AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jess angrily wipes away the tears blurring her vision. There’s no use standing here now. She climbs back into the car, preparing to drive away, when she sees another car pull up, directly outside her house.
It’s an old-style gray Land Rover, and the driver gets out and leans against the door. A sudden flame casts his face in a flickering glow as he bends down to light a cigarette. Jess can just make out dark hair, stubble. It’s the man from the hospital: Griffin. First there, now here. It’s no coincidence, he’s definitely interested in what happened to her. But why?
She remembers his conversation behind the curtain. He didn’t think she was responsible. She wonders what makes him so sure, when the other detective was ready to arrest her.
He finishes the cigarette and drops it on the road. He climbs back into the Land Rover, and Jess starts the engine of Nav’s car.
She hears the roar of the old truck, then follows him as he pulls away. He drives slowly at first through the residential streets, then speeds up, as if realizing she’s behind him.
His car is quicker than Nav’s shitty 1.2 Clio, but she knows the streets around here well. After about twenty minutes of quick lefts and rights, he pulls into an industrial estate, and she follows him in. She doesn’t want to let him go. The back of her mind registers the potential danger, but this is the only thing she can think to do right now. This man knows something.
His car slows. There are few street lights here; the buildings are large and intimidating. The Land Rover turns into an alleyway behind a huge unit and stops, and she pulls up behind him.
The car door opens and he climbs out, looking at her. Her heart jumps, but he walks past, then heaves a large recycling bin behind the Clio. She turns in her seat, frantically realizing the enormity of the situation she’s got herself in. She’s trapped. The car is pinned between the bin and his Land Rover. She thinks about getting out and running, but she knows she won’t get far. Not feeling like this. Her hand hovers over the gear lever. She could reverse quickly, put all the power of this little car into the bin and hopefully it would move. She could try, at least.
But something stops her. He casually walks up to her driver’s side window, and knocks on it, twice. The Clio’s doors are locked—he can’t get in—and she stares at him for a second, her wide eyes meeting his.
He gestures for her to lower the window. She presses it down a fraction.
“What the hell are you doing out of the hospital?” he growls.
“What the hell were you doing at my house?” she replies, forcing her voice to sound more confident than she is feeling.
It starts to rain again. Large droplets fall in the glow of the headlights, scattering across the windscreen. He squints upward as it settles in his hair. He gestures to the passenger side, pulling the collar of his coat up.
“Let me in,” he says. He sees her reluctance. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not going to do anything to you—just open the door. I’m getting cold.”
Jess takes a deep breath in. She knows this isn’t a good idea, but what has she got to lose? Her husband and her home are gone. The police are almost certainly now looking for her. She’s not allowed to see her daughter. In terms of risky behavior, this is no more than the next in a long line of shitty decisions.
She clicks the lock, and he walks around to the passenger side, pulling the door open. He gets in. He smells of wet dog and cigarette smoke.
He shakes his head. “They can’t possibly have let you out.”
“They were going to arrest me—”
“So you’re running from the police?” He snorts with derision. “Sensible,” he adds sarcastically.
“I don’t trust them. And who are you?” she demands. “Don’t say you’re a cop, because I know you’re not.”
“I am a detective, just not for the time being,” he says. She sees his jaw clench. He goes to say something to her, but his phone rings in his pocket, interrupting him. He pulls it out and glares at her before answering.
Griffin talks in grunts and single syllables; Jess can’t hear the other side of the call.
“I’ll be there,” he says finally, then turns to her. “You need to stop following me.”
“Tell me why you’re so interested in what happened, and I’ll leave you alone.”
“I have to go.”
“So I’ll come with you,” she replies. He stays silent, so she carries on. “You seem to be the only person who doesn’t think I killed my husband, and I want to know why.”
Even though he’s police, or was, something about him feels different from the cops she’s encountered in the past. Back at the hospital he listened; he believed her, stood up for her against the woman detective. And he doesn’t look like a cop. That helps, somehow.
He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lights one. He doesn’t ask permission. Jess worries about Nav’s car and the smell, then dismisses it. He’s going to be angrier about a lot more, after all.
Griffin’s eyes stay downward, his brow furrowed as he smokes. Then he swears under his breath and sighs. “Fine. But you need to leave this car. They’ll be looking for you, and it won’t take them long to work out what you’re driving.” He notices her hesitation. “Look, that’s my offer, take it or leave it. If I was going to do something to you, I would have done it by now.” He gestures around the alleyway. “There are no cameras here, and it’s not like you could have defended yourself. Look at the size of you. I could have strangled you within seconds.”
He’s right. He’s a huge bloke, with meaty hands and muscular shoulders. She wouldn’t stand a chance. She’s not sure whether to feel reassured or scared by the fact he’d already worked out the method for her murder, but she turns off the engine.
