Sisters

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Sisters Page 26

by Michelle Frances


  ‘Got a dad?’ asked Fredrik.

  Ellie shook her head.

  ‘So that makes us both orphans,’ he said.

  She smiled at him.

  ‘You’re a survivor, Ellie, I can tell.’

  ‘Takes one to know one.’

  Ellie looked at her hand, still clasped by his. What the hell.

  ‘Fredrik?’

  ‘Yes?’

  She had to do it quickly or she’d lose her nerve. So she leaned in to kiss him. He hesitated for a tiny moment and then kissed her back. They pulled apart, eyes locked. So what next? thought Ellie. This felt like her moment, space and time that belonged only to her. She was aware of its fleeting nature, how it would drift away from her unless she grabbed it with both hands.

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  In the back of the surveillance van, Baroni sat listening to Fredrik and Ellie. She was flanked by two techie cops, who monitored a bank of screens that held views from the cameras fitted to the two unmarked cars parked at strategic parts of the village. One was directly opposite the row of buildings where the B & B was nestled in between the village hall and a delicatessen. Other screens were showing the views up and down the main street.

  So Abby had gone off in a huff, thought Baroni. It must have been a while ago as none of the police had seen her leave. It was only a matter of time before she returned. Baroni knew she just had to remain patient. Unless Fredrik could find out where she’d gone. He seemed to be doing a good job at gaining Ellie’s trust – and maybe Ellie knew more than she let on.

  Baroni suddenly realized she could no longer hear voices. She looked across at her colleagues but they shook their heads, as puzzled as she was. Baroni reached for her radio.

  ‘It’s gone quiet,’ she said to Santini, who was in the unmarked car parked on the street outside the B & B. ‘Any sighting outside?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he replied. ‘It’s clear.’

  Baroni frowned. They must still be in the B & B. So what were they doing?

  SEVENTY-SIX

  Abby stared out of the wooden window frame that captured a view of the road. Not just any old road but the road that led out of the village. She’d been drawn to it ever since she’d arrived, gazing out, wishing she was in the car, driving away, deep into the countryside. She didn’t like staying still too long. It made her tetchy and anxious.

  She would have walked that road if she could; in fact, after she’d stormed out on Ellie she’d got as far as the end of the village and then realized that unless she wanted to leave without her sister, she had to stop and wait for her. The last building on the street was a tiny cafe – Rosa’s – run by a lady whose age was hard to determine. She had the look of belonging to where she lived, as if she’d been in the village her entire life. In the lines of her face was written her story, visible and intriguing and yet indecipherable. She had been friendly when Abby came in for a coffee, placing a homemade biscuit on a plate, even though Abby hadn’t ordered one. Then she’d gone back behind the counter and was sitting watching a tiny television screen, on which Abby could just make out horse racing, the volume turned low.

  Abby checked her watch. She’d give Ellie an hour maximum, then she’d walk into that bar and tell her sister that unless she wanted to be left behind she’d better get herself back to the car. Abby sighed. She recognized self-pity in amongst her frustration. If she was honest, a little part of her was . . . not jealous, but with Ellie meeting up with that Norwegian man, Abby was reminded of how much she missed Matteo. She could do with an hour or so out of this situation herself, sitting in a bar being distracted by something fun. Having something other than her current predicament to torment her mind.

  ‘Another coffee?’ The ageless lady had appeared at her shoulder.

  Might as well, thought Abby. She nodded and watched as the lady took her cup and, moving slowly across the cafe, went to make her a fresh drink, then walked slowly back again.

  ‘Gracias,’ said Abby.

  ‘You are here on your own?’ asked the lady.

  ‘No. My sister is up the street. In the bar. With a . . . friend.’

  The lady gave a knowing smile and Abby blushed as she realized how she’d sounded. Petulant, almost.

  ‘I am Rosa,’ said the lady. ‘Like the cafe.’ Without invitation Rosa took a seat at the table.

  ‘I have seen you staring out of the window,’ said Rosa.

  ‘It’s a lovely view,’ replied Abby, non-committal.

