See How They Run (32 page)

A
t first nobody
moved or said a word. The only sound was the sobbing of the two young girls. The baby stared at them in astonishment, then decided to join in.

Harry kept his eye on Michael as he edged backwards, looking for something to help stem the bleeding. The bite wounds on his fingers weren’t as bad as he’d feared, but the cut on his forearm was too deep to ignore.

Michael was still hugging one of his daughters, while staring at his wife with an expression of abject sorrow – or perhaps it was self-pity. The bizarre tableau was broken by a loud pounding from upstairs; Alice screamed his name and the woman in the doorway gave a start.

‘Who’s that?’ she demanded of Michael.

It was Harry who answered. ‘My wife.’

He snatched a fleece from the coat rack and clumsily wrapped it around his arm, squeezing the wound as tight as he could. He hurried upstairs, calling out: ‘It’s me, Alice. I’m okay.’

He found the key on the floor and unlocked the bedroom door. Alice had stood back as it opened. When he saw her, Harry’s first reaction was to embrace her but Alice reacted oddly, immediately turning her back on him, as if ashamed of her nakedness. Then he saw that her hands were tied at the wrists.

‘They’ve taken Evie,’ she said as he untied her. ‘That bitch Nerys has Evie.’

‘I know,’ Harry said, then realised he would have to explain. But first, just for a moment, he wanted to hold her.

To his great relief, she allowed him to take her in his arms. She’d had a nosebleed, and there were abrasions on her face, but otherwise she seemed unharmed.

‘Did he … ? Has he hurt you?’

‘Not like that,’ Alice said. Then, as they broke apart, she said, ‘Where is Michael? Did you kill him?’

Despite everything, Harry was a little shocked by the vehemence of her tone.

‘No, I didn’t. But you’re safe. It—’

‘Oh my God, what happened to your arm?’

N
ow she was further back
, Alice had noticed blood seeping through the material he’d wrapped around the wound.

‘Michael did that?’ she asked as she pulled on the dressing gown. ‘We mustn’t let him get away.’

‘He won’t,’ Harry said. ‘His wife’s here.’

She inspected his arm and told him it needed to be dressed properly. He didn’t protest as she hurried him along the landing. Halfway down the stairs she caught sight of Michael being comforted by two young girls. A woman stood nearby, glaring at him.

Hearing them come down, the woman turned. Alice spotted the baby in her arms and let out a yelp of shock, even as she registered that it wasn’t Evie. For a moment it felt like a cruel trick had been played on her. This was Michael’s youngest child.

‘You’re Robyn?’ she asked.

The woman looked disgusted; from the way she glanced at the dressing gown, Alice wondered if she thought this was some kind of sleazy affair that had culminated in a violent dispute.

In her fury, Alice forgot about the presence of young children and shouted, ‘Your husband’s a murderer!’

Michael tried to bluster: ‘This is all lies. Seriously, you mustn’t believe anything she—’

‘No,’ his wife snapped. ‘I want to hear it.’

A
strange
, artificial calm descended on the house, all four adults suddenly aware of the need to project a more reassuring air for the sake of the children. But Harry was determined that this wouldn’t prevent him from getting the answers he wanted.

He and Alice kept up the pressure to move swiftly. Within the space of a couple of minutes, Michael’s daughters had been packed off to the lounge to watch TV and eat sweets. They were also entrusted, for a short time, with their baby brother.

Robyn shepherded her limping husband in the direction of the kitchen, only for him to swerve towards a small sitting room, where he collapsed into an armchair. Harry perched on the arm of a sofa, while Robyn fetched a first aid kit and helped Alice clean and dress the wound on his arm.

As the two men glowered at each other, Alice set out what had happened over the past twenty-four hours. She described how Renshaw had left her in a nearby wood, returning to the house to talk to Nerys.

‘That’s when I found out he didn’t really trust her. And he was even more worried about you.’

She indicated Michael, who shook his head irritably. He couldn’t look Robyn in the eye.

‘He didn’t come back at the time he’d agreed. Then I was caught by Michael and his mother. They brought me back here, and I saw Renshaw’s body in the kitchen. They’d … butchered him.’

