by Roberta Kray
‘It’s me,’ she said softly. ‘It’s Jo. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’
‘Jesus,’ Miller said. ‘Sorry, mate. I thought—’
‘We thought you were a burglar,’ Jo interrupted before he came out with anything more damaging.
Leo’s eyes swiftly darted from one to the other before settling on Miller. His gaze took in the older man’s superior size and strength. As if fearing another unprovoked attack, he sidled closer to Jo. His Adam’s apple was dancing in his throat. ‘I was just … just …’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s not your fault. I’m really sorry. We heard a noise and thought it was someone trying to break in.’ She reached out. ‘Is your arm all right?’
Leo, realising that he was still holding on to it, quickly let go. The shock was gradually receding. Knowing that he was safe, he stood up straight and threw Miller a defiant glare. ‘It’s cool. He just took me by surprise. He didn’t hurt me.’
She smiled. There was something touching about his male teenage pride. ‘Good. So long as you’re okay.’
Leo lived in the ground floor flat with his mother, Constance. Originally from Thailand, she was a small attractive woman who worked at the local hospital but otherwise kept herself pretty much to herself. She was not inclined towards conversation and had spurned all of Jo’s perhaps rather clumsy attempts at getting to know her better. Now the only words they ever exchanged were polite hellos when their paths crossed. Leo, however, had always been friendly, always happy to stop and chat.
Mortified, Jo bent to pick up the bicycle. ‘I hope it’s not broken.’
‘Let me take a look,’ Miller said.
‘Leave it,’ Leo said, grabbing the handlebars and positioning the bike like a barrier between them.
‘Okay,’ Miller said, raising his hands and stepping back. ‘Only trying to help.’
Leo glared at him. ‘I can manage.’
Jo apologised again. ‘We’re really sorry.’
Leo’s voice softened a little. His mouth quivered into a smile. ‘I’m fine. Really. It wasn’t your fault.’
‘No, it was mine,’ Miller said. ‘I didn’t mean to … I guess I’m just a bit jumpy.’
‘Whatever,’ Leo mumbled.
‘We’ll pay for any damage, any repairs that need doing,’ Jo said. ‘Just let me know. Are you sure that you’re okay, that—’
‘Yeah,’ Leo said. ‘No worries.’ He nodded, gazed at her for a moment, then started to wheel his bike along the gravel towards the shed at the back.
Jo watched until he passed around the corner. She sighed into the night. She turned to stare at Miller. ‘What were you thinking? You could have broken his arm.’
‘You know what I was thinking.’
‘But didn’t you realise he was a kid? Didn’t you even look?’
Miller rolled his eyes towards the heavens. ‘Sure, that’s what I always do when I think someone’s about to try and take me out – stop and take a good hard look. I usually ask for a character reference too.’
Jo turned away from him and walked towards the front of the house.
‘How was I to know he lived here?’ Miller said. ‘He shouldn’t have been skulking.’
‘It’s hardly skulking when you’re standing outside your own home.’
‘He wasn’t just standing.’
She turned the key that was still in the lock, pushed open the door and switched on the light. ‘He could call the cops, do you for assault.’
‘He won’t.’
‘How can you be sure? The last thing we need with—’
‘Because he wouldn’t want you to think he’s a loser. And he wouldn’t want to cause you any bother either.’ Miller stepped into the hall behind her. ‘As I’m sure you’re more than aware, that kid’s got the hots for you.’
Jo snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Leo’s just a boy.’
He grinned. ‘A teenage boy with raging hormones. Didn’t you notice the way he was looking at you? Even a blind man could have seen it. Oh yes, your little Leo’s got a mighty crush.’
‘Rubbish,’ she said, pushing him aside to close the door and pull the bolts across. But at the very same moment as she was dismissing the idea, she was also recalling all the occasions, especially over the last few months, she had bumped into him on her way in or out of the house – too many times, perhaps, for it to count as pure coincidence. Her heart sank as she wondered if she had inadvertently encouraged him.
