Bound By Blood

by Paul J. Teague

  Toni seemed surprised.

  ‘There are crooked cops wherever you go, Charlotte. But I promise to keep what you say confidential.’

  ‘I’m in contact with Kate Summers.’

  Charlotte noticed the flinch, only short and sharp, but definitely there.

  ‘Do you know where she is?’

  ‘No. But I know how to contact her.’

  ‘You realise she’s wanted in connection with a murder investigation? I’ll share something with you confidentially now; it’s embargoed until midday tomorrow but you’ll get a press release about it first thing in the morning. A personal item belonging to DCI Summers was found on the scene of Evan Farrish’s murder by police forensics. She’s now wanted on suspicion of murder—’

  ‘Kate Summers did not kill Evan Farrish.’

  ‘We don’t know that, Charlotte—’

  ‘I do. I don’t care what your evidence says. She’s being set up. That’s why she’s gone into hiding. Her life is in danger.’

  Toni studied her face.

  ‘We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, Charlotte. But if you have contact information for DCI Summers, you should consider handing it over. For her own sake, she needs to come in for questioning.’

  ‘She would do it in an instant if she thought it was safe,’ Charlotte replied, wondering if she should be speaking to Toni. She was playing it by the book, and it wasn’t helpful. It was worth one more try.

  ‘Kate Summers has evidence which will prove her innocence.’

  ‘So why doesn’t she just hand it over? She of all people understands how this works.’

  ‘As I said, powerful people want to stop that information getting out. That’s why Kate has entrusted it to me.’

  For the second time, Toni flinched in her chair. She’d make a useless poker player. Her eyes narrowed.

  ‘Okay, now you’ve got my attention, Charlotte. So, what you’re telling me is that you’ve become an accomplice to a suspected murder.’

  Chapter Six

  Callie had been out for the count when Charlotte knocked on her door after returning from the fruitless meeting with Toni. She was so concerned about another relapse after the earlier complications with diabetes that she’d even taken the liberty of using the master key to check in on her. Thankfully Callie was fully dressed and sleeping soundly on top of the bed; she hadn’t even bothered to pull back the quilt. It gave Charlotte the opportunity to help clear the tables after the evening shift, check in with Isla and Piper and feel like she was mucking in again after such a long absence.

  Her mind had been anywhere but on gammon and pineapple main courses and ice cream sundae desserts. All she could think of was Will, and what she needed to do next to find him, whilst preserving Kate Summers’ secrecy. She was relieved in a way that neither of them had a clue where Kate was hiding; she might not withstand being threatened in exchange for Will’s freedom.

  After a fitful night’s sleep, Charlotte still felt no better about her meeting with Toni Lawson. It had left an unpleasant taste in her mouth, but she couldn’t put her finger on what was bothering her. She’d expected a more friendly approach, but she’d faced an overzealous press officer who appeared to have unspoken designs on becoming a detective sometime soon.

  Having checked in on Callie again first thing in the morning and finding she’d barely moved from her sleeping position, Charlotte showered and helped out with the morning shift. She wouldn’t be able to do anything until daylight anyway, and it would at least make Isla and Agnieszka feel like she hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth. As she served fry-ups to guests and cleared more tables, she made her plan for the day.

  She had to retrieve the company car, which meant a taxi ride out to Sunderland Point. There was a jet-ski at the back of the guest house which did not belong to her; she’d have to let the two young guys know and make her apologies to them. She could only guess how that would play out.

  Next, she would check in with Nigel and make sure she could hang onto the company car a bit longer. She hoped Vinnie hadn’t smashed it up; there would be some explaining to do if he had.

  Her plan was to go to the university and retrace Will’s steps. One of his colleagues must know where he’d gone after the work event. It might give her some clues about where they’d taken him. She wished she’d slept better the night before; exhaustion was already setting in and the day had barely started.

