The Betrayal

by Chris Taylor

  “She’s coming around,” the doctor who stood nearby informed him. “It’s a good sign. She sustained a head injury in the accident that knocked her unconscious, but fortunately, it doesn’t appear too serious. The most severe of her injuries are to one of her legs.”

  Declan dragged his gaze away from Chloe’s battered face and stared at the doctor. The man’s expression was sober. A frisson of fear skittered along Declan’s spine.

  “H-how severe?”

  “She’s suffered multiple fractures to her right leg, including a compound fracture in her femur.”

  “And her arm?” he asked.

  The doctor frowned. “Her arm?”

  “Yes, it’s in a sling.”

  “Oh, yes. Her arm. She dislocated her shoulder. We put it back in a little while ago. It’s still in a sling so that she’s mindful of it when she regains consciousness. The ligaments have been stretched. It will be sore for quite awhile.”

  “Are there any more injuries?”

  “A couple of broken ribs, which we’ve strapped. Apart from that, there’s not much more we can do with them. Again, she’s going to feel it when she wakes up.”

  Declan turned away and stared at the woman he loved. She lay still and pale in the hospital bed. He watched the slight rising and falling of her chest and thanked God she’d been spared.

  A murmur of voices outside the curtain snagged his attention. He glanced over his shoulder. The curtain was pulled aside and two plain-clothes detectives hovered at the end of the bed, notebooks at the ready. One of them was the officer Declan had spoken to at the scene. His badge identified him as Detective Sergeant Harris.

  “I’m sorry to intrude, Agent Munro,” Detective Harris said, “but it’s important that we talk to you again. “We’ve spoken to a number of other witnesses. They all agree that this was no accident.”

  Declan’s jaw tightened. He glanced down at Chloe and then returned his gaze to the officers. “Let’s do this outside.”

  They moved away from Chloe’s bed and walked a little way down the corridor where a trolley piled high with linen afforded a modicum of privacy.

  Harris spoke again. “Do you have any idea who did this? We have a description of a silver-colored pickup that ran the Honda off the road. A couple of the witnesses said they saw a man behind the wheel.”

  Fury burned through him. His fists clenched. “Yeah, I know who did it all right and I know why. You need to put out a BOLO for Federal Agent Charles Stanford.”

  The other officer, younger and thinner than his partner, wore a badge that identified him as Detective Constable Allen. He scribbled in his notebook. A moment later, he looked up at Declan and frowned.

  “A Federal Agent, you say? Are you sure?”

  Declan narrowed his gaze. “There’s no doubt in my mind.”

  “Did you see Agent Stanford behind the wheel of the pickup?”

  Declan made an effort to hold onto his temper. “No, I didn’t see him, but I recognized his truck. We… We worked together for a year. He drove that beast everywhere. I’d know it from miles away.”

  The officers shared a look and Declan knew exactly what they were thinking. Despite his best efforts, anger ignited inside him.

  “Look, I know it was Stanford,” he bit out. “Chloe—Agent Sabattini was in the middle of investigating him in relation to perjury charges and a heap of other things. She—”

  Comprehension flooded Allen’s face. His expression in his eyes grew decidedly colder. “Now I know who you are. I was wondering why you looked familiar. You’re that copper who was charged with illegally accessing kiddie porn. I saw you on the TV. You’ve been committed to stand trial.”

  Harris tensed. He stared at Declan as if he was something so offensive, the man could hardly bring himself to look at him.

  “Agent Munro… Yeah, now I know who you are,” Harris’ tone was thick with innuendo.

  Anger tinged with desperation tightened their grip in Declan’s gut.

  “For Christ’s sake, this isn’t about me! Believe what you like, I’m not even going to try to convince you I didn’t do it. Right now, the only thing you need to know is that the fucker who rammed his truck into the side of Agent Sabattini’s Honda was Charlie Stanford.”

  They continued to look at him with suspicion. Declan dug his fingers into his hair in frustration.