‘You know I’m right,’ Miller said.
‘I don’t know anything of the sort.’ She flapped a hand towards the stairs.
Miller, still smiling, started to climb. ‘You know what you are? You’re the woman of his dreams!’
Chapter Eleven
Jo headed straight for the kitchen and turned on the kettle. She was still fretting over Leo and whether his interest went beyond the purely neighbourly. It was hardly the most urgent of her worries but it served as a useful distraction. While she was thinking about Leo, she couldn’t be stressing about Silver and Laura and all the other madness that had gone on tonight.
Miller leaned against the door as she cleaned out the percolator. He watched as she dumped the dregs in the bin, poured fresh grounds into the machine, picked two clean mugs off the draining board and got a pint of milk from the fridge.
‘You got anything to drink?’
‘I’m making coffee.’
‘I meant something stronger.’
Jo glanced at him. ‘Shouldn’t you be keeping a clear head?’
‘What for?’ he said. ‘It’s not going to change anything. There’s not much I can do tonight other than call Delaney again – and I’d rather do that half-cut than sober.’
Jo hesitated. She had an unopened bottle of Bushmills and could do with a drink herself. She just wasn’t sure if a half-cut Miller would be a better or worse prospect than the one she was currently faced with. She dithered, messing about with the coffee, while she tried to decide. In the end it was her own need, her desire to take the edge off things, which finally made up her mind.
‘In the cupboard,’ she said, pointing up towards his left. ‘There are glasses in there too. Take them through to the living room.’
By the time she joined him, ten minutes later, Miller was standing to the side of the window with a drink in his hand. He had switched off the main light and turned on the two lamps. The room was filled with a soft golden glow.
‘Nice place,’ he said.
She laid the two mugs down on the coffee table next to the bottle. ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s very … tasteful.’
‘Tasteful?’ Jo repeated, inferring from his pause that the comment contained an underlying element of criticism. She glanced around the room, trying to see it as a stranger might: the bare polished boards, the cream walls, the long wheat-coloured drapes. There was a dark brown leather sofa and two matching easy chairs. The place was tidy, uncluttered. There was a mirror over the mantelpiece and a single print – a panoramic landscape – hung on the wall opposite.
‘Simple,’ he said.
‘Right.’ She supposed that what he meant by that was masculine and it was true that there was nothing girly about the room, no fluffiness, no ornaments, not even any of those more subtle feminine touches that a woman in residence might be tempted to introduce. Peter had lived here for five years. On moving in with him, she hadn’t attempted to make any immediate changes and after his death, only eight months later, she hadn’t wanted to.
‘I poured you a drink,’ he said.
Jo nodded and picked up the glass. She took a gulp, the smooth whiskey flowing warmly down her throat. She moved from one foot to another, feeling uneasy in her own home. He was staring out of the window. ‘Is there … can you see anyone?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘They don’t know where we are.’
She crossed the room to stand by him. She looked out across the Green. ‘They could have followed us.’
‘Let’s hope
not.’
‘So what now?’
Miller took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. ‘Do you mind?’
She shook her head.
He lit one, inhaled deeply and exhaled the smoke. He opened the window and leaned out. His grey eyes scanned the horizon. ‘We play it smart,’ he said. ‘We find Susan before Delaney does.’
‘And how are we going to do that?’
‘She might not be that far away. If you’ve known her for a few months, that’s because she’s been hanging around and if that’s the case, it has to be for a reason. She could have been looking for somewhere to rent, somewhere she could safely keep Silver.’
‘You’re kidding. You can’t really think she’s in Kellston.’
‘Where else?’ he said.
‘She could be miles away. She could be anywhere.’
‘I don’t think so. She knows this area; it’s familiar territory, somewhere she’d feel comfortable. How often have you seen her recently?’
Jo thought about it. ‘I don’t know. Once, twice a week.’
‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘No offence, but I doubt she’s been spending that much time in the area just to see you. Bearing in mind that she isn’t actually a hot-shot lawyer, that she doesn’t actually work in Kellston, then she’s clearly had another motive for being here.’
‘And there was me thinking it was just my charming company.’
Miller turned his head and grinned. ‘If it’s any consolation, I’d have hung around to see you.’
‘It isn’t,’ Jo said, shifting away. She turned her back, took a few steps across the room and sat down on the sofa.
Miller stubbed out his fag on the window sill and threw the butt into the front garden. ‘I could be wrong.’ He closed the window and pulled the curtains across. He started to roam restlessly around, pacing from one side of the room to the other. As he passed the mantelpiece for the third time, he stopped and picked up the framed photograph of Peter. He stared at it. ‘Is this the old man?’
‘Put it down,’ she said.
His brows shifted into a cynical arch. ‘What’s the big deal? He hasn’t run out on you, has he?’
‘None of your business,’ she retorted. ‘Just leave it alone.’
‘Please don’t tell me he’s due back tonight. That could be awkward. I’m not really in the mood for another spat with one of your admirers.’
‘Haven’t you got a call to make?’
Miller replaced the picture. ‘Thanks for reminding me.’ As he turned, his gaze moved swiftly from her face to her crossed legs, where it stayed deliberately focused on the exposed bare stretch of thigh. His mouth slid into that familiar lecherous grin.
Jo glanced down. Suddenly her dress seemed obscenely short. She tugged self-consciously at the hem, achieving nothing more useful than drawing even more attention to the flesh she was trying to hide. Abruptly, she stood up. ‘Excuse me. I won’t be a minute.’
‘Don’t rush on my account,’ he said. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
Jo went into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her. For a second she squeezed her eyes shut and leaned back against the oak. God, the man was intolerable. Why had she brought him here? It had been an error of judgement, a mistake. But then the whole damn evening had been a mistake. Bloody Laura! If she ever came across that bitch again …
But now wasn’t the time for futile rage or recriminations. She had to stay calm, to decide what to do next. Her main priority had to be getting rid of Gabe Miller. Once that was achieved, she’d be free to make her own decisions. She could think again about going to the police. Would that be the right or the wrong thing to do? It would certainly be the easiest but not necessarily the best. She thought about the kidnapped girl and frowned.
Quickly, Jo kicked off her shoes and put on a pair of jeans. Keeping an eye on the door, she stripped off her dress and flung it on the bed. From the drawer she grabbed a plain long-sleeved white T-shirt and pulled it over her head. It was only as she glanced in the mirror, as she unclasped the pearls from her neck, that she saw how pale she looked. She stared at her reflection and groaned.
‘Oh, you fool, Jo. You complete and utter fool!’
Chapter Twelve
As Jo opened the door she could hear Miller’s voice. She stopped and listened. Having pulled back a curtain he was at the window again, his phone in one hand and a fresh cigarette in the other. Although she couldn’t see his face, she could tell from his stiff, rigid pose that the conversation wasn’t going well.
‘Look, I may have screwed up, I’m not disputing that, but it doesn’t mean—’
There was a short pause.
‘Yeah, I see that, of course I do. Why do you think I’m calling again? If I could put back the clock I would. Jesus, Vic, I’m not involved in this. How long have you known me? If I’d even suspected that someone was planning to … but I didn’t. How could I? I want to find her as much as you do. And we can either work together or—’
He held the phone away from his ear.
Even from where she was standing, Jo could grasp the tone if not the actual words. A fast, thin angry sound spurted out across the room. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
‘Okay,’ Miller said. ‘There’s no need to yell. I get the message. Can you calm down for a moment?’ He put his hand out of the window and impatiently flicked the ash off his fag. ‘All I’m asking for is some time.’
There was another longer pause.
‘Yeah, I’m listening,’ he said. ‘What else would I be doing?’
