by Clare Revell
Zeke’s brows furrowed and rage sparked from his eyes. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”
The office door flew open. PJ stood there, shirt sleeves rolled up, dragon tattoo plainly visible on his arm. “What is going on out here?”
“Lisa finally showed up. I was just explaining to her why she can’t quit.”
PJ fixed his ice stare on Elle. “Get in my office now.”
Patrick took a step to go with her.
Elle shook her head. “Wait here, this won’t take long.”
PJ pointed at Zeke. “Zeke, stand here and watch him. He so much as blinks and you know what to do.”
Zeke nodded. “It’ll be a pleasure.”
PJ glared at Patrick, jabbing his finger in his direction. “You don’t move from this spot. Is that understood?”
“Crystal.” Patrick eyes were as icy as his tone. He looked at Elle. “I’ll be right here. Yell if you need anything.
“OK.” She eased past PJ and into the office.
PJ slammed the door behind him. Expletives fell from his lips as he glared at Elle. “Where have you been?”
“I called in. My mother died. My sister has been in the hospital.”
“I asked you to take care of something for me.”
“Yes, but like I said, things happened, and I wasn’t at home when they came to collect it, apparently. Then what with the accident and Mum dying and Abbie getting sick, honestly the whole thing just went right out of my head.”
He held out a hand. “Give it to me.”
“Sure, it’s right here.” She opened her bag and moved things around. Her stomach fell into her shoes. Her throat dried and her voice stuck. “I…I…it…”
“What?”
“It’s n…not here.”
PJ drew himself up to his full height. “Then where is it?”
“It’s probably at home. Or at my friend’s house. I’m staying with a friend for a few days.” She backed away, terrified of what this man would do.
“The bloke in the hallway?”
“Yes. Let me go back with him and look for it. If I find it, I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”
“Tip the bag onto the desk.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
With trembling hands, Elle tipped the contents of her bag onto the desk. She cringed as PJ rifled through her bits and pieces. Nausea flooded her. Where was it? Had Patrick found it? Is that why he was so angry with her? What on earth did the parcel contain to make PJ this upset with her? When he nodded, she scraped everything back inside and zipped it up.
“Find it. I want it on my desk in the morning.”
“Or what?”
“Being fired will be the least of your worries.”
“You don’t need to fire me. I already quit. I don’t want your money or your help or your packages anymore.”
PJ’s face changed. It was as if he suddenly sprouted a pair of horns. His skin reddened, and a look of pure evil shone from his eyes. “No one quits, Eleanor.”
“I just did. At least twice.”
He leaned in, his face inches away from hers, his nails digging into her arm viciously. “If you love your sister at all, you will keep working for me in whatever capacity I deem fit. Is that understood?” He shook her hard, yelling at her. “Is it?”
“Y—yes,” she whispered.
“Good. Numbers fourteen verse eighteen. Go.”
Not needing to be told twice she left. She had to get out of this mess. The only way was to tell Zeke she wasn’t coming back and trust Patrick to keep her safe and away from this place. PJ wasn’t the man she thought he was.
Patrick’s concerned eyes held hers as she scurried from the room. “Elle, are you OK?”
She nodded and looked at Zeke. “By the way. I quit. You can tell PJ that. He wasn’t listening to me.”
Zeke reached out for her.
Patrick formed a wall between her and Zeke.
“Back off.” Patrick looked down from his substantial height advantage.
Zeke’s eyes widened a little as his gaze went to Patrick’s shoulder. He’d seen the holster. “Fine, you take her then.”
Taking her hand, Patrick exited the building. He didn’t say a word until he’d ensconced Elle in the safety of his car. He leaned down as he pulled the door closed, and held her gaze. “Elle, what are you doing?”
“What I should have done a long time ago. Quitting.”
He shut the door and quickly ran around the car. He got in and looked at her. “Are you going to explain?”
“Yeah, but I got something while I was there.” She reached into her bag and waggled a flash drive between her fingers. “PJ made me empty my bag and when I put everything back, I took it off of his desk. Give me a while to look through this and I might figure this out.”
“No. That has to go to evidence.” He snatched it from her fingers, pocketing it.
She sighed. “Fine. Oh, by the way, did you find a package anywhere in your house? A brown padded envelope?”
He narrowed his eyes and frowned. “Why? Did you lose one?” He started the car and turned on the lights. Across the car park, lights blinded them.
Irritated, she turned her face away, putting a hand up to shield her eyes. Then she settled back in the seat as Patrick drove out of the space. “No of course I didn’t,” she said sarcastically. “That would be why I asked.” The car opposite did the same. She pulled down her sunshade, watching the car follow them.
“This discussion will have to wait.” Patrick kept checking the mirror as he drove. “I think we have a tail.”
“You think?”
He changed lanes and turned right onto the main road. He reached up and activated the Bluetooth earpiece for his phone. “This is Page. I’ve picked up a tail. I’m currently driving east on the London Road heading into Headley Cross. I’m going to try to lose him on the back roads.” He glanced at Elle. “Hang on.”
Elle closed her eyes as Patrick began driving like a madman. He took corners too fast, and although she didn’t normally get car sick, she definitely was nauseous now.
