That can’t be right. Janey can’t be dead, they must have the wrong photo, there must have been a misunderstanding, they must have– I blink, and start frantically scanning the article.
In the early hours of yesterday morning a young woman was found stabbed in an alley in a few miles outside of Ryebridge, Essex. An ambulance was called to the scene but the woman was pronounced dead. The victim has been named as 24-year-old Janey Hutton. DCI Bullock from Essex Police is appealing for anyone with any information to come forward, and to report any suspicious behaviour they may have witnessed in the area. The DCI has offered no explanation for why Ms Hutton was targeted, and has declined to comment on whether this may be linked to the rise in knife crime across the county.
Ms Hutton’s funeral will be held at St Mary’s Church in Whitelyn on Tuesday afternoon.
I read the article again, and again, as though somehow re-reading it will make the words change and bring my best friend back from the dead. Dead. She’s actually dead.
“Anna, what’s wrong?”
I become aware of Scott watching me, concern etched around the corners of his eyes. I stare at him blankly.
“She’s dead,” I answer in someone else’s voice.
“What? Who’s dead?”
Why? Why would be a better question. Why her? Why my best friend? Why hadn’t I ever told her how much she meant to me? Why-
Scott’s chair creaks and then he’s leaning over my shoulder, his proximity dragging me out of my trance as his scent fills my nostrils and his body heat envelops me. His eyes are scanning my screen; it doesn’t take him as long to process it as it took me. I feel his arms wrap around me, turning me and drawing me close.
“Anna, I’m so sorry.”
I let myself sink into him, my body moulding itself to his. Tears prick at my eyes.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
I nod, and pull away.
“The funeral’s in two days. We need to pack.”
“Anna, you can’t go.”
I blink fiercely, and Scott’s horrified face sharpens into focus.
“What do you mean, can’t go?” I demand. She’s my best friend, of course I’m going to her funeral.
“AbGen will be there.”
I process that for a long moment, then finally manage to find words of my own. It takes a long time to force them from my uncooperative tongue.
“You think they did it.”
He slumps back into his chair and rubs his hand across his face.
“You think they did it to get to me.”
The full horror of it hits me, and I collapse back in my own chair. Could it be true – is Janey really dead because of me? I know AbGen have a seriously warped moral compass, but can they really have gone this far?
“I don’t know,” Scott says. “Maybe it has nothing to do with them. But they’ll have someone at the funeral, in case you show. They won’t pass up an opportunity like this.”
An image from my first day at AbGen flashes to the front of my mind: a single whiteboard in the comms room, covered top to bottom with my life. Photos of me at work, details about my habits, my routine. My friends. Janey. Yes, they will be there. But so will I.
“I don’t care, I’m not letting them keep me away.”
“Anna, it’s too dangerous.”
“I’m not asking you to go, Scott,” I snap, pushing myself up from my seat. “If it’s too dangerous for you then I’ll go alone.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Scott says, rising beside me. He reaches out to me and I push his hand aside.
“No, I don’t know it. All I know is my best friend is dead, Scott – dead, and all you’re worried about is whether or not it’s too risky to go and say my last goodbyes. Well, I don’t care if they’re there. If they’re the ones who did this, then they should be afraid of me.”
I’m trembling from head to toe now, and all I want is just to get out of here – with or without Scott.
“If you want to go, of course I’ll come with you,” he says softly. “You’re the one I’m worried about not being safe, you foolish, beautiful girl. Why would I care what happens to me if you’re not here?”
I stare at him mutely. He’s never spoken about his feelings for me like that before. I walk into his embrace, and feel his lips on my forehead.
“I love you, too,” I murmur softly into his chest.
Chapter Three
It’s not raining, so that’s something, I guess. That’s what they say, right? ‘It could be worse, it could be raining.’ And it’s not raining, so I guess it could be worse. Sure doesn’t feel like it though.