The reply was obviously a long and aggressive one. While it was floating down the line, Miller’s head drooped and he slumped against the side of the window. ‘I’m going to find her,’ he said insistently. ‘You have my word. I’m going to find her and then—’ He stopped. ‘Vic? Hello? Vic, are you still there?’
But the line had gone dead.
‘Shit,’ Miller said. He flipped the mobile shut and put it in his pocket.
Jo walked into the living room. ‘You really think you should be making those sorts of promises?’
He started, surprised to see her. ‘Did you hear all that?’
‘Some of it. I take it he’s not overly impressed.’
‘The bastard wants to chop me up and feed me to the pigs.’
‘Oh,’ she said.
‘Oh indeed.’ He drew hard on his cigarette, expelling the smoke in a fast narrow stream. Then he angrily stubbed it out and threw the butt out of the window again.
‘Do you have to do that?’ she said.
‘Well, pardon me for not adhering to the strict etiquette of the glorious borough of Kellston.’ He picked up his glass and poured its contents down his throat. He walked over to the sofa, sat down, poured himself another drink and swallowed half of it in one. He stared down at the carpet, gave a small groan and looked up at her. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have … You must be wishing you’d never set eyes on me.’
‘Not just you,’ Jo said.
He almost smiled.
Jo, steering clear of the sofa, sat down on one of the chairs instead. She curled her legs and feet beneath her. ‘So tell me about Susan.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like why she’s doing this. And please don’t say it’s just for the money because if that’s what it was about, if it was all it was about, I don’t think you’d be here now.’
‘I’ve told you,’ he said. ‘She’s got problems. She’s not … she’s not behaving rationally.’
Jo waited but he didn’t elaborate. If she wanted to get to the truth, she was going to have to work for it. ‘But why did Susan choose this particular girl? There are lots of rich kids out there. Why the daughter of some mad crazy gangster?’
Miller buried his face in his glass.
Jo persisted. ‘Does she know him? Does she know her? Is it something personal?’
‘No. So far as I’m aware she’s never met either of them.’
; ‘So why would Silver have left with her?’
‘She wouldn’t … at least not voluntarily.’
Jo sighed. This was like getting blood out of a stone. ‘But I don’t see how Susan could have forced her. She’s not that strong and you can’t drag a fourteen-year-old girl kicking and screaming through a hotel foyer without anyone noticing.’
‘Quite,’ he said. ‘Which makes me think that Susan didn’t go to the room at all. Someone else did.’ He paused, screwing up his eyes. ‘It could have been Ritchie Naylor.’
Jo frowned. ‘What, the guy who dumped her? Why on earth would Silver leave with him?’
‘Why do girls do half the things they do? She thinks she’s in love. She thinks he’s in love with her too. Silver’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer. All he had to do was provide some lousy excuse for why he’d deserted her, turn on the charm and job done. If it came to a choice between leaving with him or going home with Daddy …’
‘She can’t be that naïve.’
‘People have a tendency to believe what they want to believe.’
‘Really?’ she said sarcastically. By people Jo suspected he meant women. She had the feeling, especially when it came to matters of the heart, that he didn’t rate the female sex too highly. But then again, why should he? Men like Miller thrived on emotional manipulation. He was one of a type and, like the delightful Naylor, wouldn’t think twice about lying through his teeth to get what he wanted.
‘Yeah, really. Haven’t you noticed?’ He gave her one of his thin smiles. ‘Still, you can’t blame the poor kid. It’s not as though she’s been overwhelmed by love and attention. Ritchie may be a shit – and deep down she knows it – but he’s the only person who’s shown an interest in the past ten years.’
‘Okay,’ Jo said. ‘So what you’re thinking is that he’s the inside man, the one Susan’s been working with and—’
‘No!’ he interrupted, his face twisting with frustration. He slapped his palm down on his thigh and looked at her like she was an imbecile. ‘Ritchie isn’t employed by Delaney. He doesn’t work for anyone. No one in their right mind would employ a fucked-up junkie like that.’ He took another drink and stared down into his glass.
