by Carys Jones
‘How did you know where I lived?’ Charles asked accusingly, standing back awkwardly from the young couple, feeling alienated in his own home.
‘I followed you,’ Arthur answered simply.
‘That’s impossible!’
‘Telling a cab driver to follow another car isn’t so hard. I’ve been tracking you since Downing Street. You really should learn to be more discreet.’ Arthur shrugged modestly and then tightened his embrace of Laurie.
‘You saved me,’ Laurie whispered in to his chest.
‘That’s my job.’
Charles skulked away, remorseful that it was not his arms in which Laurie was now seeking comfort. He wandered over to Elaine and knelt down beside her. Her eyes were wide and lifeless with fear and so he carefully closed her eyelids, sealing her forever more in darkness. His first thought was how angry Elaine would have been about the state of her kitchen and Charles realised in that moment just how much he would miss her wife. He looked over at Arthur, the shotgun now on the floor beside him, no longer needed. Charles knew he was not blameless in all of this; he may as well have pulled the trigger himself. But Laurie was safe. That was the main thing.
The Deputy Prime Minister noticed how Laurie pulled away from the man in whose arms she stood and smiled up warmly at him. Charles recognised the expression well for it was the same one Lorna kept reserved for him. A familiar ache tugged on his heart as he thought on how he would never get to hold Lorna again, but the pain had dulled from its original intensity.
Laurie at last pulled herself away from Arthur and came over to Charles.
‘Your wife,’ she said softly, not daring to glance down at the fresh corpse on the floor. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s alright,’ Charles replied and he knew that it really was. ‘She would have killed you had … Artie not shown up.’
‘Arthur is my boyfriend from home,’ Laurie explained and behind her Arthur beamed at the introduction, relieved to have finally been reinstated as her romantic interest.
‘I’m sorry about what happened, about all of it. About Lorna.’ Charles felt pitiful to have only words to console Laurie. ‘You have every reason to hate me.’
‘I could never hate you.’ Laurie moved forward and hugged Charles, resting her head upon his chest. He looked down and drank in her scent. Even through the blood and sweat he could smell the sweet floral notes which he had associated with Lorna.
‘My sister loved you very much,’ she said solemnly, looking up at Charles. ‘You should know that.’
‘Thank you, that means a lot.’
Charles held Laurie and for a moment he let himself pretend that it was Lorna, that they were locked in their final embrace. He tried to burn the sensation onto his brain so that he could revisit it until the end of his days. This was the goodbye he had for so long yearned for.
‘I’ll never forget what you’ve done.’ Tears glistened on Laurie’s bloodied cheeks as she spoke.
‘You gave me the truth about Lorna. Now I know that she didn’t commit suicide, I can let her rest in peace.’
‘Yes, perhaps we will both be able to let her go now.’
‘Laurie,’ Arthur called from behind them. ‘We need to go.’
The petite blonde glanced up at the Deputy Prime Minister and smiled sadly.
‘Parting is such sweet sorrow,’ she quoted, to which Charles nodded knowingly. ‘What will you tell the police?’
Charles glanced at Elaine, silent and at peace. ‘I’ll think of something,’ he assured the couple. ‘Now go home and live your life with twice the tenacity of before, because now you are living for Lorna also.’
‘I’ll never forget you.’
‘Nor I you.’
Arthur came and took Laurie’s hand and guided her out of the kitchen and out of Charles’ life.
***
‘This is Tracy Hancock reporting for BBC news,’ the young brunette reporter addressed the camera, trying to conceal her excitement about the huge story which had unfolded over the last hour, which the station had decided she could lead on. She was about to deliver the report which would make her entire career and her heart raced with anticipation.
Only forty minutes earlier, she had been awoken by a frantic phone call instructing her to assemble a crew and immediately head over to the Deputy Prime Minister’s house on the outskirts of London. Bemused, she had complied with the orders, wondering what had transpired during the night to warrant her leaving the comfort of her bed at three in the morning.
‘I’m reporting live from outside Charles Lloyd’s home,’ she informed the viewers. Around her a media circus had already set up as various new stations clamoured to deliver what would be the news story of the decade. Amongst the cameras, local police and specialist officers weaved their way in and out of the house with severe looks of concern plastered across their faces.
‘Earlier this morning, an unknown intruder broke in to the Deputy Prime Minister’s home and shot and killed his wife, Elaine Lloyd, in cold blood. Police are already on the scene as a country wakes up and tries to make sense of such a wicked, merciless act.’
There was a sudden surge of activity as Charles left the house, flanked by policeman. He kept his eyes to the ground as he was ushered to the waiting Bentley. He was whiter than the cliffs of Dover, clearly shaken by the sudden tragedy which had befallen him.
‘Known for her ample charity work, Elaine was a much-loved public figure, who will be sadly missed,’ Tracy continued. She imaged people at home waking up and switching on their television sets to receive her dramatic news. The image of the heartbroken Deputy Prime Minister would soon go global and within less than an hour, the entire world would know of what had transpired.
Charles watched his home grow smaller in the rear view mirror of the car, relieved to be leaving the sudden influx of journalists who were constantly growing in numbers. Elaine would be remembered as a martyr which was exactly what she would have wanted.
Epilogue
Sat cross-legged on her bed with the sun from her window bathing her in warmth, Laurie hurriedly flicked through the paper to the relevant page.
‘Woah, go steady, you’ll rip it!’ Arthur teased from the other side of the bed, where he lay reading a book.
‘Shhh,’ Laurie said as she became locked in concentration, scanning the page of text.
‘Here it is!’ she suddenly proclaimed gleefully, as though she had just uncovered valuable buried treasure.
‘Let’s see.’ Arthur crawled over to his beloved girlfriend and wrapped a protective arm around her, a habit he had developed ever since the shooting which had now been just over a month ago.
They both peered over the paper and read the tiny article which was locked away in the bottom left corner, seemingly insignificant to the untrained eye. The author was none other than John Quinn.
Over a year ago this paper reported that Lorna Thomas, 22 of Kent had committed suicide when her car collided with a tree. However, new information has recently been passed on to us which states that, on further examination, it appears that the vehicle Miss Thomas was driving was faulty and the cause of her death. We apologise for our original report and any hurt it may have caused.
Laurie read the words again and again, her mouth curling up into a smile. A solitary tear of joy dropped onto the paper above the section she was reading and blurred the text.
‘Let’s go show your mum and dad,’ Arthur suggested brightly.
‘Yeah, good idea,’ Laurie agreed as she followed him out her bedroom, no longer feeling quite so alone.
CARINA™
ISBN: 978 1 472 09472 8
Prime Deception
Copyright © 2014 Carys Jones
Published in Great Britain (2014)
by Carina, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
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