  “Call her superior, if you don’t believe me. Detective Superintendent Tony Hammond at IA. He’ll tell you all you need to know. Just be sure to tell him I said it was Agent Stanford behind the wheel. And for fuck’s sake, do it now!”

  Declan heard himself shouting, but was powerless to prevent it. Frustration, mixed with a healthy dose of fear that they’d ignore his information had annihilated his patience.

  Stanford was still on the loose, escaping to God knows where, while Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum were eyeing him like he was worse than a fresh dog turd stuck to their shoe. From the time they’d recognized him, they hadn’t even pretended they were interested in what he had to say.

  Declan clenched his jaw to avoid saying anything further to antagonize them. He would achieve nothing by pissing them off. Taking a deep breath, he tried again.

  “Listen, forget about me. The woman in that bed is lucky to be alive and the asshole who did this to her is still out there, roaming free. If you don’t believe me, that’s your choice, but at the very least, find Stanford and his truck. There’s no way his pickup came out of that without sustaining damage. Find the truck and let it do the talking. Find it before it disappears, and along with it, your best chance to bring someone to justice. And while you’re at it, take a closer look at Minister Sabattini.”

  Allen’s eyes widened in surprise. “The Home Affairs Minister? You can’t be serious?”

  Declan stared hard at the men. “I’m not even going to pretend you’ll believe a word I say, so take it to Hammond. He’ll tell you everything you need to know and when you’re through with him, you might arrange for a round-the-clock police presence outside Agent Sabattini’s hospital room. I’ll bet everything I have that Stanford, either acting on his own or pursuant to orders from someone else, just tried to kill her.”

  Declan’s breath came fast. He glared at the officers, leaving them in no doubt about his anger that still simmered just below the surface. “There’s nothing to say he won’t be brave or stupid enough to try again.”

  With that, Declan pushed past them, no longer caring what they thought of him. They’d call Hammond, he was sure of it. Even if it was to satisfy their curiosity. Hammond would confirm what Declan had told them and they’d put out an alert to be on the lookout for Stanford. He only hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

  He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d thrown in the line about the Minister. It was preposterous to even imagine Chloe’s uncle could have ordered the hit. Declan had no evidence Stanford hadn’t been acting alone, but the fact was, it was the Minister, out of a petty need for revenge, who had started Stanford on this course. It was the Minister who had loaded the gun: Stanford had merely fired the bullets.

  Chloe had told Declan the taskforce expected to arrest her uncle later in the day. If Charlie had told the Minister of his last interview with Chloe—and it was almost certain he would have—the Minister had to know it was only a matter of time before his secrets were exposed. The game was up. His life as he knew it was over.

  The man would be desperate, but would he be desperate enough to try to get rid of his own niece? It wasn’t like the matter would go away just because Chloe was no longer around. Surely, the Minister knew that? Or maybe he didn’t? Maybe he thought Chloe would come to him and seek answers, seek clarification from him, her beloved uncle, before she shared her discovery with her colleagues?

  It wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine the Minister thinking like that. After all, it was exactly what Chloe had done: She’d gone to him for answers. The only thing he probably hadn’t counted on was that she’d go to her boss and Declan fi
rst.

  Looking up, Declan spied Chloe’s doctor hurrying toward him, a clipboard in his hand.

  “Mr Munro, I need a few minutes. We’ve prepped your wife for surgery. Whilst her circulation is not being impeded, the fractures are serious and need to be dealt with as soon as possible. I need you to sign the consent form.”

  A resurgence of guilt tightened his gut. He averted his gaze. “Um, I’m… I’m not—”

  A loud wail of anguish sounded right behind him. He turned and saw a short, round Italian woman who looked about sixty barreling down the corridor.

  “Where is she? Where is my daughter? Where’s Chloe? My baby!”

  The woman’s howls rose in pitch. Declan stared at her and realized Chloe’s next of kin had arrived. He stepped forward and held out his hand.

