Trail of Poison

by M. J. Richards

  Swaying on his feet, Jerome stared up at the house in front of him. The lights were warm, inviting. Somewhere inside, a family was enjoying an ordinary evening of television and squabbles. He looked back at the road. Emily had been adamant for him not to follow her, to prioritize the contents of the envelope over her wellbeing. Had she learned nothing about him?

  Backing away from the house, he returned to the street, and limped along the pavement. His hands continued to bleed, but the pain was beginning to subside, which he suspected wasn’t a good sign.

  By the time he reached the first alley, he was finding it difficult to walk in a straight line. By the second, he was dragging his body along, leaving a thick trail of blood in his wake. Then cleaning the screen once more, he managed to dial 999.

  The operator’s calm voice spoke in his ear. “Emergency services. Police, ambulance, or fire?”

  “Ambulance, please,” Jerome replied as darkness swirled around him. “I do believe I’m bleeding to death.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  THE SUV TURNED sideways and came to a stop, blocking the way out of Steven’s Close. One man stepped out and approached the blue Mazda parked haphazardly on the kerb. He peered through the windows, saw its driver was gone, then walked in a slow, deliberate circle around the cul-de-sac, his eyes moving from front garden to front garden, until he’d completed a circuit. Returning to the SUV, he leaned in through the driver’s window and spoke in a low murmur.

  His phone rang. Removing it from his jacket pocket, he answered in a deep, gravelly voice. “Where are you? No... Stay where you are. We’ll be five minutes.”

  He hung up, then leaned through the window again and spoke to the driver. He returned to the Mazda and peered in. He spent another a minute scanning each house, looking for exits and ways for a person to escape on foot. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out a switchblade, sank it into each of the Mazda’s tires, and stood listening to the hiss of escaping air. Satisfied, he returned to the SUV and slipped into the front passenger seat.

  The engine growled. Headlights flashed. The SUV slowly rolled away.

  From her position lying flat up against the garden fence, Emily listened to the engine fade. Relief crashed over her in trembling waves. She stood up on quaking legs and saw the SUV reach the end of the road.

  Still not convinced she was safe, she kept low and crouched her way to Daniel’s car. Air was still escaping from the shredded tires. Swearing, she returned her gaze to the road. What if the men leaving was a ruse to lure her out into the open? What if they suddenly returned? She had nowhere to run.

  And now Jerome was on his way, even though she’d begged him not to come. As soon as he arrived, they would find the nearest police station and hand over the envelope. Emily didn’t need to look inside to know it was the same envelope Max had given to the porter at the Riverside Hotel on the night he disappeared.

  Movement stirred up ahead. Emily ducked behind a car, then peeked over the bonnet. Up ahead, a tall figure emerged from an alley.

  Jerome!

  Something was wrong. He was stumbling like a drunk, weaving in and out of the road. Emily stood up and waved. Jerome stopped still, swaying dangerously from side to side.

  “Jerome? What’s wrong?”

  As Emily circled the car and hurried toward him, she saw him teeter to one side, then stagger beneath the beam of a streetlight.

  “Jerome!” she screamed, running now as she stared in horror at his blood-drenched clothing. There was so much of the stuff she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. “Oh My God, no!”

  Jerome staggered forward and fell into Emily’s arms. They sank to the ground together.

  “What happened to you?” Emily cried as her fingers scrabbled for her phone.

  With a torn and bloody hand, Jerome held out the envelope.

  Got it,” he said. Then his eyes rolled back in their sockets and his body grew very still.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  LIKE ALL HOSPITALS, Darent Valley was brightly-lit and wreaked of disinfectant. As Emily drifted through long corridors toward the cafeteria, she was temporarily overcome by memories of her incarceration at St. Dymphna’s Private Hospital. It was terrifying how a simple smell could instantly take her back.

  At the vending machine, she pushed coins into the slot and waited for hot, watery coffee to fill a plastic cup. Her body was stiff and lead-like, her mind muddled and distant.

  Jerome had lost a lot of blood. He would need a transfusion. Other than that, Emily knew nothing. She’d tried to listen to what the doctor had been saying, but there’d been another voice whispering in her ear; the same voice that taunted her now. You did this to him. If he dies, it will be your fault.

  The doctor had questioned her about Jerome’s excruciating wounds. Emily had mumbled incoherently then sloped away to call Daniel. He had been deathly quiet on the phone, asking only for the hospital’s address, and saying he would be there as soon as possible. Emily didn’t want to face him when he arrived.

  Emily sipped coffee and winced as the liquid burned her lips. There was a handful of people in the cafeteria, all tired and worried-looking. Choosing a table in the farthest corner, she pushed her coffee to one side, and set the blood-spattered envelope in front of her. She stared at it for a long time, breathing in and out, fighting the urge to burst into tears.

  It was Jerome’s blood that soaked the envelope—the envelope that he’d almost died protecting. Tim Marsden had surrendered himself to Jonathan Hunt’s goons so Emily could see what was inside of it. And what about Helen? All these lives were hanging in the balance.

  Their blood is on your hands, the voice whispered in her ear. This is who you are now.

