Miss No One

by Mark Ayre

"Do you think?" said he.

  "I know," said Abbie. "It's not kidnapping and murder, is it, because I was locked up when it happened. Presumably, the charge would be conspiracy to kidnap and murder or something similar. A charge that reflects my lack of participation in the event itself."

  The detective withdrew his most patronising tone and said, "Aren't you clever? You're quite right, of course, and what a comfort that will be when they're carting you off to prison. Nearest high-security is right up the road, so you won't have far to go. Another bright side."

  Abbie made a point of smiling but said nothing. The detective hadn't mentioned the dealership, the bodies. By now, the police had to be all over the scene, so they'd either not yet thought to connect it to her or had decided to hold back the information, ready to launch it at a stubborn Abbie halfway through the interview. Maybe they thought it would be the information to break her.

  If so, they were very wrong.

  "I'm DCI Kliman, and this is my colleague DC Lakes. She's pretty new around here, so I hope you'll go easy on her."

  "I'll certainly try," said Abbie, smiling at Lakes, resisting the urge to say, Hello Christine.

  Eleven

  Kliman led Abbie back to the interview room she had earlier shared with Ndidi. Following the Christine Lakes reveal, Abbie didn't expect another big surprise for at least a few minutes.

  Reaching the interview room door, Kliman knocked, turned the handle, pushed.

  "Your attorney wants to go over things with you first. We'll be in soon."

  Kliman turned away. Abbie entered the room and stopped as though she'd walked into an invisible wall. Behind her, someone closed the door.

  On the other side of the table to the door, where Abbie had earlier sat, was a stunning woman of 23. But it wasn't the beauty or age of Abbie's attorney which caused her to stop in her tracks.

  "Ariana?"

  Ariana had been writing notes on a pad. Like a student. Like a beautiful student. A beautiful, dangerous, possibly psychotic student. And you could drop student from that last sentence. And possibly.

  When Abbie spoke, Ariana rose. She gave what appeared to be a rueful smile and smoothed her skirt, which was a little too short to be professional. It also didn’t need smoothing. Ariana looked uncomfortable. Abbie got the impression the young woman wished she hadn’t stood.

  “I guess you don’t want to hug?” Ariana said.

  “There are a few categories of people I don’t want anywhere near me, for any reason. Attempted rapists and people who tried to kill me are high up the list. You happen to fall into both categories."

  “And I suppose,” said Ana, “you’re not going to say one cancels out the other? You’re not raising your arms, so I guess a hug really is off the table?”

  “Get out,” said Abbie. “I don’t want you here.”

  Ana raised a hand and rubbed her thumb along her bottom lip. A nervous tic, like biting one's nails. When she pulled her hand away, she gestured towards the table, the seats.

  “We should sit, talk this out.”

  “Nothing to talk about,” said Abbie. “I’ve made myself clear.”

  Ignoring this, Ana pushed her chair back a little. “I’m going to sit.”

  “Then I’m leaving.”

  Abbie turned and made for the door. Behind her, Ana’s chair scraped along the floor as the beautiful psychopath pulled into the table.

  “I feel sick about what I did.”

  At the door, her hand half raised to knock, to ask to be released, Abbie paused. Ana’s words seemed to creep over her shoulders and sneak into her heart. There was something strange in the sound of them. Something Abbie at first couldn’t place because it didn’t fit the picture of what Abbie knew about Ana.

  Was that contrition? Guilt? Regret? Abbie struggled to believe Ana could experience any of these emotions.

  Despite herself, Abbie turned back to the woman at the table.

  As though Ana was a vampire and Abbie the rising sun, the younger woman raised her hands to cover her face as Ana turned.

  “No,” she said. “I can’t do this if you’re looking at me.”

  “Your actions might have destroyed a teenage boy’s life. That you can joke says it all.”

  Ana dropped her hands to the table. There was no smile on her face and only regret in her eyes.

  “Fine,” she said. “You got me, I struggle with emotion, and I'm not a good person. In fact, I’m a foul bitch.”

  “Something we agree on.”