I’m dressed in black, with Scott by my side, and we’re walking through the gates of the cemetery. The sky above us is stark blue, and the sun is hanging in a heavy orb overhead. It should be grey. It should be raining. It shouldn’t be so damned beautiful when my best friend is about to be buried.
Scott’s arm is wrapped around my shoulder, and I don’t know if he’s holding me up, or holding me back. Standing in the treeline, also dressed in black, are two faces that don’t belong. Helen and Nathan. Friends of ours, or at least they had been, back when we worked for AbGen. Now– Now I’m not sure what they are. The enemy, perhaps. Dangerous, probably. A chill runs through me. Maybe Scott was right. It was foolish to have come, risking not just my freedom, but his too, for some false sense of closure. Not only could they force us to go with them, Helen could make us want to go. That’s her talent. Perception Control. We would believe that whatever she said was the right thing to do. We’d walk right back into the lion’s den, and all she has to do is ask. But will she? I counted her as a true friend, just a little over a month ago. Would she be willing to take our free will from us?
If she does, the other mourners won’t suspect a thing. There’s some consolation in that, I suppose. Janey’s parents deserve to say goodbye to their daughter in peace, without my screwed-up life making an impossibly hard day even harder.
I feel a gentle squeeze on my arm, and follow Scott’s gaze to the other side of the cemetery. Another black-clad pair. I recognise one of the faces, but even if I hadn’t, everything about their immaculate suits and gleaming footwear screams AbGen.
“In case Nate and Helen don’t follow through on their orders,” Scott murmurs in my ear. Scott and Helen go back a long way; Scott and Nathan even further. Nathan is Helen’s handler now – a highly trained foot soldier and guide – but before that he had been Scott’s handler for years. AbGen obviously don’t trust that their instilled sense of patriotism will overcome personal loyalty. Their plan is a simple one: Helen and Nathan are the carrot, the other two AbGen suits the stick. They want us back, one way or another. Well, I don’t care what they want.
I straighten my shoulders and walk towards the open grave, ignoring the agents flanking us on either side of the cemetery grounds. I pass Janey’s mum, and lightly touch her shoulder, my voice catching in my throat as I offer my condolences. She nods and I move on as the tears start to trickle down my cheeks. The graveside is already surrounded by subdued faces; Janey was the kindest, most caring person you could have hoped to meet, and it’s reflected by the number of sincere mourners gathered round. Many faces I recognise, some I don’t. All of them seem moved by her passing.
Scott’s arm stiffens around me, and I follow the direction of his eyes. Two of the AbGen agents are making their way towards us. My jaw sets. What is the matter with these people? Not now, please not now. Scott’s head swivels to find Helen and Nathan still in the treeline, and I feel rather than see the intensity of his glare. I think I see Nathan’s head dip just slightly, and then he pulls a phone from his pocket. Across the cemetery, one of the other agents answers, and then the pair of them slink back. Scott nods in Nathan’s direction, and my eyes drift back to the circle of mourners. One amongst them – a blond guy in his twenties – seems less grief-stricken than the rest, and his face is distractingly familiar. I know him from
somewhere, but the memory is just out of reach. Another AbGen agent, maybe, though his cheap suit suggests otherwise. I stare blankly, glancing from him to Helen and Nathan to the other stationary pair of agents, and then my attention is pulled from all of them: the vicar has started speaking.
As he recites the words that have been spoken a thousand times, coloured with just enough sincerity to reach out to the mourners but not intrude on their grief, his reverent tones wash over me, and fade to the background, replaced by Janey’s warm smile, the trill of her laughter, the smell of her, the sound of her voice. The floodgates open and a hundred memories rush through: Janey dancing, Janey comforting me when I broke up with my last boyfriend, Janey asking me to cover for at work her when she wanted to sneak off for the afternoon to see a psychic. Me laughing at her for wanting to see a psychic, but covering for her anyway.
