Bound By Blood

by Paul J. Teague

  Tiffany seldom saw Georgina in a serious mood, so she reassured her of her discretion.

  ‘I’d pay if I could, but I’m guessing there’s no way to do it without raising red flags. You have my word though; if I ever needed this information in court, I’d pay to have it done elsewhere to generate the official paperwork.’

  ‘Okay, good.’

  Georgina reached into her bag which had been flung into the storage pouch underneath her buggy.

  ‘Here, I hope it says what you want it to say.’

  Tiffany examined the envelope on both sides. It was completely plain, with not even her name on it. She hadn’t felt this sense of anticipation since receiving her school examination results.

  ‘Well, go on, open it,’ Georgina urged. ‘Remember, I’ve done this before, so I know what it’s like. I wanted to stay with my husband; there was a lot riding on my result when it came.’

  Tiffany began to ease the lip of the envelope with her finger, gently pulling it open.

  ‘We use a letter opener at home. I don’t like to tear the envelopes open in case I damage the contents.’

  ‘I’m going to rip it open with my teeth if you don’t hurry up. Come on Tiff, it’s taken all my willpower not to steam open that letter and sneak a look at the results. Get on with it!’

  Tiffany laughed, pushed her small finger into the gap she’d made and tore across the top of the envelope. Inside was a folded piece of paper, with some data printed on it via a dot matrix printer. Tiffany scanned it, but it made no sense to her. It was just a row of numbers for the child and one for the alleged father. There was also a row for the mother’s data, but it was blank.

  ‘I hate the way they call it Alleged Father. What a horrible phrase to use; it makes him sound like some criminal.’

  ‘What does it say?’ Georgina prompted.

  ‘I can’t work it out,’ Tiffany replied, turning over the sheet of paper to see if there was any more information.

  ‘Give it here,’ Georgina sighed.

  ‘Whose DNA did you get tested, was it David’s?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t his DNA. Can you imagine the questions David would have asked?’

  ‘Phew, you had me worried for a moment. I thought you’d used David’s DNA. Look, here’s the bit you need to study, those numbers are just the scientific stuff, not for the likes of you and I.’

  Georgina pointed at one digit, well hidden among the tabulated data.

  Tiffany read it three times.

  Probability of paternity: 99.9998%

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if he was David’s. That would have turned everything on its head.’

  ‘Will you be telling the father?’

  Tiffany paused for a moment. ‘I’m meeting him here in a half an hour. I will definitely tell him, but I have to pick my time.’

  ‘He must suspect it, surely?’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to him about everything that happens in my marriage to David. He’s aware the relationship is stagnant, and that David is horrible to me, but we don’t dwell on the sexual aspects of our life together. I mean, David is like the iceman of emotional expression, but I have had to lie back and think of England a couple of times since I started my affair. I guess even David feels the need to show willing every now and then, even if it is just a facade.’

  ‘How do you feel about the result? Happy? Scared? Guilty? I felt like a tramp and vowed never to sleep with a handsome waiter ever again. I reckon I escaped with my life when it happened to me.’

  Tiffany examined the results again. The precisely written percentage was like getting a grade A in a maths examination. It wasn’t just a pass mark or a decent grade. It was exceptional, a clear pass, no doubt about it.

  ‘Part of me feels pure relief that I haven’t had a child with David. My first partner was a farmer; can you believe it?’

  ‘Really?’ Georgina asked. ‘I thought you hated farming. It’s all shit and tractors, you once said.’

  ‘Yes, exactly. He wanted to keep me in calf all the time, much like the animals on his farm. He was more interested in finding a wife who’d be happy to get up at the crack of dawn every morning to help with the milking. He had no interest in the children; they were just a means of locking me down. And he didn’t care about my post-natal depression.’

  ‘The deniers are the worst sort.’

  Georgina had a look of sympathy on her face.

  ‘Do you know, he once shouted at me Cows don’t make all this fuss about depression, they just get on with it. His entire knowledge of the female state was based upon what went on in his barn. That was when I left him. He’s never bothered about seeing the children, which suits me. He has his stereotypical farmer’s wife now; I reckon he was glad to see the back of me. As for David... well, I really don’t know why we married in the first place.’

  ‘But your new man is different, right? You must trust him?’

  ‘I do, completely. He’ll be delighted to discover Rowan is his child.’

  ‘So, what’s worrying you?’ Georgia asked. ‘You feel to me like you’re not quite sure.’

  ‘It’s not my new partner I’m worried about, Georgie. It’s me. After two messed up relationships, a nervous breakdown, and David constantly eroding my confidence, I don’t trust myself, Georgie. I hope I’m not jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. And if I was, would I even know it?’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘Where do we begin?’ Will said. ‘I don’t want to start sorting through private things, even if the man hasn’t been here for the past twenty years. It feels like it’s an intrusion.’

  ‘I doubt Kate will care about the mess we make; she just needs that documentation. She didn’t tell me where to look, only that it’s in a folder somewhere.’

