I Dare You: A gripping thriller that will keep you guessing (A Kate Blakemore Crime Thriller Book 1)

by Murray Bailey

  At the castle’s main gates, a uniformed policeman prevented unauthorized entry. Kate thought about commenting on the reliability of the British police, but decided against it. She could just imagine his cheeky response: How reliable are these police who don’t even carry guns?

  She checked her watch: 10:40. The Changing of the Guard would begin any second. Moments later, marching-band music struck up in the distance. They hurried to High Street just in time to see the men appear from Victoria Barracks, about two hundred yards along the road. Crowds of tourists lined the street all the way to the castle gates.

  “You know it’s officially called Mounting the Guards!” he said.

  “Now that would be a sight to see,” she said, laughing.

  They pushed their way towards the castle, where the huge black statue of Queen Victoria glares down. Joe used his size to wriggle to a good vantage point so they would see the soldiers march up the hill to the statue before turning right, towards the castle and main gate.

  Although he liked to deny it, Joe loved playing the tourist. It had attracted him to historic Prague and he had visited all the sights in London and Windsor. However, in reality “all the sights of Windsor” only meant they had been inside the castle twice and around the grounds of Eton College and a visit to the site where the Magna Carta had been signed.

  The band, five lines of five, looked like the famous Coldstream Guards, with ceremonial red uniforms, gold buttons and enormous bearskin hats. They played so loud and with a marching rhythm that people in the crowd found themselves walking and nodding in time.

  “The Irish Guard,” she said.

  Joe raised his eyebrows, impressed.

  She grinned, held up a hand in confession. “I saw the name outside Victoria Barracks.”

  Behind the band filed the twelve young men of the Queen’s Foot Guards—four lines of three—who would be exchanged in the ceremony. Three officers led the twelve and a sergeant major marched at the rear.

  In the past, Joe had led the way ahead of the parade to stake out a prime spot by the gate and then peer through the bars as the ceremony unfolded. This time he held back.

  As Kate moved to get ahead, Joe touched her arm and said, “Let’s follow, for a change.”

  She didn’t question it. They moved against the flow until they joined the crowd at the rear of the parade. This wasn’t going to work well. She could see people already claiming the best positions at the gate. As the last soldier passed through the entrance, the crowd surged.

  Someone pushed her.

  “Hey!”

  Bodies pressed all around. Then there was another surge and she felt a hand on her shoulder. For a moment she assumed it was Joe providing support. Then she stumbled and felt the person’s weight lean into her, pressing down. A man’s fat stomach pushed against her. She staggered and fell.

  “Hey!”

  No one helped her up. People were fixated on getting a good view. Joe didn’t help her either. Where was he anyway? She elbowed her way between people and found a space on the path away from the shoving tourists. She caught her breath and scanned the crowd for Joe, starting at the gates and working back. She couldn’t see him. A small wall ran along the path and she stood on it.

  “Joe?” she called. It was ridiculous to think he might hear above the noise.

  Something prompted her to turn then, away from the main crowd.

  A red tourist bus and a handful of taxis lined the road. People milled about, but three men caught her attention. Sixty yards or so away they moved together; the outer two had suits and hats. They were so close that the man in the middle looked like he was being guided.

  They walked towards a nondescript maroon estate car parked between the taxis. As they turned to get in, she saw him clearly.

  “Joe!”

  Her shout was swallowed by the clamour, but he seemed to respond. He started to turn then hesitated. The two men grabbed him roughly. They shoved him into the back seat of the car. One of the men joined him in the back, the other walked to the driver’s side.

  What the hell? Do something!

  Kate jumped from the wall and tried to hurry towards the road. People were in the way, jostling. She shoved one, then two, not caring about the protests. In less than a minute, she broke through the dense part of the crowd and began to run.

  “Joe!” she shouted out again.

  The car was so close, Kate saw him clearly as he leaned to the window. His eyes were wide with concern and his mouth moved. It looked like: “Trust me. I dare you.”

  As she neared the road, the car accelerated away around the bend.

