by A. S. French
‘I loved her, and she loved me; that’s all there is to it.’
Astrid dug her fingers into the bed. ‘She’s seventeen, a child; you’re a forty-year-old failed human being. Is this why you sent me to find her?’ Sickness swelled inside her gut like an inflatable balloon.
He waved the gun at her. ‘I didn’t realise she had those until I went through that computer. No, I’m looking for something else she stole from me. Do you know where she is?’ A flush of irritation brightened his skin. ‘I can’t believe it took me so long to understand her mother had hidden her here all this time. But Christina won’t tell me anything, no matter how much I beat her. So I’m guessing the great Astrid Snow knows where the girl is.’
‘I knew you were a piece of shit, Taylor, but this is something else.’
He raised the gun and brought it down on to the side of her face. The metal cut into Astrid’s flesh and knocked her into the bed. He pressed the barrel into her skull.
‘Tell me where she is, or I’ll splatter your brains over this room.’
Anger and frustration oozed out of him as blood dripped from her cheek. She rubbed at the wound in her palm.
‘Okay, Roge; I’ll tell you where she is if you tell me what it is you want.’
Astrid considered the options if she grabbed the pistol; they weren’t good. She was fast, but not like lightning, which she’d need to be to get the weapon before he made a significant hole in her head.
He moved back, the gun still directed at her. ‘She stole some digital files from me. They’re not on that computer, so she must have them on a portable drive.’
Astrid lifted and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘So, you’ve given up grooming and abusing the girl for some memory stick she took from you.’ She brushed cold blood from her cheek. ‘These must be some important documents she has.’ A mischievous grin crawled over her face. ‘Something worse than the video I watched? What have you been doing, Roge?’
‘It doesn’t matter, Snow. Now tell me where she is.’
He moved a step closer to her. She had one hand on the pillow; if she brought it across her head, would it be enough to soften the impact? Did she have any other choice?
As she prepared to lie to him, the floor creaked above her. It was sufficient for Taylor to flinch upwards and distract his attention. She grabbed the cushion and threw it at him.
The gun went off near her head, his fingers diverted by the pillow, a movement just enough for the bullet to scrape past her cheek. Her ears exploded, her skull ringing like drunken church bells. She had matching scars on both sides of her face now. Her fingers were on his wrist, twisting it before he pulled the trigger again. Astrid’s head throbbed, smoke drifting up to her nose, as she pushed him against the wall.
Taylor brought his knee up into her groin and knocked her across the bed. Her back hit the side, and she flopped on to the floor. He moved forward and glared at her.
‘I guess I’ll have to find her myself.’
He caressed the trigger. She was about to throw herself into his legs when something large dropped down the hatch and landed on his head. Taylor crumbled to the ground before he could fire, the microwave crashing into his spent form.
Astrid grabbed the gun and watched the figure coming down the steps.
‘That’s him cooked,’ Alex Sanchez said as she grinned. She peered at Astrid. ‘Are you okay?’
Astrid didn’t know whether to hug her, shake her hand, or do nothing. She did nothing.
‘I’m fine.’ Blood trickled down her cheek. ‘It’s only a nick.’ She stared at Alex, impressed with the girl’s maturity until she recognised it was a forced maturity she knew only too well.
Alex gazed at Taylor on the floor. ‘Is he dead?’ The cracked microwave lay next to him. Astrid didn’t care either way, but she checked his pulse and examined his head.
‘He’ll live.’ She took out her phone. ‘We need to find your mother. God knows what he did to her.’
‘She’s fine,’ Alex replied. ‘I found her tied up at the back of the motorhome. Our neighbours are looking after her.’ The girl was seventeen going on fifty. ‘I saw him creep into here and followed; then I heard the two of you fighting in my room.’
‘Are you all right?’
Alex looked older than her age, her eyes filled with things most people never experience. ‘I am now Mum’s okay, and he’s out cold.’
‘What did you take from him?’
She reached into her pocket and removed a memory stick. She handed it to Astrid.
‘This.’
‘What happened to you after you left the Future Youth compound?’
‘I found a cabin in the woods, and the old man who lived there helped me. I stayed until it got dark and walked home, making sure no one saw me. I told Mum everything, and she kept me hidden in here.’
Astrid admired her coolness. ‘She didn’t dig a hole in the ground for you, then?’