  ‘You don’t want to sit with your sister and her friend?’

  Abby shook her head. ‘Three’s a crowd.’

  Rosa nodded. ‘He is the wrong man for your sister. You are protective of her.’

  ‘It’s not that. It’s just . . . we had plans. And instead she’s gone to meet him.’

  ‘Doing what she likes, eh?’

  Abby smiled.

  ‘Little sister?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It is always the same. I too have one. Carmen. She never did any wrong. My mother forgive her everything. Even when she cut my doll’s hair!’ Rosa laughed. ‘I was so upset but Mama told me I should not have left the scissors on the table. It was my fault.’

  ‘It’s always our fault,’ said Abby.

  ‘And she is five years younger, so she never had to do any chores.’

  ‘Mine neither,’ said Abby. ‘My mother would let her play instead. Or watch TV.’

  ‘Carmen would never get told off.’

  ‘Ellie always got sweets when she fell over.’

  ‘But at least they got the old clothes. When we had grown too big for them.’

  Abby laughed. ‘True. Where is your sister now?’

  ‘I kill her.’

  Abby froze.

  ‘Joke.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Sorry. But sometimes you feel like it, no?’ Rose mimed encircling someone’s neck with her hands.

  Abby shrugged.

  ‘So who is this man that your sister is with?’

  ‘Someone we met in France. We’re on a . . . road trip,’ said Abby. ‘We bumped into this guy a few days ago. He’s also travelling. Been cycling the Camino de Santiago trail.’

  ‘How nice that they arrange to meet up again here in Spain.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t like that. We actually thought we’d never see him again. Then Ellie gets a message from him – turns out he’s only down the road. It was a total coincidence . . .’ Abby trailed off as her brain started to wake up, see the cliff she’d been wandering towards in the fog. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Is everything all right?’ asked Rosa.

  Abby stood. Quickly got some money out of her purse and put it on the table. ‘Yes . . . I need to go.’ She tried to maintain a calm demeanour. ‘Thank you, Rosa. The coffee was wonderful.’ Then she hurried out of the cafe, dread seeping right through her. Knowing it wasn’t a coincidence at all.

  SEVENTY-SEVEN

  Baroni heard a muffled sound that she couldn’t quite identify. She pushed the headphone in close to her ears, straining to hear more. What was that? And where was her plant? Why wasn’t he speaking? Why weren’t either of them speaking? It was making her nervous.

  She looked across at her techie guys and saw a grin slowly creep across the face of one as enlightenment dawned on him.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked quickly. But she didn’t need to wait for an answer as she heard distinctive heavy breathing. Heaving breathing interspersed with kissing. It was still muffled but now she’d identified it, she knew it could be nothing else.

  What the . . .? Where was the mike? It obviously wasn’t still on his body. Baroni grimaced. Fredrik must have removed it, and by the muffled sound, he’d hidden it under something.

  The radio burst in. ‘Any more from the suspect?’ asked Santini from outside.

  The techie guy answered: ‘They can’t speak. Too busy eating each other’s faces.’

  A bark of laughter came from Santini. ‘Serious? The dirty bastard.


  ‘What a player, eh?’

  ‘Can’t trust those Scandis to keep their dicks in their pants.’

  Baroni did her best to ignore them. Damn Fredrik – this was definitely not what they’d discussed. What the hell did he think he was playing at? She tried to clear her head, to block out the other officers so she could think, but they were like a pack of hyenas.

  ‘Quiet!’ she barked.

  This elicited raised eyebrows but Baroni hardly noticed. She got up and moved over to the screens. On one of them, a young woman was hurrying down the road towards the B & B. It was Abby.

  Baroni’s heart began to race. She pushed the button on her radio. ‘Suspect in view.’

  SEVENTY-EIGHT

  ‘On it,’ said Santini, all attention now, his voice coming up on Baroni’s radio.

  ‘She’s coming down the main street, north to south, towards the B & B,’ replied Baroni. ‘She’ll be in your sight in about thirty seconds.’

  ‘Got her!’ said Santini. ‘I am exiting my vehicle.’

