Downtown Girl (Lipstick Red #1) (10 page)

David Burton had almost skipped from Taylor’s apartment.  For the first time in years, he’d found someone he wanted to be with.  If she felt the same, he’d consider moving her in with him.  Years ago, he’d decided never to let anyone get under his skin again, but she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met.  Even Lindy could never have matched up to Taylor. 

Simply looking at her was enough to send shivers racing through his body.  At first, he’d thought it was lust.  He tried to tell himself that he only wanted her body, but when she’d come running to him when she thought he might have died in the sea, his heart had melted.  She’d cared, and it had awakened a protective instinct in him.  One that he didn’t want to lose.   

He’d planned to stay at her flat, but Stephen had used the emergency number to leave him a message, and as much as he hated leaving her, there was nothing he could do about it.  Stephen wouldn’t have called unless it was urgent. 

When he left Taylor’s building, he called Stephen.  His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke.  Nerve endings spiked in David’s body as he instantly sensed danger. 

‘The police are here.  They’re taking the place apart.  What the fuck’s going on?’

‘Damned if I know.  On my way.’

David still had the apartment he’d had for years.  When he’d made it in Leeds, he’d bought it out of nostalgia, along with the one next door, even though it was in a rough area.  Over the last decade, the area had been upgraded, improved and modernized.  His apartment might be double the size it used to be, but it cost him next to nothing.  It was worth an absolute fortune.  He and Stephen used it as a crash pad in London, and the neighbors had no idea who he was.  It was a world away from the seedy rental it had been when he’d lived in it as a youth.

###

Walking past police officers at the front of his building, he took the stairs two at a time, racing to his door, convinced it would be a case of mistaken identity at worst.

‘David Burton?’ a plain clothes detective asked, flashing his badge for identity.

‘Yes, can I help you?’ David asked, sure it would be a mistake, yet the hair stood up on the back of his neck as he watched an officer sweep a pile of books off his desk with an outstretched arm, deliberately trying to provoke him.

His arms were spun round while he was pushed up against the wall, his right hand twisted up his back, his face trapped, with the officer locking his wrists in handcuffs behind his back.  The detective grunted words into his ear.

‘David Burton, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Lindy Collins.  You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned, something which you later rely on in court.  Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

Glancing over, David saw Stephen handcuffed and read the same rights by a different detective.  David knew not to fight, or he’d look instantly guilty.  Stephen struggled with his handcuffs, uselessly trying to pull them off.  David’s years in the gang had taught him how to react when you were arrested.

Spun around, David felt the crack across his cheek.  Unable to defend himself, he lowered his head while keeping his eyes on his attacker.  They’d broken protocol by not asking him any basic questions, but this wasn’t the place to argue.  He wondered if the detective had ever been in an opposing gang.  He couldn’t think of any other reason for such a rough arrest.  His pockets were emptied and his phone confiscated, while he could only watch.

Yanked down the stairs, David hung his head as a neighbor passed him on the way up, his face white with embarrassment.  Clenching his fists behind his back, he felt the muscle in his jaw tighten.  Thrown mercilessly into the back of a police car, the doors were slammed shut, leaving him alone.  It gave him time to think.

Fuck.  Lindy was dead.  He hadn’t seen that coming.  Even though he’d discounted any possibility of being a murder target, he instantly knew that whoever was killing off his old gang, had decided to set him up for the murder.  He knew it would raise too many questions to kill a wealthy man, but framing him for murder was the perfect revenge.  He’d been too complacent, too wrapped up in his own world to see the danger.   

Seething, he remained calm and silent, as he’d learned to do as a youth.  He’d keep his opinions for official questioning.  The plain clothes detective and the uniformed officer took their places as he was booked into a holding cell at the police station.  His heart sank at being back in a small square space that he hoped he’d never see again.

He’d been told of his right to contact a solicitor, and have someone informed of where he was.  He’d chosen a friend in Leeds as his lawyer, and waived his right to inform anyone else.  Taylor would have seen the news of his arrest.  His heart lurched as he considered how she would feel when she heard, thinking he was guilty.  It was almost laughable when they removed his belt and laces.  As if he was a danger to himself.

His door opened quicker than he expected.  He thought they’d make him sweat it out first.  ‘Interview,’ was all the burly sergeant said, as David was led to a small room with three chairs, and a desk with a tape recorder.  The questions came thick and fast.  David knew his rights.

‘Where were you last night from nine pm onwards?’

‘No comment.’

‘When did you last see Lindy Collins?’

