by Elise Noble
“Just a gym membership card. Beth, didn’t you say she met the current boyfriend at the gym? Figure that’d be a good place to start if we need to find him.”
“Let’s pay Kevin Waite a visit first,” Alaric said. “Maybe he just couldn’t stay away?”
Couldn’t stay away? Well, wasn’t that a creepy thought?
CHAPTER 36 - ALARIC
A MISSING WOMAN was precisely what Alaric didn’t need at this moment, but he couldn’t just abandon Beth’s friend. Instinct told him there was a problem, and experience told him the police wouldn’t exactly bust a gut to look into it. It was the same the world over—good cops were overworked and underpaid, bogged down by paperwork plus the crushing weight of public expectations. They’d focus on the big cases—the ones that would garner them favourable headlines—and the easy wins that would improve their statistics. Bad cops? Well, they were a whole other issue. And a disappearance where the only suggestion of foul play was a vague voicemail would be lucky to get an officer assigned.
But the court paperwork gave an address for Waite. In East London, by the looks of it—Emmy’s old stomping ground. Alaric had visited with her a time or two. Despite her current lifestyle and the size of her bank account, she still fit right in on the Mile End Road. Jimmy, the ex-boxer who acted as a father figure to her, always said you could take the girl out of East London but you’d never take East London out of the girl. If Alaric and Ravi left now, they could drop Beth off and be in Aldgate in a couple of hours. In terms of distance, Acton and Aldgate weren’t far apart, maybe ten miles, but traffic in central London backed up worse than in DC. Could they get there faster on the Tube? Probably, but if you needed to escort a new “friend” to another location, using a vehicle was a damned good idea. Putting a gun to a man’s back on a train was something Alaric wanted to avoid. Yes, he’d done it before, but not in London, and the presence of the public brought a whole new level of risk.
“Are we going straight to see Kevin?” Beth asked.
“If when you say ‘we’ you mean me and Ravi, then we’re going right now.”
“You think you’re leaving me here? Not likely. Gemma’s my friend.”
“Of course we’re not leaving you here, my sweet. We’ll take you back to Kensington.”
Beth folded her arms. Uh-oh. “Okay, you try that. I have an Oyster card.”
Normally, loyalty and determination were qualities Alaric admired in a woman, but today, he had to concede that obedience and a propensity to shy away from confrontation were also desirable traits. Now what? Should they take her home anyway? Ravi could pocket the damn Oyster card without her noticing, but she’d be mad, and Alaric really didn’t want to lose yet another assistant. Plus he liked Beth. More than he should have—he admitted that—and he hated to see her upset. But nor did he want to see her get hurt physically, and if Waite was involved in Gemma’s disappearance, he might not appreciate a visit from a group of concerned strangers.
Ravi put an arm around Beth to steer her past a group of youths, a move that made Alaric bristle on instinct, but…there, he had her wallet. If Alaric hadn’t known him so well, hadn’t been on the receiving end as Ravi practised the move a hundred times, he’d never have noticed.
“Beth, at the very least, Waite’s a stalker who’s already been taken to court once. If he is wrapped up in this, the chances are he won’t go quietly. I’m used to being in these situations, and so is Ravi. You’re not.”
“I’ll be quiet and keep out of the way.”
“Yes, in Kensington. I want you to stay safe.”
“I will be if I’m with you.”
It was nice that she had confidence in him and Ravi, but unfortunately, the world wasn’t quite that simple.
“Today, you’d be a distraction. We need to focus one hundred percent of our attention on Waite and what he is and isn’t telling us.”
“What if I stayed in the car?”
Beth’s tone held an edge of desperation, and Alaric understood why—when Gemma had called yesterday, Beth hadn’t answered, and now the misplaced guilt was eating away at her. But he still wasn’t taking needless risks.
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Ravi said. “We might need the car moved to the back of the building if…you know.”
