Talking Trouble

by Barbara Elsborg

  We’ve gone to get my running gear. Yours too. And bread for the geese. Back in ten. Don’t start ANYTHING without us. Mollie xx

  Lysander smiled then winced. He wasn’t a runner. And back in ten? They’d already been longer than that. As he came down the stairs into the hall, a woman in her thirties and guy about the same age were coming through the front door.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the guy asked.

  “Lysander Weldon. I assume you’re Brigid and Andy. I’m a friend of Flint’s. I live in the house on the other side of the dam.”

  “Where is he?” Brigid glanced around.

  “He’s gone to my house.” Lysander moved toward the door, and Andy stepped in front of him.

  “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

  Lysander pulled the note Mollie had written from his pocket.

  Andy read it, handed it back and huffed. “Mollie.”

  “Let him out,” Brigid said. “Tell Flint his breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  Once Lysander was out of the gate, he hurried over the dam. As he approached the house, a silver Astra pulled out of the drive, spraying gravel. He didn’t recognize the car. A worm of anxiety nibbled at his gut and he started to run.

  When he saw that the door had been left open, his concern increased.

  “Mollie! Flint,” he shouted, but as he burst into the hall he found Flint struggling to get up from the floor, a phone in his hand and blood dripping down his neck.

  “What the fuck’s happened?” Lysander helped him up.

  “Moll…ee. Man. Car.” Flint tugged at Lysander’s arm. “Come.”

  That car. “Wait here.”

  Of course he didn’t. Lysander grabbed the keys from the hall table, and used the remote as he ran.

  “Fasten your seatbelt,” he told Flint.

  The vehicle skidded as Lysander accelerated out of the drive and back over the dam, the opposite way to the one the car had taken. “Who took her?”

  “Fee…say…shit. Feet…fuck. Can’t find word.” He handed Lysander his phone. “Talk.”

  Lysander put it to his ear and heard Andy bellowing. “Flint. What’s the matter? Where are you?”

  “He’s with me. Lysander. We need help. Mollie’s been…kidnapped by a guy in a silver Astra. Flint’s injured. I’ve just driven past your place and I’m trying to head the guy off at the junction with the main road. Can you go in the other direction past mine and try to catch him?”

  “I’m on it.”

  Lysander threw the phone back onto Flint’s lap and put his foot down, flying up the unmade road. If he was fast enough and the guy in the Astra slow enough, he might be able to stop him reaching the junction.

  “Did he hurt Mollie?” Lysander asked.

  “Yes. Hit.”

  “Fuck.”

  Flint gasped as the car bounced in a rut and he banged his head.

  “You okay?” Lysander asked.

  “Still alive.”

  Lysander glanced at him. He was pale but there was no fresh blood dripping down his neck. Lysander braked hard at a sharp bend, then accelerated again. He needed to get to the junction before the Astra and after the next curve he’d be able to see whether the car had already cleared it because the road went uphill afterward.

  When he saw the road was empty of traffic, he sighed and turned right to find the Astra coming toward them. Lysander pulled into the middle of the road and Flint clutched the side of the seat. The driver of the Astra flashed his lights, but Lysander didn’t move. There was no room to pass on either side if he kept his line and no room at all if he put the car side-on across the road. But he had to wait until almost the last minute.

  “Hold on,” he told Flint, then wrenched the wheel hard and pulled the car round as he slammed on the brakes.

  The vehicle shuddered to a halt across the road and Lysander was out and running almost before the wheels stopped turning. Mollie slumped in the front passenger seat, her eyes closed. The driver opened the door and strode up to Lysander.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  Lysander spotted another car coming up behind the Astra and hoped it was Andy.

  “That’s my question,” Lysander said.

  Flint staggered to Lysander’s side.

  “Get back in your car and fuck off. And take that retard with you.”

  “He…hop…hip…” Flint clenched his fists, started toward the guy, and Lysander yanked him back.

