The brown mock-leather covers held a dull sheen in the subdued light, and Will realised Amy had recognised the books as being similar in style to his mother’s bible. He sighed, and began to methodically work his way to the back of the church, craning his neck as he passed each pew, occasionally shuffling his way down a pew to inspect an opened book, before returning to his search.
He growled in frustration as he reached the back of the church, crossed the nave, and resumed his search from the back of the right-hand row.
He stopped halfway, the need to stretch his neck from the strange angle he’d been holding it at slowing him for a moment. He breathed out, and gazed across the room to the vestry, and the stairs beyond it that led up towards a balcony, and more pews.
Will thought twice about cursing, lowered his gaze and returned to the task in hand. As he progressed from the row back towards the altar, he realised if he didn’t find his mother’s bible here, he’d have no idea where to look next. Amy’s research and the way she’d catalogued the details, were filed in such a way, it could take him days to find out what she’d discovered.
He approached the penultimate pew, resigned to the fact that he’d have to start on the balcony next, when something caught his eye. He back-tracked until he was level with the pew again.
His heart twitched excitedly, and he forced the sensation aside. He slid onto the pew, grateful for the excuse to sit for a moment, and then reached out for the book.
As his palms slid over the smooth surface, memories engulfed him.
His mother reaching to her sewing table on a Sunday, picking up the bible to return to the dining table, insistent that her children pray before eating their lunch.
Or the times she quietly read the book while his father watched the six o’clock news in the evening, finding comfort between the pages as the world’s troubles filled the screen.
He blinked, pulled the book towards him, and tucked it into the inside of his jacket.
A car’s engine roared outside, jerking him back to the present.
He rose from the pew, the crunch of gravel beneath tyres unmistakable.
He swallowed, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, while goose bumps prickled his skin.
Will moved, fast. He jogged towards the back of the church, deciding that regardless of whose car had turned up, he wasn’t going to hang around to introduce himself.
He pushed through the door to the vestry, closed it behind him and ran to the plain window set high in the wall. Standing on tiptoe, he peered through a yellowed net curtain to the car park.
Outside, an old silver sedan had stopped outside the porch, and two men were climbing out.
The driver wore a three-quarter length black wool coat, his greying hair swept back off his face. He squinted as he peered up at the church spire, then lowered his gaze to turn to the passenger who was leaning on the car roof, his hands folded, a quizzical expression crossing his brow.
The man’s mouth moved, but the words were lost to Will as he held his breath, waiting, unsure what to do.
Then, the car doors slammed, and the driver flicked his coat off his hip, turned, and extracted a gun before walking to the front door of the church, closely followed by his accomplice.
Will emitted a small yelp, and quickly assessed his surroundings. He needed to get away – quickly, before the two men discovered him, and the bible.
The room was full of detritus – props from a past Nativity play jostled for space with stocks of candles, flower arranging tools and chairs stacked against one wall.
Will spun in the centre of the vestry, his mind racing.
The front door to the church slammed shut with a loud crash, and the men’s footsteps reverberated across the flagstones as they began to prowl.
‘Come on, come on,’ muttered Will as he raced towards one of the doors in the opposite wall, carefully threading between the paraphernalia cluttering the way.
He wrenched open the first door, ready to run out of the building and away to his car, then swore.
He’d discovered a wardrobe instead.
24
Will hurried from the back of the church, having finally found the right door, and slipped out the vestry.
He ignored the woman leaving the churchyard with her black Labrador in tow, a shocked expression crossing her face as he picked up his pace and tore past her, the white and black robes of the parish rector billowing from his shoulders.
He charged across the car park and round the back of the building, the stolen robes flapping behind him, his footsteps spraying gravel across the paintwork of the stationary car in front of the porch.
Will cleared the stile in one swift movement, and ran, expecting a shout closely followed by two men with guns at any time.
As he rounded the corner, the footpath began its steady drop towards the village pub, and he slid to a stop.
Tearing the vicar’s robes from his shoulders, he bundled them together, bent down and pushed the material into the back of the blackberry bushes.
Extracting his arms carefully from the brambles, he leaned forward and put his hands on his knees, panting.
He grabbed the front of his jacket, suddenly paranoid that he’d dropped his mother’s bible, and nearly cried with relief when he felt its familiar surface.
He gulped in more air, and then began to hurry across the meadow towards the safety of the pub and his car.
How the hell had they found him? And so quickly?
He chewed his bottom lip as he panted his way down the last part of the footpath.
Either Amy had left more information on the first hard drive than he’d thought, or –
He frowned. Or Rossiter’s niece had told them where to find him.
Anger flushed through him, swiftly replaced by guilt. Had she volunteered the information, or had something happened to her since he’d left the motel that morning?
He hadn’t heard from her since they’d had breakfast.
Was she okay?
His pace quickened, and he jogged the last few steps. He climbed the wooden stile that led to the asphalt-topped car park and noted that the pub had filled considerably in the time he’d been at the church. He checked his watch and realised it was fast approaching lunchtime.
