by NC Marshall
“Look, you need to be searching for Megan – questioning me about my love life is not going to help find her, is it?” Eva snapped, finally losing any patience she’d been trying to retain for the last couple of hours. “Jack Dalton has nothing to do with Megan! He doesn’t even know her, they didn’t meet.”
“I think that’s where you could be wrong Miss Cooper,” replied Taylor, turning on her heel and moving quickly to the door. Morgan followed and, once again, Eva was left alone in the soul-less interview room.
***
Once in the corridor, Charlotte crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.
“What do you reckon then?” she asked, searching Tony’s face for answers. As always, he didn’t give much away.
“I think she’s smarter than she looks,” replied Tony.
Charlotte nodded. She thought the same – false lashes, fake boobs, and an expensive French manicure did nothing to hide the fact that Eva Cooper was in fact, extremely bright.
Tony continued, “D’you think she’s telling the truth about this Jack Dalton fella?”
“I’m not sure,” replied Charlotte. “But there might be a way to find out.”
Charlotte reached forward and put her hand into Tony’s trouser pocket.
“Whoa there tiger – at least buy me a drink first!” He laughed.
“Oh don’t panic Tony! I’m not in the business of preying on happily married men.” She pulled out her hand, clutching Tony’s mobile.
“What are you doing, Taylor?”
“Well, Tony, believe it or not, these days you can do more than just make phone calls using these things.” She tapped on the screen and entered login details to Facebook.
Tony watched as she pulled up Eva’s profile.
“Bloody Facebook,” moaned Tony, as she scrolled through the many photos on Eva’s page.
“Eva said that she’d taken a photo of Jack Dalton when they were in Morteford last weekend, and I’d be very surprised if she didn’t post it so that her friends could see her ‘new man’.”
“Well well DI Taylor, you’re not just a pretty face.”
Charlotte stopped scrolling, her eyes widening before turning the screen to Tony.
“Am I right in thinking that this man is certainly not called Jack Dalton?” asked Charlotte.
Tony studied the selfie, posted last Saturday afternoon, showing Eva and a man standing on a hill overlooking Morteford. He knew straightaway who this man was as he’d seen his photo plastered in various minor case files over time and, although the crimes he’d been involved with up until now were small scale compared to his father, there was still plenty of time for that to change.
“No, that is most definitely not Jack Dalton,” replied Tony excitedly. Already, he was striding to the station exit.
“It’s Connor Donovan – Rick Donovan’s son! We need to find him, and fast.”
Chapter 37
I blink rapidly, trying frantically to straighten my vision.
“Oh, sorry,” I mutter to the stranger who’s blocking the door, and I shuffle to one side so that he can pass.
I’m not sure now why I thought the man in front of me was Johnny, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. At first glance he looked very similar, with his thick mass of blonde hair, but as I look closer, he bears no real resemblance to Johnny at all. However, he does look vaguely familiar and I think I’ve seen him somewhere before, but I can’t remember where. Perhaps it’s work?
My despair worsens when I’m back in the car and driving home. The rain has thankfully stopped, but the ground is already starting to freeze under the prematurely darkening sky, and a white, reflective glow from the streetlamps makes the slippery surface of the pavements look mirrored.
As I accelerate away from the outskirts of the city centre, I have to remind myself that, despite my desire to rush, I need to drive carefully. I now really hope that Johnny is waiting for me when I get home, and images run through my head of him sitting in the living room, or at the dining table, or possibly at the bottom of the bed, next to Tilly, where I’d imagined him so many times after he’d ‘apparently’ died. I just hope that he’s ready to talk and answer all my questions about what happened, finally putting a stop to the relentless voices inside my head. Tears form at the thought of seeing the man I once loved, however, I brush them away as my emotions suddenly turn to anger for what he’s put me through.
Pulling the car onto my drive and climbing out, I notice a parked car a few metres up the road. Its engine is humming and its lights cast a spotlight on the darkening and deserted street. I fumble for my key, dropping it twice before finally managing to control my shaking hands to open the front door.
I run inside and a freezing wind gusts in behind me through the open door. After checking downstairs, I return to the hall, and my eyes rest on the top stair. He has to be here, he just has to be.
“Johnny!” I shout, as I run up the stairs and from room to room, “Johnny, are you here?” It’s soon clear to me that he’s not, but I still check the last empty bedroom, falling with disappointment onto the bed. My mind’s in overdrive and all I can think about is that phone call. The anger I felt during my journey back has now diffused, and I’m growing increasingly concerned that he has actually come to some sort of harm.
I decide it’s time to go to the police and I’m just about to make a move when I notice a dark stain on the rug in the middle of the floor. Rising slowly from the bed, I move over to look more closely – it’s a muddy footprint and it’s definitely not mine!
My heart starts thumping – nobody else comes into this room. I think back to the previous night and the noise I heard in the back garden, before I left for Eva’s. Has someone been in my house?
I reach out to touch the mud and am shocked to find that it’s still wet. Oh my God, this has appeared while I’ve been waiting for Johnny – could it have been him?
