Keep You Safe

by Rona Halsall

  ‘There was a scheme to reduce prison numbers and the authorities decided to let me out a couple of months before my official date. No fuss. Tucked me away in North Wales where they thought I’d be safe. But I knew he’d find me.’ She looks at Jack. ‘You know what goes on. Paying off prison officers or other inmates for information.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘Unfortunately, I do.’

  ‘So, I had to get Harry as quickly as I could, before Lech worked out where I was. And I knew I only had a matter of days. I had tried to contact Tom, my ex, through his old lawyer. But they wouldn’t listen, said I was making it all up so I could have access or something. I knew I had to skip parole if I was going have a chance of getting to him, and keeping him safe.’

  ‘Wow.’ Jack whistles between his teeth. ‘That’s a hell of a tale. So now you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.’

  She lets out the longest breath, overwhelmed for a moment by the sympathy in his voice. Maybe, she thinks, grasping at the thinnest slither of hope, maybe he’ll let me go. Give me my phone. That’s all I need.

  ‘Yeah, that’s about it. And the worst thing is, Lech’s been following me.’

  Jack’s eyes widen. ‘You sure about that?’

  Natalie nods. ‘Well, someone followed me from Douglas to Peel, even though I changed the number plates on the car. I don’t know how, but whoever it is seems to know where I am. And then, I saw the same car parked outside Mary’s. It’s got to be him.’ Having laid it all out for Jack, Natalie’s even more sure of the danger she’s in and her body gives an involuntary shiver as she thinks about her narrow escape. ‘I’m pretty sure he was coming to get me when I fell downstairs.’

  ‘Christ!’ Jack stares at her, frowning. ‘You think so?’

  ‘I need to get Harry safe, Jack.’ She reaches out and squeezes his hand to emphasise her point, to make him feel her fear. ‘That’s all I care about.’

  Jack stares across the room, obviously deep in thought.

  ‘Well, I think the first thing we’ve got to do is tip off the police about Lech. Get him out of the picture.’ He looks at Natalie. ‘I can do that anonymously, if you like, through Crimestoppers.’

  Natalie nods. She hadn’t thought about that, and it makes sense. But getting the police involved in any way is bound to spell trouble for her at some point and she’s not ready to let that happen. Not when there’s still time for her to get away on the fishing boat.

  ‘Does Tom know Lech’s been following you? Surely he must accept now that Harry’s in danger?’

  Natalie shakes her head, grimaces. ‘He won’t listen to me. He’ll just think I’m pulling some sort of stunt. He might listen to my friend, though. But her number’s on my phone and my phone’s…’

  Jack looks sheepish, finishes her sentence. ‘Still at Mary’s, I’m afraid. I got sidetracked by food. Honestly I was so hungry I could have eaten half a cow.’

  Natalie feels helpless, because without her phone, she’s completely dependent on Jack as to what happens next. And all this talking isn’t getting them anywhere. Who knows how long the police will take to react to a tip-off. It could be days rather than the instant response she needs. She chews at her lip, tension pulling at her injured shoulder, sending spikes of pain up and down her neck.

  ‘There’s no time, Jack. Mary’s going to—’

  Jack speaks before she can finish her sentence. ‘Mary said she wouldn’t call the police, now she knows you’re with me. So, there’s no deadline tonight. And Tom’s not heading off until tomorrow.’ Jack stands and holds out a hand to help her up. ‘You should have something to eat, keep your strength up. And while you’re doing that, I’ve got an idea I want to check out. Something I heard that may or may not be right. But it might change things regarding Tom.’

  ‘I just need my phone, Jack.’ She pleads with her eyes. ‘Let me ring Sasha. You don’t have to be involved in any of this, she’ll come and get me. Then I’ll be out of your hair and none of this will be your problem.’

  He squeezes her hand. ‘Look, don’t worry. I want to help, okay? I’ll go and get your stuff when I’ve made the calls.’ She looks at him, trying to assess his motivation. Is he on my side, or is he my jailor? ‘I’ll only be ten minutes or so. Then we’ll sort out priorities. Together. I’m not going to do anything without telling you, okay?’

