by Roberta Kray
There was a second’s delay before Miller went rigid, his whole body tensing. ‘This one,’ he said, raising a finger to his mouth and tapping at his right incisor.
Jo nodded. ‘So you do know her.’
Miller didn’t reply. She had the impression he was holding his breath. Then the frown lines on his brow dissolved, his shoulders loosened and he slumped back in the seat. ‘Susan,’ he whispered. ‘My God, I should have guessed.’
Chapter Six
There was a moment as they got out of the cab and he was passing over the fare when Jo thought about asking for the driver’s help. She could jump back inside and tell him to lock the doors. She could get him to drive her away from here. There was no way Miller could track her down.
She was not sure what prevented her. Perhaps it was simply the fear of the unknown. If she was going to run, she wanted to know exactly what she was running from. And Miller was the only person who could tell her that. It seemed unlikely that Laura (or should that be Susan?) would be doing much explaining in the near future.
‘We can go to Connolly’s,’ she said, nodding towards the café.
‘We need somewhere private. What’s wrong with your place?’
But she didn’t intend to be alone with him again. ‘That’s not possible.’
Miller glanced at her left hand, at the finger with the gold band. ‘Oh right,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose the old man would be too pleased if you showed up with company … or if he knew what you’d been doing tonight.’
Jo frowned, unwilling to disabuse him of the notion that she had a husband waiting for her at home, a husband who would undoubtedly raise the alarm if she failed to turn up. She wished with all her heart that Peter was there. She wished she could just rush into his arms and … but it was pointless to dwell on empty longings and shattered dreams. She was on her own. There was no one to fall back on.
‘Connolly’s will be fine,’ she said firmly. ‘It won’t be busy.’
Miller didn’t make any further objections. They walked side by side to the café and passed through the heavy glass doors together. Inside, as Jo had predicted, there were only a few other customers. They chose a table at the very rear of the room. He took a seat from where he had a clear view of the entrance.
A young bottle blonde with a red slash for a mouth sashayed over to them. She was wearing a black T-shirt and a very mini miniskirt. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Two coffees,’ Miller said.
‘Espresso, cappuccino, latte—’
‘Just plain old coffee, sweetheart,’ he said, before she could recite the entire list. ‘If the damn stuff still exists.’
The waitress looked him up and down. Clearly approving of what she saw, she smiled, moved forward and put a hand on her skinny hip. ‘Two plain old coffees,’ she repeated before dropping her voice into a huskier, more provocative tone. ‘And is there anything else you’d like?’
Jo raised her brows. The girl’s leg was almost touching Miller’s. If she got any closer, she might accidentally fall into his lap.
‘Not right now,’ he said. ‘But if anything comes to mind, I’ll be sure to let you know.’
Her red lips formed a sultry pout before she turned on her heel and strutted off.
Miller made a brazen study of her long legs as she headed towards the counter, then transferred his gaze back to Jo. ‘Well, there you go,’ he said. ‘Perhaps this might not turn out to be the worst night of my life after all.’
She scowled, wondering at his ability to be thinking about sex at a time like this. The man had all the restraint of a dog on heat. ‘What happened to urgent? A while ago you couldn’t wait to talk.’
As if her antagonism might be down to a latent form of jealousy, Miller grinned. ‘Oh, don’t worry, love. You have my full and undivided attention.’
‘So tell me what’s going on.’
‘Now I know who we’re dealing with …’ He placed his elbows on the table, half closed his eyes and then, as if he was rolling through the thought in his head, slowly nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s not as bad as it could have been.’
‘Care to enlighten me?’
‘Care to tell me what your real name is?’
Jo flushed. ‘What makes you—’
‘No offence, Helen, but you’re hardly the best liar I’ve ever met. And you weren’t too well prepared either. Back in the bar, it took you over five seconds to even come up with the name.’
