The Grayson Trilogy

by Georgia Rose

  “So there was a change of plan.”

  “Yes. I showed up with only you, we renegotiated, and they took you in.”

  “And you thought it was better for me to grow up thinking I was all alone and staying with random people rather than being put into foster care where I might have had the chance of being adopted and settled?”

  “Yes, I did at the time. I know it was selfish, Emma, but I always intended on getting you back once I could sort things out with the Polzins properly. I didn’t realise the consequences. I had to make a split-second decision, and that was the choice I took. Once made I couldn’t take it back. You couldn’t suddenly pop back up again, alive and well and as if nothing had happened.”

  I could see that. “What made everyone else believe we were dead?”

  “As soon as I heard of the accident, we left. Literally we walked out of the door in what we had on. I had a bag packed for such an emergency. To anyone coming round the house it was like we’d just stepped out for a while, intending on coming back shortly. As it was, it was three days before the police came to the house to try to find us. They couldn’t come round any earlier because they didn’t know whose car it was until it could be brought to the surface. By then the trail was cold, and they didn’t bother looking any further anyway believing instead that we’d all been in the car.

  “The car was a soft top and that was ripped off on impact. Divers were sent down to search for us, but when nothing was found it was assumed our bodies had been washed away down river. The official conclusion to the investigation was that I’d probably tried to get you out and we’d both died in the process. Case closed.”

  What a way for our lives to change forever. The room was silent and I realised that, although it was Volkov and I who were having the conversation, everyone else was listening. It was probably just as well; it would save having to go over everything again later.

  “So what happened next?”

  “I think you know the rest, Emma. I arranged a series of homes for you. I had to keep you moving to make sure the Polzins never got a hint of where you were. I relocated your ‘foster’ parents each time as soon as you left them, set them up with new identities, all to cover yours. I couldn’t risk the Polzins catching up with any one of them.”

  “That must have been expensive.”

  “I’m in a lucrative business.” He glanced at his watch. “Sorry, Emma, but I need to be leaving now. It’s getting late and I’ve probably given you more than enough to be thinking about for the time being. I’d like to come again, though, if you will see me. I’m sure there is more you want to ask.”

  There was, but right now my mind was on information overload and I needed some time to take it in.

  “That would be fine,” was all I was going to give him; I didn’t want to appear too keen. We agreed he would be in touch when he could and left it at that. I pushed myself up off the settee, ignoring the proffered hand to help me up as he stood, and we walked up the office together. He prepared to leave after another round of hand shaking, mine included. I was pleased he wasn’t suddenly expecting me to be all hugs and kisses. He left the way he had come, despite offers to drive him to wherever he wanted to go, and I wondered how he had got onto the estate as it hadn’t been via either of the gates.

  We had a debriefing when he’d gone, the general feeling being that he seemed genuine. Despite my misgivings over the way he’d handled things with me, over this I had to agree.

  Trent and I didn’t speak much on the way home. We checked the horses and topped up water buckets before going into the cottage, where we were greeted by an exuberant Susie who had been on her own far too long. She rushed outside to do her business then came back in for some cuddles, joining us on the settee.

  Trent had poured himself a drink and brought a glass of water in for me. As he handed it over, he commented, “You’re quiet.”

  “Hmm…”

  “Should I ask how you’re feeling about this?”

  “No, because I don’t know myself.”

  He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me in tight to his body, his hand on my stomach as he tried to feel Baby moving. Right then Baby wasn’t playing ball.

  “Talk to me, Em.”

  “Okay, but you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “I feel a bit deflated, actually. I’d ridiculously built up the notion that my mother might still be alive too, but she isn’t, and…I don’t know…”

  “You didn’t tell me that was what you were hoping for.”

  “Like I said, it was ridiculous. I thought I’d better keep it to myself so you didn’t think I was going mad, but stupidly now I feel disappointed. Though my thoughts are all jumbled up, Trent, there’s too much going on in my head.”

  “So tell me, it will help straighten things out.”

  “Well why didn’t he stay with me at the safe house instead of going back to them? We could have disappeared, gone into hiding, got new identities – clearly he had no problem sorting them out for all the ‘foster’ parents.” I even did the air quotes. “So why not for us? I don’t understand it. Nothing would ever make me leave my child, and yet he did.”

  “And you’re angry with him?”

  “Yes, and resentful. Wouldn’t you be?”

  “I think he had a tough choice, Em. We don’t know why he felt the need to go back to them, you will have to ask him next time. I’m sure he had a good reason.”

  I leaned away and turned to look at him, knowing my face showed my surprise. “Why are you on his side?” I realised how childish that sounded.

  “I’m not on his side, but I can see the position he was in, how difficult that would be.”

  “So – what? You’d leave your child?”

  “I know you’re spoiling for a fight, Emma, but you’re not going to get one here so don’t put words in my mouth. All I’m saying is you never know what you would do until you find yourself in the same situation. He seems like a decent guy and I’m sure he had good reason for doing what he did.”

  Trent pulled me back into his body and hugged me tight.