  And that was the last time she saw him.

  SIX

  Lisa looked around, checking no one could overhear. “You know Julian at the club?” she whispered.

  Kate and her friend sat outside a café at the bottom of Peascod Street, waves of heat belting from a patio heater. It had changed its name, menu and décor, and would change again within a year, a constant rotation of independents trying to make it on an overcrowded stretch in a town driven by the tourist season and beyond sight of the castle. In the evening the cafés tried to be upmarket bars but there was still too much competition and the token heater did not make the outdoor eating experience remotely reminiscent of the Med.

  “Of course I do.” Kate played along and leaned in conspiratorially. “I may not be a member but I do know the other staff there.”

  “Well, he’s my new personal trainer.” Lisa grinned. “Dishy, don’t you think?”

  Kate had to agree, Julian was a good-looking guy, although too into his own body and looks. In his early twenties, he was at least ten years younger than Lisa. “Not my type,” she said, “but I know quite a few of the girls fancy him.”

  Lisa worked for American Airlines and had been working out of Chicago O’Hare for the past two years but was now back at London Heathrow. They had met at Ceroc dance classes, and while Kate briefly tried it and attended for fun and dancing, Lisa’s clear goal was to pick up guys. She’d also discovered that Lisa was a member of the Royal Berkshire club.

  “What are you working on these days?” Kate asked, struggling to understand why Lisa’s news should be interesting.

  Lisa winked.

  “No, I mean fitness-wise.”

  “Overall conditioning, but my thighs and bingo wings especially.”

  Kate nodded and took a sip of her Pinot Grigio.

  Lisa leaned closer and dropped her voice. “We’ve been in the Lookout—Julian and I.” The Lookout was the public expanse of Windsor Forest next to the club where trainers often took people jogging. “Power-walking,” Lisa continued as if reading Kate’s mind.

  “Won’t be long before you can come running with me then,” Kate said.

  Again, Lisa looked to check no one could overhear. “We went off the trail—you know, one of the secluded tracks.” She winked and Kate wondered what the secret was.

  Lisa leaned in even closer so that she could whisper into Kate’s ear. “Well, when we were out of sight, he grabbed me and took me in the undergrowth…” She stopped and stared. “You all right? You’ve gone all pale.”

  Kate forced a smile. It’d been over a week since confronting the man in the hoodie. The mention of being grabbed brought back the sensation of the man’s hand on her shoulder. “I haven’t told you,” she said, “but a guy recently tried to… I don’t know.”

  “Attack you?”

  “To be honest I don’t know what would have happened, but he grabbed at me in the dark. I know it’s silly but your story just brought it all back.”

  “Oh you poor love. You’re shaking.” Lisa held Kate’s hand and gave her a hug. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

  “Of course you didn’t. It’s not your fault.”

  Following Kate’s story, Lisa asked, “Did you tell the police?”

  “The Thames Valley Police are a waste of time. Community policing, fine, but anything serious and they’re totally ineffe
ctual.” Kate felt her throat flush; the incident with Hoodie-man had been replaced by anger and frustration with the police.

  Lisa frowned. She returned to her seat and ordered them both another drink before insisting on knowing what had happened. Kate didn’t explain that Joe had warned her. Or about his secret. Andrew, the silverback gorilla of a masseuse, was the only person she shared that with. Now, as the anniversary of his disappearance loomed, she found herself remembering every detail of the day he’d told her. The day she called their semi-versary.

  “I’ve known you for six months as of today,” Kate said, luxuriating in the bed. The sunlight streamed through a gap in the bedroom curtains, forming a bright wedge from Joe’s torso and up to his forehead. She placed a hand on his firm chest and pushed her fingers through the knot of dark hair.

  “Is that some kind of record?” he said, laughing, and she responded with a playful push.

  “Like an anniversary, only a six month one—a semi-versary.” She paused, studying his face. “Is everything all right, Joe? Are we OK?”

  “God, yes, we’re fine.” He kissed her. “And, Ms Blakemore, I love you.”