  “Get Mollie,” he said and stepped to block the driver when he moved toward Flint.

  “Leave her where she is,” the guy snapped.

  Lysander shook his head in disbelief. “You’re fucking kidnapping her.”

  The other car pulled up at the back of the Astra and Andy stepped out. “What’s going on?”

  The man who’d taken Mollie pulled a wallet from his pocket, flipped it open and held it up. “I’m a police officer and she’s under arrest.”

  Lysander’s heart dropped onto his stomach. “For what?”

  “Theft. Wasting police time. Resisting arrest.” He glanced at Flint. “He’s lucky I didn’t arrest him too for assaulting a police officer. Now shift your car.”

  “What the hell’s all this about?” asked Andy.

  Lysander took his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling the police.”

  “I am the fucking police.”

  “Then I’m calling my lawyer,” Lysander said.

  “You want me to arrest you too?”

  Andy pulled at Flint’s arm. “You can’t afford to get mixed up in this.”

  Flint jerked free, yanked at Mollie’s door and banged on the window. Mollie looked dazed. Flint flashed Lysander an agonized glance.

  Lysander spoke into his phone, though he hadn’t pressed call. “Police, please. I’m on the road between Thurston and Timble. I have a guy here who—”

  The guy clicked the door open with his remote and Flint pulled Mollie out of the car.

  “End the call,” the man said.

  Lysander put his phone back in his pocket. He hoped not making the call wasn’t a mistake.

  “Look,” said the guy in a quieter tone of voice. “Mollie’s my fiancée. We had a row. She flounced off. She has a habit of doing that. I’ve come to get her back.”

  “I saw what you did to her.” Lysander glanced between the man and Flint, who had his arms around Mollie.

  The guy stepped toward him. “You’ve fucked her?”

  “I’ve painted her. I’ve taken hundreds of photos of the injuries you caused.”

  The cop turned to Mollie. “What the hell have you been telling them? She’s my fiancée. I didn’t hit her. She fell down the steps on a bus.”

  For the briefest of moments Lysander had a niggling doubt, until he remembered the way Mollie had flinched when she’d feared he was going to hit her. She wasn’t a liar. He shouldn’t have even had a flicker of doubt.

  “You hit her, you bastard,” Lysander said. “I don’t give a shit whether she was ever your fiancée or not, but she’s not now. I suggest you get in your car and fuck off back where you came from.”

  “He hit her?” Andy let go of Flint and moved to stand by Lysander.

  “She fucking fell,” he shouted. “Now back off. I told you I’m arresting her. It’s an offense to interfere with a police officer in the performance of his duty. You want me to arrest you too?”

  “What is it that you want?” Lysander asked. “One minute you say you’re arresting her for theft, wasting police time, resisting arrest. The next you want to make up after a quarrel.”

  “I haven’t stolen anything,” Mollie said in a soft voice. “I haven’t wasted police time. I did resist arrest, but I haven’t done anything to be arrested for and he—” She pressed her lips together.

  “I thought you were fucking dead,” the guy yelled. “You just disappeared. Left everything.”

  “Then how did you know where I was, Lewin?” Mollie asked.
“I haven’t used my credit card, or my phone. I’ve stayed off social media. I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing so how did you know where I was?”

  He gave a short laugh. “Okay, fine. I found your resignation letter and convinced the head you were having a breakdown. It wasn’t hard. You fucking have. You hadn’t mentioned leaving. I told him the truth. You freaked out when I asked you to marry me. Eva confirmed it. You got confused. I understand. I pushed too hard and you’ve cut your beautiful hair.” He looked around and glared. “Do we have to do this in front of an audience? Come home with me.”

  “How did you know I was here?” she repeated.

