For the Sake of the Children: The first Chloe Webster thriller (Chloe Webster Thrillers Book 1) (2 page)

Chloe headed out into the grey February mist, pulling the collar of her thick coat closer. She scolded herself as she realised she’d forgotten her scarf, but there was no time to go back for it now. She hurried up the hill towards the station, the usually magnificent views of surrounding countryside hidden behind the greyness of the fog. Many of the old cottages in Bradmill looked very welcoming with the early morning glow of lights showing in windows, and the smoke from log fires rising gently from their chimneys. Several other people were making their way to the old station, their breath forming visible clouds in front of them, no doubt also heading for the seven-thirty train that was due in a few minutes. Chloe knew it would get her into Sheffield before eight, leaving plenty of time to make it to her new job well before nine. It was important to impress on her first day.

The narrow platform was particularly busy this morning and she took her place amongst the crowd. She thought about the day ahead, hardly believing that it had arrived. Her first day as a lawyer. After four years at university and two years of training, at last she could put the studying behind her and focus on her career. She’d loved it at the small, friendly firm which had trained her so well over the last couple of years. Unfortunately, as was the case with many smaller law firms these days, they simply could not afford to keep her on now that she was qualified. Economic conditions and changes to the way legally aided cases were funded had resulted in her old firm downsizing and she was one of the casualties of that process. Anderson, Gormley and Drake was her new employer, and to be honest, she’d felt comfortable there from the moment she’d first stepped inside the offices. In actual fact, she’d only spent a few hours there as part of the interview process for the job, but the feel of the place and the warmth of the people she met had sold it to her there and then. So when the offer came through, she accepted without hesitation, despite having one or two offers from what other people might call
better
firms. And here she was, on day one as a qualified solicitor. She was nervous and excited and scared and happy all at the same time.

She heard the train long before it appeared out of the mist, headlights glowing as it grated its way along the old line. As it pulled up she could see that it was already busy, and queues formed instantly at every door as people tried to ensure they could snatch one of the few remaining seats. Not being naturally pushy, Chloe ended up at the back of one of those queues and eventually she was left standing in the centre aisle of the carriage. It had a typical interior with rows of double seats, and a few tables in the middle part of the carriage surrounded by four seats. She felt the tables were a bit of a luxury in a carriage where dozens of people had no option but to stand, but she didn’t mind - the journey was only fifteen minutes or so. She looked down the train. Most people were dressed in suits or uniforms under thick warm coats. Winter mornings could be harsh out here in the country and this morning was no exception. If it had any, the train’s heating wasn’t doing much of a job. As it departed, the draft from the windows only made it colder still.

Before long the train pulled up at the only station between Bradmill and Sheffield. Another crowd attempted to force their way into the already over-full carriage. People began shuffling down the aisle, causing those already standing to move further down. Chloe wondered if it was this busy every day at this time and decided to catch an earlier train if it was. Her mind was just beginning to think about the day ahead again when the train started with a jolt. Whether it was this, or whether someone was pushing, Chloe never knew. Before she had time to react the man in front of her fell backwards and toppled into her. His weight knocked her into the edge of one of the tables. Her natural reaction was to put her hand down onto the table top to stop herself from falling into the people sat around it. Having brought herself under control, she stood upright with a sigh of relief.

‘What the hell are you doing girl?’

The owner of the punitive voice was a plump, greying man in what looked to be an expensive coat. It took a few moments for Chloe to notice the coffee. A paper cup lay on its side on the table top and the contents had pooled across the surface and onto the lap of the man in the coat. He was now glaring at her as if awaiting a response from a child, his cheeks flushed red, either with anger or embarrassment.

‘Oh, did I do that? I’m really sorry,’ offered Chloe, aware that people were staring. ‘Here, I think I have a tissue somewhere.’

She started to fish into her handbag, glad to have somewhere to look other than at the man who was still glowering at her. Of course, she didn’t have a tissue. The one time that she actually needed one she’d forgotten to bring any. After what seemed like an age spent rummaging through the sparse contents of her bag, she stopped searching and shook her head. The man was still looking at her expectantly, but when he realised nothing was coming, he simply turned and looked out of the window. Chloe felt sorry then, sorry that she had ruined his journey to work. She turned her back and looked out the other side of the carriage, wishing the train was already at Sheffield, and trying hard to avoid the eyes that continued to stare at her from all around the carriage.

‘Is he dead?’ demanded Drabble.

Mr Scruffy looked at the man swinging gently by the neck on the end of the rope, and then prodded him in the ribs with his finger. No reaction.

‘Looks like it.’

‘Well is he or isn’t he?’

Mr Slim stepped forward and without a word placed his fingers on the inside of the man’s wrist. Nothing. He looked at Drabble and nodded.

‘Right. I’ll leave it up to you two to get rid of the body. I don’t want to know what you do with him, just make sure no one ever finds him.’