‘No comment.’

He kept up the non-co-operative answers for nearly an hour.  An officer was replaced by a smiling detective with a different agenda.

‘This is your chance to tell your side of the story.  We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us.’ 

‘No comment.’

David looked him straight in the eye.  He wanted to know what happened to Lindy, but he knew this wasn’t the time or the place.  As a young gang member, he’d had it drilled into him that police officers were only looking for evidence to convict in initial interviews.  They’d ignore anything that might help, and focus on something they could use against him.  He’d save his evidence for the court, when he had legal representation.

Exasperated, the first detective ended the interview and walked him back to his cell.  ‘You’re an idiot,’ he hissed into David’s ear.  David ignored the bait meant to provoke a reaction and quietly took his place in the cell, challenging the officer with his eyes. 

###

The sun was setting outside.  David knew that meant he’d been locked up for at least six hours or more.  They hadn’t even mentioned how or where Lindy had died.  He’d been tempted to ask, but he knew better.

The cell door opened and he was summoned once again.  Prepared for another interview, he was surprised when he was led to a meeting room and directed to a chair, while his feet were shackled to the floor.  If his Leeds lawyer had been summoned, there would have been no need to shackle him.  Something else was going on.

When the door opened, he instantly knew why.  Jack Collins breezed into the room, smelling of body wash and clean air, immaculately dressed in a navy pinstripe suit.

‘For a bereaved husband, you look remarkably well.’ David instantly felt the pressure of a conspiracy bite at his heels. 

‘We’ll keep this short shall we?’ Jack snarled back, his lips curling distastefully.  David raised his eyebrows, knowing Jack had the upper hand.

Throwing down an envelope, Jack slipped into the chair at the opposite end of the large wooden desk.  It explained why his hands were free.  David picked up the envelope and slipped the contents onto the table.  Sifting through them one by one, the gravity of his situation hit home.

‘Plead guilty and this all goes away.’  David flicked through each image again.  Images of Alan, and his work with the youths was obvious.  He couldn’t work out the connection. Alan wanted to keep his work a secret for a reason.  It was to protect the youths in the fake gang from being targeted by the real gangs.

‘Why does this concern me?  Alan is already planning to take the fall for something he hasn’t done.’

‘You bankroll it.  We want that stopped.’  Jack’s eyes hardened as he looked at his enemy of old.

‘Why?’

‘You’re going to hand your money over to us.  Willingly.’ 

‘So you killed your wife and framed me for it?’

‘Why would you think that?’ Jack leaned forward, his eyes fixed on David’s.  ‘To give you an added incentive, there’s one last video and picture you should see.’

Opening his briefcase, Jack threw a large photograph at David.  He caught his breath as he understood what he was looking at.  Jack slid a phone towards him, with the video ready to be watched.  He pressed play, sucking in the putrid air around him, as he watched for thirty seconds of heart wrenching torture.

‘You plead guilty on Monday morning for a fast track trial.’ Alan hissed as he gathered up the images, slipped the phone into his pocket, and strode arrogantly to the door.    

###

On Monday morning, David sat in the dock at the courtroom, nerves drying his throat as the anguish showed in his eyes.  He’d give away his fortune for a glass of water if he could.  He’d spent a long week in cells.  His lawyer thought he’d gone mad.  He’d admitted being innocent, but insisted on entering a plea of guilty.  The defense had evidence of his DNA and fingerprints at the scene of the murder in the Collins house.  It didn’t matter how they got there, the evidence was clear.

  Jack Collins sat at the back of the courtroom, sitting beside a woman he didn’t recognise.  He wondered if she’d killed Lindy, or if they’d done it together, or if they’d paid someone else to do it.  It didn’t matter.  He was finished. 

The judge began to speak, making him aware that his lawyer was being addressed directly. 

‘In the matter of the court versus David Burton, in the murder of Lindy Collins, does the defendant plead guilty or not guilty?’

‘Guilty m’lord,’ his lawyer answered. 

David heard no more.  A rushing in his ears deadened the noise of the courtroom.   He felt his hands cuffed as he was led away, and out to the waiting police van.  Cameras clicked and flashed in his eyes as the transfer was made.  Life as he knew it, had ended.  He caught the eyes of Jack Collins as he was pulled past, when Jack tapped the brown envelope nestled in his arms, gloating at his victory.