  Lewin sighed. “The head let me have the telephone number of Jeremy’s parents. If anyone knew where you were, it’d be that little twerp. He told me about the map and the drawing pin. I looked for a hole and traced you to Otley. A tour of the estate agents led me to Netherfields, and once Sandra saw I was a cop, she was only too happy to tell me where you were.” He took a deep breath. “Doesn’t that show how much I love you? How far I’m prepared to go? I want you to come home, Molls. Forget the holiday. I don’t mind about your hair. You can grow it again. We can go and choose your ring. I love you. Look how desperate I am. Please give me another chance.”

  “You had your chance. You hit me, Lewin. You can’t take that back.”

  “I don’t know why you keep saying that. I didn’t hit you.”

  “I never want to see you again,” she said.

  He scowled. “It’s not over.”

  “Yes it is.” Lysander nodded to Flint to help Mollie to his car. Andy blocked Lewin from following and Lysander stepped right up to the cop. “You don’t try and contact her again. You never touch her again. You come within a mile of her and I’ll report you. Understand? If I even think you’re in the vicinity, I’ll send copies of those photographs to your boss. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Fuck off.” Lewin’s eyes glittered with malice.

  “You’ve used unnecessary force,” Andy said. “Injured an innocent bystander and hit a woman. I used to be a cop. I know what’s acceptable and what’s not. We could report you now. Is that what you want?”

  For a long moment Lewin didn’t move, then the tension left his body. “Shift your fucking car.”

  Lysander walked backward to his vehicle. His heart was hammering in his throat. Mollie and Flint were in the rear seats, holding each other.

  “Let me make something clear,” Andy said, moving into the space Lysander had vacated. “I suggest you don’t tell anyone what’s happened up here. I think we should forget it, don’t you? Because I’d hate to have to pay you a visit with a few friends of mine.”

  Lysander paused. He wasn’t sure threatening this guy would work. He guessed Andy was trying to protect Flint’s identity. The retard comment showed he’d heard Flint try to speak. Lysander moved the car and after Lewin had roared past, he let out a shaky sigh.

  Andy approached and Lysander lowered the window.

  “Thanks for the backup,” Lysander said.

  “Flint, out of the car,” Andy said. “You need to get your head stitched.”

  Lysander glanced in the mirror. “I’ll take him to the hospital.”

  “No. We’ll have to get someone to come to the house. I hope you realize how important it is no one knows what’s happened. That fucking cop… Flint—with me.”

  Flint put his hand on Lysander’s shoulder. “Come. House.”

  Lysander nodded. “Later. I’ll look after Mollie.”

  Flint squeezed Lysander’s shoulder, kissed Mollie on the cheek and got out of the car.

  Mollie came round to sit in the front. She wrapped her fingers around Lysander’s and sighed. “Thank you.”

  “A cop, Mollie?”

  “That’s why I ran.”

  “The police would have believed you.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t want everything that along went with reporting him. I just…disappeared. Tried to.”

  “That’s the last you’ll see of him.”

  “I hope so. Saying you’d taken photographs helped but what if he comes back to try and find them?”

  Lysander started the car. “He won’t. I’ll have new—better—locks put on just in case but I’ll email the photos in a zipped file to my agent with instructions not to open, plus I’ll look into hiring a detective to keep an eye on this ex of yours for a couple of weeks.”

  “Don’t do that. If he thinks he’s being followed, he’ll be even worse.”

  “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  Mollie shook her head.

  “I’m going to call Jean-Paul.” He twisted the dial on the dashboard to bring up his number.

  “Hi,” Jean-Paul said. “What’s up?”

  “I need a locksmith out to the house now.”

  “Why? Have we been burgled? Oh God, did they take my signed photo of Lady Gaga?”

  “Not burgled. Mollie’s…ex paid a visit. I want all the locks changed with something more secure.”

  “Shit, is she all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Mollie said.

  “Jean-Paul, I need another favor. The people who used to own the house on the other side of the dam. Dirk and Marcie Steward. Can you find out where they moved to? Call me and let me know.”

  “Okay.”

  “Mollie was going to cook tonight but—”

  “I’ll still do it,” she said. “Would you bring potatoes and fish fingers?”

