Dead Secret

by Ava McCarthy

  They reached the hotel, and together rode the elevator to their rooms on the second floor, Novak to grab the dossier and Jodie to pull on a sweater before meeting up again in the bar downstairs.

  Novak disappeared into his room. Jodie unlocked her door, stepped inside, groped for the light switch along the wall. The door swung to behind her, clicking shut, plunging her into darkness. She swore softly.

  Then a hand reached out, clamped down over her mouth and slammed her into the wall.

  19

  Jodie’s head snapped back, cracked against cinderblock. Pain splintered through her skull and she tried to yell.

  The hand across her mouth smothered the sound.

  ‘I need you to be quiet.’ His voice was slow, soft. ‘Just do as I say.’

  His dark silhouette filled her vision, and his weight pinned her against the wall. The face was featureless, backlit by the window, the head crowned with braided knots that stuck out around his skull like spiders.

  Jodie clenched her muscles. Heaved against him. She tried to lift her knee, shove it into his groin. But his bulk immobilized her. His fingers dug hard into her face. Then the cold barrel of a gun jammed into her throat.

  She froze. Tried to swallow. Her jugular pounded against the metal, and the hand across her mouth was suffocating. She breathed rapidly through her nostrils, picking up his musty, sweetish smell. Sweat and weed.

  ‘You’ll do as I say.’

  His features resolved themselves in the dark. Broad cheeks, oily skin. Blank, empty eyes.

  Jodie’s pulse jackhammered. A jolt of adrenaline shot through her, and she tried to twist away, tried to lash out with her foot, ignoring the burning fire in her stab wound. He stared at her with dead, hooded eyes. Then he raised the gun and smashed it into her skull.

  Her head reeled. The floor spun upwards, slammed into her face. The whole room tilted. She tried to stand up, but the world lurched again and she slumped face down on the floor.

  He grabbed her arm, yanked her onto her back. She tried to open her eyes. Couldn’t lift her lids. A long, ripping noise tore through the room, and she opened her mouth to scream. But her brain see-sawed, and no sound came out.

  Scream, damn it!

  Something tight pressed down hard against her mouth, pinched her skin. Her lips felt sewn up. Panic choked her. She groped for her face, but he grabbed her wrists, jerked them behind her back. Thin straps lashed them together, wrenched around them so tight they cut through flesh. Jodie worked her throat, but her strangled sounds seemed faraway.

  Knuckles rapped on the door. Jodie’s eyes flew open. Her heart thudded, and the shadowy form kneeling over her went still. Then slowly, he pressed the gun against her forehead.

  ‘Jodie?’

  Her chest squeezed at the sound of Novak’s voice. The barrel of the gun dug deeper into her flesh. Jodie’s lungs pumped, hyperventilating. A sob welled up inside her but she shut it down, afraid she’d choke against the tape sealing up her mouth. Above her, the guy’s vacant eyes shone in the dark.

  Novak knocked again, louder this time. ‘Jodie? You in there?’

  I’m here, I’m here!

  ‘Jodie!’

  The door handle rattled. Stayed locked.

  ‘Fuck.’ Novak thumped the door, and his footsteps receded down the hallway.

  Jodie closed her eyes. Novak probably thought she’d ditched him, thought she’d snuck out of the hotel to cut loose on her own. She felt drained. Used up. It was what she’d planned, after all, and he’d known it.

  The pressure of the gun eased off her forehead. She opened her eyes. Her attacker’s bulk loomed over her, his braided head cocked as though listening for sounds. Then he got to his feet, grabbed under her arms and hauled her across the floor.

  Jodie thrashed with her legs, her abdomen shrieking at the stretch to her wound. Her face collided with something smooth: her carry-on bag, upturned on the carpet. He dragged her towards the bed, and her eyes registered the ransacked room, the clothes dumped out on the floor.

  The guy heaved her up, flung her onto the mattress. Jodie lashed out with her feet, but the fight was bleeding out of her. He regarded her with dead, unblinking eyes, the plaits springing out, Medusa-like, around his head. Then he whacked her backhanded across the face.

