by Kate Johnson
Luke cocked his head and considered this. Irritating as it was, the kid had a point. With his professional hat on, he could see how Jack had jumped to his conclusions. It wasn’t even a very big jump.
‘The man who is after you is called Robert Harrington,’ he said eventually. ‘He’s a pit-bull. 5 love him because he gets results. Everyone else hates him. There’s a strong possibility he’s an utter psychopath. But he’s on the side of the law and you’re not. He will do anything to achieve his ends, do you understand? Anything.’
‘How did he know where we were?’
‘They had BBC&H under surveillance.’
He watched as Jack took this in. Saw the realisation come over his face of what that meant.
‘When I went to the law firm to see what I could find they told me nothing. Someone else had already been sniffing around there. I thought it was probably 5 but now I realise it was probably you. Am I right?’
Jack hesitated, then nodded.
‘Which probably put them on alert. Perhaps they recognised you. Perhaps 5 have a feed on their surveillance. Whatever it was, there were spooks outside when I left and they’ve been following me since.’ Jack opened his mouth and Luke continued steadily, ‘And yes, I shook them before I came here. I learned how to lose a tail while you were still in school.’
A low blow, but he had to take the kid down a peg or two. Simply the thought of this good-looking young guy spending so much time with Sophie irritated him like a thistle under his skin.
‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’ Jack said.
Luke shrugged. ‘You don’t. Just as you don’t know whether I’ve got a dozen more guns secreted about my person. You didn’t even pat me down. Wasn’t smart to do this with the car between us.’
He saw the anger come over Jack’s face, smiled and walked away. It was good to be in control again.
Truth be told, standing with the car between them wasn’t such a mistake as it was a calculated risk. The vehicle could offer protection if he drew a hidden weapon. Not checking Luke for more than one gun, that was a mistake. But it was the only one the kid had made. His choice of location and his attitude were pretty good. In other circumstances, Luke might have thought about recruiting him.
He wasn’t concerned about Jack firing on him. At least, not yet. The kid wanted something.
The patchy dunes gave way to a bit of straggly beach, and in the dullness of the early evening every lump of driftwood looked like a corpse. He walked for a little while, wondering if whoever was watching his flat had noticed him wearing hiking boots, and then he paused to look out over the sea. Somewhere out ahead of him was Holland. He seriously doubted Sophie had gone there. Shame: it would have been much more symbolic and poignant to stare out towards a shore where he knew she resided, but since she could be in bloody Africa for all he knew, he didn’t see this as being very likely.
‘Why’d you ask to meet me?’ Jack said from behind him.
‘I want to see who the woman I love is spending all her time with these days.’
Jack was silent. Luke wondered if Sophie had put it that strongly, if she’d described him as her boyfriend or her lover or the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Presumably she had, at some point, at least mentioned him.
‘Is everything okay between you two?’ Jack asked eventually.
Why, what had Sophie said? Had she said she was having problems with him? Had she said she was leaving him? Panic gripped him. The way she’d been with him that night. As if she was saying goodbye.
But Luke didn’t betray his paranoia. Instead he said lightly, ‘Peachy. There’s just this little hiccup of her being on the run but as soon as that’s sorted out, it’ll be rainbows and butterflies all the way. You got a girlfriend?’
‘No.’
‘Boyfriend?’
‘You sound like Sophie.’
‘We spend a lot of time together. Usually.’ Luke turned to face Jack, regarded him in the dying light. Handsome bastard, dark eyes and high cheekbones, which irritated Luke since Sophie had something of a weakness for cheekbones. She claimed to prefer blonds, but Luke figured this was something of a comforting lie since she’d spent the night with at least one dark-haired man that he knew of.
‘I don’t like her spending so much time with you,’ he said abruptly. ‘She’s my girlfriend, I love her, and I’m jealous. That’s the truth of it. She spent the night once with someone else and it nearly killed me to find out.’
‘She cheated on you?’ Jack looked surprised.
‘No. We weren’t together then. It was,’ Luke paused to ungrit his teeth, ‘a technicality. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. But I also don’t like the idea of her being alone. She’s smart and she’s strong, but she’s inexperienced and – and fragile.’
