Her Last Secret

by P L Kane

  ‘And listen, if there’s anything you need. Anything we can do …’

  ‘Actually, since you ask, there is something you can do for me,’ he told her.

  ‘Shoot,’ she said, but she probably hadn’t been expecting the request that followed. ‘Right, okay, so an attachment? You haven’t been opening those spam emails again, have you? Because I warned you not to—’

  ‘No, no spam. Least I don’t think it is. This is on the level, Ali. A tip-off.’

  ‘A story? Does this have anything to do with your fight, and getting arrested? Are you chasing up a story, because you should probably be talking to—’

  Jake transferred the phone to his other ear as he opened the car door, then slid inside. ‘I’d rather just keep this between you and me for now, is that okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ replied Alison. ‘Whatever you want.’

  ‘So I’m okay to fire those over for you to have a look at?’

  ‘Yep,’ she told him, then let out a little laugh. ‘Trust you to go back home and get mixed up in something …’ She went quiet, realising what she’d said; the reason why he’d gone home, and the fact that he really hadn’t been looking for a scoop. ‘I’m sorry, yeah. Of course. Send whenever you want and I’ll get back to you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jake said again, ‘Appreciate it.’

  Then he hung up. But before he started the engine to pull out, he stared up at the town hall once more, locating that window with the cross pattern.

  And there, standing now rather than sitting and surveying, was the mayor looking right back down at him.

  Chapter 23

  He thought certain things only happened in the movies.

  Not the kind he was into, or looking to make, but in action movies, Bond flicks. And, while the mayor was a bit like some sort of 1970s pantomime villain up in her lair (and he remembered what Channing had said about Drummond and the abattoir), she was no Blofeld or Drax. Or at least he didn’t think so …

  Not until the ‘accident’. Not until there was yet another attempt on his life.

  Jake had been driving back to the hotel when it happened. He’d taken the long way round rather than cut straight through town. Took the scenic route because it would give him time to think about all this, time to wrap his head around the new information. The course correction …

  Of course, he still didn’t have any real evidence that the mayor was up to anything. Playing devil’s advocate, the whole meeting could have been read as fairly innocent, nothing suspicious at all. Jordan had died, her killer was in jail; that should be the end of it. So what was all this? From the outside it might well look like his words were nothing more than the rantings of a madman.

  Except for the vibe he was getting from her, and except for the way she’d reacted when he’d used the exact words that were on the invitation he’d been sent. That had definitely not been his imagination … had it? And someone had definitely sent those messages to him, was trying to steer him in the right direction – whatever that might be, and whatever it might lead to.

  Yet he still had his doubts, was still questioning everything. Had been on the verge of packing it all up and heading off that very morning. Doing what both Channing and now the mayor had advised and leaving it the fuck alone. Now … something was still nagging at him, something was definitely wrong. It didn’t necessarily mean, as Sam thought, that Bannister was innocent – but it did mean something. Those numbers in Jordan’s diary had led somewhere, the stuff with Drummond was something, the meeting with the mayor had been something. He just couldn’t work out what. Wasn’t smart enough, or didn’t have enough information or … something.

  Something again. Something …

  All these thoughts had been rattling around in his brain as he drove, making his way from the busy roads to a smaller one that he knew. Less traffic, less noise. Which meant that he should have noticed the car behind him more easily, and he would have if his mind hadn’t been so clogged up, so fogged up with everything. A maelstrom whirling round again.

  It had probably been following him since he left the car park, though he hadn’t been aware of it. Had more than likely hung back until they were more or less alone on that stretch of road, or was perhaps waiting until they arrived at a few of the bridges that you needed to be careful going under because there was only space for one car from either direction at a time …

  As it was, Jake noticed the nondescript green Escort right at the last minute. Right when it was on his tail. They were doing thirty-five in a thirty zone as it was, so Jake didn’t speed up or anything. If it was someone unhappy about how fast he was going, they could overtake.