  “Fantastic. Another gourmet meal,” Jean-Paul said with a laugh. “Bye.”

  Lysander cut the connection. He pulled onto the drive and parked in front of the garage. He came round to open the door on Mollie’s side, and once she was standing, he took hold of her hand and tugged her toward the house.

  As they walked into the hall, Nikki came out of the drawing room.

  “You’re okay then,” Nikki said.

  Lysander fought to keep his temper. He’d been going to give Nikki the benefit of the doubt but he changed his mind. “What does that mean?”

  “I heard all the banging and crashing, Mollie screaming.”

  “And what did you do?” he asked.

  “Not my problem.” Nikki shrugged.

  Lysander tensed. “You leave today. Within the next hour. Call a cab. If you’re not out, I’ll throw you and all your crap out with you.”

  Nikki gaped at him. “You gave me another week.”

  “Well, I’m un-giving it. You let this guy into the house. You heard Mollie being attacked and did nothing? Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “He said he was the police. He said she was a thief.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Lysander said.

  Nikki puffed out a sigh of relief.

  “You have thirty minutes. Get packing.”

  He tugged Mollie toward the stairs as Nikki screamed abuse after them.

  “You wanker, Lysander. You can’t treat me like this. You see what he’s like, Mollie? He’ll tire of you just as he has everyone else. He’s a selfish, loveless bastard. You’re fucking welcome to him.”

  Lysander took out his wallet and threw a handful of notes down the stairs. “The return of your rent. Call a cab.”

  He ushered Mollie into his bedroom and closed the door on Nikki’s shrieks. Taking Mollie by the hand, he sat her in a chair by the window and crouched down in front of her.

  “Just when your bruises were healing, you get another.” He touched her cheek. “Did you even eat breakfast?”

  “No.”

  “Could you? If I made toast?”

  “Maybe after Nikki’s gone.”

  He nodded. “I’m going to go and make sure she actually leaves. See if you can sleep for a while.”

  He stood up and Mollie caught his hand. “Thank you.”

  “Was he your big secret, Mollie?”

  She hesitated. “Not my biggest.”

  Lysander exhaled. He’d hoped she’d say yes, but at least she was beginning to
open up.

  He went down to the next floor and stood at the door of Nikki’s room watching her pack. This time she gave him the silent treatment, which he infinitely preferred. He helped her carry her stuff to the taxi and gave her the last painting he’d done of her. She snatched it from his hand, and for a moment, he thought she was going to throw it down and stomp on it—he almost wanted her to—but she slid it into the boot of the cab and left without uttering another word.

  As the taxi pulled out, a locksmith’s van pulled in. Lysander explained what he needed and left the guy to it. Nikki and Isla might have given back their keys but he’d feel much happier with a new set of locks. He made Mollie toast and coffee and carried it up to his room on a tray. She was curled up in the chair with her eyes closed, but opened them as he walked toward her.

  “She’s gone. The locksmith’s here.”

  His phone rang in his pocket and he handed Mollie the tray.

  “Hi, Jean-Paul. Got an address?”

  “I’ve sent you a text. The wife bought a house through us but they didn’t sell through us. If you want the husband, I only have his business address. Want me to text that too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, don’t forget I’ll be sacked if anyone finds out I breeched client confidentiality. Is Mollie okay?”

  “She’s fine. Just a bit shocked. Thanks, Jean-Paul. See you tonight.”

  Lysander sat on the bed with his phone and went into his inbox. Marcie lived in Menston, no more than twenty minutes’ drive. He rubbed his thumb over the screen as if he could erase what was running through his head. The bed dipped as Mollie sat next to him. She took hold of his hand.

  “It might not be true,” she said.

  He turned and kissed her head, pressing his face into her hair, inhaling her scent. “Who made you so wise?”

  “I saw the way you reacted to what the gardener said. You think Elke visited the house and…maybe she… You don’t have to go. You don’t need to know.”