  Her head whiplashed sideways. Dazed, she felt him grip her shoulders, flip her onto her front. The mattress bounced as he clambered up, straddled her from behind, his weight crushing her pelvis.

  His belt buckle clinked.

  Jodie’s blood turned icy.

  She flashed on other hands that had held her down, other belt buckles that had clinked and loosened in the dark, in the foster homes where they said she’d be safe.

  This is our special secret, Jodie. You tell anyone, I’ll make you pay.

  She felt the familiar, nameless ache for the scared little girl who couldn’t fight back. Jodie’s muscles hardened.

  The guy shifted against her pelvis, bending low and close, the ugly spider-knots prodding her head. He shoved his hands beneath her, kneaded her breasts. She clenched her teeth, pressed her face deep into the pillow. Then she lunged backwards, arching her spine, and snapped her skull with a crunch into his.

  She felt him sway.

  ‘Bitch!’

  Jodie writhed beneath him, twisted around. Looked up to find him two-handing the gun into her face. His nose was bleeding, and the disconnect in his empty, drugged-up eyes told her he was about to kill her.

  She held her breath. Stared at the gun. Something clicked, and she flinched. Then a wedge of light slid across the floor.

  ‘Jodie!’

  Her attacker swung the gun around. Aimed it at Novak, who stood frozen in the doorway. The guy’s finger squeezed around the trigger. Jodie clenched her abdomen, heaved herself upright, muscles screaming, and slammed her head into his arm.

  The gun exploded off to the left. The guy swore, jabbed her with his elbow. Then he leapt off the bed, the gun still trained on Novak.

  The guy edged around the room. ‘Get in here.’

  Novak moved closer to Jodie. His eyes sought hers. Locked her gaze. A younger man in a suit followed him into the room, hands raised as he flattened himself against the wall. Jodie recognized him from the front desk downstairs.

  The guy with the gun back-stepped towards the door. He paused on the threshold, arms braced, weapon levelled straight at Novak. His eyes flicked to the corridor outside. Then he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

  For a second, no one moved. Then Novak strode over to the bed, while the guy against the wall pulled out a cell phone.

  Novak’s eyes raked her face. ‘Jesus Christ.’ Gently, he peeled the tape from her mouth. ‘You okay?’

  Jodie nodded, sucking in deep gulps of air. An involuntary quiver started up in her limbs, and her whole frame trembled. Novak fingered the zip ties shackling her wrists, then disappeared into the bathroom, returned with scissors and snipped through the plastic straps.

  Jodie massaged her wrists, not wanting to meet his gaze in case it triggered the urge to sob. She felt him watch her for a moment, then he flicked on some lights and knelt in front of the mini bar, clinking through the bottles.

  ‘Here, drink this.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Drink it.’

  Jodie did as she was told and gulped the brandy down. It scorched through her, and she pictured her interior coated in a fiery glow. She took a deep breath, unsure about the wisdom of mixing alcohol with head trauma, but she had to admit, she felt better.

  Novak flopped down on the bed beside her. ‘I should have got here sooner.’ He shoved a hand through his unruly hair. ‘Frankly, I thought you’d cut and run.’

  Jodie chewed her lip, and Novak went on.

  ‘Then I wasn’t so sure. I had a hunch you were planning to bail out in the morning, but I figured you really wanted to see that dossier first.’ He nodded at the guy from reception, who was still on the pho
ne. ‘I persuaded him to let me into your room.’

  She looked down at her hands, acutely aware of his nearness. Eventually, she said,

  ‘Your hunch was right. I had been planning to leave.’

  He nodded slowly, unsurprised. ‘And now?’

  She lifted her eyes to his, gave him a steady look. ‘Now, I think I’m glad you’re here.’

  He nodded again. They sat in silence, the air somehow warm and comforting between them. But Jodie held herself rigid, aware she was in shock; aware that might be enough to break down her guard, make her do something reckless. After a moment, the guy from reception stomped over to join them.

