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I notice it then, his accent. Australian, South African, I don’t know. For a moment, I falter. The man guarding Ned didn’t speak with an accent. Instinct kicks in. I’m right, I know I am.
I shake my head. “No. I know why you’re here. Closure.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Don’t.” I lower my voice as people come along the path toward us. “You may be speaking with a different accent, but I know you were one of the men who held me and Ned prisoner.”
He looks around, concern in his eyes. “Are you with someone? Could I get them for you?”
“Please don’t treat me like an idiot.”
He checks the time on his watch. “I’m sorry, but I need to be going.”
He tries to step around me but again, I block his way. “No. I need answers, and after all that I’ve done for you, you owe me. So, tell me—where’s Lukas? Why isn’t he here?”
He looks so bemused that for a moment, I think I’ve gotten it wrong. But the same gut feeling tells me again that I’m right.
“If you refuse to talk to me,” I say, incensed, “I’ll go to the police and tell them that I saw Ned Hawthorpe kill Lina Mielkute.”
I see it in his eyes, a flash of something. But whatever it was disappears as quickly as it came.
“Yes, that’s right,” I hiss. “I saw Ned kill Lina, I saw him suffocate her with his own hands, I was hiding behind the door in the library, and I saw everything. I also saw Hunter being shot at point-blank range—but of course, you already know that, you said as much in your letter of instructions.” I barely notice his hand on my elbow as he steers me toward a bench, barely notice the tears streaming from my eyes. “Have you any idea what that was like for me, to witness twomurders? You might have closure, but I never will, not until I have the answers I need.”
“I know you won’t want to hear this,” he says, as I fumble in my bag for a tissue. “But, Mrs. Hawthorpe, please believe me when I say that I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Anger flares.
“You’re right, I don’t believe you!” I stand up, swing my bag onto my shoulder. “And I’m not Mrs. Hawthorpe! I know you think that I won’t go to the police, but I will. Until I have answers, I’ll never be free, I’ll be just as much a prisoner as I was before.” I choke back my tears. “Do you even care that the only way I can sleep is on a mattress in a darkened room with a boarded-up window? That’s how messed up I am, that’s how much you and Lukas messed me up.”
I start to walk off, then turn back. “Give Lukas a message from me. Tell him I’m coming for him, wherever he is.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I walk away fast, but not so fast that Carl won’t be able to catch up with me, because he will come after me, he has to. As I approach the exit, I hang back, waiting for him to shout out, call me back, tell me what I need to know. But he doesn’t, and something inside me dies. I want to crumple to the ground, give up. If Carl won’t help me, who will?
The reality of my situation hits. If I walk away now, I’ll never get the answers I need. Once Carl is out of sight, he’ll be lost to me forever.
I spin around. But there’s no sign of him, he’s already left. I turn in circles, trying to see which way he went and then I spot him again, on the other side of the railings, walking quickly along the pavement. He must have taken another exit.
I run after him, and when I’m closer, I slow my pace and follow at a safe distance. He’s carrying a bag over his shoulder, something I hadn’t noticed before. At the end of the road, he stands for a moment, turning his head to the right and left, then checking his watch, and I realize that he’s not trying to cross the road, but looking for a taxi. My heart drops; if he jumps in a cab, I’ll lose him forever, unless another taxi comes along straight after, and I ask the driver to follow Carl’s.Pleasedon’t let there be any taxis,I pray, and someone answers my prayers, because after a couple more minutes, he quickly crosses the road.
I move from where I’d stopped behind him, and hurry after him. I know where he’s heading: to the Tube station ahead. I run down the steps, follow him through the barriers, down the escalator to the Piccadilly Line and onto the platform.
My fear that he might see me following him begins to evaporate. If he had thought that I might, he would have turned around at least once to check. A train comes in; I get into the same carriage as he does but through the door at the other end and sit watching him surreptitiously as he stares blankly ahead, his bag lodged between his feet, lost in thoughts I can only guess at. Carl was Ned’s captor, I know it. Why else was he at the memorial service for Justine and Lina, two women that he didn’t know? Unless he did know them. I search my mind, but I can’t recall Justine or Lina ever mentioning someone named Carl.
The train soon fills up but I’m not worried, I can still see Carl. My plan is to follow him all the way to wherever he lives, and once I have his address, harass him day and night until he agrees to speak to me. It’s only when he doesn’t react to any of the stops, not even to check our whereabouts, that I realize he’s not concerned about missing his station because he’s going all the way to the end of the line. My eyes dart to the map on the wall; the terminus is Heathrow Airport, Terminal 5.
My heart thuds. How can I follow him onto a flight? He could be going anywhere. I remember his accent and my heart thuds again. What if he’s going to South Africa or Australia? How could I ever find him there?
The train pulls into Terminal 5. He moves to the door, and seconds later, I follow him out. I wait as he heads toward the escalators, making sure he doesn’t check behind. He moves to the left and begins walking up, past the people standing on the right. He seems in a hurry so I walk up too. He arrives at the top, leaps off, and starts running through the concourse, and for a panicky moment, I think that he’s seen me. But as he runs, he’s fumbling in his pocket and I see him take out hisphone. He approaches the security area with the individual security gates, slams his phone onto the reader, and hurries through the barrier.
I arrive seconds later, and stand watching him until he disappears out of sight.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It hits me during the night as I lie curled up on the mattress. What if Carl worked for the same security firm as Hunter had? I saw the name on the front pocket of Hunter’s black jacket often enough to remember it. If I call them and ask to speak to Carl, I might be able to find out something. It’s a long shot—Ned might have called another security firm for a replacement after Hunter was murdered. But it’s worth a try.
I’ve been watching the time since 3 a.m. At 9 a.m., I call them.