Alex grinned. ‘No, it’s been here for years. There are a few of these in the park. If you hadn’t already guessed, this place is part of a refuge and rooms like this are used for safety if any unwanted visitors arrive.’
Astrid glanced at Taylor as he moaned on the floor. ‘Like him.’
‘And worse than him.’
‘Did he force you into a relationship?’
Her eyes darkened. ‘I was fifteen, and he made me feel like the most important, most beautiful girl in the world.’ She clenched her fists. ‘But I woke up eventually.’
Astrid didn’t want to push Alex any further on what had happened between her and Taylor. She held up the memory stick. ‘Do you know what’s on this?’
Alex nodded. ‘It’s why I hid from him. I didn’t know what to do about its contents, but I knew he’d come looking for it, and me.’
‘Let’s have a look at them.’
They went through the files together on the laptop; then Astrid called Grace and the British Embassy in New York. She peered at Taylor’s slumbering body again before phoning for an ambulance. By the time the police and the medics arrived, she knew Roger Taylor would be going to prison for a long time.
Christina Sanchez was drinking coffee with her daughter at the police station when Grace strode into the room.
‘Are you all okay?’
Astrid nodded. ‘There are only a few bruises for Christina where he tied her up.’ She’d confirmed that Taylor hadn’t laid a finger on her otherwise, with his claims of violence only a bluff. ‘Alex is in good health considering how much time she’s spent underground.’
‘What about the cut on your face?’
‘It’s just a scratch. Where’s Taylor now?’
‘The Feds have him downstairs. They’re not telling Tanner much. What was on the memory stick Alex gave you?’
Astrid took Grace to one side. ‘He groomed her when he was seeing the mother, starting when she was fifteen. Christina didn’t know what was going on when Alex went to New York for demonstrations and stayed with Taylor.’
‘What a scumbag.’
‘Thankfully, Alex eventually realised that.’ Astrid glanced at the girl, pleased to see her smiling, but knowing from experience it wouldn’t be something she could quickly shake off. ‘Then she secretly videoed him handing documents over to a Russian contact.’
Grace let out a low whistle. ‘His employers won’t be happy with that.’
‘They won’t be the only ones. There were files on the memory stick from the US State Department. I don’t know how Taylor acquired them, but he passed them to the Russians as well.’ She let go of Grace’s arm. ‘What happened with Cope?’
‘She wouldn’t give anything away, said it was all Wylie’s doing, and she was trying to save you from him when I arrived.’
Astrid shook her head. ‘She certainly knows how to lie.’
‘It won’t help her. Wylie is spilling the beans about their crimes, and he has plenty of videos incriminating Cope.’ Grace relaxed her shoulders. ‘He’s given us evide
nce she knew nothing about. She’ll be an old woman if she ever gets out of jail. I’d say this has been a successful day all round. What will you do now?’
Astrid touched the wounds in both her hands. She wasn’t comfortable with goodbyes, taking a final look at the reunited Sanchez family and hugging Grace.
‘I expect to get regular updates on your new life as a detective.’ Then she let go. ‘And what it’s like to be a foster mother.’
Chief Tanner called Crowley away before she could reply, the American giving her English friend one last grin.
Astrid strode through the station and stepped outside. It was time to move on, but to where? Return to England or perhaps keep travelling through the States?
There’s still so much to see.
As she contemplated the options, the phone vibrated in her pocket with a new message. She removed it, her heart fluttering as she saw who the sender was: her sister. This would help her decide what to do.
Astrid opened it with shaky fingers.
About the Author
Andrew French lives amongst faded seaside glamour on the North East coast of England. He likes gin and cats but not together, new music and old movies, curry and ice cream. Slow bike rides and long walks to the pub are his usual exercise, as well as flicking through the pages of good books and the memoirs of bad people.
Find out more at www.andrewsfrench.com
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/A-S-French-Author-150145625006018
Twitter:
www.twitter.com/andrewfrench100
Instagram:
www.instagram.com/andrewfrench100
And replies to all his email at [email protected]
If you have the time, please leave a review at Amazon or Goodreads
Thank you!
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to my wonderful wife for all her support and patience.
* * *
The Killing Moon edited by Alison Jack.
* * *
Cover design by James, GoOnWrite.com