‘Sophie?’ Jack snorted. ‘Fragile?’
Luke knew his expression must have darkened from the look on Jack’s face. ‘Emotionally. I’m speaking here of emotions, young Jack, of which you may have heard. Women have them. They seem to find them important.’
‘There’s no need to get sarcastic.’
But there was every need, or else those emotions Sophie was so fond of would take over Luke’s being and force him to sob uncontrollably.
‘She’s not a stupid, weak female,’ he said. ‘She’s not the type to stand around and scream for help.’
‘I’ve noticed,’ Jack said with feeling, touching the side of his head, where Luke assumed Sophie had clocked him with her handbag. He hid a smile. Sometimes he wondered if Sophie thought she was a cartoon character. ‘She’s the type to make other people scream for help.’
This time Luke did smile. ‘Yeah,’ he said fondly. Hell of a woman, his Sophie.
He forced himself to focus. ‘Look. I don’t know where she is, she won’t tell me for fear I’ll follow her there, but she’s still working on this case and she’s making progress. But you know what she needs?’
‘Strong medication?’ Jack muttered.
‘A partner,’ Luke said, ignoring the thought that Jack was right. ‘She needs someone to watch her back. You may not have noticed but she has very little idea what to do with that beloved gun of hers. Can’t drive worth a damn. Doesn’t speak any foreign languages beyond asking for a beer and a portion of chips. I assume you, like your sister, are bilingual?’
‘Should the investigation take us back to France or Italy, I’m practically a native,’ Jack said. ‘If Judge Shepherd were found to have connections in the Middle East, however, I’d be less useful.’
‘She’s somewhere abroad,’ Luke said. ‘I don’t know where. I hope to God it’s not the Middle East, because she’d last five seconds before getting stoned to death.’
Jack regarded him, head on one side, for a moment. Then he said, ‘You sound like you’re trying to hook me up with her.’
Luke jammed his hands into his pockets. Partly because he was cold and partly because he didn’t want Jack to see him balling up his fists.
‘That’s exactly what I’m doing.’
Jack went very still. Luke waited.
‘I’m sorry, you’re going to have to repeat that,’ Jack said finally. ‘You want me to hook up with your girlfriend?’
‘In a platonic sense,’ Luke said. ‘Touch her and you’ll be singing soprano for the rest of your life.’
Jack held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, but Luke noticed he didn’t protest against the idea of fancying Sophie.
‘You’re a bounty hunter.’ Jack nodded. ‘How’s your track record?’
‘Never lost a skip yet.’
‘Can you shoot?’ Jack nodded again. ‘Show me.’
‘I would,’ Jack said, ‘but someone stole my shooter.’
Luke held out his own gun, and after a beat, Jack took it and slid the cartridge in.
‘I could shoot you,’ he said.
‘For what possible purpose?’
‘I might be a murderer. I might have killed Judge She
pherd. I might want to kill you so I can shag your girlfriend.’
‘If you killed me, Sophie would kill you,’ Luke said calmly. Sophie could be a berserker if someone she loved was threatened.
Jack considered this, and Luke saw agreement cross his face.
‘Plus, if you were going to kill me, you’d have done it already,’ Luke added. He pointed at a piece of driftwood about fifty yards away. ‘Hit that.’ Then, remembering Sophie’s love of Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid, he added, ‘And yes, you can move.’
‘What?’
‘Not a movie fan?’
Jack looked at him as if he was crazy. ‘I can see why you and Sophie get on so well,’ he said.
He aimed, fired, and the piece of driftwood jumped in the air.
‘Nice,’ Luke said. He cast about on the ground, and found a smaller piece. ‘Now hit this.’
He threw it into the air and Jack, after a moment’s surprise, aimed.
He missed.
‘Again,’ he said.
‘Bullets don’t grow on trees,’ Luke said. ‘It was close enough.’
‘Look, what the hell is this all about?’ Jack said, not handing the gun back. ‘You want me to … what? Bodyguard her?’
