See How They Run: The Gripping Thriller that Everyone is Talking About

by Tom Bale

  ‘And Greg?’

  ‘We weren’t together at that stage. He was a colleague, first of all, then a close friend. I’d known for a long time how he felt about me, but I …’ She heaved a breath in, and out again. ‘To be brutally honest, I didn’t feel the same way about him.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Greg and I discussed it. He was desperate to be a part of my life, and more than willing to raise the child as his own. We agreed that our families would be told the father was a previous boyfriend of mine. We told our bosses the same thing, though I’m sure they had their doubts. They’d turned a blind eye to the fact that I’d slept with Laird, but it terrified them, the idea that one day the truth might come out.’

  ‘You were safe from Laird, surely? He wouldn’t have known your real identity.’

  ‘So I thought. Once the pregnancy was confirmed I abandoned the undercover role right away. From Nathan’s perspective, he just woke up one day and I was gone.’

  There was an air of finality in her voice, and it made him shiver.

  ‘I don’t know how, but he found out who I really was. Found out where I lived. He turned up when I was seven months pregnant.’ A short, bitter laugh as she gazed into the past. ‘I could have killed him that day,’ she said wistfully. ‘I wish I had.’

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘He said he knew the baby was his, and he’d come to claim it, like a TV or a piece of jewellery, left at the pawn shop. If I refused, he would take me to court, and he’d also make it public that I got pregnant while working undercover. He guessed – rightly – that my bosses would go crazy if I caused a scandal.’

  ‘And that was more important to you … ?’

  ‘No! Christ, no. But it was clear that, even if I fought him and won, I wouldn’t ever be rid of him. I wouldn’t be safe, and neither would my child.’

  After that, they both seemed to welcome a break in the conversation. Ruth went on staring out of the window and Harry drove in silence, mulling over what he’d heard, trying and failing to make sense of it. The rain grew strong enough to need the windscreen wipers on. He thought the hypnotic sweep of the blades might have calmed him, but they didn’t.

  It was gone one o’clock. Harry dug his phone out of his pocket and checked it for messages. Nothing. He offered the phone to Ruth.

  ‘I want to check Alice is okay. Will you ring her for me?’

  ‘If you like.’ Instead of putting the phone to her ear, she held it at chest height for Harry to hear. It went at once to a recorded message: the phone was switched off.

  When Harry sighed, Ruth attempted to reassure him.

  ‘She called you earlier, and she wasn’t in any trouble then. Try in a few minutes.’

  No sooner had she said that and the phone buzzed; a different noise this time.

  ‘Is that her?’

  ‘No. That’s mine.’ She switched phones, glanced at the number, then answered curtly: ‘Yes?’

  Once again she held the phone out for Harry to hear. It was a man’s voice, far from amused.

  ‘I’m disappointed in you, Ruth. What are you trying to prove?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Then let Sian and Niall catch up. Where are you?’

  ‘Can’t say. Sorry.’

  ‘You will be, Ruth. Once we’ve dealt with Renshaw we’ll be dealing with you, too.’

  Ruth made a scoffing noise, but the man spoke over it.

  ‘Oh, we know where he is. That means our deal is off the table.’

  A brief pause. Harry was expecting Ruth to respond forcefully, but she seemed lost for words.

  The man said, ‘Which way are you heading? West, is it?’ He laughed. ‘Just keep going. I’ll be in touch.’

  The line went dead. A long sigh from Ruth.

  Harry said: ‘Was that Laird?’

  ‘Vickery.’

  ‘He knows where Renshaw is?’

  ‘Relax, Harry. He’s bluffing.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘That was the whole point of the call – to keep me off-balance.’

  It struck Harry that she sounded a lot more confident now than when she’d been talking to Vickery.

  ‘All right, but if he isn’t bluffing, Alice and Evie could be in serious danger.’

  ‘Harry, I know this is stressful but try—’

  ‘Call her again. Please.’