  She scanned the boxes. Each was labelled in a thick, black marker pen with an indication of the contents inside: Educational certificates, Dad memories, Family photographs, Old school books and so on. There was a small table, a bicycle, a wardrobe, and even an old-fashioned telephone left on a pile of miscellaneous items. It didn’t seem that long since they’d organised their own move to Morecambe from Bristol. She recognised that pile as the last bits and pieces that were almost forgotten at the end of a relocation, items which even the removal team overlooked.

  ‘We may as well start by checking the surfaces,’ Charlotte suggested, ‘then, if we have to, we’ll turn out the boxes.’

  Charlotte led the way and Will followed.

  ‘How are your hands?’ she asked as they began the task of shuffling boxes from one pile to the next, not entirely sure they’d recognise what they were looking for even if it was directly in front of them. Will stopped and wiped his eyes, evidently holding back tears. She stopped and walked over to him, pulling him in close.

  ‘I honestly thought they were going to cause me serious harm,’ he sobbed. ‘I’ve never been so terrified in my life. How do you deal with what you’ve been through?’

  She pulled him in more tightly.

  ‘Just like you did,’ she answered gently. ‘Don’t ever think this comes easy to me; it doesn’t. I’m just like you; I want to cry, scream and hide away. But you saw it: when it’s happening, you just have to deal with it. You get through it as best you can. When it’s over, you do what you’re doing now, you go to bed and shake with fear at what might have happened, then you thank the heavens you got out alive and that your family weren’t harmed. You don’t get used to this stuff, Will. You just learn to deal with it.’

  ‘I’m so angry with those men. I feel a level of aggression and a desire for violence I’ve never experienced in my life before. I want to hurt them; I want to destroy them. When I was holding that circular saw near the doctor, I was in such a rage I honestly could have set about him with it, to make him experience the same fear as I did. I wanted to hurt him, Charlotte. That’s not me. It’s not who I am.’

  She kissed him on the cheek and wiped
his eyes.

  ‘There’s not a violent bone in your body, Will, I know that. I’ve seen you in situations where you would have had every right to lose your temper or stamp and swear. But in our entire life together, I’ve never felt at risk or worried that you would ever be violent towards me or the kids. There’s a line people cross when they hurt someone, and it’s a very definite line. You’re incapable of crossing it and so am I. But if we’re forced to, if these psychopaths make us, I truly believe we’ll do whatever it takes to defend ourselves. It’s that fight or flight thing; I would do whatever it takes to protect my friends and family.’

  Will was silent for a while. He pulled her in closely, and they stood together for several moments.

  Charlotte realised she hadn’t felt such an intimate connection for some time. So much of her life had been dominated by the need to recover from her previous injuries that their relationship had become more functional of late. She would put it right. They needed to talk this out, or it would fester. But first, they had to protect Kate Summers.

  ‘I admire you, you know,’ Will said, out of the blue. ‘It’s amazing how you’ve turned things around since your breakdown in the classroom back in Bristol. I thought we were in trouble for a while as a family, but ever since we returned to Morecambe, you’ve become this formidable force. What happened in your last job could have broken you, but you’ve risen up. The change in you is remarkable, and I’m proud of you. The kids are in awe of you, too. You make us all proud.’

  Charlotte felt tears welling up. She gave Will a last squeeze then they both resumed their search, working quietly for several minutes. Will stopped and held up a faded folder.

  ‘Could this be it?’ he asked.

  ‘Where did you find it?’

  ‘Underneath this box of family photographs. I only looked because this photo was on top of it. It looks like it fell out of the box.’

  ‘Hand it over, would you?’ Charlotte asked. She took the image from Will and tilted it towards the open door of the container in order to make the most of the available light.

  ‘Look at this, it’s Kate and her brother. They can’t be much older than Lucia and Olli. That must be her dad, too. If only we could step back in time and warn them about what was going to happen. Do you think it would do any good?’

  ‘Now you’re getting all philosophical on me,’ Will teased. She handed him the photo. ‘I wonder what happened to her brother?’ he said as he studied it. ‘Do you really think he died?’

  ‘With everything that’s gone on in the past week or so, it wouldn’t surprise me if he walked through the door to this container in the next five minutes and asked us what we’re doing here. Honestly, I’d believe anything right now. Let’s see what’s inside this folder.’

  Charlotte lifted the flap and took out the contents, which were wrapped in a plastic bag. She opened the bag and peered inside.

  ‘It’s a contract of some sort,’ she said. ‘It’s old too; incredibly old. The signatures are spindly and old-fashioned; I’d say this is over twenty years old.’

  ‘Any idea what it is?’ Will asked.

  Charlotte scanned it.

  ‘It’s typewritten, and it’s got the name of some firm at the top of it. Hetherington, Charles and Bickerstock. It’s property paperwork of some sort; there are land boundaries drawn on it, map references and so on. It’s all legal speak as far as I can tell. And I don’t recognise the name; Lilian Armstrong (née Matterson); does that mean anything to you?’

  ‘None of this means anything to me,’ Will replied, as he handed over the other documents that were still in his pocket. ‘Is that what Kate wanted us to find?’