  ‘Fucking city. Cops don’t give a crap. This place is out of control. Murders, rapes, killers for hire. I’m from Miami, you think I’d be used to all this shit.’ He surveyed the room. ‘Did he steal anything?’

  Jodie shrugged, her eyes straying to the safe in the open wardrobe. She’d locked her cash in there, and it looked untouched. A formless doubt hovered at the base of her brain.

  She turned to Novak. ‘Give me your phone.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just give it to me. And that business card for the Princess Resort Hotel.’

  Novak frowned, and handed them over. Jodie punched in the number and got through to Daniella at reception. After identifying herself, Jodie said,

  ‘Our colleague, Joshua Brown. Did he happen to get in touch with you after we left?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, he did. He called right after you left, about the items he’d left behind. Turns out his flight out was cancelled this morning, he’s still in Belize City.’

  An icy draught crept down Jodie’s spine. She locked eyes with Novak, and Daniella went on.

  ‘I mentioned you’d called in to see him. When I described you, he knew straight away who you were. He was so sorry to have missed you.’

  ‘I’m sure he was.’ Jodie’s grip tightened around the phone, and beside her, Novak tensed. ‘Did you by any chance tell him where we were staying?’

  ‘Yes, I did, The Plaza in Belize City.’ Daniella sounded pleased with herself for remembering. ‘He said he’d look you up before he caught his flight out this evening. I hope he catches up with you.’

  20

  They left the hotel without talking to the police.

  Snagging their attention seemed like a bad idea to Jodie, considering she was a fugitive. And besides, from the cynical shrug of the guy on reception, she was guessing they’d probably never catch the intruder anyway.

  She huddled back against the rear seat of the cab, hugging her chest, unable to get warm. Pain still pulsed to and fro in her skull, like a vicious metronome. Her gaze wandered out to the dark, narrow streets. The city was congested, the air throbbing with yells and catcalls. Packs of men cruised the sidewalks, eyes ever-watchful. The whole place felt on edge.

  Novak shifted in the seat beside her. He hadn’t spoken much since she’d made the call to Daniella, probably blaming himself for letting their hotel name slip. Eventually, he said,

  ‘Look, we can’t be sure Ethan was behind it.’

  His face was set in tight lines. Jodie shrugged and said,

  ‘He knew our hotel. It wouldn’t have taken him long to find out which rooms we were in, he’s a persuasive man.’

  ‘But to arrange all that before we got back from Ambergris Caye?’

  ‘He had plenty of time, easily a couple of hours.’

  ‘And he just happened to know a guy in Belize City who’d do the job?’

  Jodie didn’t answer. She glanced back out at the seething streets. The cab had slowed for a red light, and a surge of youths were spilling off the sidewalk and swaggering towards the car. They surrounded the cab, jostling each other to get a look inside. A fist banged the roof, and Jodie flinched. The cab driver cursed, the lights changed and he gunned the engine, accelerating away.

  Jodie let out a shaky breath. She looked across at Novak, whose face was pale.

  ‘Killers for hire,’ she said. ‘That’s what the guy at the hotel said about this city. You only have to look around to see that it’s true.’

  Novak’s eyes raked the streets outside. After a moment, he said,

  ‘You think Ethan is still in Belize?’

  A chill frisked down Jodie’s spine at the notion. She shook her head. ‘I doubt it. Daniella said he was booked on another flight out this evening. Easiest thing in the world is for him to catch a plane and disappear. Why would he hang around and risk being identified?’

  ‘But if he hired someone to kill you, wouldn’t he stick around to make sure the job got done? He wants you dead.’

  ‘Does he? Maybe he just wants me scared. Controlled, like the old days. Maybe dead is just a bonus.’

  Novak huffed out a breath, dragged a hand across his face. ‘Fuck it.’

  ‘What, you’d prefer he was still out there, waiting to kill me?’

  ‘Well, at least we’d have some chance of picking up his trail. If he’s left Belize, how the hell are we ever going to find him?’

  Jodie closed her eyes briefly and leaned back against the seat. They sat in silence for a while, and ten minutes later the cab had pulled up at a stylish Radisson Hotel. It was located in the old Colonial area of Fort George and, according to the cab driver, was the best hotel in the city.