  Ana waved this way. “On more things than one. What I almost did to Jacob was disgusting, disgraceful. I thought making him sexually service my boyfriend would cause no more than slight humiliation. I never comprehended the long term damage I might inflict. In the aftermath of my little sister’s murder, I wasn't thinking straight. Often, I wasn’t thinking at all. I’ll never forgive myself for what I almost did to Jacob, and there are no excuses.”

  “You’re right,” said Abbie. “My sister was also murdered. I understand the pain. The need to sexually abuse teenagers, not so much.”

  “One teenager.”

  “I’m out of here.”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Abbie stopped at Ana’s words, pausing near the door. “I'll never make up for what I did to Jacob. Trying to murder you was also, you know, not okay.”

  “As bad as that?”

  “Fine, it was a shitty thing to do. I agree, but maybe something good came of it.”

  “You accidentally stabbed your boyfriend. And he drowned. And died.”

  “Okay, so I don’t feel great about that.”

  “Stop it,” said Abbie, her voice dry as concrete, “you’re too hard on yourself.”

  “No, but look, he was an arsehole. A sadist. He used to beat the crap out of people for fun. He was a thief and a drug dealer, and he refused point-blank to watch soap operas with me.”

  “I don’t even want to know which of those you think is the worst,” said Abbie.

  “No, I guess you don’t, and it isn’t the point. The truth is I’ve never been a good person, but I allowed the death of my little sister to turn me into a monster. What I tried to do to you and Jacob was unacceptable. But when I fell off mum’s balcony, and when my boyfriend clutched onto my top and dragged me deeper and deeper into the sea, I was 100% sure I was going to die.”

  Ana shuddered, and Abbie felt a tremor race along her own spine. Because they had both experienced something similar that night. Abbie’s boyfriend hadn’t dragged her over the edge, but she had also plummeted from the balcony into the sea. Like Anna, she had felt the drag of the water as she sunk deeper and deeper. The tide had shoved her into the rocks, stealing her strength.

  Trapped in the dark and the quiet, Abbie had feared she would never again take a breath of air. There could be few more frightening experiences than that.

  “When I broke the surface,” said Ana. “When I took that first gulp of air, it was like a resurrection. I was like—"

  "Don't say Jesus."

  Ana stopped herself.

  “Fair enough,” she said. “Not the best comparison, I get that. All I'm saying is the near-death experience gave me perspective. It showed me what I’d become and what I’d become made me sick.” Ana drummed the table. Met Abbie’s eyes. “Truth is, I don’t want to be a good person, necessarily, but I don’t want to be evil, either. I don’t want to commit atrocious acts, and I do want to look out for the people that matter. To protect them. I care for my mum, and she cares about you. That’s why I’m here. I’m not all talk. I want to put my money where my mouth is. I want to keep you out of jail cause it’ll make mum happy. And tell you what, as an added bonus, cause I tried to kill you, I won’t even charge.”

  Abbie couldn’t help but chuckle, though she shook her head in mock despair. With a half-smile, Ana gestured to the seat opposite where she sat.

  “Come on,” she said. "Can we talk?"

  Abbie was no longer on the verge of leaving, but nor did she appr
oach the table. Placing the call to Alice Rayner, Ariana’s mother, Abbie had felt guilty. It didn’t matter that Abbie had saved Alice’s life only a month ago. As far as Abbie was concerned, Alice repaid that debt by changing Abbie’s perspective, making her realise she deserved to live a life, alongside her job of saving them. Because of Alice, Abbie had rekindled her romance with Bobby rather than cutting all ties.

  But Alice had given Abbie her number and made her promise she would call, should she ever need the kind of help a woman as wealthy as Alice could provide.

  Abbie had memorised the number but never expected to use it.

  Then came Ben's ultimatum. Thoughts of Bobby's smile had pushed Abbie to pick up the phone and dial those remembered digits. Alice had promised to send help.

  This was not what Abbie had expected.

  "I told Alice I needed a lawyer," said Abbie.

  “You did. And," Ana spread her arms again, smiling. "Voila."

  A few seconds passed, then Abbie raised a hand to her jaw, just to check it hadn't actually fallen open.