  His eyes shift to the side as he’s speaking, just a flick away but enough to make her wonder, Can I trust this man?

  Forty-Seven

  Now

  You think everything’s sorted and then wham, literally, as it turns out, you have a different mess on your hands.

  But it’s definitely sorted now. And Harry’s tucked away, ready, so I don’t have to worry about that. Just her to think about.

  Oh-oh, wait a minute.

  Might have been a bit ahead of myself there. I do believe I heard something.

  Yep, still gurgling.

  Ha ha! Die a slow and horrible death, you pathetic bastard. Thought you were so big, didn’t you? Someone to be frightened of. Oh, how the mighty are fallen.

  Forty-Eight

  Now

  Jack sits at the kitchen table with a notepad and pen, trying to sort through the muddle of information that Natalie has just dumped in his brain. It was quite a tale, that’s for sure, and he wants to pick out the key points, so he can decide what to do for the best.

  He’s brewed himself a mug of coffee in the hope that a double shot of caffeine will get his mind focused and he sips it now, as he doodles on a blank sheet of paper, waiting for it to work. It’s a bit late for coffee, but he has an inkling that he’s going to need all his wits about him for quite a few hours yet because, at some point, in one way or another, shit will definitely hit the fan.

  He’s finally persuaded Natalie to go and rest in the lounge, and she’s had a painkiller, which he hopes will make her drowsy and give him a bit of space to think. He can’t make the phone calls with her listening. Wouldn’t want her to think that he doesn’t believe her story. Because he does, doesn’t he? He thinks about the pain in her voice, that look in her eyes and knows that, to Natalie, her story is real. He runs a hand through his hair. That’s not the same as it being the truth, though, is it? People start believing all sorts of things because they can’t face reality. He’s seen it at work. Many, many times.

  But…

  He taps his pen on the table while he thinks. And he comes back to the same conclusion. She’s convinced him, right enough, but he’d be an idiot not to check it out before he calls in the troops. With half his schoolmates employed in one line of public service or another, he doesn’t want to be the butt of their jokes.

  He imagines the smirk on Dan Corlett’s face, standing in the pub telling anyone who’ll listen what a jerk Jack is. How he let another woman make a fool out of him. Honestly, he quite liked the guy at one time, but since he’s been promoted to sergeant, he’s become a proper pain in the arse. Good at his job, all right, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a tosser.

  Jack finishes his coffee and starts to write, mapping out the main elements of Natalie’s story, the chain of events. Then he makes a list of the things he needs to check out. Things that will make the police want to listen.

  His sister, Fliss, works at the Treasury, in the tax department. And he’s sure she mentioned an investigation into dodgy accounting practices with one of the wealth management companies. It’s the biggest case she’s dealt with and she was excited about some new piece of information that had made her case watertight. They were planning to make an arrest within days. Obviously, she couldn’t say who they were after, but he has an inkling that it might be Tom. Just something she said that’s made a connection in his mind. And it would explain Tom’s rapid exit to Kuwait. A country which has no extradition treaty with the UK or the Isle of Man, where it would be easy to hide under his father’s protection. So, if it is Tom they’re after, he needs to tip off the police so they’ll pick him up tonight.


  The Katya and Lech side of things can be checked out by Ben, Jack’s workmate. He’s a sound guy, a proper friend, who won’t ask too many questions and anyway, he owes Jack a favour or two. Jack knows that he’s on security tonight, and it goes quiet after lock-up, so he’ll have a bit of time to do the research. Shouldn’t take long. And a bit more background on this Lech character will make it easier for Jack to get the police to take seriously the threat to Natalie’s life, and that of her son.

  Oh, and he needs to tell Mary not to go home just yet. Just in case. Lech might still be staking out Mary’s house and it would be terrible if she got mixed up in this somehow. He’ll do that first.