  As she waited for the call to connect, Harry glanced at the speedometer and saw he was doing ninety-five. Not wise on a two-lane road in the rain.

  ‘Still switched off.’

  Harry gave a helpless moan. ‘What are we going to do? We’re still so far away.’

  ‘Remember, it’s not just us in that situation.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The only hint he gave me is that they’re heading west. Now Renshaw’s in Gloucestershire, and this morning I was with Vickery on the east coast. Bluff or not, he and his men have to get across the country as well.’

  ‘Oh.’ Such a simple point, and yet Harry had completely failed to take it into account.

  It reassured him, but only slightly. And not for long.

  Sixty-One

  They had Evie. They had Evie. That fact had plunged Alice into a despair so deep that her own death meant nothing by comparison.

  At first she’d tried to struggle, there on the threshold of the kitchen, until Nerys put the knife to her throat and hissed a reminder that she should take note of the new reality. And with his corpse lying only a few feet away, Alice couldn’t ignore what they had done to Renshaw.

  She couldn’t ignore what they might do to her. Or to Evie.

  Drawing a promise from Nerys that the baby would not be harmed, Alice had allowed the other woman to release the carrier and take Evie into her arms.

  Evie screamed ferociously at first, but calmed once Nerys took her and swiftly made for the living room. Alice went to follow but Michael grabbed her by the shoulders. Too agitated to fight, she collapsed to her knees, pleading incoherently for Evie. For mercy.

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ Michael said. ‘Now come on. Let’s get cleaned up.’

  He had manhandled her towards the stairs. Weeping softly, she strained to hear what Nerys was doing, listening out for Evie’s cries, but the only sound was the rain, pummelling on the roof; the harsh rattle of it against the windows.

  She was taken into the bathroom, where Michael made her undress. When she faltered he grabbed the waistband of her jogging pants and wrenched them down. Her pleas to be left alone only angered him.

  ‘Do as you’re told and nothing’s going to happen. How hard is that to understand?’

  ‘All right, I’m sorry.’ Then her legs nearly gave way; she let out a moan. ‘Don’t hurt her, please.’

  ‘We won’t. I give you my word.’

  ‘R-Renshaw.’ She felt bile rising; swallowed it down. ‘Why did you kill him?’

  Michael shook his head, as if the question had no merit, and gestured impatiently. ‘Come on, clean up.’

  She tried to stare him down. The voice in her head was saying: Be strong for Evie, be strong for Evie, be strong for Evie, but it couldn’t quite drown out that other, reproachful voice: This is the choice you made.

  ‘I’ll have a shower, but can I do it alone?’

  ‘No. You’ll lock the door.’

  She’d lost this battle but there would be other, more important ones to come. There was a flimsy plastic shower curtain, which she pulled along the bath. Michael dropped the toilet seat, then sat down on it. She couldn’t read much from his expression. There was some lust there, she thought, but maybe a hint of distaste, too. Or was that wishful thinking?

  Cringing, she turned her back on him and finished undressing. She could feel his gaze on her skin. As she put one foot into the bath she lost her balance and stumbled, righting herself. She glared at Michael as he leaned forward to steady her.

  ‘Give me some privacy, please!’ she snapped, and to her surpris
e he sat back and averted his eyes.

  He said nothing as Alice, her hands shaking uncontrollably, puzzled over the old-fashioned shower unit with its mixer taps. At last she had the water flowing, bitterly cold to begin with, making her shiver and gasp until she’d adjusted the temperature.

  ‘You okay in there?’ The way he chuckled, they might have been a couple of friends on a camping trip.

  Revived a little by the stream of hot water, she felt ready to engage with him again.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘What, letting you clean up?’

  ‘You know what I mean. You have to call the police.’

  ‘And say what?’

  Alice went to speak but saw she was arguing this from completely the wrong perspective. An innocent perspective. And whatever Michael might turn out to be, he was not innocent. The proof of that lay in the bloodied mess in the kitchen.