It’s then I notice that the rug isn’t lying exactly in the centre, where it normally is. I’m meticulous about neatness, especially when it comes to the alignment of certain household furnishings, and I slide the rug across to see a small gap in the floorboards that I’d not noticed before. Putting my finger into it, I prise the loose board away and reach down to pull out a small metal tin. On opening it, I see it’s empty.
There’s no doubt in my mind – this has Rick Donovan written all over it, and he, Johnny and whatever was in the tin are linked in some way. I pick it up and rush back down the stairs.
When I reach the bottom I catch sight of myself in the large hallway mirror. At first, I’m shocked – my pale features and frightened eyes stare back, and in the reflection I can see the staircase behind me, where Johnny’s ghostly vision on the top step comes into focus. Pulling myself together, I drop the tin and run to the door, when another cold draught floods the hallway. This time I detect a lingering, recognizable scent – the aftershave that Will was wearing when he pulled me from the car…
Chapter 38
As soon as Tony and Charlotte left the police station heading for their car, Will stood up from the cold wall he’d been sitting on.
“Well, what happened? Did you speak to Eva?” he asked, meeting them at the car.
“Yes,” replied Tony, reaching for his keys and pulling open the driver’s side door.
“And…?” Will asked expectantly.
Tony paused before climbing into the car, knowing that he shouldn’t really be divulging too much information at this point. However, the concerned look on Will Travers’ face confirmed how worried he was about his newfound sister’s safety, and he found himself wondering how he would feel if he were in that position. He too had a younger sister and he would willingly walk over hot coals if it ensured her safety; although would he be as concerned about a sibling he’d only just met? The answer was simple – yes of course he would!
Before climbing into the car, Charlotte gave a nod to indicate that Will had a right to know the truth.
“W
ell?” asked Will again. He searched Tony’s expression for hidden answers.
“We think we may know who ran your sister off the road that night,” answered Tony.
“Does it have something to do with Eva?” asked Will.
“What makes you think that?” responded Tony.
“She lied to Megan about who she was seeing – she said he was a lad called Jack Dalton, a local from back home in Morteford, but Elliott went to see him earlier today and he’s never heard of Eva.”
“That’s because it wasn’t Jack who took her out last weekend.”
“Eh? I don’t follow.”
“Someone was there, already aware that Eva and Megan were going to show up, and to hide his true identity, he pretended to be Jack.”
“This has something to do with Rick Donovan, doesn’t it?”
“Yes Will, we think that person was Rick’s son, Connor.”
“Connor?” questioned Will.
“Do you know him?”
“No, we’ve never met, but Donovan mentioned Connor a few times in conversation. He told me that he was buying the apartment back in Newcastle for him, and that he was keen to rekindle their relationship as they were no longer on friendly terms.”
Tony let out a sarcastic laugh, “That’s putting it lightly! I can safely say that they were most definitely not on friendly terms.”
“It was Connor who killed Rick Donovan, wasn’t it?” Just like his half-sister, Tony couldn’t deny that Will was as sharp as a tack, and he was starting to realize just how alike Will and Megan were, not only in appearance.
Tony let out a deflated sigh. “We believe Connor Donovan shot his father, yes.”
“Christ!” Will looked down at the icy pavement, then back at Tony.
“What does Connor want with Megan though?”
“We’re not sure, but we think that her deceased husband may have had something to do with the Donovan family before he died.”
Will nodded, as if he’d already figured that out. “You are going to look for Megan now, aren’t you?” he asked urgently.
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m coming with you then!” said Will, determinedly, and without further question he opened the back door of the car and was sitting down, seatbelt fastened, before Tony had chance to protest.
Chapter 39
I’ve been in the car for about 15 minutes when I notice another vehicle is following me. Its headlights are dazzling, forcing me to slow my crawling speed down even further.
I’ve approached Kitley Bridge without even noticing – my mind was so preoccupied that I forgot to take the alternative route to the city centre, the route which would have diverted me away from the bridge. It’s the first time I’ve been back here since the crash and the awful flashback floods my mind again.
The car behind me continues at a steady speed and, before I reach the bridge, I’m overcome by nerves and decide to pull over to let the other car pass. I click the indicator, and, edging as close to the bridge’s barrier as I can to allow enough room, I cut the engine and wait.
The car comes into view just as my phone rings and, seeing Eva’s number flash up on the screen, I instantly press the button on the hands free. At last! I was beginning to think she’d disappeared off the face of the earth.
“Eva, we need to talk!” I say eagerly, but instead of her voice, I'm greeted by a loud, harsh laugh booming through the car speakers.
“Eva?”
“No, sorry, guess again!”
“Who is this?” I ask. It’s a male’s voice, but not one I can recall.
“This is Jack!”
“Jack?” I’m confused at first, and rack my brains. Do I know a Jack? The penny then drops and I realize that maybe it’s the same Jack who Eva met in Morteford – the guy she told me she was hoping to see again and who I’d suspected she’d been with on bonfire night, when I couldn’t get hold of her.