  The other thing to check out is the car number plate. Natalie managed to remember it. It’s Manx, so it shouldn’t be too hard to trace. Probably a rental, but he’s learned from experience not to make assumptions. Obviously, it would be an easy thing for the police to check, but he’s not going to make that call to Sergeant Tosser until he’s got all his ducks lined up in a nice neat row. His mate, Toby the Geek, should be able to get the info for him, no problem. He likes a bit of a challenge.

  Jack looks at his list and puts down his pen. That should do it.

  He goes to check on Natalie before he starts making his calls and smiles to himself when he finds she’s already asleep. Her face, when relaxed, with all the worry smoothed out, is so striking, with those high cheekbones and her generous lips. So lovely, he wants to reach out and stroke her cheek, brush away her pain. He tucks his hands in his pockets and watches for a moment, heart swelling with a new determination to sort out this mess and help her in any way that he can.

  He’s not sure why he’s such a sucker for a damsel in distress, but it’s always been that way with him. A soft touch, his sister says. He reminds himself that things have never ended well, but bats the thought away. The past is no predictor of the future. That’s what he tells his youngsters in prison. It’s what his mum has always told him. And that’s what he’s going to believe.

  He creeps out of the room, and closes the door behind him. Then sits himself down at the kitchen table and picks up his phone. It takes almost half an hour before he ends the last conversation and his mind purrs along like a well-tuned motorbike, now that caffeine and adrenaline have combined into a super-fuel for his brain.

  It’s a shame he couldn’t get hold of Fliss, but he knows she’ll ring back as soon as she can. His mates think he’s gone a bit mad, given the story that he’s just told them. Only part of the story, mind. Nobody knows the whole thing. It’s not his story to tell, is it? He’s just given enough to get the help he needs. Snippets, like parts of a crossword puzzle.

  So…

  He flicks the point of the pen in and out, in and out. There’s nothing more he can do. His worker bees have their tasks and he just has to wait.

  But he can’t.

  Retelling the story has increased the sense of danger that sits on his shoulders, urging him to do something.

  He decides to go and get Natalie’s stuff from Mary’s, because they need her phone. He checks that she’s still asleep. She won’t even know I’ve gone. But he writes a note and puts it on the kitchen table under her packet of painkillers. Just in case. Then he puts on his leather jacket, grabs his helmet and sets off, closing the back door as quietly as he can behind him.

  Five minutes later, he parks his bike in the alley behind Mary’s house, finds the spare key under a flowerpot, where it’s always been hidden, and lets himself in while his thoughts speed round his mind like bikes on the TT course. Questions and answers. Questions and answers.

  It gives him heart that Mary believes Natalie’s story and has agreed to stay with her daughter for the night. He might have joked that she was daft, but really he knows Mary’s a shrewd lady and he’d trust her judgement over his any day of the week. His mates took a bit more convincing, though, and he supposes it does sound a bit melodramatic. But then, they haven’t met Natalie, can’t see how much she hurts inside or feel the fear that radiates from her. You can’t fake that.

  She lied to me. He presses his lips together and forces himself to address the challenge. Not about things that matter, he decides and carries on with his task.

  He finds Natalie’s bag, tumbled to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and checks her bedroom to make sure she hasn’t left anything. He can’t resist a peep out of the window, looking up and down the prom but he can’t see a silver estate of any make.

  So if Lech isn’t here, where the hell is he?

  The question repeats itself, making him take notice. Natalie said Lech seemed to know where she was all the time. A bug of some sort? But Jack knows nothing about these things. Maybe he knows where Natalie is now. Jack stops, eyes wide, then hurries down the stairs. Nah, no way can anyone know where she is. Unless… He sucks in a breath. Unless Lech was waiting outside the hospital and followed them back to Jack’s. It’s not impossible. Jack wasn’t watching, wasn’t checking behind them, unaware that it might even be a possibility at that point.

  He locks the back door, stashes the key and jogs back to his bike, Natalie’s holdall slung on his back, like a rucksack. His pulse races. He scans the alley. Nobody there.

  His phone tweets and buzzes and he looks at the screen before answering.

  ‘Yeah, Ben. Got to be quick, mate.’