  That’s what he’d thought they were doing at first. They indicated to come round him, and he’d expected the vehicle to go shooting off ahead in plumes of smoke like an old-fashioned train; exhaust probably banging at the same time, judging by how ancient the car was. It was dirty too, he noticed suddenly, especially the windows. So dirty Jake wondered how the driver was seeing out of the windscreen, or his side mirrors (he couldn’t see the back, so had no idea about the state of that or if it made looking through the rear-view mirror impossible).

  The car pulled up alongside him, which he remembered thinking was a bit stupid with a blind corner approaching. But it didn’t slow down at all, maybe couldn’t see it through all the muck that was caked across the glass.

  When the first impact came, it took Jake by surprise – and he almost let go of the steering wheel himself. A second jolt, and he gripped it more firmly with one hand, began flapping the other one for the car to back off.

  ‘You stupid … What’re you …’ he shouted, but realised the driver couldn’t hear him. The Escort slid sideways a second time, ramming the Toyota. Then the car’s nose was out in front and it was veering into Jake’s vehicle, directing it; steering him in the wrong direction. He wrestled with the wheel, grip loosening as he was forced to let it slide through his hands, had no choice but to go where he was being shoved. There was simply no room to manoeuvre, to course correct. To pull away then try to ram the Escort back and retaliate.

  Now he realised why the car was so old, because this was its intended use. And the windows were covered on purpose so he couldn’t see the face of whoever was trying to run him off the road. The bend was fast approaching though, and the other car was showing no signs of relenting.

  Instead, it barrelled sideways one final time, taking the left-hand side of the road away from Jake and causing him to skid onto the grass verge then up a small hillock where his Toyota came to an abrupt halt. He’d had his seatbelt on, so he fell forward and then back, but the airbag didn’t deploy.

  He looked up just in time to see the other car disappear around the corner. Not quick enough to get the license plate, though Jake suspected it would probably be obscured anyway, or hard to trace. Maybe even stolen.

  For long moments he sat there, playing the whole thing back. Going over what had just happened, the ‘accident’ or something that had been made to look very much like one. It had played out in seconds, but again it had felt like hours as he’d gone through it. Had it been intended as a warning, to warn him off? Or a more fatal ‘accident’ that he’d been lucky enough to walk away from?

  Eventually, Jake got out of the car, almost falling against it because he was so shaky. He’d never been in a car crash in his entire life – almost, a few times, including on his drive over to Redmarket, but never actually involved in one. Looking down the side of the car where the Escort had slammed against it, he saw the damage there: the dints and scrapes. He checked over the front and found it mercifully untouched. Still drivable. A couple of cars zoomed past, but nobody stopped. Not many people would think of doing that these days, unless it was something more serious.

  He had to laugh at that. More serious than almost being killed? All right, it didn’t look very serious then – a couple of skid marks as he’d gone over onto the grass. Might look like he’d been trying to take the bend too fast
and lost control … cars going by too quickly to see how banged up the driver’s side was. Jake laughed again, a nervous laugh. Going from terrified to delirious.

  Then, looking at it, thinking about what had almost happened, he started to feel angry. No, in actual fact, he was furious. Whoever had done this, and on whoever’s orders … he was livid. How dare they? But it did mean one thing; whereas before he’d only been suspicious, had nothing confirmed, now he felt sure in his gut that something – there it was again, something – was amiss. Didn’t hang together right, just didn’t fit.

  It made him all the more determined, that anger. To get to the truth of whatever was going on. He thought absently about reporting the crash to the police, but they’d think the same thing: just an accident, Jake driving recklessly after leaving his meeting with the mayor. The damaged side? Maybe he’d even hit a car himself on the skid, might be looking at charges himself if the diver reported it (Jake had a funny feeling they wouldn’t).

