There was a lot to like about her.
They’d been out a total of four times now. On the last two occasions she’d asked how his recovery was coming along, then thankfully switched the subject to her own work. It was something she was passionate about, and listening to her plan her future made him want to be a part of it.
He hadn’t expected to feel that way about anyone, ever again. The ordeal he’d gone through had changed him. His self-confidence had been shattered, his trust in people severely eroded.
An episode six months earlier emerged unbidden in his mind.
Crutches beside in him his modified people carrier, he drove to his local supermarket and looked for a disabled bay. They were all occupied. He parked farther from the store, but as he hobbled nearer the entrance, he saw a beer-bellied builder get into a van. It didn’t have the blue badge in the window and the driver didn’t look handicapped in any way, so Scott asked him why he was parked in a disabled spot.
The large man got out of the van again, his face contorted in anger. The old Scott would have taken him down with a couple of punches, damaged knees or not. The new Scott just stood frozen, unable to kick his brain into gear.
“What the fuck has it got to do with you where I park, eh? Who are you, the fucking cripple police?” The man was in Scott’s face, his breath stinking of cigarettes and last nights’ beer. “What happened, someone run you over for being a nosey fucker? Go on, piss off before I give you a real kicking.”
Before Scott could think of a response, the builder was back in his van and pulling away, flicking Scott the finger as he passed. Scott went straight home and ordered his food online, any plans to get back into the world abandoned.
That encounter had led to him moving to Auxerre, though not through choice. The entire episode had been recorded on someone’s phone, and they’d thought it a great idea to upload it to Facebook; another reason he hated social media. The damn thing had gone viral, and one of the people who saw it was the man who’d first put Scott in a hospital bed for two months. Whoever had taken the video had followed Scott back to his car, and it was probably the plates that led them to him.
Scott began to sweat as he recalled what had happened a couple of weeks after the supermarket incident. He’d been in his ground-floor flat, staring out of the window as usual, when he’d seen two cars pull up in the street. He’d reached for his panic button, and by the time he’d looked back to the window, a number of hard-looking men in leather jackets were running up the path to his front door. He’d tried his best to get to the safe room under the stairs, which had a lock on the inside, but in his panic he couldn’t get his arms and legs to work in unison. He was almost there, reaching forward for the handle, when the front door flew inwards and six men piled into the flat. They pushed Scott to the floor and dragged him into the living room by his ankles. One went to close the curtains, while another stuffed a rag into Scott’s mouth and secured it in place with duct tape.
“Thought you could hide, did ya?”
Scott hadn’t recognised any of the faces, but he knew who they worked for, and the next three minutes had been worse than the original beating that had put him on crutches in the first place. They stamped on his knees as he lay helpless on the floor, then one of them removed Scott’s shoes as another took a pair of gardening secateurs from his pocket.
“Remember these?”
They’d used the same implement the first time around to remove two of Scott’s toes, one from each foot.
“Time to finish the job,” the heavy had grinned.
As the cutters bit into Scott’s flesh, he’d passed out. When he’d come to, the face looking down at him was different, a mixture of concern and calm.
“Stay still. An ambulance is on its way.”
Scott had no idea how the CO19 team had taken down his assailants, nor how the thugs had found him. It was only later, during his second extended stint in hospital, that his boss had mentioned the viral video of his supermarket encounter and he put the pieces together.
From that point on, Scott knew the UK wasn’t a safe place, and he’d decided immediately to move overseas. After two weeks in the private hospital, with armed guards stationed outside his room 24/7, Scott had been flown to Paris, where a car had taken him to Auxerre. His personal possessions were already in the new apartment, and a nurse was on hand to help him through his convalescence.
Scott had made as little use of her as possible. He’d allowed her to shop for him and cook the occasional meal, but for the most part he spent his time alone, brooding. He’d slid down a six-month spiral of despair until Kelly had dropped into his life. Now, for the first time in a year, he had a reason to get up in the morning.
After an hour of listening to his playlist on YouTube, Scott went through to the kitchen and turned the oven on. It had just finished pre-heating when the doorbell rang. He looked at the clock.
Three-thirty.
Kelly wasn’t due for another half an hour, which immediately set him on edge. Had they found him again?
Scott grabbed a knife from the block and tip-toed to the door in a crouch. When he reached it, he eased himself upright and looked through the peephole.
A distorted vision of Kelly’s head looked back at him, and he realised he’d been holding his breath. He let it out, took a couple of deep ones, then opened the door.
“Hi,” he said, hoping it hadn’t come out as a squeak.
“I’m sorry I’m early,” she said. “I got a cab but didn’t realise he’d get here so quickly. I can come back if it’s not convenient.”
“No, no, come in. I was just about to put dinner on.”
He held the door open for her and gestured towards the living room. She walked in and Scott stepped into the kitchen, where he deposited the knife he’d been holding by his side. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses, then joined her.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks,” Scott said. He uncorked the bottle and poured a couple of generous measures. “I’d give you the tour, but it’s really just this, two bedrooms and the kitchen. You’re welcome to see them.”