She hit the seatbelt as Patrick slammed on the brakes, performing a hand brake turn. She stifled a scream and braced herself.
“Sorry. Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” She closed her eyes and hung on tightly.
Another two or three sharp turns later and Patrick sighed. “Lost him. Heading home now.”
She kept her eyes shut until the engine finally turned off. She opened the door and quickly darted up the path to the house, gulping huge breaths of fresh air.
Patrick ran after her. “Elle?”
“I’m fine.” She headed inside as soon as the door was unlocked.
Shay came into the hall. “Everything all right?”
“Not really,” Patrick huffed. “Where’s Abbie?”
“She’s lying down in your room, watching TV. She said she was tired. DI Nemec is staying in the Rainbow Lodge Guest House tonight. He’ll be over first thing in the morning.”
“OK. Thank you.” Patrick caught Elle’s arm as she headed for the bedroom. “Lounge, we need to talk.”
“Tomorrow, please. I’m tired.”
“I want to talk about this now.”
“I don’t.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach, willing herself not to throw up. By the time he knew the truth, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her.
“You just quit your job for a reason, and I have a feeling it has something to do with why you’re being protected. Not to mention the fact we got tailed. So sit down and wait for me while I bring Shay up to speed. It’s time you told me the whole truth. And that includes the package full of drugs from your bag.”
Bile rose in her throat. “What?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.” His blue eyes turned to ice. “By rights I should arrest you here and now, but I’m prepared to hear you out first. Go into the lounge and stay there.”
Elle looked down. “Can’t I
check on Abbie first?”
He shook his head. “Shay just said she’s fine. Get in the lounge, and wait while I bring Shay up to speed.”
****
Patrick finished filling Shay in just as the phone rang. He sighed. “Now what?” He answered it. “Page, I’ll be with you in one moment.”
Shay looked at him. “Want me to stay ‘til the night shift get here?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ll see you in the morning.” As she headed out, he turned back to the phone. “Sorry about that.”
“Did I call at a bad time?” Liam asked.
“Not the best time,” Patrick said. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I was reading my Bible and study notes and had a feeling I should share it with you. I need you to listen because this isn’t coming from me.”
Patrick angled himself so he could see Elle sitting in the lounge. “OK.”
“I was reading Numbers eleven. ‘Is the Lord’s arm too short?’ You need to pray before you do anything else tonight, bro. It doesn’t matter how screwed up things are right now, no matter what’s happened and gone wrong today. You can’t fix things. Only God can…”
“Wait a minute,” Patrick interrupted. “How did you—”
“This isn’t coming from me. I have been told to pass it on. You can’t fix things, only God can do that. You have to put your own desires aside and submit to God’s will. God’s reach is so great, there is no situation that He can’t turn around and work for good. Even if we can’t see a way out, God can. It might not be the path we want or would choose for ourselves, but God put you in this very set of circumstances for a reason. You just have to trust Him.”
Patrick sagged against the wall.
“Does that make any sense?”
“Yeah, it does,” he whispered. “Things have gone pear shaped. I don’t know what to do…”
“Pray. Let God handle things as He sees fit.”
“Thank you.”
“Welcome. So, how’s Abbie?”
“Doing OK. She’s in bed. I need to have a conversation with Elle. It’s not going to end well…and I’d value your prayers.”
The smile on his brother’s voice resounded down the phone line. “I’ll do that now. Talk to you tomorrow. Night.”
“Night.” Patrick hung up and took a deep breath as he slid the phone into his pocket. Thank you, Lord, for the reminder that You are in control here. I don’t know what to do, how to fix it. But You do. Help me.
22
The lounge door opened and shut as Patrick came in and sat down. “It’s time we had this conversation. You’ve been changing the subject on me long enough.”
Elle shifted in the chair. Patrick watched her carefully, every sense on full alert. Her skin was pale and clammy and her arms clenched her stomach tightly. Was what she had to tell him that bad? Or was she sick from the ride home? Or because she’d been caught out? Either way he didn’t intend to let her go until he knew the truth.
He changed his tone and spoke gently. “And start from the beginning at the house party.” For some reason that seemed to be the starting point. No matter which way he looked at it, everything stemmed from the choices the two of them had made that weekend. A decision that had not only produced Abbie, but sent Elle on a path to seeming destruction, and him on one to total solitude.
“Over break, when I found out I was pregnant, I thought my life ended. Everyone was disappointed in me. Except mum, who did nothing but gloat because I’d proved her right. We moved house so that no one would know us. I’d write songs to take my mind off being sick and I’d sing them to Abbie before she was born.”
Patrick listened as she spoke. Tears glistened in her eyes and her voice was hard to make out at times. She sat on the edge of the chair, her skin a mottled white and from the way she gulped for air, she felt as bad as she looked.
“Then Dad brought home a bloke he knew from work one evening—Zeke. Got me to sing for him. Zeke took me on, became my manager. He arranged everything, or so I assumed. I started getting jobs in all these clubs. I made enough money to buy things for Abbie. Dad worked as an accountant.” Elle took a deep breath.