If they needed to bundle Waite or Gemma into it. Yes, Alaric knew. And sooner or later, Beth would come to understand that not everything he or the other men of Sirius did was strictly law-abiding. Perhaps it was better the revelation happened sooner? Days like this, he regretted breaking up with Emmy. That way, she could’ve done the dirty work while he played getaway driver, and kidnapping a kidnapper wouldn’t even raise one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows.
Beth managed a tight smile. “If I’m in the car, at least you won’t come out of the building and find it clamped.”
“Okay, fine. You wait in the car, and you keep your phone in your hand. If one of us gives you an instruction, you need to follow it, no questions asked.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I will, I promise.”
If Gemma lived in the armpit of the world, then Kevin was well within sniffing distance. Ravi tried the handle of the building’s outer door as Alaric gave one last glance towards Beth, sitting behind the wheel of the SUV in the side street opposite. Her face was in shadow, but he felt her eyes on him.
“Hey, this door really is unlocked. Great security.”
“Probably nothing worth stealing.”
According to the paperwork, Waite lived in a first-floor apartment—second-floor if you were American—and the stairs stank. Alaric skirted a suspicious-looking puddle gleaming in the light from a single bare bulb and pushed open the door to Waite’s floor.
“Nice,” Ravi muttered. “Makes the apartment in Thailand look like a palace.”
For a moment, Alaric thought back to the hovel they’d shared with Judd and Naz for a few weeks, a cheap two-bedroom place chosen for its location rather than its decor. Yeah, it had been grim, but it had served its purpose, and at least the four of them had known how to use a bathroom. Thanks to Naz and his OCD, the place had reeked of bleach rather than piss with an underlying note of marijuana.
“Where’s Naz when you need him?”
“He wouldn’t have made it through the front door.”
Speaking of front doors, Waite’s looked as though it had been kicked in more than once and patched back together again. When Alaric nudged it with a foot, it wobbled.
Should he knock or not? After a moment’s hesitation, he rapped on the flimsy wood with his knuckles, then stood to the side as they waited. And waited. And waited. Nobody answered, and he didn’t hear any movement inside either.
Ravi reached into his pocket for the set of lock picks Alaric knew he kept in there.
“’Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.” By the time Ravi finished the second line of the poem, he had the door open. “After you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Inside the minuscule apartment, the only light came from unwashed windows, and the place had a feeling of stillness about it. Nobody home. Nobody alive, at any rate. Alaric sniffed the air. Sweat, the musty smell of unwashed bed linen, and a hint of damp. Nothing that indicated decomposition. He took that as a good sign.
But where was Waite?
Ravi opened the fridge. “Two cans of Red Bull, a jar of pickled beets, and an unopened block of cheese. Either Kevin’s not much of a cook, or he cleared out for a while.”
Alaric eyed up the tiny counter. Knife block, chopping board, empty fruit bowl. Two recipe books—100 Meals for Students and Family Favourites for Under a Fiver. The cupboard beside the fridge was stacked full of cans—chickpeas, baked beans, plum tomatoes, sliced carrots…
“It’s the latter. But where the hell has he gone?”
A possible answer came when Alaric flattened out a piece of paper from the trash can beside the desk. At some point, the
printer had run out of ink, and the list of “50 free things to do in Marbella” had cut off halfway down the page. Had Waite gone on vacation?
It didn’t take long to search the apartment. The place was basically one room plus a bathroom not much bigger than an old-fashioned phone box. A logoed baseball cap and two polo shirts that smelled of fried chicken hanging in the closet suggested Waite worked at a fast-food joint along the street, and he didn’t own much else in the way of clothing. Jeans, tracksuits, half a dozen pairs of branded sneakers. According to the bank statements in the desk drawer, he was overdrawn, and he had indeed purchased airline tickets recently, plus paid three hundred Euros and change to a hotel booking website. His phone bills showed texts and calls to Gemma’s number, hundreds a year ago, plus a dozen or so in the last month. Recently, another number had borne the brunt of his obsession, it seemed. Alaric photographed each page for follow-up.
“Anything?” he called out to Ravi.