He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see two shadowy figures on the footpath farther up the field, but it was deserted. He pulled the car keys from his pocket and hurried towards the vehicle, and had hit the remote locking switch when he heard it.
A car engine, still some distance away, roaring through the lanes, and coming closer.
He cursed, paranoia sweeping over him. He slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door, gunned the engine – and stalled it.
Swearing, he wiped the sweat running down his forehead, reset the gears to neutral, and re-started the car. This time, he forced himself to ease off the clutch, slid the car into first gear, and then turned towards the exit.
He wound down the windows, leaned forward and switched off the radio.
Sure enough, the now-familiar growl of the silver sedan was drawing closer, changing gears as it powered down the hill towards the pub.
Will realised it would be seconds before it turned the corner and caught up with him, and quickly swung the car to the left.
The vehicle bucked as he forced it into third gear, Russell’s warning remembered too late. Will kept his foot on the throttle and powered back to second, the engine revving in protest.
He sped round a right-handed turn, saw the national speed limit sign at the exit of the village boundary, and jumped the car straight into fourth.
He checked the rear-view mirror.
No silver car.
He breathed out. His ruse had worked. Hopefully, whoever was looking for him would waste precious minutes checking the pub for any trace of him.
He wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow as his thoughts returned to Rossiter’s niece.
He’d have to return to the motel t
o collect his clothes, but after that, what?
What if she was innocent? What if she was telling the truth about Rossiter?
What if she was lying?
***
It took Will three attempts at swiping his motel card before the door to his room unlocked with a smooth click.
Cursing his shaking hands, he shrugged off his jacket and pulled out the laptop and hard drive from his backpack.
He wondered, without hope, whether Amy had left a clue as to the importance of the bible in her notes. He couldn’t recall seeing anything the first time he’d read through them, but as he came to learn more about her investigation into Rossiter’s activities, he began to notice things he’d previously missed.
Yet he still didn’t have enough, in his view, to justify Rossiter’s actions to date, which resembled that of a desperate man.
A desperate man is a dangerous man. Hadn’t he once heard his father quote that line?
He wracked his memory trying to remember where the quote came from as he waited for the computer to go through its start-up sequence.
As soon as it was ready, he pulled out a chair and sat heavily, glancing up at the failing light outside.
He frowned at the dark clouds forming, then stood and pulled the curtains closed, switching on the desk lamp on his return to his seat.
Despite taking the precaution of pulling apart his mobile phone, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He realised it was paranoia, caused in part by what he was reading in Amy’s notes, but also by the actions of the armed men in the silver sedan earlier that day, and finding out who the mysterious caller was.
He congratulated himself on his quick thinking that afternoon, and the fact that he’d outwitted them, and settled in to read through the files on the hard drive once more.
Rain began to beat against the windows, lashed onto the glass by gusts of wind, and Will absently reached across and flicked the wall heater on, before returning to the screen, lost in his reading.
A loud knock on the door made him freeze, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
25
Will searched the room for something, anything, he could use as a weapon.
He pulled open the wardrobe, and found a broken umbrella shoved into a back corner, missed by an errant cleaner. Snatching it, he turned back to the door at another knock, louder this time – more insistent.
He hurried across to the desk and stuffed the laptop and hard drive into his backpack, not waiting for the system to shut down. Kicking the backpack under the bed, he moved to the door.
His hand hovered over the chain mechanism, before he cursed.
When he checked into the room, he never thought to find out if he could open the door with the chain still attached. As it was, the door took up the whole end of a short passageway rather than opening out into the room, so he couldn’t open the door to see who was outside without removing the chain – there simply wasn’t enough room to crane his head around the door to look.
‘Shit,’ he muttered, hefted the makeshift weapon in his right hand, and wiggled the chain from its fixing.
He grabbed the door handle, twisted it, and swung the door open, weapon raised.
His mouth dropped open in shock.
Erin stood in the hallway, hair plastered to her head, her clothing soaked through. Mascara ran down her face, a bruise covered one cheek, and she hugged her arms to her chest, shivering.
‘Let me in,’ she said through chattering teeth. ‘Quickly.’
Will stood aside, let her pass, then slammed the door shut and re-locked it. He propped the umbrella against the doorframe before turning to her.
She was moving fast through the apartment, grabbing Will’s things and shoving them into his hands.
‘What’s going on, Erin?’
‘We need to move – now.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s found you.’
‘Rossiter?’
‘And his cronies.’ She threw his jacket at him. ‘They came here earlier. I saw them.’
She stopped, dead centre in the middle of the room, and dropped his jacket on the floor.
Only then did he realise her hands were shaking, an uncontrollable tremor that couldn’t be explained away by the cold rain she’d obviously been standing in.
‘What happened to your face?’ he asked, dropping his belongings onto the bed and pulling out the backpack from under it.