  "Excuse me?"

  "She sent me," said Ana. "I'm your lawyer."

  "No, your not."

  "I am."

  "It's been a month. How can you have become a lawyer in a month?"

  "I haven't. I was already a lawyer when you met me. Newly qualified." She parted her hands again and repeated, "Voila."

  Abbie crossed the room and took the seat opposite Ana. Not because Ana had offered it, but because she thought she might collapse from shock if she didn't get off her feet.

  Once sitting, Abbie stared at the beauty opposite. Despite everything Ana had done the first time she and Abbie had met, Abbie had suggested to Alice that her youngest living daughter might be redeemable.

  But that was before she'd known she was a lawyer.

  "A lawyer?" Abbie repeated.

  "A newly qualified lawyer," Ana confirmed. "And at your service."

  "Because I called your mother and asked for legal representation."

  "Yes."

  "And she sent you?"

  "Correct."

  "I thought she liked me."

  Ana smiled. "Mum more than likes you. She only knew you a couple of days, and she still thinks of you as a daughter. You’re one of her three favourite children, which, you may note, puts you above several of her actual children. Myself included."

  Abbie shook her head. This was bizarre and ridiculous. Abbie’s conversation with Ben had destroyed her hope of saving Isabella. Alice had restored that hope, but now this. It felt a cruel trick.

  "I need to ring someone," said Abbie.

  "Why?"

  "To arrange alternative representation."

  Abbie started to rise. Ana grabbed her arm.

  "Ariana," Abbie said, her tone deadly. "Release my arm right now, before I break your hand and possibly your face. You've seen how dangerous I can be."

  "I have," said Ana, but she didn't release Abbie. "I mean it when I say mum cares about you."

  "If she did, she would have sent an experienced lawyer. Was Alice not one of the continent’s top gun runners for most of her career? I know she turned her back on her life of crime, but surely she still has the number of a top lawyer in her Rolodex."

  "What's a Rolodex?"

  Abbie closed her eyes. Sighed. "In her phone, then. Is this about the cost? I felt guilty asking; I didn't want to put her out, but she assured me money was no issue. I'd never have asked if I'd have thought—"

  "Stop," said Ana, and at last, she released Abbie's arm. "Mum had one of the top lawyers in the country working for her up to the moment a judge sentenced her to nine years in prison. Get what I'm saying? Now, I know you don't trust me. I understand you don't trust me, but please, let me fight this for you. Let me show you I know what I'm doing. Please?"

  Abbie closed her eyes again. Saw the Isabella of the past, the one captured in Ndidi's photo. The Isabella of the future, the one rendered in frightening detail in Abbie's dream.

  She tried to imagine the Isabella of the present. Bound, gagged, and surrounded by people she did not know. People who threatened her, taunted her. Terrified for her life. Praying for her daddy.

  The clock was ticking. Abbie was running out of options.

  She thought of Bobby. Realised she would soon have no choice but to break it off with him. That would break her heart.

  But before then, one more roll of the dice.

  "Fine, we'll give this a try. But then I'm calling a lawyer—a proper lawyer. Because regardless of any good intentions you might hold, you’ve not a hope in hell of securing my freedom in the next few hours.”

  Less than a few hours later, Abbie pushed through the main door of the low, bland police station, stepped into the fresh air, and took a deep breath. Leaving the station felt like coming up for air, though the interview room had not been quite as oppressive as the sea.

  The door opened again.

  “Is it bad,” said Abbie, “that part of me wishes they’d laughed you out the room and convicted me of numerous hideous crimes just so I could have proven you wrong?”

  Ana chuckled. “Totally know how you feel. In fact, I’m actually a crap lawyer; it was the sheer will to prove you wrong that got me through.”

  This drew a smile, but only for a moment. It was gone two pm on day one of the two-day window to save Isabella. Time was running short, and Abbie felt woefully behind the curve in terms of piecing together what was going on, where the child might be, and how Abbie could save her.

  Luckily, despite what Abbie claimed, Ana had been brilliant in the police interview. Her evident capability allowed Abbie to stop worrying about whether she would be released and to focus on DCI Kilman’s line of questioning.

