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“For fuck sakes. Every time we get a lead they disappear or turn up dead. He’s always one step ahead. He has to have someone on the inside, especially to get that footage of me and Cam.”
“I agree, and last night, setting you up, there’s only a few that knew about your movements.” I nod, quickly running the names through my head and not liking any of it. “So, what happened tonight? Although, I can have a pretty good guess.”
I run Sully through what went down at the yard and warehouse, we go over the dead guy’s file and set one of the guys on possible leads. Then we discuss our leak and put a plan together to catch them. After that, I head upstairs to try and get some shut eye before I drive back to Manchester this afternoon.
Twenty-Five
Camryn
Light pours in through the open blinds, and I scrunch my eyes shut as I search for my phone to check the time. Finding it, I bring it to my face and crack a single eye open. When I can finally focus enough to see what the time is, I throw the covers off and run for the shower. I overslept, no surprise there after staying up half the night, and then crying myself to sleep.
The shower does fuck all to lighten my mood or make me feel any way near to being human. I dress in the first thing I pull from my bag. The simple black trousers and white blouse are in desperate need of an iron, but I don’t give a shit. I make a quick cup of tea before blow drying my hair and slapping some make up on my face, but it does nothing to hide the dark circles under my eyes. I gulp down my tea, grabbing my handbag and attempt to put my shoes on as I rush for the lift.
As the lift comes to a halt and the doors open, my stomach pitches and saliva pools in my mouth, I slam a hand over my mouth as I make a dash for the nearest bathroom. I crash into the cubicle, making it just in time, and no longer able to hold back the contents of my stomach as it’s ejected into the toilet.
What a shitty Monday! After a quick clean up, I dart back to the lobby, only to run into Scott as I exit the bathroom.
“Oomph! Shit, sorry,” I shriek, as Scott grabs my arm to stop me falling. He frowns down at me, as I crane my neck to look at him.
“Are you okay?” he demands. His gruff tone belies the concern in his eyes. And I thought Ryder was hard to read, this guy wins the medal for how to keep a girl guessing.
“Yes. I’m fine, thank you,” I say, pulling my arm free of his grasp. Stepping round him to avoid answering any more questions. I don’t need him calling Ryder because there’s no way I can handle his interrogation tactics, no matter how deliciously torturous they are. It’s not like I can talk to him about what’s going on. No, that’s just another bomb waiting to explode in my face, and until then it’s silent ticking is a constant reminder of all the secrets I hide.
Scott trails behind me, opening the car door when we reach it, but the mask stays firmly in place. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was some kind of AI robot for all the emotion he shows. Slipping into the back, I rest my head on the headrest, closing my eyes and willing my stomach to settle. Thank god the drive to the office isn’t too far, otherwise I might be paying for a valet service.
I’m busy, which is great for keeping my mind occupied, but it’s like I’m crawling through molasses. My head hurts, and my eyes feel like someone threw sand in them. By lunch time I’m about ready to collapse. I still haven’t eaten anything and have only managed to drink a bottle of water.
I have no idea where to go or what to do with the information someone kindly dropped in my lap last night. The only person I can possibly talk to about this is Jamie, but even that plan goes out the window when around 3pm she calls telling me she’s been discharged. Not wanting to go back to the house, not that I blame her, neither do I, she’s going to stay at her parent’s house for a while.
I finally pack up to leave around 5pm, with my head about ready to explode and throbbing like there’s a steel band inside my brain. I rub my temples as I wait for my computer to log off. Once it’s done, I switch the light off as I leave.
Scott is alone when I reach the lobby, and I don’t have the capacity to care or even ask where Russ is as I follow him to the car.
“Are we going to the hospital, Camryn?” Scott asks, as he starts the car, and pulls away from the curb.
“No, not today. Jamie’s been discharged and has gone to her parent’s house to recover,” I reply, a little dejectedly, but then feel guilty for my bitterness. I’m not even sure why I’m so sad, I should be happy she’s okay, and I am, but…I don’t fucking know. I just want to crawl into bed and forget this day ever happened, but I won’t. I’m not going back to that place, I’m going to uncover what it is this person obviously wanted me to know, and then I’m going to do whatever it takes to get justice for my mum and daughter. I close my eyes to block out the light and hope it eases the drumming in my head.
I must drift off, coming awake with a start and surprised to see we are still on the road. Looking around, I have no idea where we are, and the fact it’s almost dark outside is no help. We seem to be on a small country lane, street lamps are few and far between, and the road is made darker by the tall trees that line the roadside. Wherever we are, we are not in the city anymore.
My mind begins running possible reasons as to why we aren’t back at Ryder’s. None of them are good and all involve Sean. I slide up in my seat as my heart begins to race at the idea Scott is taking me to Sean, but I tell myself not to panic yet. Scott catches my eye in the rear-view mirror before quickly flicking past me to the road behind. I’m just about to ask Scott where we’re going when headlights blare through the back window, lighting the car up from behind. I spin in my seat, but it’s too bright. Turning back round, a muttered ‘Fuck’ comes from Scott.
“What’s going on, Scott? Where are we?” There’s an edge of fear in my voice, and when Scott doesn’t answer, that fear unfurls, burrowing and taking root deep inside. Instead of letting it take control, I channel it into anger. “Scott, what the fuck is going on?” I bark at him. “Now is not the time for stoicism or keeping me in the dark as some twisted form of protection, that’s bullshit. So, start fucking talking,” I demand, reaching out a hand to the seat in front, steadying myself as Scott takes a sharp turn.
“We’re going to Seb’s,” he states. His tone is matter of fact as his eyes flick up to the rear-view mirror, and for the first time, I can read what he’s not saying perfectly. His next words confirm that things are not good. Not good at all. “I thought I lost this fucker,” he snarls, as his lip curls, baring his teeth.
Well, I wanted more emotion, I certainly got it. I was thinking more along the lines of a smile maybe, not a ‘shit yourself and run for your life’ inducing snarl, but beggars can’t be choosers. Scott’s cell lights up, then a deep gravelly voice comes over the speaker.
“Scott. How far out are you?”
“About fifteen minutes. Thought I’d lost him, but the fucker is tenacious I’ll give him that.”
“Okay, keep on the route I gave you. I’m leaving now. Stay safe, both of you.” That last part is delivered with a thinly veiled warning, but I don’t have time to think on it too much as we are bumped from behind. Scott keeps us steady, hitting the accelerator and taking turns like a rally driver.
We manage to stay ahead, but as we reach a crossroads, the car behind speeds up. Scott spins the wheel to take a left, the clang of metal meeting metal rings out as the car behind smashes into the left rear end, sending us spiralling out of control. Dust flies up as we careen across the road, breaks pierce the unnaturally quiet night sky, and the smell of burning rubber assaults my nose as we skid on the tarmac.
Time seems to slow, spinning, spinning, and then the road falls away below us as the car begins to roll. My head smashes against the window, and something wet and warm trickles down my face and into my eye. The sound of glass shattering and metal crunching penetrates the fog in my mind, and pain explodes in my leg as we come to a grinding halt. Screaming. Someone’s screaming.
I hear my name being called, but I can’t focus on anything but the burning pain that’s tearing up my leg.