Memories aren’t the only thing the floodgates have let through, and a gentle breeze chills the tears on my cheeks. Janey’s mum steps forward and drops a single red rose into the grave, followed by a handful of dirt that breaks up as it scatters across the coffin lid with a cold finality. One by one the mourners step forward, take a handful of dirt, and toss it onto my best friend. My turn comes and I shuffle forward, close my hand around the damp earth, and scatter it on the coffin, leaving smears of dirt on my palm.
I step back into Scott’s embrace and listen as the vicar recites the closing prayers, with talk of hope and eternal life. Bitterness claws its way up like bile at the back of my throat. Eternal life? There’s no eternal life here, just death. Cold, cruel, undeserved death. Sickened, I wrench my eyes from the preacher and look round the circle of mourners, seeking some distraction from the hollow droning. I accidentally lock eyes with the out of place suit and immediately drop my gaze from his. My eyes flick back a moment later of their own accord, but this time he’s not looking at me. I look him up and down, trying to place him. I catch a glimpse of his hands and a frown creases my forehead. They’re clean. No dirt smeared on his palm.
“Anna.” Scott’s squeezing my shoulder gently. “We need to go.”
I realise the mourners are breaking up, and Helen and Nathan are starting to emerge from the tree line. The other two agents stay back in the shadows. If we’re going to run, we need to do it now. I don’t move. I’m sick of running, especially from our friends. One glance at Scott tells me he feels the same way. I take his hand in mine and we start towards the tree line.
“This is a new low, even for Pearce,” Scott says to our one-time friends, though I’m not sure if he’s referring to setting an ambush at a funeral, or killing an innocent woman. Nathan has the decency to look abashed.
“We didn’t want this,” Helen says. “But if we hadn’t come, those two would have brought you in by whatever means they could.” She nods at the two agents lurking in the distance. They’re still hanging back: whatever Nathan said to them on the phone has kept them at bay. Helen touches my shoulder lightly.
“I’m sorry for your loss, truly.”
I move away from her touch and her hand falls back to her side. Her face falls too, and a stab of guilt attacks me. I can’t help but wonder if it’s my own emotion, or one she put there.
“I’m sorry, too,” I reply. “Sorry I ever set foot in Langford House. They did this to her. Janey deserved better. They had no right! They–”
I bite back tears again, furious at myself showing any sort of weakness in front of AbGen. Helen’s face is contorted in horror.
“Anna, no. They would never do anything like this. What happened to your friend was a horrible, random attack.” She turns to her handler, and urges: “Tell her, Nathan.”
“She’s right, Anna. AbGen had nothing to do with her death. When Doctor Pearce heard about it, he told us to come, and try to bring you back peacefully. He doesn’t want anyone else getting hurt.” He looks to Scott and back to me. “He’s a good man, Anna. He’s even willing to forget everything that’s happened. He just wants you to come back in.”
I snort. There’s no way Pearce could think we’d be dumb enough to fall for that, and if he does then I’m seriously insulted. I glance at Scott to make sure he’s as incredulous as I am, but he has his face carefully arranged into an impassive mask.
“Look, I don’t know what happened in Gardiner’s office,” Nathan says, “but I know you must have a reason for what you did.”
My eyes twitch sideways to Scott but his careful mask doesn’t slip. Which is impressive, because he must be as shocked as I am. It wasn’t us who killed Gardiner, and there were plenty of witnesses – chief amongst them the man who pulled the trigger, and stayed behind to expose AbGen’s corruption. Joe.
“There are some things you need to know,” Scott says carefully. He sweeps the cemetery with his eyes. “We’ll tell you everything. But not here. Come to Ryebridge park at two. And come alone.”
He eyes the other two agents meaningfully, and Helen and Nathan share a glance before Nathan nods.
“We’ll be there. Just us.”
Scott searches his eyes and nods.
“Good. You should go. And take Pearce’s lapdogs with you.”