“Show me the kitchen,” she smiled. “I’ll see the rest later.”
He considered his answer for a long moment, but all that he could think to say was, “Sure.”
He led her through to the kitchen. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but it was enough for Scott. Just a simple four-hob stove, small oven underneath and a slim upright fridge/freezer. He usually cooked for one, though when she’d suggested a meal at his place, he’d jumped at the chance to show off his culinary skills.
He offered her a seat at the small dining table and took a gulp of wine before stuffing the marinated chicken with a lemon and sprigs of thyme and putting it in the oven.
“Smells divine,” she said.
“Let’s see what you think in two hours.” He picked up his wine and sat down opposite her. “So, any news on the assignment?”
Kelly stared at her glass as she ran her finger around the rim. She finally looked up. “I’ll be finished by the end of the week. I’m heading home on Friday.”
Scott tried to hide his disappointment, and failed. “I’m sorry. I thought we had…more time.”
“I did, too, but the vineyard contacted my boss to say they were happy with the package I’ve put together. The company wants me to head back to London tomorrow for my next assignment. I’ll be staying overnight, then back here on Wednesday to finish up.”
Scott’s heart sank. Only four more days, and she’d be spending two of them on the other side of the channel.
“I was wondering…do you want to come with me? To London, I mean. For the two days.”
It was the last thing Scott wanted, but didn’t let it show. He’d vowed never to set foot in England ever again. Even here, in the middle of France, he felt too close to Britain's shore. His first choice would have been Australia, or failing that, the United States, but this was the only overseas safe hous
e they had available at such short notice. Once he was fully mended, he could choose to settle anywhere in the world and the farther from England, the better.
All he could think of right now, though, was losing Kelly. They’d only met at cafes a handful of times, but Scott had never felt this way about a woman before. She was intelligent, kind, funny, and she knew what she wanted out of life. It was crazy and he knew it, but he didn’t want to let her go. It was as if she was solely responsible for his escape from the misery that had engulfed him. How could he let someone that special slip from his grasp?
“I’d love to,” he said. He doubted the people who had attacked him twice before would still be looking for him. Most were already behind bars. And with his new look, it was unlikely that anyone would spot him in the street. He hardly recognized himself when he looked in the mirror each morning.
Her face lit up. “Wonderful! I’ll book a room at a hotel. Maybe we could take in a show.”
“Sounds perfect.” The more time they spent indoors, the happier he would be. And she’d mentioned one room, which sounded promising. Though one thing puzzled him.
“Can’t we stay at your place?”
“It’s being renovated,” she said. “I’m having the small bedroom knocked through to expand the bathroom. They told me the water would be off for a few days while the work took place, so I thought I’d get it done while I was over here.”
That was fair enough.
Scott got up and started preparing the vegetables for dinner. Kelly offered to help, but he insisted she remain seated and enjoy the wine. He part-boiled some potatoes and parsnips, then wrapped chipolatas in bacon before sitting back down at the table.
He asked about Kelly’s next assignment, but she had no idea where it might be.
“The offices are international, so it could be anywhere in the world.”
That wasn’t a barrier for Scott.
“Though in all likelihood, it’ll be in England.”
That was a problem.
“Do you think you could ask for a transfer abroad?” he asked hopefully. “Somewhere with a warm climate, near a beach, with cheap wine?”
Kelly laughed, and the sound made his heart skip a beat. “I could, I suppose…if I had a good enough reason.”
“I might be able to help you with that.” Scott tried to top up her wine glass, but Kelly put her hand over the top.
“I’ll have some more with my dinner. Too much on an empty stomach isn’t good for you.”
The next couple of hours flew by.
“That was the best chicken I’ve ever had,” Kelly said as she mopped up the last of the gravy. “How did you get it so tender? Mine always dries out.”
“The secret is the lemon. Prick it with a fork, then microwave it for thirty seconds and stuff it inside.”
“I’ll have to try that. And I definitely want to know how you got those roast potatoes so crisp but fluffy inside.”
“I just part-boil them for seven minutes, drain and let them rest while the butter melts in the tray, then sprinkle with salt and pepper and a drizzle of olive oil and give them forty minutes in the oven.”
“You have to invite me back,” she said. “I can’t wait to see what else you’ve got in your repertoire.”
“Any time.”
They retired to the living room, where Scott took a DVD from the TV cabinet.
“You told me your favourite film is Bridesmaids It just happens to be mine, too.”
It wasn’t, but a little white lie wouldn’t hurt. He’d seen the film years earlier, and while it hadn’t blown him away, he would happily sit through it again for Kelly’s sake. He put it in the DVD player and sat down on the sofa next to her. Once he’d skipped past the previews, he put the remote on the table. Kelly picked up her wine glass, shifted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder.
By the time Scott’s favourite scene came on, he and Kelly were on the bed, a trail of clothes lying in their wake.