  “Why are you always so damned reasonable?” I grumbled as I felt his soft chuckle in my ear. While I wanted to lie there cuddling, I couldn’t quite let it go so sat back up and looked at him.

  “Anyway, what do you mean ‘he seems like a decent guy’, Trent? He kills people,” I remonstrated. He went quiet.

  “And what is it you think I do, Emma?”

  I thought for a moment. “I know sometimes you have done, but surely that’s an…” and I searched for the right words, “…an unavoidable outcome to your mission. You don’t get given a contract to go and kill someone deliberately.”

  Or did he? I’d said this more as a statement, but I found myself questioning what I thought I’d believed about him. He stayed quiet.

  “Oh, I get it, you see yourself as some sort of kindred spirit with your new-found father-in-law, is that it?”

  He shrugged, and I detected an edge of sulkiness to his response of, “We’re not that different.”

  “You are nothing like him,” I stated, wondering who I was trying to convince.

  “If you say so, Emma,” came his somewhat weary response.

  Chapter 8

  He arrived in the night a week or so later. We’d heard nothing from him, but got back from an early supper at the Manor and there he was in the kitchen.

  Susie on his lap.

  Traitor.

  I jumped as I walked in, stopping in my tracks. Trent followed me in as Volkov stood, allowing Susie to drop to the floor where she shook herself, only then deigning to come and say hello.

  Volkov held out his hand which Trent took.

  Traitor.

  “How did you get in here?” I demanded.

  “You don’t need to know, Emma.”

  I glared at him.

  “You can’t just go around breaking into places.”

  “I didn�
�t break in, there’s no damage.”

  “And what are you doing with my dog?”

  “Ahh, Susie and I are old friends.”

  I scowled at her as Trent murmured close to my ear, “He’s not the enemy, Em, play nicely.” Walking in and finding him here had put my hackles up. Why couldn’t he behave like a normal person and let us know when he was coming? And it irritated me that Susie was all over him, but I took a deep breath and tried again.

  “If you took my number perhaps you could let me know when you’re coming and I could be here ready for you.” I recited my number. He didn’t write it down or put it in a phone, a point I commented on.

  “It’s best I don’t keep that information anywhere other than in my head.”

  “Will you remember it?” He recited it back. Okay then. He didn’t offer me his number.

  “Can I get you a drink, Volkov? Emma?” Trent asked as I led the way into the sitting room. Volkov and I sat on separate settees, and Trent followed us in with glasses and a bottle of bourbon. With everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks I’d never felt more like I needed a proper drink and sighed as Trent handed me my water.

  I watched Volkov as Trent poured and handed a glass to him and thought of the conversation I’d been party to that morning. It was, I guess, a beautiful April morning, though I was struggling to see it. I hadn’t been as bad as in previous years, but we’d just passed Eva’s birthday again and it was a time I struggled through. Trent and I had gone to take flowers to her – daffodils.

  It had been noticeable how the number of visitors to the stables had increased over the last week and I was sure the word had gone out for everyone to keep an eye on me. I was larger now and finding the work harder, having to soak my aching body in the bath at the end of each day, so Turner was there most days anyway giving me a hand. But if it wasn’t Peters and Stanton working in the gardens then it was Porter arriving to take the pickup off for servicing, or Young and Burton coming to clean. Carlton and Greene came to ride out each day, and the school holidays had started so Sophia and Reuben were back. They had been over several times either to ride out with the others or spend some time with me in the arena.

  That morning Mrs F had arrived with Bray and a box full of goodies that they’d kindly put together. They’d hustled into the kitchen and accepted coffees as I updated them on my recent doctor’s check-up. There was little to report, but they always wanted to know every detail – and we kept off the subject of Eva.

  Bray asked how I was feeling having met my father. I’d barely answered with “Confused” when Mrs F chimed in.

  “Bray tells me he’s very good-looking.” And I’d glanced at Bray, astonished to notice her cheeks colouring as she told Mrs F to hush now in embarrassment. Bray was a widow, I knew that, and as I looked at Volkov now I could see why she would be attracted to him. But, although he was good-looking his blue eyes appeared haunted and there was a sadness about him that I suspected had been there since my mother had died, or possibly since he had started taking the lives of others. All that killing must sap the joy of living from your soul.

  On top of all the activity and the emotions of the anniversary, I’d had to deal with the turbulent feelings caused by meeting Volkov. Things I hadn’t thought about in years kept me awake at night and filled my mind with such turmoil I was struggling to deal with it. Susie knew I was on edge and stayed close, refusing to leave the yard now to go out for her walk with the others. Trent knew my state of mind from my tossing and turning in the night until eventually I’d give up on sleep and wander downstairs to read. Though then, unable to take anything in, I’d find myself with the book open, the words a blur before my eyes as thoughts churned over in my mind. Vicious, angry, hurtful thoughts gnawed at me as memories that I’d thought were closed away forever were woken and rose up in my conscious mind to torment me.