“Oh, hi, Jack! Erm, we haven’t met properly have we? I’m Eva’s friend, Megan.” I try to sound friendly, but fail miserably, really not in the mood for polite introductions today.
“I know who you are Megan!”
At that moment, the car behind me slowly pulls up alongside and I peer at the driver. Not only is he the guy who Eva met on that Friday night, at the Anchor pub, but also the person I’d bumped into, on leaving the café.
“Jack! What are you doing here?” I ask, “and where’s Eva?”
He turns his head so that I can read his lips as his voice continues to echo through the car’s speakers. “My guess is that she’s with the police Megan, but where are you off to?”
“Home.” I reply, bluntly. Eva has a tendency to attract dodgy men, and this one was no exception.
“Really? Didn’t you realize you’re heading in the wrong direction?” Jack points back to the road behind us.
I don’t reply and I wonder how he knows where I live.
“Are you going home to see if your husband is actually there?” asks Jack sarcastically.
I glare at him through the window, my heart beating rapidly.
“What do you know about my husband?” I demand.
“More than you think Megan.” Jack moves Eva’s phone away from his ear and holds it up to the car window. It’s still in her bright pink case and he shakes it so that I can clearly see it.
“Just don’t believe everything you hear…Meg.”
I watch as he disconnects and lowers Eva’s phone to his lap. Moments later, mine rings again, although this time, it’s an unknown number. My hand shakes as I answer the call, already half suspecting what’s about to happen.
“Hello…look, I need to see you. Meet me at the coffee shop on Duke Street at 11.30 – see you there I hope.” Tears fill my eyes as Johnny’s voice resounds around the car, and I immediately realize how naïve I’ve been.
I lower my head and hit my hands against the steering wheel, frustrated with my own stupidity. Of course Johnny isn’t alive! This has all been some sick game by Jack Dalton, and I’ve played right into his hands.
The message to Eva ends and Jack’s voice returns, but still nothing makes any sense. How does Jack know Johnny?
“I really didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to fall for that Megan.” Jack mocks – his face at the window again so that I can see him speak. I nod in resignation, realizing that the message on my answer machine had been a voicemail that Johnny had left for Eva a few weeks before he died, to arrange a meeting to plan their forthcoming holiday in Spain. Eva had kept the message as a reminder of her brother’s voice, and obviously she still couldn’t bring herself to erase it.
“What do you want Jack?” I ask. “How did you know my husband?”
“Oh I knew him, but not as well as my dad, Rick Donovan, did. You might have heard that name mentioned?”
“So, you’re not Jack Dalton?” I ask, completely confused.
“No Megan, I’m not.”
“You’re Rick Donovan’s son?”
“Got it in one! My name’s Connor.”
I take a few seconds to absorb this information before responding. “Well what the hell are you talking about? My husband didn’t know you, or your dad.” Already, I’m doubting myself.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“It was you driving your dad’s car that night?” I question, and although my voice is relatively calm, I feel anything but. “You forced me off the road and you nearly killed me!”
“Yes.”
“But, why?” I whisper in shock.
“Because your fucking husband screwed my dad over, that’s why! He’s the one who tipped off the police, which resulted in my dad going to prison. Johnny’s the reason I’ve had to spend so many years without a father.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Connor’s tone is impatient.
“You’re really not getting it, are you Megan? Your husband was lying all along, he wasn’t who you thought he was.”
“Wha
t do you mean by that – I…I don’t understand?”
Connor doesn’t answer; he just shakes his head angrily as the line goes dead and then he starts to reverse his car off the bridge. I restart the ignition, frightened and fully aware that I’m in danger. My hands are trembling and, as I fiddle with the gearstick trying to find first gear, my feet are shaking so much that I can’t properly work the pedals. My eyes widen in horror as I peer into the rearview mirror and watch Connor stop, then hurtle towards me at high speed. Oh, my God, he’s going to push me off the bridge – not again, please, not again…
I feel the all too familiar sensation of leaving my own body as the inside of the car begins to spin, and then, once again, everything goes black.
Chapter 40
The air is so cold when I come round; everything is dark, my mind is blank, and there’s a strange stillness, which causes me to think that maybe, this time, I am actually dead! I eventually come to my senses and realize that I’m still in the driver's seat of my car and the coldness I can feel is coming from the fully open door to my side.
A familiar pair of arms reaches across to undo my seatbelt and I’m lifted out onto the bridge.
“You’re going to be OK Megan.” I hear a soft voice in my ear and immediately identify it as Will’s. I blink and peer further along the bridge, where Morgan and Taylor’s black Insignia sits with its engine still running, the headlights casting an eerie-looking light onto the semi-frozen road of the bridge.
“Will! What are you doing here?
“What do you think? I came to make sure that my little sister is alright!” he replies, smiling. Placing me down onto my feet, he pulls me towards him in a tight, comforting hug. My body instantly stiffens at the unexpected move, but as I rest my head against his shoulder I feel much calmer.