  So, there he was by the side of the road, thinking that this kind of thing only happened in the movies, and wondering what his next move should be. Something aside from calming down enough to get back in the Toyota and drive to where he’d been heading in the first place (assuming that Escort wasn’t just waiting for him, to try again) when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

  He pulled it out, noticing that his hands were still shaking, and pressed the screen button to accept the call.

  ‘Hi … Jake?’ said a female voice. Alison. Jake nodded, then realised she couldn’t see him, and said that it was. ‘Hi yeah … Are you all right, you sound a bit … I dunno, strange.’

  Jake assured her he was fine, and it was then that she said it. The words that made him laugh again, or at least smile. ‘You know those texts you sent me earlier.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Well,’ said Alison, ‘I think I might just have something for you …’

  Chapter 24

  He’d been about to turn away and leave, she could see that.

  Thought she was asleep, but she was only cat-napping. But Sam had spotted him when her eyes fluttered open, a shape lurking in the doorway, watching her. ‘Jake!’ she’d called out to him and he’d frozen on the spot. She thought he was just going to go anyway, leave without saying anything to her – but he turned back around, held up a hand. In his other one he was holding a box of chocolates.

  He could barely look at her, his gaze like a butterfly not wanting to settle there, his face full of guilt. There was no need, she was a big girl and she’d been the one who’d taken them to that horrible falling-down building in the first place. Based on coordinates Jake had come up with, yes, but she’d driven them both there. Insisted on taking the risk with him of going inside. He had no need to feel guilty …

  Unless it wasn’t just about the attack?

  Didn’t matter, she thought to herself as he came over – it was just good to see him. Good to see anyone who wasn’t a nurse or a doctor. She’d not even had any visitors from work yet, even thought they’d been notified of the situation. And Sam wondered then just what they’d say about it, the questions they’d ask about what she’d been doing in such a dangerous location. Not that she didn’t have a reputation for going off-course from time to time. It was just that they’d probably have a problem connecting all that to the Bannister case. She was having a problem herself, as it happened.

  But here she was, alive and … if not well, then she’d recover. It was more than she’d been expecting when she was kicked off that walkway, when the railings gave and she’d tried to hold on but couldn’t. Jake was in a lot better condition, she had to say – for one thing he wasn’t laid up in here with his leg in a cast, his ribs strapped up after undergoing surgery to stop an internal bleed. She’d been lucky, they’d said to her. Didn’t feel all that lucky at the moment, felt like she’d gone ten rounds with Creed and come off worse. But she was alive, that was the main thing. And where there was life …

  Jake had some bruises, a couple of plasters that had stitches underneath. Nothing major, and nothing that spoilt his looks. Now she felt guilty for thinking that, about a guy who’d lost his daughter so recently – and she felt guilty about the heat rising to her cheeks, the blush she knew was there.

  ‘Hey,’ he said as he came alongside the bed.

  ‘Hey yourself. Those for me?’ She nodded at the chocolates he was still cradling.

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ he told her, looking down as if noticing them for the first time. He proffered the box like some kind of delicious olive branch. ‘Didn’t really know what kind you liked.’

  ‘Hmm, well, good choice. They’ll help wash down the hospital food,’ she said with a small laugh. ‘But no flowers?’ She regretted that joke as soon as she’d said it, and apologised. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He looked like a rabbit in the headlights … ‘These are great, thank you,’ she said, accepting the chocolates and gesturing for him to sit. ‘Do you want one?’

  Jake shook his head. ‘I’m not really …’

  ‘You are eating though, right?’ Bloody hell, Sam – now you sound like his mother! But it had been one of the things they’d talked about when they’d seen each other, a running gag about him eating; about her making him eat, as Italians were prone to do, being in love with food and all.

  ‘I’m … Anyway, how are you? You’re the one in the hospital bed.’ A not so subtle change of subject or focus of attention, shifting it back to her.

