by Clare Chase
Nate nodded, but still he worried. Steve was twenty-one now, but a naive twenty-one. ‘So, what have you got?’
His demeanour changed. Suddenly Steve looked like a happier version of the teenager he’d been when Nate had first traced him. ‘Bit of a breakthrough.’ He handed over a small, empty plastic pill bottle. ‘Squire’s getting Melanie hooked on something, I reckon. Earlier this evening I heard her tell him she’d run out of the “present” he’d given her. And just before that, I saw her chuck that in the bin.’ Nate glimpsed his smile broaden. ‘I fished it back out again when no one was looking. Don’t know what was in there; packaging’s plain, but I doubt it was vitamin C. It’s information that could get Tony right where we want him. You know what he’s like about Melanie.’
Tony was overprotective of his only daughter. Coupled with that, he was known for his short temper and skill with a hammer – or indeed any other blunt instrument that came to hand. The image of his large, ruddy face flicked through Nate’s mind. It must have shown in his expression.
‘It’s no use looking like that, mate. We can’t hope to pull off this kind of stunt without Tony on our side. Besides, you know we can sort him out later. You want to take the bottle and see if you can find out what was in it?’
Nate nodded. Much as he hated the thought of promoting Tony’s cause, what Steve said made sense. There was no other way. The relationship between Squire and Tony was already uneasy, but Nate wanted them at daggers drawn. It was a dangerous game.
He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. ‘You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?’
He heard him let out a breath. ‘Yeah. I’ll watch myself. And, I know: I can go home any time, and you’d prefer it if I did. But my uncle and aunt would be in danger if I backed out. Besides, I can help you, being on the inside. Your sister was good to me, and it’s my fault she met Squire in the first place. I’m not leaving until this is over.’
Nate watched as Steve ambled off through the pine trees.
He remembered the day that had changed everything: the day he’d arranged to meet Steve at Two Wells for the very first time, to get him to talk to his aunt on the phone. They’d been in the kitchen together, drinking coffee, when Susie had turned up. She’d come without calling ahead, just as she had on the day she’d died. He’d heard her Fiat 500 screech to a halt in his driveway and known who it was before she’d pounded on his door. She’d got halfway through telling him about the job she’d landed, working for a local paper, before she’d pulled up short at the sight of Steve, sitting in the shadows. Nate hadn’t even paused for thought before introducing them. Then Susie had helped herself to coffee and they’d all congregated around his large oak table. Steve hadn’t been keen to call his aunt; it was Susie who’d talked him round, sympathising and recounting her own wild times. She hadn’t been much older than him, and had also known what it was like to lose a parent in your teens.
So thanks to his sister, the boy had called his aunt, and it had gone well. Mary had been in floods of tears – the good sort this time – to know that he missed her and Len, even if he didn’t feel he could go home.
Nate had been vaguely aware that Susie had given Steve her number, just in case he wanted to talk more. But Steve had never mentioned her again, nor she him. A few weeks had passed when none of them had been in touch. His task to persuade Steve home had reached stalemate and Susie was busy with her new job.
And then there’d been the night of the fire. Susie had arrived mid-evening, and he’d been pissed off with her; she’d turned up unexpectedly as usual, and made him late for an appointment that had been arranged at the last minute. They’d exchanged a sentence or two at most.
And then his world had collapsed.
It wasn’t until two months after his sister’s death that he’d managed to get it together enough to check in with Steve. And it was then that he’d realised their friendship must have progressed after that first meeting at Two Wells. Steve felt her loss strongly; that much was clear. Of course, he hadn’t known then that his own boss was responsible. Now that he did, he was risking everything to help Nate bring Squire down.
Even though Susie had met Squire through Steve, the boy was wrong about her death being his fault. It was he, Nate, who’d allowed Susie and Steve’s paths to cross; he who’d never asked about any future meetings they’d had. He simply hadn’t seen the danger.
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