  As Charlotte was coming out of the dining room with a pile of stacked plates in each hand, she almost bumped into the postman in the hall.

  ‘Leave it just inside the kitchen, would you?’ she asked.

  Agnieszka and Isla were taking a few minutes to chat during a lull from guest demands.

  ‘You haven’t seen Will in the last couple of days, have you?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘No, he is keeping – how do you say – a lowly profile?’ Agnieszka said. ‘Is he okay?’

  For a moment, the words were on her lips. But Agnieszka and Isla had their own troubles, and she could handle this on her own. Was she crazy thinking that? No, she had some leverage. Hopefully the postman had just delivered a letter which contained some of that leverage.

  ‘Yes, he’s just had a funny schedule this week. You haven’t shared a bus ride home from the university or anything like that, have you?’

  The look on Agnieszka’s face told her she hadn’t.

  She scraped the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher, then walked over to check the pile of post. There it was: the letter she’d posted to herself the previous day. She grabbed it and ran up the stairs two steps at a time, anxious to get it hidden away. Where should she hide it? There was a row of Pot Noodles in one of the kitchen cupboards, stored in case of a visit from Olli, who considered them to be a food group. She carefully tore off one of the foil tops, leaving a small part attached to the plastic body, then shook out the dehydrated contents into the pedal bin and put the envelope into the pot, curling it so it sat snugly inside.

  A search under the sink unearthed an abandoned tube of half-squeezed glue which she used to secure the lid before replacing the pot in the cupboard. Unless a diet of Pot Noodles was responsible for Vinnie Mace’s athletic physique, which seemed unlikely, no one who broke in would think of looking there for the documents. She just had to remember it was in the Sweet and Sour pot. She wondered if Olli would even notice the difference if he poured hot water on it and ate it.

  She scribbled a note to Callie and went to check if she was still sleeping. Seeing she was, Charlotte left the note at Callie’s side.

  Help yourself to breakfast and to any of the facilities. There won’t be a bill for anything. Meet me at the slipway at 11 o’clock. Charlotte.

  Having checked the shifts were covered over the weekend, she made a vow to Isla that if things weren’t back to normal by next Monday morning, she had her permission to go on strike. If it wasn’t sorted by then, she had resolved to go to the police anyway, reporting it to both Lancaster and Morecambe police stations. She would warn them of a rogue officer and seek protection. But first she would do her level best to find Will and help Kate Summers prove her innocence.

  By eight o’clock, she’d paid the taxi driver for an expensive run out to Sunderland Point and was back at the car. She was relieved to be doing something again, recognising her restlessness the previous night had been frustration at not being able to get on with things. If only she could sleep for as long as Callie.

  Surprisingly, the car was intact: no smashed windows, and no forced doors. It didn’t feel right. She’d have expected Vinnie to smash it up, if only out of frustration at her escape. The car was still unlocked, just as she’d left it, and the remote key was still working, despite being soaked in sea water the day before. She checked for the envelope. It was still there in its hiding place.

  Charlotte glanced across the shingle to where she’d stolen the jet-ski the day before. Thankfully the two guys weren’t out there yet. Jed’s boat was there;
should she leave the other envelope in it? If he went out to sea, it might get soaked. She decided to leave it, confident she’d tucked it away safely. If she gathered all the documents together, it would make her more vulnerable.

  She checked the car over a second time but there was no evidence of tampering. The second jet-ski was pulled up on the shingle, so Vinnie must have made it back to where he’d started. It didn’t make sense for him to have left the car untouched. She got into the driver’s seat and leaned over to check the glove compartment. Hollie Wickes’ phone was still there, but it had no charge left in it now. She would drop it off at the university library when she got there; she needed to wash her hands of it.

  The drive to Lancaster was slow, and she cursed as she hit the slow-moving trail of morning rush-hour traffic. Stuck in a queue behind traffic lights, she texted Nigel to get a head of steam on the day.