* * *
Scott took a sip of his coffee and sat back in his chair, enjoying the warmth of the mid-morning sun. This was a new café for him, set in a square surrounded by gothic buildings. The place as busy as tourists and locals mingled, none of them with a care in the world. Two children played with a ball, while others sat around eating ice cream. A woman who looked like she’d come straight from a Milan fashion show tip-tapped along on four-inch heels, a tiny dog on a lead galloping along in her wake.
Scott felt a calm like he’d never known. He couldn’t even hear or feel his own heart beating, and he didn’t seem to be breathing. It was as if he was watching the scene through a third person. He took another drink of the coffee, wondering what they’d put in it to produce such a soothing effect.
One of the children kicked the football across the square, and they both chased it gleefully. Scott’s eyes followed the ball and saw it come to rest under the foot of a man who wasn’t dressed for the occasion. He wore a long black coat and black fedora, and though Scott didn’t recognise the clothes, he knew the face. It was the man who’d ended his career and left him in constant fear for his life. He smiled at Scott, then started walking towards him.
He wasn’t alone.
Kelly, also dressed entirely in black, was striding next to him, and there was no warmth in her grin.
The sound of his heartbeat finally reached Scott’s ears, and it felt like a jackhammer was going off in his chest. The crowd in the square seemed to fade away, until the only people he could see where the two figures in black, approaching relentlessly.
Scott was breathing heavily, like he’d run a marathon in record time. He tried to push himself out of the seat, but he couldn’t move. He looked down and saw that his hands were gripping the arms of the chair, and the more he tried to push up, the tighter he held on. Scott attempted to stand, but his legs wouldn’t obey his command.
Still they came closer.
Scott panicked, thrashing as much as he could but making no progress. It was as if his limbs were strapped to the chair by some unseen, unbreakable force.
“Hello again.”
Scott’s head snapped up and he looked into cold, dead eyes.
“Thought you could run, did you? Thought you could hide?”
Scott wanted to speak, to scream, but his mouth wouldn’t work. He struggled once more against the invisible bonds, but it was no use. He was trapped, at their mercy.
Kelly leaned in, and her perfume filled his senses. “You shouldn’t be so trusting, Scott.” She produced a knife from her purse, a gleaming six-inch blade that seemed alive, glistening in the sunlight. Kelly smiled as she brought it up to his eye, closer and closer until all he could see was white-hot metal.
Scott jerked himself awake, his heart banging away like a heavy-metal drummer. He lay where he was, the dream still real in his head, until he was certain he was back in reality. He glanced over at Kelly, who was fast asleep, facing the other way. Her breathing was soft, contented. The clock next to the bed said it was just after four in the morning, and Scott knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep again.
He got up and walked naked into the living room, picking up his boxer shorts on the way. He turned on the light and went through to the kitchen, the lingering smell of the evening meal making him hungry. He switched the coffee machine on and made himself a cheese sandwich, then sat at the table.
He’d had dreams about the man before, but they’d never involved anyone else. Why Kelly? Was his subconscious trying to tell him something, or was he just being irrational?
Scott saw Kelly’s handbag hanging over the back of the chair opposite. Perhaps if he looked through, it might put his mind at ease. He went to the bedroom and opened the door a crack. Kelly was still snoring gently, so he closed it and returned to the kitchen.
The bag contained nothing to reveal her true intentions, though in truth he didn’t know what he was expecting to find. A knife? Knuckledusters? He found a hairbrush, make-up, a keyring, receipts. The purs
e had fifty euros in it, along with her work ID and a debit card. No credit cards, but then not everyone carried them. Scott had never bothered, preferring cash.
He put the items back in the handbag, then took a bite of his sandwich.
You’re just overthinking the situation, he told himself. Of course she wasn’t a threat. If she were, she’d have done something by now. He’d be lying in bed with a knife sticking out of his chest, or poisoned, or…
If he allowed the past to rule his future, there was no hope. Living a life where everything scared him was no life at all.
You need to get your shit together, Davison.
* * *
They took the Eurostar through the tunnel later that morning. Scott had originally suggested flying to London, but as Kelly’s office was just a couple of miles from St. Pancras station, it made more sense to take the train.
Scott felt apprehensive as they emerged from the station, his arm entwined with Kelly’s. He needn’t have worried. No one so much as glanced his way, and they made it into a black cab without being molested. It was a short ride to the office building in Oxford Circus, a glass edifice dumped in a Portland stone canyon. Scott paid the fare and they carried their overnight bags onto the street.
“Look, I’m probably going to be in there for a few hours. I’ve got to do a presentation to my department heads, then go through the upcoming projects to find a suitable fit. Why don’t you go catch a film or something?”
That suited Scott. He’d much rather be in a dark cinema than out in the open. “Sure. What time shall I meet you?”
Kelly checked her watch. “It’s almost noon, and my first meeting starts in half an hour. Shall we say five, in case things overrun?”
“Okay. I’ll come and meet you here.”
“No need. Check into the hotel and I’ll meet you back there when I’m done. I won’t be able to take calls or texts while I’m in meetings, so I can’t let you know when I’ll be out.”
“That’s fine,” Scott smiled. “I’m sure I’ll find something to keep me occupied.”
Motive Page 11