Taylor’s head hurt.  She felt it swim in agony as she began to wake up.  Opening her eyes, she saw a glass of water and a couple of painkillers on the cabinet beside her.  She tried to sit up and reach over, but one arm wouldn’t move.  Beginning to panic, she pulled as hard as she could, but it stuck fast.  Snapping fully awake, she realized she’d been sleeping on it.

Her heart continued to race as she looked around the strange room.  It was a room with blue walls, a bed and a cabinet. 
Calm down
, she thought to herself.  Wherever she was, she had water and painkillers.  She remembered feeling woozy in the pub, thinking Amber had drugged her, then she remembered about Lindy being murdered.  It didn’t make sense. 

‘Good morning,’ Amber brightly breezed into the room with a tray of toast and jam.  ‘You need to keep your strength up.  You gave us quite a scare.’

‘Christ, what happened?’ she asked, putting her hand to her forehead. 

‘No bloody idea, but you passed out cold after hearing the news about David murdering thug Burton.’  Taylor winced at her choice of words.

‘How long have I been sleeping?’ She felt far too groggy to have only slept for a few hours.

‘Just a few days.  We had to get a doctor twice for you.  You were so out of it.  You took an allergy, apparently.’

She knew something wasn’t right.  Amber was never this homely, but maybe she’d got it wrong. 

‘Who’s we and why aren’t we back in my flat?’

One of the men she recognized from the pub walked into the room, stretching his hand out to hers. 

‘John Logan,’ glad to help out. 

Amber winked at Taylor.  ‘What do you think, he’s hot, huh?’

‘Fucks sake Amber, I’m out cold, my boyfriend’s accused of murder, and you’re humping an investment banker from the fecking pub.  How the hell did you ever pass your exams?’

Rubbing her temples, she took the painkillers, drinking the water gladly.  Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she tried to stand up, but they wouldn’t hold her.  John swooped down and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding her steady. 

‘Easy tiger, you need to adjust.  You’ve not walked for days.’  Amber just giggled, irritating Taylor enormously.

‘I need the bathroom,’ she said, then it hit her.  ‘How did I get to the bathroom in the last few days?’

‘I helped you silly,’ Amber trilled, irritating her even more. 

‘I want to go home,’ she pleaded, desperate to get back to her own things.  She felt uneasy here with Amber and John. 

John slipped Taylor’s arms around Amber’s neck.  ‘The doctor says another couple of days and you’ll be fine to move.  He wants you to get your strength up.’  Amber’s head moved like a nodding donkey.  Her inner defense antennae told her not to argue, but she was beginning to feel sleepy again. 

Amber helped her to the bathroom, then guided her wobbly legs back to the bed, where she gladly slid back under the covers.  Perhaps they were right.  She did feel ever so sleepy.  She wondered whose night clothes she was wearing, but her eyes misted over as sleep took hold.

###

‘Why the hell is she still here?’  The voice cut through Taylor’s befuddled brain as she felt herself rise from sleep once again.  She recognized the woman’s voice, but she was having a hard time pinning it down. 

She heard John’s voice answer.  ‘She’s still out of it.  I don’t know what’s in that stuff, but it knocks her senseless.’ 
That stuff.
  It meant someone was deliberately giving her something to keep her unconscious. 
The damned painkillers. 

‘Get her home today.  Before she realizes something isn’t right.  I don’t want to have to clean up this mess.’  She tried to lean closer to the door, straining to hear the voices, but heard footsteps walk towards her room.  Quietly slipping back down, she turned to lie on her side, hiding her eyes from view.  She didn’t want her eyelids to give her away.  They were taking her home.  That’s all she wanted, but she hoped she’d get there alive.

Taylor recognized the scent immediately.  She tied it with the voice as soon as she heard it.  Gillian Traynor had asked for her to be drugged.  That meant Jack Collins had to have something to do with it.  When she got home, she’d have more time to think about it, but was Amber in on it?  She wouldn’t trust her.     

  A few minutes later, she heard Gillian leave, before Amber burst through the door.  ‘Water, toilet rolls, chicken and rice.  Did I miss anything?’

‘Absolutely nothing, but give us a kiss,’ John answered.  She heard Amber giggle before John spoke again.  ‘I need my flat back.  Time to get you both home.’

She was sure they’d hear her heart thud as they came into the room.  Pretending to be groggy, she managed to fool them into thinking she’d just begun to wake up.

‘How long did I sleep this time?’ She forced a fake smile as she saw them watching her.

‘Two bloody days.’ Amber rested her hands on her hips with a broad grin.  Taylor couldn’t believe she was in on it, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

‘We’re going back to yours now,’ she gaily gushed, brushing John’s lips as she stuffed a few things into a plastic bag.  Taylor wanted to heave, but pushed it down, almost choking on the vomit.