‘Fine,’ she huffed defensively. ‘I suppose being a good liar is considered a bonus in certain social circles but some of us have different values.’
Miller’s gaze fixed on her. ‘As you barely know me, and have no real idea of what I value and what I don’t, I’ll put that particular insult down to stress.’
Jo’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. Hearing the affront in his voice she almost regretted what she’d said. She was tempted to apologise but then, recalling what he’d done, remembering the way he’d shoved her back against the wall, had second thoughts. ‘Whatever.’
He continued to stare before his mouth gradually slid into a smile again. ‘Do you take everything so seriously?’
She glared back at him. ‘What’s not to be serious about?’
‘You’re not going to start blubbing, are you?’
It was only as he said it that Jo realised how close to tears she actually was. She could feel her eyes beginning to water. A lump was expanding in her throat.
‘Why should I do that? I mean, it’s been the ideal Friday night. First I get to spend some quality time with you, then I get abandoned by a so-called friend. Later, I learn that I’m on the run from a crazy gangster over something I don’t have a clue about, and now I’m sitting in a café listening to you telling me that it’s not so bad after all. Who could ask for a more perfect evening?’
‘I guess that’s one way of putting it.’
‘Have you got a better one?’
‘You’re not entirely innocent in all this,’ he said.
‘Did I say I was?’
The waitress arrived with their coffee. Before she was forced to witness another of their over-familiar exchanges, Jo stood up and headed for the Ladies. ‘Excuse me.’
‘There isn’t a window in there, is there?’ Miller called out after her.
She didn’t bother answering.
Chapter Seven
Jo splashed her face with cold water, patted it dry and stared into the mirror. The blue eyes that returned her gaze were filled with dismay. How had this happened? Why? As the truth sank in, her frustration was gradually being replaced by anger and resentment. Yet a part of her was still unwilling to accept what Miller was telling her.
She took out her mobile. One last chance. She pressed in Laura’s number, raised the phone to her ear and waited. Anticipating the beep, she readied herself to leave a message but instead she just got a continuous tone. The line had been disconnected.
Then she had another idea. Digging out a pen and a scrap of paper, she called a directory enquiry service, gave them the details for Hopkins, Ridley & Co. and asked to be put straight through. It only took a moment. She listened to a recorded message telling her that the office was closed but that a solicitor could be reached on the following number. She quickly scribbled it down.
It was a man who answered the phone, his tone brisk and efficient. ‘Anthony Morris.’
‘Oh, hello,’ Jo said. ‘Er … I’m trying to contact Laura James.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Laura James,’ she repeated. ‘It’s urgent. I really need to talk to her. I understand she’s a solicitor with Hopkins, Ridley.’
‘I don’t believe so.’
Jo knew it was pointless but she persisted anyway. ‘Are you sure? You don’t know anyone by that name?’
A sigh drifted down the line. ‘Yes, I’m absolutely sure. But if you’re in need of representation—’
‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s okay. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I must
have made a mistake.’
Jo hung up and put the phone back in her bag. She looked in the mirror again. The truth was staring her in the face. She was a fool. She’d been duped, taken for a ride and she hadn’t seen it coming. Just how gullible did that make her? For a moment, she leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the cool white sink. She felt the coldness running through her, turning her blood to ice. But Laura was her friend, wasn’t she? No, she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. But how could that be true? How could all those months of chats, of shared confidences, have meant so little? In a gesture of anger and frustration, Jo picked up her bag and hurled it across the lavatory. Breaking open, it spilled its contents across the floor. She stared at the mess before bursting into tears.
Back at the table, Jo sat down and carefully raised the mug of coffee to her lips. She could have done with something stronger but caffeine was better than nothing.
Miller gave her a sly look. ‘I take it there was no reply.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Just call it a hunch.’
Jo wasn’t in the mood for his hunches. Laura’s betrayal had cut her to the quick. ‘Why don’t you just say I told you so and get it over with?’