Chapter Four
Scott insisted we got here an hour early, so here we are, walking the perimeter of the park, hand in hand like any of the other couples out for a stroll – except they’re here to enjoy the scenery, and we’re here to find out what the hell is going on at AbGen. Okay, yes, they’re a shady government organisation, so cover-ups are somewhat par for the course, but I don’t get what they have to gain from this one. Even if I believed for one moment that Joe would point the finger at us – which I don’t – there’s no way Megan (the girl we thought we were rescuing, and essentially the cause of this whole sorry mess) would let him get away with it. She’s AbGen through and through. If you cut her open like a stick of candy rock (don’t tempt me!) I’m pretty sure she’d have AbGen written in her core. And she wasn’t the only witness. Marcus was one of Gardiner’s personal guards, I can’t see him letting his boss’s killer escape justice in favour of pinning it on us. It’s not like we weren’t already AbGen’s most wanted anyway.
Scott doesn’t seem any clearer on their motives either, as we stroll round the duck pond for the third time, and spot Helen and Nathan walking through the main gate. I can’t quite believe we’re going through with this; we should have counted ourselves lucky to have walked away from Ja- from the cemetery with our freedom, and here we are, literally walking right up to the people hunting us. Except Scott thinks that when they hear the truth, they’ll be on our side, and we need some people in our corner right now. He worked with Nathan for nearly seven years, and he recruited Helen a few years after that, so if he says we can trust them, who am I to argue? Then again, he also trusted Gardiner for seven years, so there’s that.
“Scott, Anna,” Nathan greets us. “It’s good to see you both again.”
“And you,” Scott replies, accepting his outstretched hand. “Thanks for coming.” Alone, the word hangs unspoken between us.
“Let’s walk,” Helen suggests, slipping her arm easily into mine. I tense at the contact, then make myself relax. She pretends not to notice. She is a friend, I remind myself. Scott trusts her. I trust her.
The boys fall into step beside us, and for a while we just walk in silence, enjoying the late autumn sun tanning the leaves. Eventually, Helen breaks the silence.
“You look well,” she tells me cheerfully.
“I look like shit,” I say, definitely not glancing at my torn and battered nails. “But thanks anyway.”
Helen, on the other hand, looks immaculate. As always. It’s sickening. How the hell does she do it?
“How’ve you both been? We were worried about you. When we heard what happened…” She trails off unhappily.
“What did you hear happened?” Scott probes, neatly side-stepping her question, which is good because I don’t want to have to consider the answer to that. Helen and Nathan share a look that
I almost miss, but Scott doesn’t.
“We’re friends, right?” he asks Nathan.
“Of course. That’s never going to change, no matter what you- what happened.”
“Good. Then speak openly. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around us.”
I nod vehemently in agreement.
“Fair enough,” Nathan says. “Anna decided she was done with AbGen. She took off, and you went after her to convince her to come back.”
Well the first part is true, at least – although it skips the whole part about how Gardiner and Pearce tried to change my mind by locking me up in their basement-slash-torture chamber, and that Scott was protecting me, not trying to bring me back.
Nathan has stopped speaking, though it takes me a moment to notice.
“Go on,” Scott urges, but he doesn’t. Helen takes up where he left off.
“While you were gone, Anna convinced you to come back here.” She gives me an apologetic look, and continues, “To kill Gardiner.”
I can’t help myself. I actually laugh. Three faces turn to look at me like I’ve lost it.
“Seriously? What, I used my feminine wiles to convince him to turn assassin? Have you seen my nails?”
I hold up my hands for inspection, and Helen’s brow furrows. It’s obviously not the response she had expected.
“Right now, I couldn’t turn a pancake.” I shake my head in amusement. “What happened next?”
“It seemed logical at the time. Everyone could see Scott was smitten with you.”
Seriously? I mean, how was I the last one to know? I’m not as worldly as I thought. And to be honest I hadn’t thought I was all that worldly to start with.
“You persuaded Scott to kill Gardiner and take over AbGen. You called Gardiner and said you wanted back in, and he welcomed you with open arms. But when you got into his office, you pulled a gun and shot Gardiner and one of his guards. The other guard disarmed you, and you took off.”
Exiled (TalentBorn Book 2) Page 2