by Mark Ayre
Abbie nodded. When standing face to face with a deadly man she was expected to kill, she never blinked, never faltered. Standing opposite Bobby, who posed no threat other than to the wall she had constructed around her heart, she didn't know what to say.
Bobby helped her out.
"Go on then," he said. "Go be someone else's hero."
Abbie smiled. Nodded. Touched his arm then walked towards the steps. As she went, Bobby called after her.
"Just don't forget to text."
Abbie said nothing in response. She waved her hand, smiled, and returned to her car.
Engine running, heating on, Abbie retracted the real black book, retrieved from the hotel, and her phone. At the end of the list that started at the front of the book and ran for five pages, she wrote Eddie Dean. Turning to the middle of the book, where the list starting at the back page had reached, she wrote Francis Roberts. Pen still in hand, she made a call.
“Everything’s sorted,” said Ben when he answered. “Nothing will tie you to this place other than the memories of those you saved and those you scared. That is, as long as you’re able to let this place go.”
On multiple occasions, Abbie had wondered if Ben might not be psychic. He certainly had an annoying habit of keeping her under surveillance. Had he watched her conversation with Bobby? Did he know Abbie had broken the rules?
No point asking. If Ben had no idea about Bobby, Abbie would only indicate to him there was something to know by speaking up. If he did, he would bring it up when he was ready. Only then would Abbie worry about the battle that might ensue.
Moving on, she said, “Names?”
“Oh, Abbie,” Ben said with a tut. “You’re not still on this, are you? How many times do I have to tell you—“
“Names.”
Ben let out a sigh. He wasn’t happy. Uninterested in his thoughts or feelings, Abbie said nothing.
“You can be quite inhospitable at times, young lady, do you know that?”
Patiently, Abbie repeated herself.
“Names.”
“Oh, fine, fine, fine. My feelings on the matter are on the record anyway. But I knew you’d want to know, so I have them here.”
In quick succession, Ben reeled off the names of those Abbie had killed in the nightclub, including Albert Kline and David Ronson. Abbie added each to the book.
“Satisfied?” asked Ben when he was done.
“This isn’t about satisfaction.”
“No,” he said. “I guess it isn’t. You know, you do a wonderful service for mankind. You shouldn’t get hung up on the lives you’ve taken.”
“I don’t need a pep talk.”
“Of course you don’t. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”
Again Abbie felt the tingle on the back of her neck as though she were being watched. She resisted the urge to pat her pocket, where Bobby’s number could be found. To look back to the hospital, to see if he was still there.
If Ben knew something, he could call her on it. Abbie was done playing his games.
If he wanted to call her on it, he could do it another time.
“Nothing at all,” said Abbie and hung up the phone.
From her drawstring bag, Abbie extracted the pillowcase. From the pillowcase, her battered and bruised but still intact copy of The Stand. Placing the book on her lap, Abbie placed her palm on the cover.
"Violet," she whispered.
She saw her little sister's smile, heard that wonderful laugh. Could almost smell freshly shampooed hair.
From inside her pocket, she withdrew the sheet of paper on which she had written Bobby's number. This she flattened on The Stand's cover. She placed her palm over both.
"For years now, I've been a robot," she said to her long since passed sister. "I don't want to be a robot anymore. Vi, I want to be a human."
Slipping the number away from The Stand, Abbie leaned forward and kissed the cover as she had once upon a time kissed Violet’s soft cheek.
"I think you'd be proud of me, sis," she whispered. "I love you now, I'll love you always."
Abbie returned the number to her pocket. The book she returned to the pillowcase and the pillowcase to her drawstring bag.
Holding new hope in her heart, as she had for so long held her sister's favourite possession by her side, Abbie started the car and drove away.
Somehow, as she passed the town limits, she even managed to smile.
Abbie King returns in
DEEP WATER
Don’t miss the second gripping novel in the Abbie King series of thrillers.
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The Abbie King Thrillers
Have you read them all?
The Stranger
Only Abbie knows Eddie's life is in danger. Winning his trust is already proving difficult. Then his brother turns up dead in Abbie’s hotel room…
Buy the Stranger
Deep Water
On the cusp of her sixtieth birthday, ex-gunrunner Alice Rayner wants nothing more than to put her life of crime behind her. But multiple criminal factions will go to any lengths to acquire Alice’s remaining cache of weapons.
Can the mysterious Abbie King help Alice vanquish her enemies and ensure the peaceful retirement she so craves?
Buy Deep Water
Miss No One
A young girl is missing. She has two days to live. Abbie King is confident she can save the child’s life - until she is framed for the attempted murder of a police officer and becomes public enemy number one…
Buy Miss No One
About the Author
MARK AYRE is a writer of character driven suspense thrillers. He was born in Reading, England, where he now lives with his wife and daughter.
www.markayrewriting.com
[email protected]
Copyright © 2021 by Alex Thompson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to action persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
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