  Okay if I hang onto the car until midday? If this pays off, you’ll have your headline for Wednesday’s newspaper!

  The text went almost immediately, and her phone began to ring moments later. The traffic started to move as it did so, so she tapped the answer button and placed it on speaker so she could watch the road.

  ‘Charlotte, what the hell is going on?’

  ‘Good morning to you too!’ she answered.

  ‘Teddy went off on one this morning. We’ve had the police round here already asking about a member of staff stealing a jet-ski and taking it out to sea. Excuse my language, but what the fuck is going on with you?’

  Charlotte hadn’t even thought about that. She’d been so intent on the wind farm team not getting the police involved that she’d missed the obvious; the young guys would report it.

  ‘Look, Nigel, I’m getting close to finding out what’s going on now, but I can’t tell you anything yet. Please will you cover for me and book the car out until midday? Things are heating up for me, but I’m almost there. And if I crack this thing, you’ll get yourself one hell of a front-page story.’

  ‘I’m worried about you, Charlotte. Have you been annoying Fabian Armstrong again? You’re placing yourself in danger and that’s not our job. We report on the news, we don’t make it.’

  ‘I promise you I won’t put myself in danger. I’m in deeper than I could have imagined, but this Irwin story is bigger than either of us thought. Cover for me, Nigel, please, and I promise I’ll tell you everything as soon as I can.’

  ‘Teddy is so annoyed about this police visit, it’s a damn good job you wrote such a good article in this week’s newspaper. Those chips are cashed in now, Charlotte. Whatever you do next will need to be good. I really don’t know how much longer I can cover for you after this.’

  Chapter Seven

  Charlotte could tell Nigel’s goodwill was running out and resolved to give it one more day before she asked for help. First on her list was to speak to DCI Summers, to make sure she wasn’t placing her in any danger.

  She climbed into the car and paused a moment, wondering about the document in Jed’s boat. Doubts were beginning to set in. Should she take the document with her or not? Would it strengthen her position if they caught her again? If only she had someone to talk to, someone to share the strain of what was going on. Will was her best bet; she had to make finding him her next priority.

  All the way back to Lancaster, endless possible outcomes swirled around in her head until they became a whirlwind of confusion. As she reached the turn off to the university campus, she realised with a jolt that she’d made the entire journey on autopilot. She found a visitor parking space and locked the car, trying to remember on which part of the campus Will’s department was based.

  Standing in front of a large map of the university, on which the words You are here were confidently displayed, she did her best to locate some key landmarks so she could figure out which way to walk. In the end, she gave up and changed her strategy. Searching through her email archive, she found a message written by Will and sent from his university account. To her delight, Google Maps obliged by marking his building with a bright red icon on her phone. She set up the app to guide her to her destination, then noticed the library was on the way to Will’s office. She ran back to the car to pick up Hollie’s phone. She would be relieved to get rid of it and stop feeling like a criminal.

  Will’s work colleagues would be her first target. Google Maps obliged by depositing her at precisely the right location. Having grown up using AA route maps and A-Z city guides, she loved being able to use her phone instead of her brain at times like this.

  ‘Hi, I’m Charlotte Grayson, Will’s wife,’ she said to the man in the reception area of the department.

  ‘Oh, hi Charlotte, Will’s told us all about you. All good, I should add.’

  He was a young guy, probably a student or intern, bright and fresh-faced. The world had barely begun knocking the stuffing out of him.

  Charlotte showed him her reporter’s ID card. She could have been anybody, as far as they were concerned.

  ‘How can I help you? Is Will feeling better now?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We got a call yesterday morning saying he wouldn’t be coming in; he was feeling ill after the department’s event the night before.’

  ‘Who called?’

  This might provide a lead of some sorts. Charlotte willed him to speak faster.

  ‘Some guy. A friend from the guest house, he said.’

  ‘Did you see Will at the event? Were you there?’