  Memories of my childhood, when lonely and unloved, unwanted by anyone, I’d been moved on continually by those paid to care for me. And the thought that my father had been there all along, had been alive and yet hadn’t chosen to be with me, inflamed my anger. Having lost a child, I couldn’t imagine any reason why he would deliberately leave me to go back to the Polzins other than the fact he hadn’t loved me. Not in the way I knew love to be between a parent and a child: where you loved with a raw animal passion that you would never give up.

  All in all it had been a difficult week. As I looked over at the man whom I perceived to be at the root of all my angst I couldn’t help but feel a little peeved at him.

  And I was understating that.

  He raised his glass in a silent toast and we did the same, then after he’d swallowed most of the contents of the glass he asked how we were, the baby and I. He knew it had been a difficult week for me with it being Eva’s birthday. I was surprised. I hadn’t thought he’d keep track of such dates and I told him so.

  He tilted his head to one side as he contemplated me for a moment.

  “Emma, she was my granddaughter. I remember.” Of course she was. I hadn’t even thought of that connection. Her grandfather. He paused for a moment, then continued, “I see you left daffodils for her again.” This time I felt my eyebrows rise with my surprise.

  “You’ve been to see her?”

  “Yes, I go whenever I am in the country.” Despite all my misgivings a sudden wave of affection for him softened my attitude. He drained his glass and Trent leaned over to top it up for him. Then, after refilling his own drink, Trent got up and said he’d got some paperwork to deal with and would leave us to it for a while. Volkov inclined his head to him in silent thanks and Trent went through to the office.

  “So, Emma, I’m sure you have many questions for me,” he prompted and while I agreed I didn’t know where to begin, deciding to tackle one major concern I had straight away.

  “I’ve had many memories coming back to me over this last week, stirred up from who knows where, but I don’t understand why I don’t have any recollection of you at all, or my mother.”

  He shifted uncomfortably and looked away for a moment before giving me his full attention again. I sensed his indecision as to whether to tell me something or not.

  “I promised you I would tell you the truth, Emma, so I will, but you may not like what I’m about to say.”

  There have been many things I haven’t liked you saying, I thought; this looks like it’s going to be another to add to the pile.

  “Go on,” I urged as I steeled myself for what was coming.

  “You were only five remember, Emma. I couldn’t risk you giving yourself away and I couldn’t expect you to remember to only use your new name, so I…I arranged for you to be hypnotised to block out the memories you had…to forget your name…”

  “Emma is not my name?” I spoke slowly, not able to believe what I was hearing. “You stole my name? And my memories?” We’d only just started our conversation but I could feel my anger rising already. I didn’t even know my own name – how ludicrous was that?

  “The memories are still there, Emma, somewhere buried deep. I’m told they can be triggered.”

  And then I remembered.

  “Like with the box?”

  That peaked his interest and he eagerly questioned, “Did it do that? Did it remind you?”

  “Yes, well kind of. I caught the scent of something that reminded me of something, but I got no further than that.”

  “But you remembered about the hidden compartment?” I nodded as I thought back. I hadn’t been aware of how I’d done it, but somehow I’d known it was there. I’d opened it so I must have done. Something jogged me, something I couldn’t explain, but I knew it’d felt good.

  “Your name…”

  I looked up sharply and held my hand up. “No, I don’t want to know who I should have been.” I glared at him, daring him to continue, and I saw in his eyes the moment he backed down, though I sensed disappointment as I continued, “So I remembered the box, but not you. Is that not strange?
”

  “I think there has to be a trigger.”

  “And seeing you, meeting you, is not enough of one?”

  “Apparently not.” He sounded disconsolate. I didn’t want to be antagonistic with my questions and wanting to know more I knew we needed some common ground to get us talking, so I went upstairs and picked up the box from where it had been living on my bedside table. Carrying it back downstairs, I sat next to him on the settee.

  “I think it’s time you talked me through these,” and I opened the box to retrieve the photos. “What’s the story with the box? Why would I remember it?”

  He smiled, probably the warmest smile I had yet seen from him. “You loved playing with that box as a little girl. You were fascinated with the secret panel and we used to play a game where we would leave little gifts or notes in it for each other. You would draw me pictures, scribbles, your first attempts at your letters. Kisses…always kisses for me…”

  His voice tailed off, the words misty, and he cleared his throat. “And if I was away and missed your bedtime I could look in there and you would have left me something. That showed me you loved me. I would do the same if I had to leave before you were up in the morning.”

  Oh…

  I could feel the emotion in his words, and as he smiled at me his eyes shone. I looked away, back at the photos, and handed the first one to him. Me in my mother’s arms.

  “She was a beautiful woman.” He sighed. “I feel guilty every day for what I did, for losing her, for leaving you without a mother.” I knew what it was to live with guilt like that and I knew when you shouldered that burden it was seldom straightforward.

  “You weren’t the one who drove her off the bridge.”

  “It was my fault they were chasing her.”

  “That was their choice, their decision. Essentially all you did was leave a job. It might have been your fault that you got tangled up with them in the first place, but I don’t think you should take the blame for everything that happened afterwards. There are those who should feel guilty for killing her and they will get their comeuppance. But I don’t believe you are among those guilty.”