John left the room as Amber helped her into a pair of old joggers and a jumper.  She thought they must belong to John.  Concentrating hard, she willed her legs into standing on their own, holding the bed for a few seconds to adjust to being upright.  She was weak, but she could do it.  Stumbling to the bathroom and locking the door, she splashed cold water onto her face, appalled at the grey face staring back at her from the mirror. 

Looking for a towel, she opened a cabinet door, finding her clothes from the night in the bar.  They were grubby and torn.  Frowning, she considered stuffing them under her jumper, then realized that if she took her clothes, and it was noticed, they’d know she was onto them.  Quickly throwing them back into the cabinet, she was just in time before the door was unlocked from the outside.  She’d kept the tap rushing, so ran her hands under, throwing the water onto her face.  They suspected nothing.

John drove them back to her flat, where he stood at the door, snogging Amber and promising to call.  Taylor instinctively knew it was an empty promise, but it could all be for show, to put her at ease.  She was taking no chances. 

  The answering machine in her flat flashed with several messages.  She switched it off to stop the flashing light, deciding to listen to them when Amber was out.  She had to get rid of her somehow, but she wasn’t sure how.  Her legs felt steadier while she ran a bath.  It would give her some thinking time.  She turned the radio up loud in the lounge while she slipped into a hot bath of bubbles, using her tablet to search online for news of David.  Her heart pounded as she read that he’d pleaded guilty to the murder of Lindy Collins by strangulation, and faced a life sentence.   

    He couldn’t be guilty, or could he?  She let tears run down her face as she thought about the man who almost gave his own life to save two little girls.  The man who fed a starving dog.  She wouldn’t believe that he’d murdered Lindy.  He’d regretted losing her when he’d gone to jail.  If he was going to murder anyone, she was sure it would be Jack Collins, not Lindy.

She made a decision.  After drying herself off, she walked to her lounge, committed to carrying it out.

‘I need my own space Amber.  You’re due to go home tomorrow.’

‘I’m not leaving you alone like this.’ Amber was outraged, pulling at Taylor’s heart.

‘You have to go,’ was all she could manage.  She wondered if Amber would go straight to John Logan, or to Jack Collins.  Taylor didn’t want to stay in her own flat.  It didn’t feel safe anymore.  ‘I’m going to Scotland, Amber.  A few days in the fresh air will do me good, and I’ve always wanted to go.’ She lied easily.

###

That night, she slept fitfully in her own bed, plagued by nightmares of Jack Collins standing over her.  In the morning, she forced herself to eat.  She felt stronger by the minute. 

Amber had tearfully packed her bag.  Taylor made a show of packing her own. 

‘I’ll miss you,’ Amber choked as her cab pulled up outside.

‘You too.  Let me know when you land safely at home.  Thanks for looking after me.’ Taylor gave her the benefit of the doubt.  For now.     

When Amber had gone, Taylor booked another cab for herself.  She had no idea where she’d go yet, but she needed to go somewhere.  She flipped the switch of the answering machine, listening to four sales pitches before she nearly switched it off for good.  The next message got her attention, while she rescued her emergency stash of money from the top of her wardrobe and cut up her credit cards.

‘Call me.  Now.’  There was no name, but she knew who it was.  Deleting the messages, she smashed the answering machine on the granite worktop in the kitchen, and pulled her suitcase behind her.

Ignoring the cab that pulled up, she kept on walking, checking every few hundred yards to see if she could spot anyone following her.  Running down steps to the tube, she slid on as the doors closed, taking her to Kings Cross Station.  Buying three prepaid phones, she loaded them up with credit, before ditching her own in the closest bin.

Boarding a train to Edinburgh, she paid the conductor rather than buying a ticket at the booth.  She was doing what she said, and travelling to Scotland.  If she’d been followed, they’d be satisfied she’d done what she’d told Amber.  She’d found a quiet carriage, with lots of empty seats and sat as close to the door as she could.  Slipping a sim into one of the phones, she called the number she knew off by heart.

‘What?’ she whispered into the phone.

‘Where the hell are you?’ he asked, his voice familiar and comforting.

‘Hiding.’

‘We need to talk.’

‘You know where,’ she said, ‘tomorrow at four pm.’   She switched off the phone, plucked out the sim card, walked to the bathroom and cut the sim in half.  She threw the pieces out of the window.  She had no idea if she could trust him, but there was nobody else.