  ‘Sure,’ the young man answered, his interest piqued by her obvious concern. ‘He was meeting you in town afterwards, wasn’t he? We finished late, and he missed the last bus. He used the hitching post to get back to the town—’

  ‘The hitching post? What’s that?’

  ‘It’s by the bus stop at the last roundabout before you leave the campus. Students use it to hitch rides into town. It saves a fortune in bus fares.’

  ‘Did you travel together?’

  ‘No, we saw him off at the underpass. A couple of us offered him a floor for the night on campus, but he said you’d be worried. So we left him to it.’

  A part of her was relieved Hollie Wickes’ name hadn’t been mentioned. But she was no closer to tracking his movements.

  ‘Did anybody hitch with him?’

  ‘Yes, Andrea over there.’

  The man pointed to a stunning-looking Afro-Caribbean woman with the most incredible braided hair Charlotte had ever seen.

  ‘Andrea,’ the man called over, ‘what happened when you and Will hitched the other night?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, ‘I got dropped off at the top of town and Will said he wanted to be dropped off by the Travelodge.’

  ‘Were you picked up by a student?’ Charlotte asked.

  Andrea stood and walked over to join them.

  ‘Are you Charlotte?’ she asked. ‘You must be, you look just like Will described. Delighted to meet you.’

  They shook hands.

  ‘We got the lift in a very classy car. If it was a student car, they were an extraordinarily rich student. I assumed he was someone senior and important, judging from his manner.’

  ‘Do you know where he was heading after he dropped Will off?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘No, he didn’t say. But I did notice he had White Lund Industrial Estate on his satnav. I just assumed he’d been there earlier and hadn’t changed the coordinates. Wherever he’d been, it was close to Sparks Auto-Repairs; it was one of those weird things I noticed. Does that help?’

  ‘You bet it does,’ Charlotte replied. At last she had a head start on Vinnie Mace. He would never get a car like that serviced at a backstreet garage like Sparks Auto-Repairs. They must have a unit round there, probably an empty one, in which they were keeping Will.

  ‘Is Will alright?’ the young man asked.

  ‘He will be now,’ Charlotte replied before thanking them and starting the walk back to the car. She was in such a rush, she almost forgot to drop off Hollie’s
phone. As she walked into the main square around which the campus was built, she saw the library up ahead and toyed with the idea of leaving it until later. She decided to drop it in; it would only take a minute.

  Once in the reception area, she caught the attention of a staff member. As she began speaking, she thought she heard a call of ‘Excuse me’ behind her, but assumed it was meant for someone else. She took out Hollie’s phone and handed it over.

  ‘I found this outside the library a couple of days ago. I’m sorry I forgot to drop it in sooner, but I’ll bet the owner will be delighted to be reunited with—’

  ‘Excuse me!’ came the voice again, closer this time.

  ‘You’d be surprised how many students leave them in the study cubicles. Thank you,’ the library assistant replied.

  ‘That’s my bloody phone!’

  Charlotte turned around to see an angry Hollie Wickes charging at her. Her hand reached out for the mobile phone which Charlotte was in the process of passing across the desk.

  Charlotte instinctively snatched the phone back. Half in tears, half in fury, Hollie lunged at Charlotte and tried to seize the phone.

  ‘You bitch, you took that from my room.’

  ‘Oh no, that’s not—’

  Hollie made a second grab for the phone just as Charlotte was about to hand it over to her. She seemed to believe she was about to be struck, because she pushed Charlotte out of the way, causing her to lose balance and stagger back into a wooden shelf to her rear, packed with recommended reads. She crashed into it, sending the books flying, with gasps of shock flaring up around her. As Charlotte lay on the floor with books all around her and several students and staff members beginning to fuss over her, she saw the library assistant making a call on the phone at her desk. There was only one thing to do. She slid Hollie’s mobile phone across the floor to her feet, stood up, and made a run for it before the university’s security team arrived.