  Most of it was as Abbie had expected. The spectre of Hammond had hung over the conversation. Kilman had alluded to his deceased colleague several times as he harangued Abbie about her alleged altercation with Ndidi and Gary; the convenience of her arriving in town—without a good explanation for why she was here—hours before Ndidi’s daughter was kidnapped, her au pair murdered.

  More interesting was what Kilman failed to ask. The interview started after midday, yet there had been no mention of Davesh. There was no chance the bodies had yet to be found as the dealership had opened hours ago, and Abbie struggled to believe the police would not have connected the crime to Abbie. After all, Kilman’s main argument for Abbie’s involvement in Isabella’s kidnapping was that she happened to arrive in town hours before, even though she had been locked up when the actual event took place.

  Something was missing. Abbie could not help but wonder if Christine had something to do with the absence of what seemed to be a relevant line of questioning. Why had the young Detective snuck into the dealership anyway? Having learned Christine's profession, Abbie found the events of the previous night all the more suspicious.

  Because of the setting, because it might implicate her unnecessarily, Abbie asked no questions. She listened and watched as Ariana dismantled DCI Kilman’s arguments and secured Abbie's release under caution. After all, there was no evidence Abbie had anything to do with Isabella and the au pair; turning up in a new town without explanation was not a crime. Possibly, Kilman had the assault, but the evidence was sketchy. Inconsistent statements by police officers who couldn’t have been close enough to see clearly what was happening and a teenager with drugs in his system did not necessarily help the case. Their most powerful witness, Ndidi, hadn't provided a statement at all. Though he had found the time for a suspicious off-the-record interview with Abbie before learning about Isabella’s kidnap.

  “Don’t go far,” Kilman had said as Abbie left the station. “I’m sure we’ll be speaking again soon.”

  The pseudo threat didn’t frighten Abbie. By that point, her mind was focused on finding Isabella. Nothing else.

  “You did good,” she told Ana as they made their way down the stone steps.

  “Glad I could help,” said Ana. “
And I want to apologise again for trying to kill you. It wasn’t on.”

  “That’s one way of putting it, but I don’t care about me. People are forever trying to end my life. You get used to it.”

  “Well, Jacob, too,” Ana said. A little awkwardly. “If I could apologise to him—“

  “Nothing can make up for what you did,” Abbie cut in. “I stopped you from forcing a seventeen-year-old into performing sexual acts on your boyfriend, but in my book, that brings you no closer to absolution. Intent is what matters, and you’ll never scrub your slate clean following intentions like those."

  Guilt and regret still plagued Ana’s eyes, but she stayed strong in the face of Abbie’s words. Her lip didn’t tremble, and she didn’t break eye contact.

  “I know,” she said. “I’ll shoulder my guilt for the rest of my life. The weight might break my back, but I deserve that. I’ll fight to stay standing in my suffering, and I’ll work to be, you know, less of an arsehole.”

  “Good luck,” said Abbie, moderating the sarcasm that crept into her tone. “And thank you for getting me out of there.”

  As far as Abbie was concerned, this marked the end of their brief reunion, but as she turned away, Ana cleared her throat and spoke.

  “I know I failed to kill you, but I can kick arse.”

  Abbie’s brow creased, and she turned slowly back to Ana.

  “I don’t know what that statement's trying to achieve. Could be a threat, could be a boast… you’ll have to help me out.”

  “I’m saying I can be your homes.”

  For Abbie, this went no way towards shedding light on Ana’s previous comments and, in fact, further confused matters.

  “Is that slang? Like homies?”

  “No, listen, I may be a bad person, but I’m not evil. Some bastards have kidnapped a little girl, and even I can see that’s not right.”

  “Well noticed, you’re a moral beacon. What’s your point?”

  “I want to help rescue her.”

  At this, Abbie almost laughed. She shook her head.

  "No chance."

  "You can use me."

  "Undoubtedly," said Abbie. "Sociopathic tendencies aside, you're obviously capable, intelligent, and you’d go to certain extreme lengths that can be useful when facing the kind of people who would murder a young woman and kidnap a child."