‘He found out I’d spoken to you,’ she said. ‘I said I’d met you at the press conference, and that you’d offered to buy me a drink, that’s all.’ She sniffled, and turned away. ‘He hit me anyway.’
In two strides, he covered the space between them, and instinctively drew her into his arms.
‘It’s okay, we’ll move,’ he soothed. His gaze wandered the room as he spoke. Some toiletries in the bathroom – a razor, toothpaste – and he’d be clear. ‘I’ll grab the rest of my stuff. Go out to the car and wait for me, we’ll find another motel.’
She pulled away, shaking her head. ‘Don’t you get it?’ Her voice rose. ‘How the hell do you think they found you?’
‘What do you mean? I haven’t used my phone since I’ve been here – the battery’s out of it, look!’ He pointed at the separated parts on the bedside table. ‘So, unless someone told them where to find me…’
‘What – you’re accusing me now?’ she sneered. ‘Bloody hell, Will – give me some credit!’
‘Well, what do you expect? I only met you two days ago – I tell you where I’m staying, and then suddenly your uncle and his henchmen track me down!’
Erin’s eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms across her chest. ‘This all kicked off between you and my uncle before you even met me, Will, so don’t you dare accuse me of being a traitor.’
‘There’s no other explanation!’ He watched as she took a deep breath.
‘When we spoke yesterday, you said your apartment had been trashed and you’d been getting instructions from an unknown caller, yes?’
He nodded.
‘Have you heard from him since you dropped off the hard drive on Monday, even though by now he’s probably realised you haven’t run to the police and that you’re somehow still going after Rossiter?’
‘No.’ He bit his lip.
She took a step back. ‘You know who the caller is, don’t you?
He nodded. ‘It’s Malcolm Gregory.’
Her face paled. ‘Are you sure?’
He shrugged. ‘Yes.’ He bent down and picked up a sock that had been missed in their frantic rush through the motel room, and tucked it into his backpack. ‘Maybe I haven’t heard from him because he’s still going through the files?’
She shot him a look of disbelief, uncrossed her arms and huffed in frustration. ‘Will – think! The only reason why he wouldn’t be phoning you now is that he doesn’t need to. So, what does that tell you?’
Will’s insides plummeted. ‘He’s following me,’ he mumbled. ‘How?’
‘They traced your car! They’ve probably realised you’ll avoid the phone!’
Will swallowed, the reality of Erin’s words hitting him hard.
‘How?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know – either Rossiter’s got someone on his payroll who can access the CCTV network and they’ve traced your licence plate, or,’ she shivered again, ‘someone put a bug on your car when you were at the press conference. They must have guessed you might show up after all.’
Cold crept through Will’s veins at her words, the enormity of the situation crashing through the last of the reassurances he’d created for himself over the past three days.
‘We need to move, Will. Enough talking, okay?’ Erin thrust his backpack at him, slid the phone parts off the bedside table and pushed them into his hand. ‘Is that everything?’
‘Bathroom. Razor.’ Will mumbled, still trying to keep up with the turn of events.
He watched as she raced out of the room, and then returned with hi
s razor and toothpaste.
‘All the essentials, huh?’ She managed a small smile as she handed them over.
‘Something like that.’ He dropped the items into the backpack, before following her to the door. ‘Um – where are we going?’
‘Somewhere safe.’
She turned and led the way out the room, down the corridor and towards the fire exit at the end, where she stopped, her hand on the door.
‘Will? When we leave here, no asking questions, okay?’
He frowned, and waited for her to explain.
‘We need to move fast. I’ve found another motel about two miles away. Paid cash,’ she said. ‘But we can’t hang around. They’ll know you’re back from wherever you’ve been so they’re going to be paying this place a visit soon. We have to hurry – I don’t fancy our chances if they spot us leaving, do you?’
‘Okay,’ said Will, and set his shoulders. ‘You’re right.’ He brushed past her, pushed the outer door open, and then looked down at her. ‘Ladies first?’
She rolled her eyes, before ducking under his arm and out into the night.
Will followed, a hundred questions racing through his mind. ‘I didn’t know you had a car.’
‘I don’t. We’re walking,’ she said. ‘How do you think I got this bloody wet in the first place?’
26
Will pushed back into the shadows of the deserted petrol station, and cursed.
He was cold, wet, and out of breath after following Erin through a convoluted route of side streets and alleyways.
Halfway, she had stopped and thrust him against a tall wooden fence that bordered the gardens of a row of terraced houses.
A terrified cat had skittered away from them. Erin had watched it run, before turning her attention back to Will.
‘Your backpack,’ she’d hissed. ‘Have you let it out of your sight since this all started?’
He’d shaken his head. ‘No – why?’
She’d stepped back, and seemed to relax a little. ‘The motel’s only another half a mile away.’ She pointed at his bag. ‘No sense in leading them straight to us if they’d bugged your bag as well. I should’ve thought of it, back at the room.’ She’d shrugged, a wave of misery clouding her features.
Look Closer Page 12