  Emily turned the envelope over. Tim Marsden’s name and address were handwritten on the front. The postmark was dated 29 May—the day after the Clean Water gala, the day before Max Edwards was found dead.

  Emily stared in shock—the seal was still unbroken. Tim Marsden had been so afraid of what was inside that he’d left the envelope unopened all this time, hiding it away, hoping and praying its existence would go undiscovered.

  But if he’d been so afraid, why hadn’t he destroyed the envelope and its contents?

  Emily glanced around the cafeteria. Satisfied no one was paying her any attention, she carefully opened the envelope.

  There were two items inside.

  Emily removed the first—a handwritten letter. Her lips moving silently, she began to read.

  Tim,

  Something is going to happen to me. Something bad. Tonight, I asked if I could trust you. You said I could. I hope so—because you may be our last chance. They know about me. About all of us. They’re coming to take everything we have on them, and they are likely to succeed—which is why I’m giving you this. You already know what’s on there. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. We’re trying to get a copy to the press. If they get to us before that happens, you need to make a choice.

  Will you stand by and do nothing while Valence Industries destroys hundreds of thousands of lives? Or will you bring it all to an end? There’s a reporter named Evan Holt. If something happens to me, take the drive to him. He’ll know what to do

  It’s up to you now, Tim. I’m trusting you to make things right.

  Your friend,

  Max

  Beads of perspiration broke out on Emily’s forehead. She picked up the envelope and emptied the remaining item into her hand. It was a flash drive. Max had entrusted Tim with the evidence he’d been collecting against Valence Industries. He had believed Tim would finish what he could not. Instead, Tim Marsden had betrayed him yet again by burying the evidence to save himself.

  Emily pictured Marsden’s haunted face as he was led toward the SUV. He had been afraid; terrified of what the contents of that envelope could mean for his family. That was why it had sat at the back of a drawer, collecting dust. That was why Tim had continued working for Valence, had accepted his promotion without qu
estion—he’d been protecting his family.

  So why had he suddenly given up? Had the guilt finally broken him? Had the blood on his hands finally soaked through to his heart?

  Emily closed her fingers over the flash drive, forming a tight fist. Her thoughts returned to Jerome. To Evan Holt. To Helen. Angry tears fought their way to her eyes.

  Tim Marsden had been too afraid to finish Max’s work. Now, people were dead or hurt. But Emily was not afraid. She had nothing left to lose.

  A row of three old desktop computers sat on one side of the cafeteria, beneath a sign that read: FREE INTERNET.

  Crossing the room, Emily sat down at the first computer and inserted the flash drive into the USB socket. As she waited for it to install, she warily eyed the cafeteria users. The drive icon popped up on the screen. She clicked it.

  The flash drive contained a single folder titled: MERRY CHRISTMAS. Opening it up revealed further subfolders. Emily clicked on each one, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she pored over their contents.

  There were screen grabs of emails, statements of financial transactions, falsified invoices, and a document containing a long list of names and addresses from around the world. Several of the names belonged to high level managers, directors, and CEOs of Valence Industries. Jonathan Hunt’s name was right there at the top. There were names connected to foreign companies and governments, and there were names Emily thought she recognized—political figures, here in the UK, whose careers and reputations would be destroyed if their involvement in Valence’s wrongdoings was made public.

  Emily waded through the list, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Now she understood why Max had risked his life to uncover the truth—and why Valence Industries had gone to extreme lengths to silence him and the others. Now she understood why Tim Marsden had been so afraid. When Anya had spoken of bribery and corruption it had sounded like fiction, but here was proof, right in front of Emily’s eyes; the proof that Max Edwards had fought so hard to bring to light. Now Emily would do it for him.

  Removing the flash drive from the computer, she slipped it inside her jeans pocket, then left the cafeteria and returned to the A&E department.

  Daniel had arrived. He looked pale and frightened as he approached the reception desk. Emily watched a nurse point him toward a set of double doors. She was about to go after him, when something else caught her attention.

  Two police officers had entered A&E. Emily moved closer. She didn’t know if they were here because of Jerome, or for some other incident. And she didn’t care.

  The flash drive felt like a tumour against her leg. She needed to get rid of it, to cut it out of her life.

  She had no proof that Valence Industries was responsible for Max’s death, but the evidence she did have would bury its key players. Anya and Josh would be taken into police protection. Perhaps Max’s case would be reopened. Perhaps Diane Edwards would be appeased. But there would be no satisfaction in Emily’s success. People were dead. Lives were ruined. But it was going to end now—because Emily was about to finish what Max had started.

  Her jaw clenched with determination, she marched toward the police officers.

  A voice stopped her in her tracks. “Emily?”

  Emily turned around. Her eyes grew wide.

  Helen stood in front of her. Cuts and bruises covered one side of her face and she had a burgeoning black eye. But she was alive.

  “Helen! You’re here! I thought that—” Emily ran toward Helen, who flinched in her embrace. “You’re hurt. Do you need help? What happened to you?”

  Helen’s gaze wandered over to the police officers at the reception desk. “What were you doing?”