  Baroni watched on the screen and saw what Santini could see – Abby was nearing the B & B. She wasn’t alone on the street, though; a large group of women with their young children were pouring out of the village hall. In moments, they had surrounded Abby: kids, prams, teddies, mothers.

  ‘I can still see her,’ said Santini.

  ‘No,’ said Baroni. ‘Wait.’

  ‘I’ve got her in my sights.’

  He what? Baroni scanned the screen but Santini wasn’t far forward enough to be on camera and she couldn’t see what he was doing. ‘Do you have your weapon?’ she barked.

  ‘Directed right on the suspect,’ said Santini.

  There were dozens of children around. What was he thinking? Baroni watched and waited, mentally urging the young mothers to move on. They laughed and talked and attempted to cajole their children along in an orderly fashion. It was like watching people trying to herd cats.

  ‘Get back in your car,’ said Baroni.

  ‘I can get to her,’ said Santini. ‘Make her hand herself in.’

  ‘I said return to your vehicle!’

  There was silence. Jesus! Baroni had no choice but to yank off her headset and exit the van. She jumped into the road and up ahead saw Santini pressed low to the road, his gun raised at the crowd ahead. Somewhere amongst them she caught a fleeting glimpse of Abby.

  ‘Lower your weapon immediately,’ she said into her radio. ‘I am right behind you and that is an order.’

  Santini flicked his head back and sullenly dropped his arms. Furious, Baroni searched again for Abby, but she’d gone. She marched back to the van, looked at the screens as the mother and baby group subsided.

  She grabbed the radio. ‘You see where she went?’

  ‘No,’ said Santini. ‘You should have let me intercept,’ he said sourly.

  ‘Maybe she went into the B & B?’ said the techie cop.

  Merda! It was time to find out.

  SEVENTY-NINE

  Abby stopped dead as she entered the bar of the B & B. It was empty. She looked around again, even though it would have been impossible not to have spotted her sister and Fredrik the first time. The place was tiny and there was nowhere to hide. Then she clocked two empty glasses on a table and somehow she knew they were theirs. So where had they gone?

  Abby’s eyes moved upwards, towards the ceiling. Surely not . . .? She decided to check, just in case, and then if they weren’t there . . . well, she’d have to think again.

  As she climbed the stairs she wondered if she should make her tread heavy, let them know she was on her way. She cringed at the thought of catching them mid-act. Reaching the landing, she looked over to the door of the room. It was closed, as she’d left it when she’d stormed out earlier. She edged closer. Stood outside the door and leaned her head towards it. She was about to try the handle when a sound came from the room, like a piece of furniture being knocked or something, and she knew someone was inside. She placed her hand on the door handle.

  EIGHTY

  Ellie perched on the edge of the bed, Fredrik beside her, hands gentle, lips soft. Then she felt him pull away. ‘I can’t,’ he said, so quietly she barely heard.

  ‘What?’ Ellie sat up, surprised.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  She looked for a ring, saw bare fingers. ‘You’re married?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Girlfriend?’

  ‘No . . .’

  ‘So what’s wrong?’

  He put his finger urgently to his mouth. ‘Shush.’

  ‘Why are we whispering?’ whispered Ellie.

  He looked so wretched then, she began to get worried.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Ellie. Look, why don’t we leave here? Together.’ He looked across at the bags on the floor. ‘Grab your suitcase and come with me.’

  ‘What do you mean? The Camino?’

  ‘Or something. Just away from here.’

  ‘But what about Abby?’

  He shrugged awkwardly. ‘I don’t think she should come.’

  ‘You mean, I should just leave her?’

  ‘I think it would be for the best.’

  ‘The best, how?’ Ellie saw how agitated Fredrik was. It unnerved her. She pulled down her dress, which had hitched itself over her thigh. She knocked the bedside lamp as she did so and Fredrik put a hand out to steady it.

  Then something caught Ellie’s eye. The door handle was slowly turning.

  ‘Someone’s trying to get in,’ she whispered, pointing.