  “Mrs Sabattini? I’m Agent Munro. I’m a friend of your daughter’s. She right this way.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Ronald tossed the contents of his drink down his throat and relished the slow burn of it all the way down to his stomach. The alcohol warmed him like nothing else did, especially after the turmoil of the last few days. Hell, what was he talking about? His life hadn’t been the same since his encounter with Declan Munro.

  Declan Munro. His nemesis. He should have told Stanford to take that prick out too, along with Chloe. It might not have been enough to prevent what was to come, but it would have made him feel better…

  His fingers turned white around the fine crystal glass. His life had spiraled out of control. After years of an exhilarating existence beyond his wildest dreams, taking and giving without thought or consideration, over the last few days, he’d been dealt one blow after another.

  He was dizzy from the speed at which his life had fallen apart and was barely gripping the edges of sanity with his fingernails. The worst of it was, he wasn’t sure how to put an end to the madness, or even if he could.

  He stared through the double French doors that led out into his wife’s rose garden, his thoughts as black as the night that was not far away. The heavy scent of flowers wafted toward him on the gentle breeze, but he wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it.

  The phone on the desk pealed in the stillness, disrupting his tumultuous thoughts. He strode over to it and snatched it up. “Yes?”

  “It’s done.”

  Anger seared his veins. Blood pounded in his ears. Knowing his wife had departed upstairs a few minutes earlier to take a shower, he made no effort to lower his voice.

  “You fucking idiot! I saw the news reports on the television more than an hour ago. You didn’t even have the brains to use someone else’s pickup! What sort of a fucking imbecile are you?”

  Charlie blubbered. “I’m sorry, Master. I-I didn’t think. You told me to get rid of her. I-I only wanted to please you.”

  “Yeah, well, you fucked it up, Chip.” His voice rose higher, along with his fury. “You fucked it up a right royal treat. You didn’t even kill her.”

  “I-I hit her hard; I know I did. I drove straight into her. She hit the curb and flipped over. The car smashed into a tree. I couldn’t have timed it better. There’s no way she could have survived.”

  “Well, she fucking did, Charles,” he spat, intentionally using the name the man despised. “Her father’s already called me to tell me the good news. She’s lying in the Canberra Hospital, well and truly alive.” His rage morphed into ice-cold fury. His voice dropped, became deadly. “Don’t call me again, Charles. Don’t ever fucking call me again. From now on, you’re on your own.”

  * * *

  Nellie Sabattini’s heart thudded so loudly she was sure her husband would hear it. Shock kept her momentarily frozen, then, fearful of discovery, she eased the door to the study shut. The tiny click as it closed was masked by a vicious curse and the sound of breaking glass on the other side of the door. Ignoring the urge to seek out its source, she turned away and stealthily made her way up the stairs.

  CHAPTER 29

  It was more than four hours and countless cups of coffee later, that Declan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Snatching it out, he answered it and almost collapsed in relief when a pleasant-sounding nurse informed him Chloe was out of recovery and was now resting peacefully in the orthopedic ward on the sixth floor. He hightailed it to the bank of elevators and then skidded to a halt when he spied Chloe’s family huddled together in the waiting room. He took a deep breath and headed in their direction.

  After fielding a barrage of questions from Chloe’s mother, who’d introduced herself as Giovanna Sabattini, he’d repeated the process all over again when her father, two sisters and a brother arrived. It was obvious how much they loved her and by the time the interrogation was over, he’d convinced them he felt the same.

  His admission had caught him by surprise. Until then, he hadn’t voiced it, hadn’t even really thought about it—at least, not in any concrete way. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were true. He’d never felt so connected to a woman before, as if they were one. It was soppy, sappy crap, but he couldn’t help it: He’d fallen in love with Chloe.

  The wonder of it had flooded through him, lighting him up from the inside. The only thing that managed to diminish his wide smile was the thought of her lying helpless and hurt on the operating table.

  After bringing her family up to speed on the news she’d come through the surgery and giving relieved hugs all round, he headed back to the elevators and waited impatiently for the doors to open, her family close on his heels.