  She looked deep into his grey-brown eyes and believed him, but he had been troubled for over a week—ever since their conversation about his secret. She desperately wanted to ask for more detail but couldn’t push it. She was certain he was the one and would just have to give him time.

  “Great, then let’s celebrate our semi-versary.”

  He grinned at her. “Oh, OK. So what would you like to do? Catch a movie? Go to the theatre? A candlelit dinner?”

  “Surprise me,” she said, and raised an eyebrow.

  Joe rolled on his side, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. He ran his hand lightly over her body, starting with a gentle caress of her face and finishing at her thigh.

  “I said surprise me, Joe Rossini!”

  He flashed his smile. “Maybe I can.” He repeated the manoeuvre, only this time following the curve of her breast and ending further inside the thigh. Her body responded and she met his grey-brown eyes. Her breath juddered and she smiled.

  “Oh boy, how do you do this to me? I’m putty in your hands.” She stroked his side. “All right, I give in, but something special later to celebrate.”

  “Deal,” he said, rolling over her. “I’ll think of something.” With tenderness, he kissed her neck.

  Joe made a phone call and reported he’d arranged to borrow a kayak for the day. The plan was to paddle up the river Thames, from Marlow to Henley, find somewhere nice to eat and have a leisurely ride back with the current.

  It was a perfect day, warm for late October. The sky was a washed-out blue with high strips of cloud like fine gauze.

  After the first half an hour of paddling, Kate gave up and let Joe do the work in their two-man. She kept in rhythm with his strokes although her blades barely touched the surface.

  He made it all the way to Henley without a rest—even carrying the kayak to bypass a lock.

  Steering alongside boats moored by a bridge, they got out and Joe pulled the kayak onto the pavement. They joined the crowd on the patio of a pub called The Idle Hour and ate a hearty lunch.

  The return, as predicted, was much easier. At the lock Joe carried the kayak onto the towpath and pulled out a blanket and a cool-bag he’d stowed in the prow. He spread the blanket on the grass, a weir splashing close by.

  “I dare you to join me for a glass of champagne—” he said as he opened the bag, “hopefully still chilled—and strawberries.”

  He popped the cork and Kate held the two imitation glass flutes as he poured. They chinked plastic. “To us,” he said.

  “To many more semi-versaries,” she said.

  After the drink and strawberries, they lay on their backs and listened to the river and birds. Gilded by the last of the afternoon sun, the river added to the romance of the day and Kate felt herself drifting off to sleep.

  “Hey, don’t drop off!”

  She opened her eyes and looked up into his face. She smiled, but for once it wasn’t returned.

  “Joe?”

  “I need to tell you something,” he said.

  Kate’s mind snapped awake.

  “Last week—when I was late home—I met with my… I guess you’d call him my handler. He said I can explain the situation, but only a little—I can’t tell you everything.”

  She waited, held her breath and recalled that horrible day waiting for Joe to come home, thinking about the gun he’d hidden under the bath.

  “I told you I’d been in the army. Well it was more than just a short spell. I did two tours in Iraq and I’m kinda connected to a Special Forces mission that went wrong.”

  “What does Special Forces mean? Something like the SAS?”

  “Kind of. It’s about a unit that was off the radar. You know, the stuff the government doesn’t admit to. Plausible deniability—I’m sure you’ve heard the expression.”

  “What, you mean stuff like rendition and torture?”

  “Well it could, but I was never involved in any of that.”

  “Did you kill anyone?”

  “It was part of the territory. Soldiers have to be prepared to kill.”

  “How many?”

  He shrugged, shook his head.

  Kate looked out across the water and then back. “You said the mission went wrong.”

  “I can’t talk about the details.”

  She saw the conflict in his eyes and stroked his head. “What can you say, baby?”