‘Something like that, yes. She can’t do this alone. Well,’ he amended, ‘she could, I’ve come to believe Sophie can do anything she damn well chooses to, but she shouldn’t have to do it alone. The two of you can work better together than alone.’
‘If you think she shouldn’t be alone, then why are you standing here talking to me instead of flying out to be with her?’
Luke shook his head. ‘I can shake a tail for a few hours,’ he said, ‘but leaving the country? Sophie got out because they weren’t watching for her. They’ll have me before I can get past check-in. Who do you think issued my passport? All my aliases?’
‘The guy who got Sophie a fake one –?’
‘Doesn’t want to sleep with me,’ Luke said flatly.
Jack blinked at him.
‘Sophie had a one-night stand with Docherty last year.’ He forced his voice into dispassionate coolness. ‘She also shot him a couple of times. They have a complex relationship, but the long and the short of it is that he wants her and he can’t have her.’
Jack opened his mouth. He shut it again.
‘I can trust him like a shark. You, on the other hand …’
‘You don’t even know me.’
‘I know your sister. And I know Sophie decided to trust you, at least before you went batshit crazy on her and lost that trust.’ He gave Jack a severe look. ‘And I know that even if she’d never, ever admit it to herself, let alone anyone else, she needs someone to be with her right now. That’s going to be you. And you’re not going to tell her I sent you, either.’
‘Why not?’
‘She resents any implication that she can’t take care of herself.’
Jack stared at the sea for a long moment.
‘How am I supposed to know where she is?’
Luke took out his phone. ‘I’ll give you her number.’
‘You’re assuming she’ll tell me her location? After I threatened her with a gun?’
‘Well,’ Luke said, pity staining his voice, ‘you’ll just have to be charming.’
Jack stared at the sea a while longer. ‘Oh, Christ,’ he said.
‘What do you mean, they knew him?’
Rachel beckoned me back into the house and brought up a file on the computer. ‘This is Theo’s diary from ten years ago,’ she said, scrolling to September and pointing to a name written in red. Michael Docherty. ‘And this is Judge Shepherd’s …’ The same name, on the same date.
‘Can you tell what they wanted him for?’
‘I don’t know. There’s just his name.’ She looked up at me. ‘You okay?’
‘Will people stop asking me that? I’m fine!’
‘It’s just half of your eye make-up is under your eyes. And the other half is somewhere around your neck.’
I made a face at her. ‘All right. I’m going to take a shower.’ I paused in the doorway. ‘Thank you, Rachel.’
She didn’t look up. ‘Like I said, it beats gym class.’
Teresa furnished me with towels and I stood under the hot water for what felt like hours. I think I was hoping it would wash away some of my guilt and uncertainty, but all it removed was travel dirt.
So on top of Jack and his paranoia, I was forced into doubts about Docherty. I wasn’t sure which one worried me more. Jack knew a lot about the case we were investigating, but did I really think he’d do me harm?
And what about Docherty? He knew where I was. He knew my alias. Docherty, in point of fact, knew how I took my coffee and which shampoo I used and what I looked like when I slept. Docherty knew a lot more about me than I was comfortable with.
Okay, before we get any further: the thing with Docherty. Yes, it’s true I got his car blown up. Yes, it’s true I shot him. And yes, it’s true I slept with him. These things are not unrelated. Basically, I thought he was a bad guy, so I shot him and stole his car. And then I felt bad about it, so I … um.
That sounds worse than it is. I shot him in the leg, just to incapacitate him, and took his car because, well, mine was out of action and his was an Aston Martin. And then someone tried to kill me by blowing up said Aston Martin. Truth be told, I felt worse about this than about shooting him, especially when he’d proved once and for all that he was on my side.
And the thing about the sex. I normally would steer damn clear of men as dangerous as Docherty, who is about as sane and safe as Batman, Loki and Doctor Horrible all rolled into one, but the thing is that Luke and I had just broken up, and Docherty was there, and … like I said, it’s not something I’m proud of.
Rachel was already sitting at the table in the kitchen as Teresa started ladling gravy over plates of delicious-smelling meat and greens.