  Michael added: ‘None of us asked for this to happen. It’s all a … a misunderstanding.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right. But you don’t have to make it any worse.’

  ‘Who says we’re going to? That’s just you leaping to conclusions, I’m afraid.’

  She couldn’t help marvelling at his tone; gently mocking, as though she was the one with the screw loose.

  ‘Why has Nerys taken Evie?’

  ‘To give you a chance to have a shower. Stop getting so upset, will you? Mum’s a trained nurse, and a midwife, for God’s sake. I bet she’s delivered more babies than you’ve had sexual partners!’

  His laughter scared her. She switched off the shower and used the clammy plastic curtain as a shield, extending one arm towards him. ‘Pass me a towel.’

  ‘Playing hard to get now, are we?’ He tutted. ‘That works for me.’

  In that one phrase, his intentions were crystallised. She couldn’t delude herself any more: she’d known, deep down, what he wanted, had known it from that moment in the woods.

  Alice was silent; afraid that whatever she said would either encourage or antagonise him. For a few seconds she stood, immobile, listening to the mournful drip of water from the shower head. The question now was whether she fought, or just submitted.

  What was best for Evie?

  Finally he grabbed a towel from the rail and shoved it into her hand. She wrapped it as tightly as she could under her arms and pulled the front of it higher over her breasts.

  Michael was waiting as she pulled back the shower curtain and climbed out, arms folded tight, a wry look on his face.

  ‘You know, most women would give anything to be alone in a bathroom with me.’ He let her absorb this, before adding, gravely, ‘You don’t realise how lucky you are.’

  Before they left the room he unhooked a velour dressing gown from the back of the door. They crossed the landing into one of the smaller guest bedrooms. Michael shut the door behind him and leaned against it.

  Alice patted herself dry without removing the towel, then turned to face him. With a thoughtful, distracted air, he pulled the belt free of the dressing gown, looping one end around his fist as if holding a whip.

  Here it comes, said a voice in her head. It shocked her, that any part of her mind could be so matter-of-fact. She was preparing. Steeling herself to endure whatever it was that needed to be endured – for Evie’s sake.

  He threw the dressing gown at her. ‘Put this on, then sit down next to the radiator.’

  Confused, she turned away to put the gown on, wrapping it tightly around her body, and quickly used the towel on her hair. She followed his instructions, sitting below the window with her back to the radiator. Michael knelt beside her, looped the robe’s belt around one of the radiator brackets and then used it to tie her wrists together.

  Alice tried pleading with him again. ‘I need to be with Evie. You’re a father. You must understand.’

  ‘Of course I do. And it’ll be soon.’

  ‘But how soon? She’ll be hungry. Please, Michael … there’s no need to do this.’

  He stood up. As he backed away he gave her a shockingly contemptuous look. ‘I really don’t like it that you have such a low opinion of me.’

  ‘But I’m—’

  ‘I can see it in your face. And I don’t like it,’ he repeated, with quiet menace.

  Michael left the room but he was back almost immediately, holding the mobile phone that Renshaw had given her. He thrust it out for her to see.

  ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘Renshaw.’

  ‘You stole it from him?’

  ‘No. He gave it to me … to call my husband. But the signal wasn’t strong enough.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Does anyone know you’re here?’

  She hesitated, unable to work out which was the better answer. Say no, and she was at his mercy. Say yes and he might take her somewhere else.

  Or kill her there and then. And Evie, too …

  He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he went back to the subject of Renshaw: ‘How come he trusted you enough to give you the phone?’

  ‘Because I wasn’t a threat to him, I suppose.’

  ‘And he left the money with you.’

  ‘It’s counterfeit, you said.’

  He made a spitting noise. ‘Christ, you’re gullible. I want to know what the two of you agreed. It’s not just the money you were keeping, is it?’

  She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You hid it somewhere. We’ve searched your room. We’ve searched Renshaw. I’ve looked through your clothes and drawn a blank. So where is it?’

  ‘Where is what?’