  A nurse, sitting at a desk, gave them directions to Chloe’s room and informed them she was awake. As they got closer to her door, he slowed his steps. His heart pounded with relief and a little apprehension. He told himself not to be stupid. He’d already seen the worst of it.

  Chloe’s family didn’t feel any such reticence. They barreled in ahead of him amid muffled cries of anguish and relief. With an impatient shake of his head, he rounded the open doorway and stepped into her room, noting with annoyance the lack of a guard.

  What the hell were they waiting for? A second attempt?

  Wanting to vent his frustration at anyone who would listen, but needing to see Chloe more, he curbed his anger and stepped forward. A solitary hospital bed with its sides up kept her safe within its metal barriers. Fresh sheets and a blanket covered most of her body, with the exception of her arm that was still in a sling and rested by her side on top of the bedspread. Like it had in the emergency department, the bedclothes were held off her injured leg by a frame concealed beneath the covers.

  Tears poured down her mother’s cheeks. She quietly sobbed through a fist she’d jammed into her mouth. Declan moved closer. Chloe’s eyes were still grossly swollen, but he saw her lashes flutter and realized she was awake. Pushing through the crowd of relatives, he moved to her side and reached for her uninjured hand.

  “Oh, Christ, Chloe! I’m so glad to see you awake,” he whispered. “You won’t believe how scared I was. When I saw your car and you wouldn’t answer me, I thought… Christ, I thought…”

  Her bleary-eyed gaze found his and she tried to smile. “I’m o-okay.”

  “It’s so good to see you awake,” he choked.

  “Mm.” She closed her eyes and took a breath. A few moments later, her eyes opened again. “W-where am I?”

  “You’re in Canberra Hospital. The ambulance brought you here after the accident.”

  Chloe grimaced.

  Declan leaned closer. “Are you okay? Do you need something for the pain? Should I call someone?”

  She shook her head a little. “No, really… I’m okay. The anaesthetic hasn’t quite worn off yet. No doubt I’ll be sore when it does.”

  Declan nodded. “You were very lucky.”

  Chloe offered another tiny smile. “That’s what the doctor told me. I-I’m guessing my poor little Honda didn’t come out of it quite so well.”

  “You’re right about that.” He paused and searched her face. “Are you up to talkin
g about it?”

  She sighed, but nodded slowly and struggled to sit up. “Ouch!”

  “Lie still, sweetheart. Don’t try to move. We don’t have to do this now. Just take it easy.”

  “I want to know what happened.”

  Declan gazed at her. Do you remember anything?”

  Chloe stared at him through the slit in her eyes. “I remember I was driving along the dual carriageway, not far from Parliament House. I remember you were behind me. A silver-colored pickup came toward me from the inside lane. I tried to swerve out of the way, but it kept coming at me.” She drew in a shaky breath.

  “The next thing I remember is the truck plowing into me. I-I hit the curb and went spinning through the air. I can still see the tree trunk. It was right in front of my face. After that, everything went black.” Her voice hitched. A tear rolled down her cheek.

  Listening to her slow, hesitant explanation, Declan’s heart pounded in remembered fear. The sound of metal on metal; the sight of her Honda catapulting through the air; the screaming… His screaming.

  He leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss on a tiny, undamaged part of her face, reassuring himself she really was going to recover. “Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

  Her uninjured hand moved and found his. She tilted her head toward him. “Did you see anything?”

  Declan’s breath caught. Dread weighed down his limbs. Slowly, he nodded.

  Chloe closed her eyes. A few moments later, she opened them as wide as she could. She stared at him, through her bruised and puffy flesh. “Tell me.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Charlie opened his bathroom cabinet and took out a syringe. With gloved hands, he carefully wiped it clean. After the Master’s dig about his stupidity, he was determined that this time, he’d do it right.

  Collecting a vial of fast-acting insulin from its usual place in his nightstand, he cleaned it in the same way and then dropped both items into a small leather pouch. Not many people knew he’d been a diabetic most of his life. Injecting himself with insulin was a daily event and one he’d become adept at. For him, it was a life-saving procedure; for someone without diabetes, it could be a death sentence.