literally five minutes from your place. Reckon we’ll be here till eleven. Come help us celebrate. We won three-two. Cracking match.” In the background, Ingrid’s teammates were egging her on to join them.
She checked the time. Nine twenty. She finished her drink, rinsed out the mug and left it on the drainer. She went back through the apartment, turning off lights. She lingered at the double doors leading out onto her terrace. She reached up, feeling for the key she always left on top of the door frame. The decorators had moved it, and she spotted it on the windowsill.
The biting January air whipped inside her coat. Her eyes streamed in the breeze. She walked out to the edge of her roof terrace and scanned the horizon. It was a remarkably clear night. The high-rises of the city were seductive and potent against a dark, velvet sky. Above her, lights moved in formation slowly westward to Heathrow. Even though she had just come from there, they seemed to be signaling to her.
She wiped away a tear. Probably the cold.
Some of the buildings she was staring at hadn’t been there when she’d first moved in. She tried to remember what the London skyline looked like without the Shard but failed.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I came back.”
Her undercover role was over. If she wanted to carry on her Russian research, there was no way she could do it in London. The Bureau had booked the flights for her, but now she was here she was assailed by a sensation she was in the wrong place. But where should she go?
From deep inside came an unbidden answer: anywhere but here.
She breathed deeply, blinked, then turned to go inside. She gave the city one last look and knew, for sure, she was saying goodbye. She didn’t even want to stay in the apartment for the night, to make do with sheets and no duvet until the John Lewis van returned. She needed to get out.
She stared at her suitcase. It was full of clothes she’d bought in haste. She didn’t really like any of them. She thought about everything hanging in her closet. There wasn’t a stitch she’d missed in the past month. She could leave it all behind.
She swiped her phone off the counter, picked up her shoulder bag containing her passport and wallet, and marched to the front door. Marshall and Rennie didn’t have the luxury of starting over, but she did. And she would.
She posted the keys through the letter box on her way out and waited for the elevator. When it dinged and the doors opened, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. What was she thinking? She didn’t ride in elevators, not if she could help it. When had she started taking the easy option? Ingrid Skyberg always took the stairs. At least she always used to.
She pushed through the doors into the emergency stairwell and took the steps three at a time, eager to get out and to get on.
Outside, she turned her collar up and started walking.
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Eva Hudson
After years of enjoying thrillers and police procedurals by authors like Lee Child and Michael Connelly, Eva was inspired to write thrillers herself. In 2011 she won the inaugural Lucy Cavendish fiction prize for her first novel, The Loyal Servant and never looked back.
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Also by Eva Hudson
The Ingrid Skyberg Thriller series
FRESH DOUBT (Book 1)
KILL PLAN (Book 2)
DEEP HURT (Book 3)
SHOOT FIRST (Book 4)
BELOW ZERO (Book 5)
Other Crime Thrillers
THE LOYAL SERVANT
THE SENIOR MOMENT
THE DEADLY SILENCE
Acknowledgments
A huge number of people have helped me with this book, but I would particularly like to thank Steve Hall for his firefighting knowledge, and George Hodson and Karen L. Clarke for sharing their paramedic expertise (and also for being real-life heroes who save lives).
I’d also like to give a shout-out to Duncan Bannatyne for helping me out with insights into the world of private jets, Megan Hine for her poisonous spider expertise, and Sarah Jane Moon for her suggestions about depicting the art world (and indeed the art underworld).
I am massively indebted to Jim Stokely for reading the first draft and making excellent suggestions for changes, and to Brian Lynch for doing the same with the second draft.
And to Lucy Ruddy and Hilary Mounfield for their continued cheerleading and willingness to read the next draft, thank you.
Published by Inkubator Books
www.inkubatorbooks.com
Copyright © 2019 by Eva Hudson
FINAL OFFER is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.