  ‘It must be,’ Charlotte answered, continuing to thumb through the sheets. ‘There’s something else in here too, more modern. It’s printed out on that old dot matrix printer paper. It looks like test results. I’ve never seen anything like it before. This has to be it—’

  She stopped dead. Will had raised his hand to alert her to something.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘Car headlights just swept over the top of the containers over there. Somebody just came in with a car.’

  Charlotte stepped outside the container onto the gravel surface to look.

  ‘It’s a 24/7 facility; people will be in and out of here at all times of night.’

  ‘What if it’s them?’ Will asked. The look in his eyes told her he was scared.

  ‘You’re being paranoid,’ Charlotte answered, scanning ahead to get a glimpse of the vehicle that had entered the compound. To the side of the units was an old van. It looked like it had once been used as a small removal van; lettering had been removed from the sides and the wheel arches were rusting. It was the only vehicle she could see besides their own, but the sound of a purring engine was coming from the far side of a cluster of containers.

  ‘Let’s push the door closed on the container and duck into the shadows. Once we see it’s safe, we should be on our way.’

  Will nodded in agreement. As he pushed the door, the rusting hinge gave a pained creak which rang out in the silence of the night. The heavy door clanged as he pushed it to, but without the padlock to hold it in place, it wouldn’t shut firm, so the door remained slightly ajar.

  ‘Quick, let’s hide over here, out of the way. We’ll get a better view of the area from behind that unit.’

  Charlotte moved into the shadows, treading gently so as not to crunch the gravel, and Will joined her. They peered out from behind the unit, waiting for signs of movement. It was so quiet in the stillness of the night that even their breathing sounded loud.

  Above the containers at the end of the compound, they saw the light change as the car’s headlamps were turned off.

  ‘If it is them, they’ll know we’re here from seeing the car,’ Will whispered. ‘Look, your car door is still open. Have you got the keys?’

  Charlotte felt in her pocket.

  ‘No, I left them inside it. It’s as secure as it’s going to get here, so I didn’t think we needed to lock it.’

  She cursed quietly to herself.

  ‘How can it be them? We got a great lead on Vinnie; he was out cold when we ran. It’s probably some contractor locking up his tools for the night or something like that.’

  They watched and waited, barely breathing as they heard the crunch of footsteps on gravel. A shadow appeared in the distance, the light casting an elongated form across the ground, a single shadow. She started to move, but Will restrained her.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s just make sure.’

  ‘We’ll scare him or her witless if we step out of the shadows,’ she said softly, ‘they’ll think we’re mugging them.’

  ‘Please, Charlotte, wait,’ Will cautioned.

  She returned to her position behind the container. The crunch of footsteps continued. The movement sounded cautious. The shadow grew longer, then a solitary figure stepped out from the side of a storage container. He was holding a gun. Vinnie Mace had found them.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‘How the hell did he know we were here?’ Will cursed, his voice trembling. Charlotte shared his exasperation.

  ‘Can he track the car?’ she asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t put anything past him. What are we going to do?’

  Charlotte thought quickly.

  ‘He doesn’t know which unit is Brett’s,’ she said. ‘We have that advantage at least—’

  Two shots rang out: short, sharp, powerful bursts, not like the gunfire she’d seen on television. He had just shot at the two front tyres of the company vehicle.

  Charlotte was worried about Will. Whereas her mind was racing with strategies for getting them out of there, he looked like he was about to crumble.

  ‘Will, we’ve got to focus. He’ll kill us both if he finds us. We need a plan.’

  ‘Hello Charlotte and Will,’ Vinnie called out. ‘Did you really think I’d be so easy to shake off? Now, I know you’re still her
e because I just disabled your car. Oh, by the way, just to be certain, I’m getting rid of the keys too—’

  They heard metal on metal; Vinnie had just thrown the keys onto the roof of one of the containers.

  ‘So, you can either make this easy for yourself and you can walk out of here, or I’ll lock up your dead bodies in Brett’s unit and you can rot in there for another twenty years. You have worked out that Brett Allan is still alive, I take it?’

  Charlotte and Will looked at each other. It was too dark in their hiding place to make out expressions, but Charlotte could sense Will thinking the same as her: what the hell?

  ‘Now, let’s put an end to this and we can all go home and call it a day.’

  ‘What do we do?’ Will whispered.

  ‘We can’t use the car,’ Charlotte replied, figuring out their options as she spoke. ‘We could take Vinnie’s—’

  ‘He won’t have left the keys in the car.’

  ‘Okay, rub it in, why don’t you?’ Charlotte said. ‘What about that old van? Do you reckon they still use it?’

  ‘That old thing?’

  ‘Well some old things still manage to keep going,’ she teased. She figured if she could make him laugh, or at least smile, it might distract him from his obvious state of panic. She’d used the same technique on the children when they were young, albeit she was only trying to wash their hair at the time.

  ‘What about the keys?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, that’s the risk we take. We have two options as far as I can tell. Well, three, but the third one isn’t happening any time soon.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You and I overpower Vinnie—’

  Will let out a snort of laughter, immediately placing his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound.

  ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed. ‘What are the realistic options?’