‘Perhaps I’m not the type who likes to gloat.’
‘Somehow I doubt that.’
He sat back, looking almost too disgustingly relaxed and casual. ‘My, I have made a good impression. You know what I think? Seeing as fate has seen fit to throw us together, we should make the effort to be nice. Let’s start again. I’m Gabe Miller. Pleased to meet you.’
She ignored him.
‘Now you’re supposed to give me your name. I believe that’s how it works in polite society.’
Jo shrugged. She was unwilling to reveal any more than she already had.
Miller suddenly leaned forward, grabbed her bag and started to root through it.
‘Hey!’ she said, trying to snatch it back. ‘What are you doing?’
But it was too late. He’d already got her purse out and was staring at her driver’s licence. ‘Mrs Josephine Strong,’ he said, reading off the details. ‘Twelve Barley Road. That’s quite close to here, isn’t it?’
She glared at him. ‘You had no right to do that.’
He dropped the purse back into her bag and pushed it across the table. ‘You know my name,’ he said. ‘Why shouldn’t I know yours? What do they call you – Josie?’
‘None of your business.’
‘Don’t be like that. Okay, I’ll just call you Josephine.’
She gave him another black look. She loathed the full version of her name. ‘Jo,’ she admitted reluctantly.
He grinned. ‘Well, Jo, now that we’re on real first-name terms, we need to get on with the problem of finding Susan Clark. I don’t suppose you’ve got anything as useful as an address?’
She didn’t answer. ‘Look, the quicker you tell me what you know, the sooner you’ll be rid of me. That is what you want, isn’t it?’
Jo couldn’t argue with that. ‘She told me she lived in Docklands.’
Miller waited. ‘And?’
‘I don’t have a street name. I never actually went there. We always met up in Kellston. She said she was a lawyer, that she worked for one of the local firms.’
He gave a soft laugh. ‘I bet she was pretty convincing too. I wouldn’t be too upset at being taken in by her. She’s very good at what she does.’
‘Conning people?’
‘It’s more complicated than that. She’s more complicated.’
‘You say that as if she means something to you.’
‘She does, did … once upon a time. We were an item for a while so she wasn’t lying when she described me as her ex. If it helps, I don’t think she intended to cause you any grief; she couldn’t have known that I’d catch up with you.’
‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’
‘Better than I feel knowing that she tipped Delaney off. His guys don’t mess about. If I hadn’t legged it as fast as I did, I wouldn’t be the perfect physical specimen you see before you now.’
Jo curled her lip. ‘You obviously made a good impression on her too.’
‘Yeah, I’m beginning to realise that.’
‘So are you going to tell me about this thing she’s stolen?’
Miller reached into his pocket and took out a slip of paper. He pushed it across the table. ‘This was left in the room at the hotel.’
Jo looked down. The note was short and to the point. The price for safe return is £500,000. Her eyes widened. ‘That’s a lot of money for a piece of silver.’
‘Delaney thinks it’s worth it.’
‘You’ve talked to him?’
‘Only briefly. But obviously he’ll pay whatever it costs to get—’ As if about to say something he shouldn’t, he stopped abruptly and looked away.
She wondered what he was holding back. ‘I take it there’s something dodgy about this silver article?’
‘You’re better off not knowing.’
‘Oh, come on! You’re the one who keeps harping on about telling the truth. You can’t keep me in the dark. I’m already involved, you said so yourself.’
Miller was still watching the room. ‘All right,’ he said, eventually meeting her eyes again. ‘I’ll tell you if you promise not to overreact.’
Her heart did one of those nervous flips. ‘Why should I?’
His gaze held hers but he didn’t immediately reply.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Fine. I promise.’
He hesitated for a second. ‘What you need to understand is that silver isn’t exactly an article.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Are you sure about this?’
‘Yes,’ she said impatiently. ‘Just get on with it.’
