Exposed

by Roberta Kray

  Larry Hewitt stood facing the small window with his hands wrapped round the bars. He could deal with prison, he could adapt and adjust, but the one thing he couldn’t get used to was being called Larry again. For the past fifteen years he’d been Tom Chase and had imagined that other name consigned to the bin for ever.

  After his conviction and transfer to a new jail, he’d chosen to go straight on to the wing. There was no need for him to hide away in solitary now that the threat from Pat Lynch was gone. To his surprise, he’d found that the media attention surrounding the trial afforded him a certain measure of celebrity. He was the bloke who’d pulled a fast one and got away with it for fifteen years. Everyone wanted to know how.

  Larry was still sussing out his fellow inmates, working out who needed to be avoided or appeased or flattered. There were three ways to survive prison – by brute force, by keeping your head down and hoping no one noticed you, or by playing it smart. He was using his brains to make sure his time inside would be as easy and as comfortable as possible. He had no intention of becoming a victim.

  The trick was to learn by your mistakes. Too often the smallest thing could trip you up. In his case it had been the bracelet; without it the police would have had nothing on him other than the wild accusations of some old lag. That piece of jewellery had almost done for Denny too, albeit in a different way. It had only come to him yesterday. He’d suddenly recalled how it hadn’t been Fiona who’d tried on the bracelet at the studio, slipping the gold snake over a slender wrist, but some other girl – a vapid blonde – his friend Denny been seeing on the side. If only he’d sold it to them. Everything would be very different now.

  He gazed up towards the clear blue sky and wondered what Eden was doing. He tried not to dwell on her too much, to keep her at a distance. Prison was no place for regrets; if you let them worm their way in they’d burrow through your soul and leave you with nothing. What she hadn’t been able to grasp was that he’d had no choice – the second the lie had slipped from his lips in Budapest, his future had been predetermined. If it had been possible to change her mind, to persuade her to stay, he’d have tried, but he’d known it was useless as soon as he’d looked into her eyes.

  Eden was gone – as dead to him now as the other one. The two girls with the long red hair. Ann-Marie still walked in his dreams, the fateful moment they’d met again lodged in his mind. He’d thought he was safe, the past neatly buried in a cemetery in Budapest – until three years ago. He’d been halfway down Southampton Street, heading towards the Strand, when he’d heard a woman’s voice call out the name.

  ‘Larry! Larry!’

  Not calling out to him. She couldn’t be. But still freezing for a moment before casually turning, praying that another Larry was somewhere nearby. His heart dropping like a stone when he saw Ann-Marie. Already she was weaving her way through the people, manically waving at him. Too late to avoid her. Fixing a smile on his face, not having to fake the surprise. Leaning down to kiss her cheek.

  ‘Ann-Marie. My God! How lovely. It’s been for ever. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Ah, I live here now. I live in London.’ Putting out her left hand to show him the rings on the third finger. ‘And married too. His name’s Max. I’m very happy.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘How have you been? Do you have time for coffee? Oh, please say you do. I’ve so much to tell you. And you must tell me everything that’s happened to you too.’

  Although his instinct had been to run, to get away from her as quickly as he could, he knew it would be a big mistake. He had to front it out while he decided what to do next. His heart was pounding in his chest, adrenalin pumping through his body. ‘Yes, yes of course. There’s a café just down here.’

  They had walked back to the piazza arm in arm, old friends reunited after years apart. He suggested a café on the lower floor of the shopping mall, and found a quiet corner away from prying eyes. Two cappuccinos in wide white cups. He sat and smiled while Ann-Marie talked, telling him about her life, her job, her hopes for the future. He was sweating, his thoughts in a tailspin, panic overtaking him. Try and stay calm. But every time she used his name – Larry, Larry, Larry – he felt his fear expanding, bile rising into his throat.

  ‘So Larry, are you still in touch with Tom?’

  A short hesitation. What to say?

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said, laying a hand on his arm. ‘I was just curious. We had that silly argument and then I never heard from him again. I tried to call but no one answered. I wrote but… It doesn’t matter. It’s the past, oui? We change. We move on. I hope he’s happy. I hope things worked out for him.’

  If she had just been passing through, on holiday perhaps, it could have all been different. But living in London, working at a local theatre – it was just impossible. They could easily bump into each other again or she could walk along Henrietta Street and notice the metal plaque beside the door: Tom Chase, Photographer.

  He had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out what to do. There was only one solution. He would have to tell her the truth and hope she’d keep his secret. But would she? He wasn’t sure. She might guess about the money, that he’d stolen more than Tom’s identity. She was bound to tell her husband. Maybe she would tell other people too. Word would get around and then…

  By five o’clock he was at the stage door, waiting for her. She wasn’t working late tonight. She had told him that while she sipped her cappuccino. Her eyes had lit up when she came out and saw him again.

  ‘Larry! What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve got a surprise for you.’

  ‘What kind of a surprise?’

  ‘If I told you that it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?’ She had glanced at her watch and he’d said quickly, ‘Half an hour, that’s all. Come on, the car’s parked just down the road.’