  Fredrik grabbed her hand, pulled her off the bed towards the side of the room. He stood in front of her, making sure she was hidden behind him.

  Ellie watched as the handle became still, the person on the other side unable to gain entry. She knew she’d locked the door when she’d come up with Fredrik. Then she heard the sound of the key going in and turning. Ellie tensed as Fredrik held her behind him, then the door slowly opened.

  ‘Abby!’ exclaimed Ellie, pulling away from Fredrik. ‘You’re back.’

  Her sister was cutting Fredrik a malevolent look. ‘Who sent you?’ she demanded.

  ‘Sorry?’ said Fredrik, but Ellie detected a note of dissembling in his voice.

  ‘Was it the police? Because don’t tell me you just happened to be passing the exact same village as the one we are in, because it’s bullshit and you and I both know it.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Ellie, bemused. ‘Abby?’ She looked at her sister who was staring out Fredrik and couldn’t understand Abby’s level of hostility. ‘Why would Fredrik have anything to do with the police?’

  ‘He’s going to tell us,’ said Abby. ‘Aren’t you?’

  Ellie looked to Fredrik for affirmation that her sister had got the wrong end of the stick but no such affirmation came. In fact, he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  ‘They said you have a gun,’ Fredrik said coolly to Abby. He put a protective arm out to Ellie.

  Ellie’s mouth dropped open. ‘What? Who said, exactly?’

  Fredrik turned to her. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie. I saw the news article. About the shooting. I recognized you from the photos and I contacted the police.’

  Ellie’s face fell as she began to realize the true extent of his duplicity.

  ‘I didn’t want to lie but . . .’ He saw he wasn’t getting through. ‘She’s got a gun,’ he repeated.

  Ellie slowly stepped away from him, the news still sinking in. She walked over to her bag, unzipped it.

  ‘I’ve got the gun,’ she said.

  He flinched, eyes agog, and she put it away. Her shoulders fell.

  ‘We need to get out of here,’ said Abby. ‘Now.’

  She grabbed the bags and, making sure Ellie was following, went to the door. Then she stopped. ‘They’re outside, aren’t they?’ she said to Fredrik.

  He nodded.

  ‘Shit!’ She looked wildly around the room.

  ‘I can help,’ said Fredrik suddenly.

>   ‘I think we can do without your help,’ snapped Abby.

  ‘No, seriously.’ Fredrik went over to the window, opened it. On the floor below was a balcony. Steps led from the balcony down to the gardens, beyond which was the car park. Abby could see the red Fiat from where she stood. It was tantalizingly close – but still a world away.

  A loud scraping sound distracted her – she turned to see Fredrik heaving the bed over to the door. Then he ripped off the sheet and ran back over to the window.

  ‘Let me tie this around you,’ he said to Abby.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘It’s the only way.’

  Abby narrowed her eyes. ‘You’d better not be messing me around.’

  She let Fredrik tie one end of the sheet around her middle. Then, on his instruction, she climbed out of the window onto the sill, as he had the other end of the sheet wrapped around his waist to support her.

  ‘Use the drainpipe,’ said Fredrik, and Abby reached across and grabbed it with both hands and then lowered herself down. She untied the sheet and Fredrik hauled it back up.

  ‘Ready?’ he called, holding her bags at the window. Abby nodded and he dropped them onto the balcony.

  ‘Now you,’ Fredrik said to Ellie.

  She hesitated.

  ‘Hurry,’ he pleaded.

  A loud noise from behind made Ellie jump: a hammering at the door.

  ‘Open up! Police!’

  Ellie knew she had no choice. She tied the sheet around her waist and looked down to see her sister urgently waiting.

  ‘Was any of it true?’ she asked Fredrik. ‘All that stuff about your dad?’

  ‘Every word,’ he said.

  There was no time to say anything more as Ellie could hear a battering ram being hurled against the door. The last she saw of Fredrik’s face was as he pulled up the sheet. He gave her a small smile, then Abby was urging her down the steps and across the garden. They raced to the car, throwing their things in. Abby started the engine and they sped away out of the village.

 

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