  “I can tell you about my history—about the army—but nothing about Special Forces. Nothing about the mission. I can’t blow my cover—even to you. I know that’s hard, but there’s a good reason. We believe that there’s someone who would like me dead. It’s not really witness protection. I’m kinda in hiding, though it’s much more complicated than that.” He sighed and held her close. “I love you, Kate, but I’m now worried that you may be in danger too. That’s also why I can’t tell you much really. The less you know, the better.”

  She wanted him to say he was joking then, but his face was deadly serious. “Should I be worried?”

  “Not at the moment, hon. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you’re all right.” He shook his head, sadness in his eyes. “If anything should happen, you need to believe that I love you and that I want to be with you. No matter what, I will put it right.”

  SEVEN

  During Sunday lunch, Terry suddenly said, “There’ll be a meteor shower at ten tonight.”

  Mumsie had introduced him as retired but a keen amateur astronomer. They’d made initial small talk and Kate had learned he’d worked at Bracknell Town Council for over thirty years, but after that he’d barely said a word. With short grey hair, hardly any neck and tired eyes—undoubtedly the result of three decades in the same role—Kate found something familiar about him but couldn’t place it. He seemed inoffensive enough, if a little serious. However Kate felt her stomach tighten when he sat in her father’s old carver at the dinner table.

  As if it were a planned conversation, her mother said, “That’s interesting, where in the sky will we be able to see it, Terry?”

  Kate cringed, certain her mother didn’t really know the difference between astronomy and astrology.

  “If you look east you’ll see Jupiter just below the constellation of Gemini…” Terry went on to talk about other planets and constellations and Kate found herself tuning him out. She could just picture Terry at his telescope, asking for instructions, and Mumsie reading out the latest horoscope. She stared at her cut-crystal wine glass on the mahogany table and tried to think of something other than there being a replacement for her father in the carving chair.

  When she finished her meal she said, “Thanks for the dinner. It’s been ages since I’ve had Sunday roast.”

  Her mum’s eyebrows knitted together. “You need to look after yourself, sweetie.”

  Abruptly Terry piped up: “I hear you’re
a bit of a runner.” Kate expected him to add something, but an awkward silence stretched between them until her mother broke it.

  “Do you know Sheila Attwood, Kate, at the bottom of the road—number 18? Oh of course you do. You went to school with her son Gary.”

  Kate pulled a thin smile. “He was in the year above.” In a few days it would be a year since Kate had lost Joe. That’s why she’d finally accepted the invitation to lunch—as a distraction—but she had an inkling of what her mother was up to.

  “That’s right. Well, you might not know but Gary went to Cambridge to read Maths. Then he went into the City with some big firm. Anyway, he’s moved back to the area, got a job in Reading. He’s doing very well and…” Her mother stopped herself and had a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “Well, Sheila is having a small get-together next week—for her sixtieth—and I wondered if you’d like to come along. Gary will be there.”

  Kate said nothing.

  “Sounds like fun,” Terry said, and Kate was sure he’d been prepped.

  “I’m busy,” Kate snapped back, and she saw her harshness made Terry blink.

  He tried a smile. “You haven’t been told which night it is yet, Pip.”

  Kate’s blood boiled. She stood. “Firstly, my name is not Pip. It is Kate to you, Terry. And secondly I am busy all next week—though I don’t see why I should justify myself to you.” She realized it was an overreaction but couldn’t stop herself. “Thanks again for Sunday lunch, Mum. It was appreciated, but I’d better be going.”

  As she drove home, Kate realized why Terry looked familiar: the hair, the tired eyes and, most of all, no neck. He was like the first policeman who had visited after Joe’s disappearance, but that was where the similarity ended. No-neck, the policeman, could have been a bouncer with muscles like he could bench-press a truck. Terry on the other hand looked like he’d never lifted more than a pencil. She found herself thinking about the policeman and how lost and powerless she’d felt.

  No-neck arrived to take a statement in the evening, a whole day after Joe’s abduction. After seeing the car disappear, she’d run to the police station on Alma Road, an antiseptic room with white walls decorated by a handful of instructional posters. A policewoman sat distractedly behind a hatch and pointed to a phone on the wall as Kate began to speak.