  He had driven over to Kellston and then to the old railway arches, a dark empty place where few people ventured. What had she been thinking on the way there? That he was taking her to meet Tom, perhaps. She had tried to coax the secret from him, smiling and laughing. It never even entered her head that he was the enemy. She was too trusting, too nice.

  Larry didn’t like to think about the next bit. It made him feel queasy. He had bought the knife in the afternoon, from a kitchen shop on Longacre. It had a long blade, sharp, finely honed. So the purchase wouldn’t stand out, he’d bought a couple of other items too, a bread board and a pair of salt and pepper shakers. He’d paid with cash and thrown the receipt in the first bin he’d come to.

  Larry leaned his forehead against the cool metal bars of the cell window. It wasn’t his fault. He’d never meant to hurt anyone. She simply hadn’t given him a choice. What it boiled down to was him or her. In the event, it had been fast and merciful. She’d had no time to be afraid. The knife had plunged through her ribs, ripping open her heart, killing her almost instantly. A few seconds and it was all over.

  Larry wasn’t sure exactly where the body was buried. He had moved her corpse to the back seat, covered it with a rug and driven in an easterly direction out of London. It had been over two hours before he’d stopped again, somewhere in Suffolk. He’d got off the main road and wound around the lanes, searching for a spot as remote as possible, away from houses, away from any sign of life.

  A shallow grave, that’s all it had been. He hadn’t got a spade, hadn’t dared buy one in case someone remembered him. So he’d dug down into the base of the ditch with nothing more than his bare hands, scrabbling in the soft dirt, creating a space in which to lay Ann-Marie’s body. He’d covered her with soil and leaves, said a fast prayer and left the rest to fate.

  For the next few days, he’d been certain she’d be found. Dread filled his every waking hour. What if the waitress in the Covent Garden café remembered them drinking coffee together? What if someone had spotted him at the theatre meeting Ann-Marie? But the fates, for once, were kind. Days passed into weeks, into months, i
nto years and still she remained undiscovered.

  Larry sighed, dropped his hands from the bars and put them in his pockets. There was, he supposed, a price to pay for everything. He had lost his liberty, lost Eden, lost everything he’d worked for. But on the plus side, the worst of his crimes had gone unpunished. At the end of the day, all you could do was bargain with the Devil for the best possible deal.

  Eden sat on the grass in front of the caravan and stretched out her legs. Originally she had only intended to come for the weekend, but already she’d extended that stay by over a week. The Greenham Common Peace Camp was gradually pulling her in. She liked the atmosphere, the warmth and sense of purpose that pervaded the place.

  Eden had been involved in protests before – although mainly in order to provoke her father – but this felt entirely different. There was something inspiring about women coming together to make their voices heard, to take a stand. It was only a few hundred at the moment, but the numbers were swelling by the day. A few months ago the first blockade of the US airbase had taken place with thirty-four women being arrested. Then the police and bailiffs had moved in to evict them. The women, undeterred, had simply moved to a nearby site. Eden admired their gutsy determination and their refusal to be bowed.

  Tammy came out of the caravan with a pail, sat down beside her and emptied a heap of potatoes on to the grass. She handed Eden a peeler.

  ‘Here, you can give me a hand with this lot.’

  Eden was surprised that Tammy had stayed as long as she had. Six months ago Caitlin had brought her and Mia here so they could escape the clutches of DI Banner, but Tammy showed no inclination to return to London. In fact she was perfectly content. She had embraced the cause and was happily contributing to the day-to-day running of the camp. Perhaps, for the first time, she felt she had some control over her life. There was no man trying to manipulate or harm her. Instead there was friendship and protection and purpose. There were even other kids for Mia to play with.

  ‘Did Caitlin tell you about that bastard Banner?’ Tammy asked.

  ‘He’s been suspended, hasn’t he? Gross misconduct? I hope they throw the book at him.’

  Tammy snorted. ‘He’s gross all right. But you know what he’s like; he’ll probably find a way to wriggle out of it.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I reckon he’s crossed the line once too often.’

  ‘They take care of their own, the law.’

  Eden glanced around the camp, at the hotchpotch of tents and caravans and camper vans. It was a far cry from the busy streets of Shoreditch. ‘You’re not missing London then?’

  ‘What’s to miss? Well, only my mum, but Caitlin picks her up every other weekend and brings her down. I like it here. And Mia’s happy.’ Tammy grinned. ‘Who’d have thought it, huh? Me at a peace camp? I’m usually the one causing all the trouble.’

  ‘That’s why you fit in so well.’

  ‘So are you going to stay too?’

  Eden had no definite plans, nowhere she had to be, nothing she had to do. She chucked a potato into the pail and picked up another. ‘I’ll see how it goes. I may stick around for a while.’

  ‘You should.’

  As Eden leaned over the pail, she felt the sun on the back of her neck. It was only a couple of weeks since she’d had her hair cut short and she was still getting used to it. Sometimes, when she looked in a mirror, it was like staring at a stranger – but that, she decided, was no bad thing. A fresh start, a new look, the first faltering steps towards putting her life back together.

  A tall skinny girl with sunburned shoulders sauntered over and asked, ‘Are you Eden?’