Robyn was stunned. ‘Is this true?’

Michael, misty-eyed, was still shaking his head. ‘It was Mum. She just went berserk. Honestly. I didn’t have a chance to stop her.’

‘Now she’s taken our daughter.’ Alice held Robyn’s gaze, making sure that every word sunk in. ‘Evie is eight weeks old, and Nerys intends to use her as a bargaining chip in a deal with this man Laird.’

Harry, at this point, decided not to add what he knew. He turned his attention to Michael.

‘Call your mother. Get her back here, right now.’

Michael exchanged a glance with Robyn, then found his phone and dialled. In the silence, they all heard a recorded voice informing him that the call could not be connected.

‘I don’t know what’s happened.’ Michael checked his watch. ‘Perhaps she’s stuck in traffic.’

Harry sighed. ‘The address, then? Tell me where she’s going.’

‘It’s not that simple,’ Michael began. He seemed to be rapidly gaining in confidence, and Harry guessed why that might be.

‘Listen, you might think you can talk your way out of this. Just because we haven’t called the police doesn’t mean you’re in any less trouble. If you don’t tell me where she is, I intend to change your mind by force. And then
I’ll
call the police.’

A
lice nodded
, standing beside Harry with her arm around his shoulders.

‘You’ve cleaned it up, but I bet you weren’t thorough enough. The blood was everywhere.’

Catching what might have been doubt in Robyn’s eyes, Alice said, ‘You need to know that your husband was getting ready to rape me. He made me take a shower, then tied me to a radiator in the bedroom. He told me that the danger I was in ought to be a turn-on.’

Robyn flinched. She wouldn’t look at Michael when he whispered: ‘It’s not true. Her clothes were soaked from the rain, that’s all.’

‘Tell them where they can find their little girl.’

‘But, darling, they’re lying—’

Robyn took a step forward and slapped his face so hard that his lip started bleeding. Harry moved closer, in case Michael tried to retaliate.

‘God knows, all the times you’ve pushed your luck. But this …’ Robyn threw up her hands and Michael recoiled, anticipating another blow.

‘When I think of the sacrifices I made for you. The nights when I knew you were screwing someone else while I cried myself to sleep. Four children I gave you. Four children, three miscarriages and God knows how many times I turned a blind eye to your cheating … well, it ends right now. It ends with you paying for what you’ve done. You and that witch of a mother I’ve been pretending to like for seventeen years.’ She raised her voice: ‘Now tell them where their daughter is!’

In defeat, Michael exhaled noisily through his nose. ‘Symonds Yat,’ he said.

‘Our holiday home,’ Robyn queried.

‘Is that near Ross-on-Wye?’ Harry asked.

Michael nodded, then gestured wearily at his wife. ‘Get me a pen and paper. It’s better if I draw you a map.’

N
erys regained
consciousness in unfamiliar surroundings, which she belatedly recognised as the holiday home in Symonds Yat. The air had a fusty smell, and the walls were spotted with mould: perhaps her skinflint son wasn’t running the heating as often as he should.

She was a lot more reluctant to consider why she was lying in this room, or why she was in so much pain. Someone had hit her, probably more than once, and obviously hard enough to knock her out. She had a bitter, disgusting taste in her mouth: blood and bile.

And she was not alone. This took her a minute or two to comprehend. The man in the corner was an old colleague of sorts; not one whose company she’d ever relished.

‘Darrell … Bridge?’ Her voice sounded harsh, strained. Everything hurt.

The man grunted, shifting position a little closer to the window. She could see angry red sores covering almost half of his face.

‘Been in the wars,’ she said.

He grunted again. ‘You? Or me?’

The door opened and Mark Vickery joined them. His hair was a shade darker than the last time she’d seen him, but otherwise he seemed unchanged: as smooth and over-groomed as ever.

Without preamble, he snarled at Nerys: ‘Renshaw’s dead.’

Nerys moistened her lips before she spoke. ‘No choice.’

‘You delivered us a corpse. Since when was that the deal?’

She tried a shrug. No bones broken, she decided, though she felt like she’d been run through a mangle.