  Jodie followed Novak across the lobby, eyeing her surroundings: rich mahogany fittings, claret-red upholstery. She shivered, wondering if five-star luxury really meant better security.

  They checked in, then made their way to the fourth floor where they’d booked adjacent rooms. Novak paused outside his door.

  ‘You going to be okay?’

  Jodie hesitated. Her body felt bruised and cold to the bone. She stared at the key card in her hand for a moment, then swiped it briskly through the lock.

  ‘Sure. I’ll be fine.’

  She opened the door, her muscles knotted. Flashed on the last time she’d entered her hotel room. She jerked the door shut, turned back to Novak.

  ‘On second thoughts, I’m sticking with you for a while.’ She lifted her chin. ‘We need to go through that dossier.’

  ‘It’s all in here.’

  Novak dumped a dog-eared manila folder on the bed, opening it up to extract two more files: one red, one blue. He gestured at the red one.

  ‘That’s just some paperwork from his property transactions. The blue one is his dossier on you.’

  Jodie perched on the edge of the bed and eyed the dossier. Her brain signalled at her to pick it up, but her hands wouldn’t move. Novak patted it gently.

  ‘The photos are all in an envelope at the back. You know, in case you don’t want to see them.’

  Jodie bit her lip and nodded. Kept her hands clasped on her lap. Felt paralysed at the thought of stumbling across a photo of Abby. Yet hungry for the sight of one.

  Novak turned away and busied himself with setting up his laptop on a table by the window. Averting her eyes from the blue file, Jodie played for time and picked up the red one instead.

  She leafed through the pages. They looked like a bunch of conveyancing documents, most of them property transfer affidavits filed in different cities and states. She browsed through the details, noting that ownership of the title deeds was transferred in each case to an entity called PWD Corporation. She glanced across at Novak, who was staring at his screen.

  ‘PWD,’ she said. ‘That was Ethan?’

  He looked up in surprise, his eyes straying to the unopened blue folder on the bed.

  ‘I can’t prove it a hundred per cent,’ he said. ‘Which means I can’t write about it without getting sued. But yeah, it’s Ethan.’

  Jodie flicked through a few more pages, and noticed that some of the documents were witnessed by Zach Caruso. She raised an eyebrow. Typical Ethan. He’d protected his own identity with corporate layers, but had hung his stooge out to dry.

  The blue folder snagged at her peripheral vision. She kept her eyes fixed
on the documents in her hands, shuffling through them, till another name caught her eye.

  Henry Novak.

  She frowned, and shot a quick look across the room. Then she read the details aloud.

  ‘Henry Novak, 92 Clarendon Avenue, Boston, MA.’

  Novak’s head jerked up.

  ‘My uncle,’ he said. ‘It’s how I got started on this whole thing.’

  Jodie stared. ‘He lost his home?’

  ‘For a while. He was looking at re-mortgaging, and found out he wasn’t the registered owner of the house. Hadn’t been for years. ’Course he wouldn’t tell anyone about it, or ask for help. He just worried and stressed out till he had a heart attack and wound up in hospital.’ Novak’s expression was grim. ‘I knew something was wrong, so I badgered him till he told me.’

  Jodie could well believe it. Novak went on.

  ‘By the time I checked it out, the title deeds had already been changed back into my uncle’s name.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Just Ethan covering his tracks. He must’ve paid off any dodgy loan he’d raised against the property and didn’t need the collateral any more.’

  ‘So did your uncle go after PWD?’

  Novak shook his head. ‘He was pretty frail, he didn’t need that kind of grief. I convinced him it was all just some clerical error, no harm done. It got him back on his feet.’

  ‘But you started digging.’

  ‘Yeah, I started digging.’ His expression turned sour. ‘And I dug us all the way to here.’

  He sighed and slumped back against his chair, flipping a hand at his laptop.

  ‘Know how many Joshua Browns there are? Thousands, that’s how many. And that’s only in the US. Who’s to say he hasn’t skipped to South America? Or Europe, even?’