  Eden looked up. ‘Yes, that’s me.’

  ‘There’s a bloke at the main gate wants to see you. Says his name’s Max.’

  Eden gave a start. ‘Max? What? What does he want?’

  The girl gave a shrug. ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘Okay, thanks.’

  ‘You don’t have to talk to him,’ Tammy said as the girl walked off, ‘not if you don’t want to.’

  Eden rose to her feet. ‘I better had.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine.’

  As Eden headed across the camp, she felt that familiar knot forming in her stomach. It was over six months since she’d last seen Max Tamer in the flat at Kellston, since she’d drunk too much brandy and told him everything. What now? She’d hoped she could start to put the past behind her, but Tamer clearly had other ideas. Like a bad headache, he refused to go away.

  When she got out on to the main road, she saw him immediately; he was a few yards along, leaning against the side of his car and apparently studying the ground. He was wearing jeans and a shirt so white it gleamed in the sun. He glanced over as she approached and did a double-take.

  ‘You look different,’ he said, straightening up so that he towered over her. ‘The hair.’

  Eden frowned at him. ‘What are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?’

  Tamer ignored the second question. He didn’t ask how she was or make any small talk. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out an envelope and held it out to her. ‘I owe you this.’

  Eden took the envelope and peered inside. There was about two hundred quid in twenty-pound notes. She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s for the car, for the repairs to the paintwork.’

  ‘Ah, so it was you.’

  Tamer held his hands up. ‘Guilty,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I’ve got no excuse – unless wanting to take out your frustration on an inanimate object counts as one.’

  ‘So you came all the way here, after all this time, to try and salve your conscience?’

  ‘It’s not that far and every debt has to be paid in the end. I thought I may as well get this one over and done with.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me how you found out where I was.’

  But Tamer wouldn’t be drawn. He nodded towards the envelope. ‘That should be enough but let me know if it isn’t.’

  Eden gave him back the money. ‘I don’t want it. It isn’t anything to do with me. The car belongs to Tom.’ She paused, pulled a face. ‘To Larry Hewitt. I could give you the number of his solicitor if you like but I don’t suppose your conscience stretches quite that far.’

  ‘You suppose right,’ he said, putting the envelope back in his pocket. ‘Are you still in touch with him? With Tom, I mean.’

  ‘No. Why would I be?’

  ‘I thought you might have forgiven him, taken him back.’

  Eden folded her arms across her chest. ‘And why would I do that? We’re not even legally married. Everything he told me was a lie.’

  Tamer lifted and dropped his heavy shoulders. ‘Some women can forgive a lot. They do forgive a lot.’

  ‘Maybe I’m not the forgiving sort.’

  ‘And if he’s lied about everything…’

  His words hung in the air, grave and accusing. Eden shifted from one foot to the other, her gaze scanning the perimeter fence before coming to rest on his face again. ‘You still think he had something to do with Ann-Marie’s disappearance, don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  Eden remembered the photograph of the couple sitting outside the café in Budapest: Ann-Marie and Jack Minter. Someone had taken the picture and that person, although he said not, could well have been Tom. ‘So what will you do?’

  ‘Be patient. Secrets don’t stay hidden for ever.’

  Despite the sun, Eden suddenly felt cold. ‘I hope it wasn’t him.’

  Max Tamer looked away. He left a short silence before speaking again. ‘And you? How’s it going with saving the world?’

  Eden heard the mockery in his voice and glared at him. ‘Why? You think women can’t make a difference? I haven’t noticed you men doing such a great job.’

  ‘You’re right. Maybe I just envy you – having something to believe in.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  F
or the first time, he smiled. ‘Well, take care of yourself. Try not to get arrested.’

  ‘Likewise,’ she said.

  There was one of those awkward moments where she wasn’t sure if she should shake his hand or not. Then he leaned down and opened the car door. She had started to walk away when he called after her.

  ‘Eden? Hold on.’

  She stopped and waited while he caught up with her. ‘Here,’ he said, thrusting the envelope into her hand.

  ‘I’ve already told you. I don’t want it.’

  ‘Not for the car,’ he said. ‘For here, for the camp. There must be things that are needed: food, clothes, wire cutters, I don’t know.’

  Eden grinned even as she hesitated. Two hundred quid would certainly help to swell the coffers. It would be stupid, perhaps, to let pride stand in the way of a useful donation. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Just take it, yeah?’

  Before she could make any further protests, Max Tamer strode back to the car, got in and quickly drove off. Eden stood on the pavement watching until he was out of sight. She realised suddenly that she hadn’t even thanked him for pulling her out of the fire. Her manners had gone to pot. But at the same time she knew it didn’t matter. She had the feeling there’d be other opportunities, that this wouldn’t be the last she saw of him. She was sure of it.

  Eden walked back to the main gate and passed through into the camp. Maybe she couldn’t save the world from nuclear destruction – she couldn’t even save herself from a broken heart – but perhaps all that really mattered was the trying. What had she decided when she was in Edinburgh? A day at a time. As plans went, it wasn’t such a bad one. She took a deep breath, raised her faced to the sun and smiled.

  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Also by Roberta Kray

  Copyright

  Dedication