‘On the run from you, wasn’t he? I found him, brought him here.’

‘Yes. But it wasn’t just Renshaw we were after.’

‘Who, then?’

Vickery scowled. ‘Don’t be obtuse, Nerys. Not who but
what
.’

‘You got the money. It’s all there, I hope, because—’

Because he left it with the woman
, Nerys had been about to say, till she clammed up just in time.

T
hinking
about Alice reminded Nerys of the baby. She’d had it when she came here, but they had taken it from her. She considered asking after its welfare, then decided not to bother. Truth be told, at this stage she didn’t give a toss about the baby.

Vickery was still waiting. ‘Because?’

‘I mean, I don’t want you assuming I helped myself. I wouldn’t do that, Mark.’

‘Of course you wouldn’t. So who’s been helping you?’

‘No one.’ She winced, pretending it was the pain rather than the speed of her answer. Too fast, when until then she’d been faking a bit of confusion.

‘You bashed Renshaw’s brains in on your own? Trussed him up and tossed him in the Range Rover all by yourself? Nice car, by the way.’

‘Mmm.’

‘Registered to MBB Imports Ltd. That would be the business owned by your son, Michael?’

‘He … I mean, I borrowed the car. He doesn’t know anything about this.’

‘I beg to differ, Nerys. There’s a conspiracy here, involving three of you, at least. You got greedy, that’s clear enough. What did you think, that we’d overlook the data just because you delivered a body and a bag of cash?’

‘D-data?’

‘It’s what we want, Nerys. More than Renshaw. More than the money. It’s what we’re going to kill you to retrieve. But before we kill you we’ll wring out every last thing you can tell us.’

‘I don’t know about any data. I promise you, Mark. What’s that mean, anyway – data?’

‘Information, Nerys. A client list, loaded on to one of those little flash drives. Ringing any bells?’

Nerys shook her head, wildly, sending little gobbets of snot flying across the room. She knew how badly she’d misjudged things. There was no point claiming to have the evidence, or to know where it was. All she wanted now was to protect her son, her grandchildren.

‘Well, no matter,’ Vickery said cheerfully. ‘Obtaining the truth is the job of Darrell here, with your old friend Mr Foster to supervise. Darrell’s no friend of Renshaw, as it happens. Got a nasty burn thanks to the bad doctor. But since he can’t make Renshaw pay for the pain he’s endured, he’ll have to settle for taking it out on you instead.’

‘Mark, please. I came here in good faith, you can see I did …’

‘We need the client list. Tell us where we can find it, and everything’s hunky dory.’

‘I don’t have it. I’ll say it till I’m blue in the face—’

‘Why are we here, Nerys?’

The question threw her. ‘You know why.’

‘I mean this precise location.’ Vickery sniffed, gave the room a disparaging glance. ‘Owned by the business, is it?’ He smiled. ‘We haven’t tracked down the paperwork yet, but we will. You can save us the bother by telling me your home address, and who you’re working with.’

Nerys thought about it, then set her expression to one of resolute determination.

‘I can’t do that.’

‘It’ll save you a lot of pain.’

‘My home’s private. But not because I’ve something to hide. I haven’t. I’m telling you, on my word of honour. Yes, I searched Renshaw. I searched his car, his clothes, and I found nothing. If I had, I’d be offering it to you now, wouldn’t I?’

‘You’ve left it with someone. Your accomplice.’

‘No. I haven’t … I mean, there isn’t anyone else. It’s just me.’

‘Final answer?’

‘Final answer, I swear to you.’

With a sigh, Vickery turned to Darrell, who was slouching like a teenager outside the headmaster’s office.

‘Niall all set?’

‘Should be.’

‘Good.’ Vickery brushed imaginary dust from his palms. ‘Go to work on her.’

A
lice quickly got dressed
, the urgency of Evie’s absence like a humming in her brain, an oppressive vibration that kept every nerve on edge. Her fears for her daughter were so intense that she couldn’t properly dwell on them for more than a second or two at a time.

Back in the sitting room, Michael was explaining the layout of the rough map he’d drawn. Harry wanted to know how far away they were.