“Not unless you count the photos in his nightstand—twenty or so of two different brunettes. Cheap paper. Appears he printed them at home.”
“Posed?”
“Some of them. But the majority look covert.”
“Got pictures?”
“A nice selection.”
Then it was time to leave. Waite wasn’t there, neither was Gemma, and Alaric was conscious of Beth sitting in the car alone. Despite the fact that Waite was obviously disturbed, Alaric had bumped him down the suspect list.
“Let’s go. Waite feels wrong. He’s definitely got a problem, but I’m not convinced he’s our man.”
“Agreed. Pick up lunch on the way back?”
Ravi always thought with his stomach, but it was almost dinner time. “Sure. How do you feel about fried chicken?”
By the time they headed back to Judd’s place, Waite’s colleagues at The Chicken Hut had confirmed he was indeed sunning himself in Marbella for two weeks. Left last Friday, apparently, which put him out of contention for abducting Gemma. Could he have faked a vacation? Possibly, but yesterday, he’d sent one of his buddies a photo of himself burned to the colour of a baked ham, and there was no way he’d turned that colour in England, not in the last couple of days. The heatwave had given way to showers.
“Now what?” Beth asked from the back seat.
She’d wrinkled her nose when Ravi offered her a piece of chicken and muttered something about a salad instead. Alaric offered her a French fry, and she hesitated before reaching out a hand.
“Maybe just the one.”
“Take the bag. I got extra.”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“You haven’t eaten today.”
“Because I’m worried.”
“Lesson number one—you have to eat, whatever happens. You need to keep your energy levels up. And in answer to your question, now we move to the second suspect on the list. What do you know about Ryland?”
“Hardly anything. Just that Gemma seemed happy with him at first, but then she gradually got more and more miserable. She mentioned one time that she always attracted the wrong sort of guy.”
“You said you saw him once—would you recognise him again?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Alaric hated to involve Beth, but he saw little choice at the present time. “Then tomorrow, we join a gym. That was where Gemma met him, right?”
“Both of us? Don’t you need to travel to America?”
“If you think I’m leaving you here to hunt for a possible kidnapper by yourself, you’ve got another think coming. We’ll find Ryland, and then we’ll go to the US. I’ll call Emmy and tell her we’ll fly commercial in a few days.”
“Are you sure? The painting…”
“Is less important than a living, breathing woman.”
At least, Alaric hoped Gemma was still living and breathing. Otherwise, he might have to brush up on some of his old skills.
Beth reached between the seats to touch him on the shoulder, and he suppressed a shiver at the contact. The effect she had on him…it wasn’t healthy.
“Thank you. I…I don’t know what else to say.”
“Like I said, we look after our own.”
“How was the parkour, Cinders?”
Alaric was sitting at Judd’s dining table with his phone and a glass of wine, checking Gemma’s social media accounts. She didn’t post much. There was no mention of Ryland, or Kevin, or any other man either, just the occasional cat meme and a bunch of “Happy Birthday!” messages from friends back in February. Mind you, if Kevin had been stalking her, then the lack of content made complete sense.
“Okay.”
One word, but Emmy sounded offhand. Distracted.
“Just ‘okay’?”
“We got chased out of an abandoned factory, which was kind of ironic since it was Blackwood’s people doing the chasing. Those guys need to get in better shape. Probably I should draft a memo. Or get Toby to replace the office biscuits with broccoli again.”
Toby was Emmy’s nutritionist. She often bitched about his rules, but deep down, she liked to stay healthy. That didn’t stop her from hiding candy all over the place though, like the chocolate she habitually left in Alaric’s car. Which was okay in Virginia, but not so good when he drove south to Florida and the damn stuff melted.
“Delegation—an exercise in plausible deniability?”
“Something like that. Are you calling about the flight tomorrow? Because it’ll have to be later rather than earlier. I need to fit in a couple of meetings before I leave, and the Japanese dude can only do the afternoon. Plus the client booked in for eleven never shows up on time.”
“And you put up with that?”