“Until my mum’s letter I never put it all together. We never owned a house. Always rented, moved frequently. Soon as someone recognized me, we’d move or at least that’s what Dad and Mum claimed. It was hardest on Abbie. With us constantly on the run, Abbie didn’t have time to make friends or settle into any school.”
“What about your manager, Zeke?”
“He arranged the housing. He set me up in clubs and so on. Actually this is the first time we’ve been at the same club. Before that he’d come over and visit once a week or so, hear me sing a couple times a month in the clubs. But it goes deeper than that.”
Her tale had more than unsettled him. Alarm bells were starting to sound, and he had the uncomfortable feeling in his gut that always accompanied his moment of clarity when working. The pieces were starting to fit into place and he had a horrible feeling he knew, finally knew, where he’d heard the name PJ. Lord, please, let me be putting them together wrong.
“So, if Zeke doesn’t own HC1, then who does?”
“PJ. I met him for the first time the other day. He owns a whole chain of clubs up and down the UK. Zeke works for him too, and I only ever sing in his clubs. I’ve delivered packages for him. He’s my boss. But I swear, I didn’t know what was in them. I did this, because he said if I didn’t do what he asked, I’d regret it. I found out the other day my father worked for him, for years. When I was in his office he said that being fired would be the least of my problems, and then said Numbers fourteen verse eighteen. I don’t know what that is.”
Patrick grabbed his Bible from the end table. He flicked through it.He “The sins of the father,” he said holding her gaze. “‘He punishes the children for the sins of the fathers to the third and fourth generation.’ So, it must be something that your father did, that you are paying for. You and Abbie. The question is what? How long have you been living here?” Patrick pulled out his phone and sent Shay a text asking her to confirm who owned HC1.
“Here in Headley Cross?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Four months.” She took a deep breath and at a noise from the doorway, turned. She held out a hand. “Hey, Abbie. What’s up?”
“I can’t sleep.” Abbie looked shattered, her dressing gown hanging open over her baby doll pajamas and her sling. She held her mobile phone. “Can I download a new game for it? I found this really cool one.”
“Sure, come here and show me.”
Abbie slowly crossed the room and sat down.
Patrick looked at her and then at Elle, knowing the conversation was, for the moment, paused. “So, who wants some cocoa with cream and sprinkles and a flake?”
“Yes, please,” came the answer from them both at the same time.
Patrick smiled. “Coming right up.” He stood and headed to the kitchen. His phone beeped as he pulled the milk from the fridge.
Shay’s message read ‘PJ Foster owns HC1 and twenty-five other clubs in the UK.’
‘Something’s not right’ he replied. ‘She moved every six months yet still worked for him. Why?’
After a minute the reply came. ‘Ask her, not me.’
He grinned and punched in Shay’s number. He tucked the phone under his ear, making the cocoa as it rang. “Hey, figured this would be easier than texting. I did ask her. Her mother insisted it was because she was Lisa Bellamy. Every time she was recognized they’d move.”
“Being recognized comes with the territory of being famous, surely. I mean, Hiram Davies gets it all the time, but he doesn’t move house constantly.”
“Exactly. And Hiram Davies doesn’t work two jobs to make ends meet. Something else is going on, but not sure what. She quit her job at the club tonight.”
“I bet that went down well.”
Patrick stirred the cup and added the cream. “That’s putting
it mildly. Dig into PJ Foster. His name set off alarm bells in the back of my mind. He’s got something on her, said if she didn’t deliver the packages he’d make sure everyone knew. I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt as far as the drug connection goes, at the moment. I’ve got a feeling it’s the bloke DI Nemec is after. Same surname, same first initial.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Just check. There has to be more to us protecting her than she’s letting on.” He glanced towards the door and smiled as flute music drifted through the hallway.
“…Are you listening?” Shay sounded irate.
“Sorry, got distracted. Can you say that again?”
“I asked if you want me to ring DI Nemec now.”
“Yes please. This PJ has sent out some pretty big messages. But he’s never threatened her life. He owns the clubs and she works for him. He doesn’t want her dead. She’s had near misses, but these guys don’t miss. At least, not unless it’s intentional.”
“Got you.”
Patrick set the microwave going to heat the milk for the last cup. “He quoted the sins of the father verse at her and how the children pay to the fourth generation.”
“But why threaten to kill Elle? Like you said, that makes no sense.”
“Did you see the actual letter she came in with? I don’t remember it being in the file.” Patrick added a flake to the two cups and set them on a tray.
“It wasn’t. Hang on…the sins of the father. Maybe it’s nothing Elle did at all. Maybe it’s something her father did.”
“My thoughts exactly. Dig up what you can on Elle’s father.”
“Will do.” Shay paused. “How are things going other than that?”
“Just making cocoa, then planning on an early night. Have to be at the hospital at four tomorrow afternoon.”
“You got enough back up for tonight?”
“Yeah. Nigel is in his car out the front. Martin should be here in the next half hour. Abbie and Elle are in my room same as last night, and I have the couch. We’re fine—”
Shattering glass resounded in the other room. Patrick dropped the phone and the cup. The cup spun on its edge for a second, then tipped, spilling cocoa all over the table.