  ‘Right. Okay. So, Lech Wozniaki is in HMP Manchester. Serving life for attempted murder. He was sent down a couple of weeks ago and won’t be out for at least twelve years.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah. Definitely the same guy. Sister Katya is in a home in South Manchester.’

  ‘You’re sure about that? He’s definitely in prison?’

  ‘Yep. One hundred per cent. Nasty bastard. Tried to kill one of his prostitutes. And because he’s a repeat offender, he’s not likely to get out on licence.’

  Jack whistles through his teeth. ‘Okay, well, thanks for that, mate. I owe you one.’

  They say their goodbyes and Jack sits on his bike. He rubs his chin, fingers pulling at his stubble. So, if Lech isn’t the one following Natalie, who is?

  Forty-Nine

  Now

  Natalie wakes with a start, so stiff she can barely move. She feels woozy, like she’s been drinking and it takes a moment to remember.

  I’m at Jack’s house. Safe.

  She leans back against the sofa. A heavy ache makes her left shoulder feel twice its usual size. Her broken hand throbs and a pain spears the back of her head.

  The house is silent. Too silent and she senses that she’s alone.

  She frowns while she listens for a moment.

  Nothing.

  She creaks across the hall and into the kitchen, little half steps because her hips don’t want to move. The effort of walking pulls at nerve endings and she whimpers, like a hinge that needs oiling. Don’t be pathetic, she tells herself, but it makes no difference.

  Her packet of painkillers is propped in the middle of the table, next to a glass of water and she lurches towards them like a traveller in the desert who stumbles across an oasis. She fumbles the packet open, presses a couple of pills into her hand and swallows them down. It’s probably too soon to be having more, but the last one has worn off already and if she’s going to achieve anything at all, she needs the pain to go away.

  She leans on the table, wondering how long they’ll take to work. That’s when she sees the note, written in a scrawl that any doctor would have been proud of.

  Gone to get your stuff from Mary’s. Be about 15 mins.

  He’s even put a time on it. She looks at the clock. He left ten minutes ago. She does a double-take when the time registers in her brain. Eight-forty. Already? The day is about to disappear and she’s achieved nothing. But Jack might have done, she reminds herself and wonders what calls he’s made, what he’s found out. Thinks that it’s kind of him to want to take an active part in a melodrama that’s none of his business.

  It’s a bit odd, isn’t
it? Her hand pulls at her hair as a thought hisses through her. Oh no! He’s going to hand me in.

  She stands up, fully alert now and convinced that she’s right. Why wouldn’t he? It’s the sensible thing to do. I can’t let that happen. Can’t give up. Not without a fight. She has to at least try things her way, doesn’t she? Even with her injuries, she hasn’t given up the hope that she can find a way to get Harry and take him to safety.

  Sasha will help me. Her eyes widen and she feels in her back pocket for her phone. But it’s not there. Just the piece of paper with Tom’s address on it. She slaps her forehead with the palm of her hand. Dammit! Phone’s still at Mary’s. Yet again, Sasha’s help is out of reach. In fact, all help is out of reach without her list of contacts and a means to get hold of them.

  He’ll be back anytime now.

  I’ve got to go.

  She looks at the address again. I can walk there, can’t I? Thank goodness she didn’t tell Jack she knows where Tom lives. It’ll take him a while to work out where she’s gone and by then, God willing, she’ll be off the island. Exactly how that will happen, she has no idea. But she has to believe in herself. In her ability to think her way out of trouble.

  And if it all goes wrong, the outcome can’t be any worse than Jack’s plan, can it?

  She looks at the clock. Fourteen minutes since he left. Her heart picks up a pace. She takes a couple more painkillers and hobbles to the back door.

  The back garden is unremarkable, a square of lawn bordered with overgrown flower beds, edged by a high fence. A gate leads to the front of the house and she’s about to open it when she stops and recoils as if the latch has burnt her. Lech might be there! She’d almost forgotten about him in her haste to get away and she peeks through the slats of the gate. A few silent moments slide by before she allows herself to go through.