  ‘I … I’d be lying if I said I was fine. I hadn’t really pencilled in an operation for this week, or …’ She patted the leg. ‘Still, it got me a room to myself which in this day and age is a miracle. Or maybe that was because they got wind I was a lawyer, wanted to keep me away from the other patients in case I offered to represent them and sue for negligence. They brought my car back, which is also good – and before you ask, no you can’t borrow it while I’m in here …’ She smiled at him, but his face remained the same. ‘Feel free to write something on the cast, by the way. I don’t have a Sharpie on me, but …’ Jake looked down then. ‘Hey, it’s okay. Really. Nobody had a gun to my head, I make my own decisions. None of this was your fault. I’d love to get my hands on whose it was though, tackle him in the light and maybe have a baseball bat handy, know what I mean?’

  Jake said nothing.

  ‘In fact, sometimes stuff like this, an experience like this, where someone … It can actually bring you … Makes you realise how close we all are to that farm.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jake, and for a moment she sensed he was thinking about something else; mulling it over. Not the slaughterhouse, but another close shave.

  ‘Look at me, it’s all right. Promise.’ But she could see when he did look up that it really wasn’t. ‘What is it, Jake. What’s the matter?’

  He made to get up again, but she grabbed his hand. ‘I really shouldn’t have come here tonight.’

  ‘Come on, sit down. Tell me.’

  ‘It’s … It’s nothing.’

  ‘Jake, I’ve been lied to by the best of them – and knew before they even opened their mouths – but you’re not even particularly good at it.’

  He shook his head, sat back down again. ‘I guess … Well, I guess I owe you that much.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Jake stared at her, but she wished to God then he was looking anywhere else. ‘Julie,’ he stated.

  ‘Oh.’ She let go of Jake’s hand and he looked away again. ‘When was this …?’ Sam asked, then suddenly realised she didn’t need any more details; didn’t want them actually.

  ‘She … Julie was waiting for me after … Well, here. We had a few drinks, chatted about old times and—’

  ‘One thing led to another. I get it.’ But she really didn’t. Inside, Sam was shaking; angry and upset, though she knew she had no right to be. Had no claim on Jake, especially compared with a woman he’d been with since school. A woman he’d walked out on, by the way, and who’d married again, Sam reminded
herself, which just made her even more angry. And the evening after she’d had bloody surgery! What the actual fuck?

  ‘It was wrong. It shouldn’t have happened, it was … it was a mistake.’ Even as he said the words, though, she could tell they weren’t his. Not originally. ‘It’s a mistake that won’t happen again.’

  ‘Hey, no biggie. We’re just mates, Jake.’ She said the words but couldn’t hide the hurt. Wasn’t sure she wanted to … Maybe she wanted him to feel bad now, feel as hurt as she was. But then she said, ‘We … we were just helping each other out.’ Were? As in past tense? Were they done here?

  Jake noticed it as well, nodded. ‘I guess … Well, I just wanted to see you again, I suppose. One last time.’

  So what, he was leaving now? He was just going to walk away from her, from the promise he made to his daughter? Why not, he’d walked away from one of them before. But she could see it was more than that. Perhaps he had been thinking about skipping out, but there was something else in his face now, a sort of determination, or resignation, she couldn’t decide which. A mixture of both, maybe?

  ‘Jake, what are you … What’s happened?’

  ‘I don’t know what you—’

  ‘Yes you bloody well do! What have you found out?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘That’s bullshit. Tell me.’

  He rose at that point. ‘It really is time I was leaving, Sam.’

  She reached out for his hand once more, but he was already too far away from her. ‘Jake, please don’t do anything rash.’

  He smiled sadly at her. ‘I really am glad I met you, that I was able to get to know you a little bit. And I am genuinely sorry.’

  Then he walked out the way he came, leaving her lying there open-mouthed, pressing the button to get a nurse. To get them to pull the phone on the armature closer so she could call someone, anyone.

  But what would she say? She didn’t have the faintest clue what Jake had found out, nor where he was going.