Miller took an audible breath, made another quick survey of the surrounding tables, and then leaned in so close there were only inches between them. His voice was barely a whisper. ‘Silver’s a girl, a fourteen-year-old girl. She’s Vic Delaney’s daughter.’
Jo’s mouth dropped open.
Chapter Eight
Her mouth was still open fifteen seconds later, her brain desperately trying to absorb the information. Assailed by an ongoing battering of shock, confusion, fear and disgust, No was the single word that kept revolving in her head.
‘A girl? Laura’s taken a girl?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Miller said. ‘You want the whole caff to hear?’
Jo covered her face with her hands. ‘She can’t have. She couldn’t.’
‘She has.’
‘But why?’
‘Why do you think?’ Picking up the slip of paper, he flapped it in front of her. ‘This is what’s commonly referred to as a ransom note.’
She peered between her fingers and groaned. ‘Oh God.’
‘I thought you were going to stay calm about this.’
Jo dropped her hands and stared up at him, his callousness having the useful effect of jolting her thoughts back into some kind of order. ‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘You told me you’d been robbed. You referred to that girl as an item, a thing, a piece of property.’
‘It was just a turn of phrase. It wasn’t meant … I had to be careful. I wasn’t sure how much you knew.’
‘You talked about “retrieving” her, about a meeting with Delaney. He was supposed to pay you. Cash on delivery, right?’ She stared at him. ‘What the hell did that mean?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘I’m sure it is.’ What she was equally sure of was that having a fourteen-year-old girl in your hotel room, a girl you were being paid to return, went way beyond the dubious.
‘It’s not what you think,’ he said.
‘You don’t know what I think.’
‘I can take a pretty good guess. It’s written all over your face. You’ve already decided that I’m some kind of pervert. But you shouldn’t go jumping to any conclusions. If you’ll just give me a chance
to explain, to—’
‘What for?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t even understand what we’re doing here. This is a young girl’s life we’re talking about. We have to go to the police.’
Miller raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘We’ve already been through all that.’
‘Hardly,’ she protested, astounded by his attitude. ‘You weren’t exactly straight with me. This changes everything. Surely even you can see that.’
‘Susan isn’t going to harm her. I know what she’s like, what she’s capable of and what she isn’t.’
‘And if you’re wrong?’
‘I’m not,’ he said firmly. ‘Silver’s perfectly safe. I’d put my life on it. And if I can find Susan, if I can track her down quickly, then there’s a chance I’ll be able to sort this before anyone gets hurt. But if you insist on involving the cops, it’s going to make my job ten times as hard – maybe even impossible.’
Jo wasn’t convinced. ‘You mean the police are going to want to know what you were doing with a fourteen-year-old girl in the first place.’
‘What I mean is that the cops will screw it up. Despite what you may think, I don’t have anything to hide. But they’ll be all over Delaney – about which he won’t be best pleased – and I’ll be spending hours in some lousy police cell.’
‘So this is all about saving your own skin?’
‘Yeah, that’s it.’ He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘That’s why I jumped in that cab and left you standing in the street. That’s why I’m sitting here now, telling you all this and trying to figure out a way of sorting the problem. Let’s face it, love, I could be miles away if I wanted to be, somewhere Delaney and the cops would never think of looking.’
‘Fine,’ she retorted, ‘but that poor man’s still missing his daughter. He has the right to know who’s taken her. He must be worried sick and we’re just—’
He brought his hand down on the table. ‘Will you just open your ears and listen? Maybe in your narrow, righteous universe the truth is everything but Delaney’s world is a different one altogether. I wouldn’t waste too much sympathy on him – he’s not so generous with his own compassion. Silver isn’t the issue here, she’s not the one who’s in danger. Susan is. What you need to understand is that she won’t be able to pull this off. At some point she’ll make a mistake, a big one, and then he won’t think twice about meting out his own brand of justice. Would you like me to spell out what that means or can you take an educated guess?’