  Taking her gently by the arm, Emily moved her away from the rows of people waiting to be seen. “I have Max’s evidence,” she whispered. “Proof that Valence Industries was bribing government officials to fail its competitors.”

  “Where is this proof?”

  Emily tapped her pocket. “Right here, on a flash drive. It’s over, Helen. I’m giving it to the police. Jonathan Hunt and Valence Industries are finished. Anyway, where have you been? How did you know we were here?”

  Helen didn’t answer. Her eyes moved from Emily’s pocket to the police officers at the desk. A nurse was pointing them in the same direction Daniel had headed.

  Emily pulled on Helen’s arm. “Come on, before they’re gone.”

  Helen refused to move.

  “You can’t give it to them,” she said.

  Emily shook her head. “This isn’t about getting your front-page story, Helen. It’s about protecting millions of people’s live.”

  Helen stared at Emily’s pocket.

  “You can’t give it to them,” she repeated.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to.”

  Emily turned away. Helen seized her arm in an iron grip.

  “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice trembling. “They have someone at my sister’s house. They’re going to hurt her.”

  Emily stared at her through shocked eyes.

  “Give me the flash drive.”

  “Helen, I can’t.” She turned back to the reception desk. The police were on the move, heading toward the doors.

  “They’ll kill her. Please, Emily! You have to give it to me.”

  Emily stared at Helen’s outstretched hand. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when it could all be over in a matter of minutes. “The police can send a unit to your sister’s house. Valence won’t even know.”

  Helen shook her head. Her eyes were dark and desperate. “They won’t get there in time. Emily, this is my sister’s life—I’m begging you. Please!”

  Angry tears slipped down Emily’s face. It was all over. She would not be responsible for another death.

  Valence Industries had won.

  Emily dug into her pocket and produced the flash drive. “We had them, Helen,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “We had them.”

  She dropped the drive into Helen’s palm and watched it disappear inside a protective fist.

  Helen began to walk away.

  Emily hurried after her. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No,” Helen said, holding up a warning hand. “You can’t.”

  Emily watched her go, drifting past the sick and the injured, toward the exit. A second later, Helen was gone, taking the flash drive with her. A hole opened inside Emily’s chest. She wanted nothing more than to fall into it.

  Instead, she remained where she was for a minute more, exhaustion creeping in as she swayed silently from side to side. Then she crossed the room and made her way through the double doors.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  EMILY FOUND DANIEL sitting in a small waiting area, along with a handful of other people who were waiting for news about their loved ones. There was no sign of the police officers who’d arrived a few minutes earlier, and she wondered if they were here to see Jerome after all. Daniel stood, staring at Emily with haunted eyes. She felt tears coming, could feel them breaking down her resistance.

  “What happened?” he asked, his tone somewhere between terror and fury.

  Emily stared at the floor, avoiding his accusatory gaze. Where did she begin? “Your car is—”

  “I don’t care about the damn car! What happened to Jerome?”

  “They were chasing him. He got hurt.” Emily risked a glance up and saw Daniel’s eyes were growing darker by the second. But now was not the time for hiding behind excuses. “He was protecting evidence. Evidence I was going to take to the police.”

  Daniel said something angry-sounding in Italian, then threw his hands in the air. “Jesus Christ, Emily!”

  Something was happening to her. She felt numb, detached—as if she were in the room but outside it at the same time.

  “It’s too late now,” she said. “I had to give the evidence to Helen. It’s all over.”

  Daniel shook his head. “Helen was here?”

  “They have her sister.”


  Thrusting his hands on his hips, Daniel stared at Emily as if she had lost her mind. “What are you talking about? Helen doesn’t have any sisters. She has four brothers.”

  Emily stared at him, suddenly very much back in the room. “Brothers? But she—”

  “Helen called me just after you did. She told me she’d tried calling both of you, but you weren’t answering. I told her what happened to Jerome, that I was on my way here.”

  Confused, Emily checked her phone. It was true—she’d missed a call from Helen an hour ago, about the time she’d been in the back of the ambulance with Jerome.

  “But that doesn’t explain. . .” Realization hit her like a punch in the gut. At first, she couldn’t believe it. Surely not even Helen was capable of stooping so low. Her phone buzzed in her hand. She stared in shock at Daniel, then back at the phone. The caller ID read: UNKNOWN.

  “She wouldn’t have. . .” Emily began. But when she answered the call, any doubt she had about Helen’s deceit was quickly obliterated.

  “Good evening, Miss Swanson. You are a tricky character to pin down, aren’t you?”

  At first, she thought the man on the phone was Jonathan Hunt, but the voice lacked his charm and arrogance.

  “Who is this?” she asked. Her mind was reeling. Nothing felt real.

  “I believe you have something of interest to my client,” the man said. “Something they would very much like to have returned.”

  Emily stared at Daniel, then holding up a finger, she slowly turned and walked down the corridor.

  “Come now, don’t be shy,” the man said. “We know Mr. Marsden gave you something. What I’m proposing is a quick, painless exchange. Then we can be out of each other’s hair and put this whole embarrassing event behind us.”