‘It’s usually about an hour, depending on the traffic,’ Robyn told him.

‘Or how you drive,’ Michael muttered. He checked his phone again. ‘Still nothing from Mum. I texted her, like you asked.’

Robyn chipped in: ‘The reception’s not great out there, to be honest.’

‘What about a landline?’ Alice asked, but Harry vetoed the idea.

‘If Laird is already there, we don’t want him forewarned. It’s too risky.’

That sounded slightly lame to Alice’s ears, and it solidified the doubts she’d been harbouring for the past few minutes.

There was something Harry wasn’t telling her.

T
he suspicion evident
on Alice’s face hurt all the more because Harry knew he was about to make it worse.

He snatched up the map and said, ‘I need to make a call. Are you okay to wait here a minute?’

He didn’t like leaving Alice alone with Michael and Robyn, but when she gave her assent he shut the door behind him and called Ruth. It took her a moment to answer, and there was road noise in the background. She was still driving.

‘Harry? You okay?’

‘Yes, I’m good. Alice is here, and she’s all right.’ He gave her a brief précis of events, then told her the address of the holiday home and described the layout of the property as Michael had detailed it.

‘That’s great, Harry. Helps me a lot.’

‘Where are you?’

‘A couple of miles out from Ross-on-Wye. Probably twenty minutes or so to Symonds Yat.’

‘Oh.’ He realised he was expecting a miracle: he wanted her there right now. He wanted confirmation that Evie was safe.

‘I know what you’re thinking, Harry. Call the cops and they might get there sooner. But Laird’s men will have guns, so you’d be sending unarmed police to their deaths. You’d have to warn them, and it’ll take longer than twenty minutes to put together a full armed response. And then you’ve got all the risks of a shoot-out, with Evie being caught in the crossfire.’

‘So what, then? What are you going to do?’

‘They don’t realise that I know the address. That gives me a big advantage. My plan is to sneak in, and if I can get to Evie I will. If I can’t, I’ll get back out and call the police myself.’

‘And you promise that? You promise Evie comes first, no matter what?’

‘I promise, Harry.’

Harry wavered, remembering how often he’d been given reason to doubt her word.

‘Don’t let me down,’ he said, and ended the call.

H
arry returned looking so exhausted
, so profoundly anxious that a little of Alice’s remaining hope for her daughter drained away.

‘We need to go there now,’ he said. ‘That means borrowing a car.’

‘Here.’ Robyn produced a set of keys from her jacket and handed them over.

‘Another thing,’ Harry said. ‘I need you to make sure your husband doesn’t warn anyone that we’re coming.’

‘That’s all very well,’ Michael complained, ‘but what about my mother?’

‘She takes her chances,’ Harry said.

It was clear that Robyn agreed. She thrust her hand out: ‘Phone.’

Scowling, Michael surrendered it to her. As she turned away he tried to stand up. His foot wouldn’t bear his weight and he cried out, sinking back into the chair.

‘I think my ankle’s broken. It needs X-raying.’

‘Later,’ Robyn said, as blunt with him as Harry had been.

In the hall there were sounds of distress coming from the other living room. Robyn hurried out and returned with her infant son. The sight of him was too much for Alice. She crossed her arms over her breasts, aware of how much they ached. With tears in her eyes, she said, ‘Imagine hearing your baby crying, needing you, and you can’t go to him because someone’s stopping you.’

To her credit, Robyn didn’t look away. She asked quietly: ‘When you’ve got your daughter, are you coming back here?’

Alice shrugged, though she understood what Robyn was getting at.

‘I don’t know. But I think the police will have to be involved at some stage.’

Robyn was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Alice said. ‘I can see how difficult this must be, when you have so much to lose.’ She reached out and grasped Robyn’s hand. ‘I wasn’t exaggerating earlier. I really believe he would have raped me.’

Robyn seemed about to speak, then changed her mind. She nodded again.

H
arry waited
at the door while Alice and Robyn talked quietly. Only a few seconds, but it felt like far too long. He was boiling with frustration, and let some of it out as Alice joined him and they left the house.

‘I should have bloody killed him. He’s not getting away with this.’