‘Um,’ I began hesitantly, not wanting to offend her, but Rachel piped up before I got any further.
‘I told her you don’t eat meat,’ she said. ‘It’s okay. Grampa doesn’t either.’
‘Bad for his heart,’ Teresa said. ‘It’s a tofu fake-lamb thing.’
Lamb like Mother used to make.
Mother. Damn, I was doing fine with the homesickness until she called me up. I looked down at my plate and concentrated on eating.
‘Have you found anything from the computer?’ Teresa asked Rachel.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I have a name.’
‘Who?’ Teresa asked.
I sent Rachel frantic No! signals, which she calmly ignored and said, ‘Michael Docherty.’ Her eyes narrowed and she turned to me. ‘Didn’t you once –’
‘Yes, but we’re not going to talk about that right now.’
All eyes swivelled to me.
‘About what?’ Teresa asked pleasantly.
‘It’s not important.’
‘It is if he’s a suspect.’
‘She –’ Rachel began, and I glared at her extra hard. But she continued, oblivious, ‘she once blew up his car.’
‘Oh,’ I relaxed, ‘that.’
‘There’s something else?’ Teresa asked, an edge of danger in her voice.
‘I didn’t blow it up,’ I said. ‘Someone else blew it up. It just happened to be in my custody.’
‘Was it a nice car?’
‘Aston Martin Vanquish.’
They both winced.
‘Anyway, how do you know about that?’ I asked Rachel.
‘Angel told me. She calls me all the time.’ Which was a very Angel thing to do. ‘She tells me a lot of things about you and Luke and Docherty … Like hey, she once kissed my dad,’ Rachel told her grandmother.
‘Before he met Angel,’ I stressed.
‘And then you kissed Angel, too.’
‘There’s a story behind that,’ I said desperately.
‘Do tell,’ Teresa said.
‘It’s really not interesting,’ I sa
id, hurriedly standing up. ‘Thanks for lunch. Really, it was delicious. Rachel, don’t you have homework to do?’
Yes, it was ungracious. Next time you get accused of murder and find out that one of the three men you’ve ever slept with has possibly framed you and may be trying to kill you, tell me how polite you end up being.
And the kissing thing. I’ve explained this so often I have a spiel. I was passing on a message. From Harvey. It was nothing. Not that Luke, who took pictures, and Harvey, who wanted a video, would agree.
I spent the rest of the afternoon trying and failing to find anything on Docherty. Rachel didn’t intervene. Guess I’d offended her. Wow, my track record was really improving.
Docherty had sent the passport to Cécile’s house … and then someone found us there. Or at least found Jack. But how had he known we were in England? Did he have a tracker on Luke’s car? But why? And why wait so long to blow it up? Maybe he’d managed to trace my phone. Could he do that? Even when I kept changing numbers?
I supposed he could. But the thing is, it’s just not Docherty’s style. He’s not ostentatious. He wouldn’t play cat-and-mouse. Wouldn’t grandstand. If he wanted rid of you, he’d just put a bullet in your head.
It was getting dark outside. I leaned over to switch on the desk lamp, and as I did noticed some police reports in the printer tray.
Holy cow, Rachel was smart. I slapped my own face for being so rude to her, went online and emailed her links to all my favourite Buffy video clips, including the Pop-Up Video parody soundtracked by The Divinyls’ I Touch Myself that Angel had forbidden me to tell her about on account of its adult subject matter, but which Rachel would almost certainly find hilarious.
Rachel emailed back from her iPhone in minutes. ‘I guess you’re forgiven. But what’s Pop-Up Video?’
I reminded myself she was nine and had probably never even heard of VH-1, and settled down to read the report on Irene Shepherd’s death.
Her body had been found in her office. She’d been wearing a bathrobe and nothing else – there was a bath full of cold water in the en suite. The bullet had hit her in the back of the head. She hadn’t seen it coming. Gun found at scene of crime. Body discovered by maid. The house alarm hadn’t gone off because Shepherd wasn’t in the habit of switching it on until she went to bed.