“I bill him top whack for every wasted minute, but since he’s a government guy, he doesn’t seem to care.” Alaric could picture her nonchalant shrug. “I think of it as a deduction on my taxes.” A pause. “Anyhow, tomorrow?”
“Thanks for the offer, but we’ll have to fly commercial later in the week. Something came up.”
“Work? That’s good news.”
“Not exactly. Remember Gemma from the gallery?”
“Ditzy brunette? Too thin?”
“That’s her. She’s disappeared, and Beth’s worried about her. Frankly, I am too.”
“Why?”
Emmy’s curiosity: piqued.
“She left a cryptic voicemail saying she was uncomfortable, then mentioned ‘he’ was coming and said she’d call back.”
“And she didn’t?”
“No, and now her phone’s switched off. Doesn’t look as if she’s been home either.”
“And you want to find her.”
A statement, not a question.
“You know me—I’ve never been able to turn down a damsel in distress.”
“I know you?” Emmy gave a hollow laugh. What was all that about? “Right. Look, I’ll push the flight forward to Wednesday. If you’ve finished damsel-saving by then, give me a shout.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine.” Uh-oh. “If you need any input from Blackwood in your hunt for Gemma, give Sloane a call. She’ll sort it out.”
Sloane? Now Alaric was being referred to Emmy’s assistant? Something was wrong, very wrong. Even when he’d returned from his hiatus, she hadn’t pushed him away like this.
“Cinders…”
“I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
She hung up. She actually hung up on him. Fuck. Now he wasn’t sure which was the bigger problem—Gemma’s vanishing act or Emmy’s stone-cold attitude. Boy, tomorrow promised to be fun.
CHAPTER 37 - BETHANY
“REMEMBER, IF YOU see Ryland, don’t speak to him.”
“I understand.”
I’d understood the first five times Alaric briefed me too. If I recognised Gemma’s boyfriend, I wasn’t to react at all, just carry on with whatever I was doing and tell Alaric at the first opportunity. Honestly, I wasn’t convinced we’d even find him. If he had been involved in Gemma
’s disappearance, would he really make it a priority to go to the gym just two days later? And it was morning too. What if he preferred to work out in the afternoon? Or the evening? I clutched the handles of my gym bag tighter, grateful for the energy drink that Alaric had tucked in there before we left Judd’s townhouse. I’d need it. If we didn’t find Ryland today, I foresaw a lot of exercise in my future.
Alaric held open the door to Workout World, his hand on the small of my back as he ushered me through. He did that often—those fleeting touches—but I’d come to realise it didn’t mean much. That was just the way he was. A part of me hated it. The part of me that still wanted more, not all those little teases disguised as chivalry. The other part? Well, I’d take what I could get.
Workout World wasn’t like my regular gym—the front desk was manned by a hairy guy in gym shorts rather than an animatronic mannequin in spandex with D-cups she’d earned by sleeping with a cosmetic surgeon. The mannequin’s teeth had been perfect as well, veneers I doubted she could afford on her salary. Had she screwed Piers too? He’d been a member before our split, and honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised me.
I’d need to find a new gym in a month because I wouldn’t be renewing my own membership—not only was it too expensive now, but I was also sick of the bitchiness. Could Workout World be a viable alternative? Not the Acton branch—that was too far—but I’d checked the website and there was one in Hammersmith. The hairy guy—Wayne, according to his name badge—greeted us with a pleasant smile.
“Haven’t seen you here before. Are you members?”
Alaric took over. “No, but we’re hoping to join.”
Another plus point—the joining fee would be classed as a legitimate work expense. Wayne slid forms towards both of us, and I noticed Alaric didn’t use his real name when he filled his in. Rick McDonald. Hmm. If I worked with Sirius for long enough, could I get an alias too? I’d ditched Fortescue-Hamilton before the ink on the divorce papers was dry, but what I really wanted was a surname without a hyphen. Bethany Althea Margaret Constance Stafford-Lyons was such a mouthful, and it didn’t fit on the form either. Beth Lyons. There, that would have to do.