‘He won’t. But finding Evie is more important.’

Harry unlocked Robyn’s car, which turned out to be a brand new Range Rover. Her husband had an identical one, according to Alice.

‘His and hers Rangeys,’ she muttered ruefully.

‘Can we trust Robyn, do you think?’ Harry asked as they climbed in.

‘I think so. As much as you can trust anyone.’

He frowned. Her tone was decidedly cold.

‘Meaning?’

‘You’re hiding something. It’s about Evie, isn’t it? Or that woman who was with you?’

‘Actually, it’s both.’ He started the engine and pulled away, tentative at first, unsure if the big 4x4 would handle differently to the cars he was used to driving. There was a pulse of pain from his arm as he turned the wheel, but he decided it wasn’t bad enough to hamper him.

As well as concentrating on the road, he also had to sketch out Ruth’s background and the reasons for her involvement, as well as explaining why he’d agreed to let Ruth go to Symonds Yat without notifying the police. Alice didn’t react quite as fiercely as he’d expected, but nor did she hold back on her scorn.

‘It sounds like Laird has been a step ahead of Ruth the whole time, and yet you still seem to put more faith in her than you do in the police.’

‘It’s not a straightforward decision. I think Ruth will do her best for us. And she’s made a valid point about the risks of a standoff. Do you want to be watching behind a barricade as armed police storm the house with our daughter inside?’

A violent shudder from Alice told him the answer was no. A moment later he felt her hand on his leg, the weight of it warm and comforting.

‘There’s nothing we can do but hurry,’ he said sadly, ‘and pray it works out all right.’

M
ichael was resting back
in his chair, eyes shut, when he heard the front door close. All things considered, he felt pretty good. His ankle was hurting, but not as badly as he’d made out. He thought it was probably a nasty sprain; not a fracture.

He’d nearly had a heart attack when Harry turned up like the proverbial white knight. Another when his own wife and kids appeared – although, as it turned out, they’d performed essentially the same function for Michael, saving him from death or jail.

It was what he’d needed, he told himself now. He had been foolish, even reckless, allowing Nerys to pull him off course. Now Robyn was here to set him on the right path once more.

Best of all, there was no sign that the police would become involved. Harry and Alice appeared to have their own reasons to go it alone, which suited him fine. He allowed himself to mull over the possibility that all his problems would be solved by some bloody confrontation at the holiday home. Was it asking too much that the whole lot of them could end up dead? Harry, Alice, Nathan Laird … and even his own mother.

If that happened, and the police rolled up at Symonds Yat to find a bunch of bodies – including Renshaw’s – there was every chance that Michael could plausibly deny all knowledge and get away with it. So what if his mum had borrowed his car? He’d had no inkling that she was caught up in something unsavoury.

In fact, Officer, I spent the entire day with my darling wife, Robyn, as she’ll be only too happy to confirm …

He’d better get the house cleaned a lot more thoroughly, just in case. Robyn could help there, he thought. So could the kids, for that matter.

He pictured his daughters in Mrs Mop overalls and headscarves, scrubbing the kitchen floor. A laugh escaped just as Robyn walked in. She had Junior in her arms. The girls were out in the hall, talking to each other with only a fraction of their normal exuberance.

Michael tried to wipe off his smile but it wouldn’t quite go; his lips went on twitching. A great burden had been lifted and he felt giddy. Euphoric.

‘Have you got my phone?’ he asked.

‘You’re not having it.’

‘I just want to check—’ He broke off, his wife’s face made almost unrecognisable by the depth of loathing in her expression. ‘But-but … all that stuff you said, it was just for show, wasn’t it?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, come on.’ He laughed again, derisively, and started to get up.

‘
Stay there!
’ she hissed.

‘Darling …’ he began, switching to a placatory manner, because Robyn had turned and was ushering the girls in to join them.

In a bright, lively voice, she said, ‘Sit with Daddy, will you, girls? He’s feeling poorly, and needs to keep very still.’

Then, unseen by the children, another venomous glare at Michael as Chloe and Betty clambered on to his lap.

‘And make the most of it,’ she added. ‘Daddy might have to go away soon.’