  ‘The evidence. The leverage Renshaw has over the people chasing him.’

  ‘I don’t—’ She faltered as an image of the second delivery flashed into her mind: the tiny padded envelope. ‘I haven’t got anything.’

  He stared at her for a long moment, and she saw how the anger changed him, made him someone that even his mother might not recognise. He glanced at his watch, then pointed at her.

  ‘I’m going to give you some time to think about this. To think about the wisdom of holding out. And when I come back you’d better be ready to tell me the truth.’

  Sixty-Two

  They circled round Cambridge, reeled in the county of Bedfordshire, crossed the M1 and drove parallel to it for a few minutes before turning west again, still on the A421, then began to negotiate a seemingly endless sequence of roundabouts through Milton Keynes. Mile after mile of dual carriageway, bordered by neat grass verges and screened by trees on either side, the horizon crushed by heavy skies, leaving only a vague suggestion of a world beyond this road.

  The rain came down harder but Harry barely reduced his speed: he couldn’t afford to. Somewhere, behind them or even – God forbid – up ahead, Vickery and his men might also be racing towards the same destination.

  But it didn’t matter how fast he drove, how many risks he took, they still weren’t eating up the miles quickly enough. At first he had Ruth trying Alice’s number every ten minutes, then every five, then every two.

  Finally she snapped. ‘No, Harry. That’s enough for now.’

  There was a tense, brooding silence. Ruth leaned into the back and found a bottle of water. She offered it to Harry, who took a swig, then she drank herself.

  ‘What was Laird’s motive for wanting your son?’

  Ruth snorted, as if to say: We’re back to that.

  ‘Probably lots of things. Revenge. Greed. And just sheer bloody-mindedness. What’s his is his, so he’s gonna have it whether he wants it or not.’

  ‘You agreed?’

  ‘Not straight away. Again there were hours, days of talking it over with Greg. It was way too late for a termination, of course – I suspect Laird timed his approach to make sure of that. Greg kept saying that he’d support me, whatever I opted to do, but the final decision had to be mine.’

  Another of her bitter chuckles, this one with more than a hint of self-loathing.
/>
  ‘You know, it says something about the kind of person I am that I doubted how Greg felt about it. I thought that deep down he wanted me to hand the baby over. I judged him by my own lousy standards, you see?’

  ‘And did that affect your decision?’ It was about the least painful way of phrasing the question.

  ‘Not really. Though I knew I owed Greg a lot. Without his support I would have …’ Her voice had grown hoarse. ‘Well, I don’t like to think what I’d have done.’

  ‘But you gave your son to Laird?’

  ‘No, I managed to negotiate with him. We agreed that I should nurse Benjamin for the first two years. It would spare Nathan all the unrewarding stuff, the sleeplessness and the daily grind.’

  Harry snorted, thinking of a couple of occasions when he’d joked about finding someone else to take on the first exhausting phase of parenthood.

  ‘When he accepted, I thought I’d won. In those two years he was bound to change his mind, get bored with the idea, hopefully even go to jail or end up dead. Every night I willed, I prayed, I begged for his death. A heart attack, road accident, murder: I didn’t care which.’

  ‘You must have been tempted to make that happen?’

  ‘Oh God, yes. But Nathan anticipated that, as well. He vanished from all his usual haunts. I couldn’t find him anywhere, couldn’t contact him. And because of that, I even started to believe my wish had come true.’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘But it hadn’t. When the two years were up he reappeared, demanding that I stick to the deal. By this point he’d gone at least partially legitimate, and his mentor, Kenny Vaughan, had been put away for life.’

  She took a sip of water. Rested the bottle on her thigh, her thumb toying with the lid.

  ‘There was nothing I could do. Ostensibly he was a successful businessman, his past convictions spent. He insisted that his name be on the birth certificate. He could afford to hire the best lawyers – and contesting it would have ruined all our lives, he’d have made sure of that.’

  A sigh. Another sip of water.