‘Yes, sir,’ uttered Mr Scruffy.

Mr Slim pulled out a knife and cut the rope, stepping back as the body fell to the ground. Mr Scruffy pulled over a large wooden crate from the corner of the room and together they bundled the body inside.

‘Good,’ said Drabble. He looked at Mr Scruffy. ‘Now you take that down to the car while we have a chat in here.’

‘What, on my own?’

‘You’ll manage.’

‘But…’

‘Just clear off, for fuck’s sake Mickey.’

Mickey dragged the box over to the door and out of the room, breathing heavily as he did so and muttering inaudibly. He hated working for Drabble, but he had no choice. Trying to leave the gang now would be suicide. In any case, it was all he’d ever known. Drabble had been friends with his mother when they were both younger, and when she died a few years ago, Drabble had taken him under his wing. But he never looked upon Drabble as a father figure; all he received was orders and irritation. All he wanted was a little respect from the big man. Was that really too much to ask?

Drabble waited until he could hear the box thumping down the stairs one step at a time. He yanked the metal shutter back across the doorway and turned to Mr Slim.

‘This is all very messy, Jez. I mean really messy. What a complete balls-up.’

‘I know, boss.’

‘I thought we had him under control. I thought he was on our side. He was doing okay wasn’t he?’

‘He was. Did as he was told and never really grumbled about it. Always seemed happy enough to take the money too. I guess we pushed him too far with that last job.’

‘We’re going to need a replacement, and quickly. I’ve got big plans for us.’

Jez nodded. Drabble looked out across the Sheffield skyline, thinking.

‘It has to be another lawyer.’

‘Okay, boss. Same firm?’

‘It’ll have to be. I’m not starting again with all this. We’ve got contacts there, good ones. I haven’t got time to mess around with another firm.’

‘Leave it to me, boss. Another junior lawyer I assume?’

‘Yeah, but this time make it a girl.’ Drabble smiled to himself. ‘That’s bound to be less trouble in the long run. If we’re expanding into new areas we need someone we can control. That idiot we’ve just lost didn’t like it. We need someone who will co-operate. Make it clear to her from the start that we don’t take no for an answer. We need to come down harder this time. We need total control.’

Jez smiled. He knew better than to ask any more questions.

‘Leave it with me boss.’

He sat up in bed, waiting for the call at eight o’clock. Time was very important to him. So much so that people called him the Timer. At least, people who worked with him did, people who knew him in his professional capacity. It also helped him to keep his work separate from his family, so that no one he worked for knew his real identity. The Timer – it was a name which reflected his reliability, efficiency and accuracy. He had a reputation which had taken years to build up and it meant that he was well paid for any work that came his way.

He looked over at his wife beside him as she began to stir. A lock of blonde hair fell across her large eyes and she instinctively brushed it away. She was so beautiful first thing in the morning. She was everything to him, together with his daughters of course.

‘Hi.’ He smiled down at her.

‘Hello.’

‘I’m expecting a call in a minute. It won’t take long, but I could do with a bit of privacy.’

‘Okay love. I’ll go and get the kids moving.’

She kissed him and in one movement she was out of bed, wrapped up in a thick dressing gown and out of the bedroom door, shouting orders to their two young daughters.

‘Come on you two, time to get ready for school.’

He smiled and looked at the clock. The red digits displayed 07:58. He picked his phone up from the bedside cabinet and checked for messages. None. Good, he hated last minute adjustments; he liked to have everything happen just as it was planned. He got up out of bed and closed the bedroom door. 07:59. He quickly pulled on some jeans and a sweat top and looked out the window. The view of the surrounding hills above the houses opposite was obscured this morning by a thick fog. It looked cold and grey out there, a fine drizzle ensuring the whole scene was damp and miserable. 08:01. Damn, the call was late. Why couldn’t people do what they promised to do when they promised to do it? His irritation was building with every passing second. 08:02. His phone finally hummed a silent ringtone.

‘Yes,’ he answered, not trying to hide his annoyance.

‘It’s me,’ came the familiar voice. ‘It happened last night. The truck’s heading east now from Liverpool docks towards Manchester. It’ll be coming over the Pennines to Sheffield after that. You should be able to catch it up there somewhere around ten this morning. Here, I’ll give you the plate…’

He memorised the registration plate and ended the call without saying a word.

‘I’ve got to go out today,’ he said to his wife as he appeared downstairs. ‘I shouldn’t be too late. I thought we might take the girls to that new burger place on the high street tonight.’

‘Yes please daddy,’ they both erupted at the same time and then burst into fits of laughter as he pulled them into his grasp and dug his fingers gently into their ribs; they’d both always been incredibly ticklish. They were also his pride and joy. More than that, they were his life.

‘You be good today Daisy. And look after Molly at school. You both help mummy okay?’

Before long he was out of the house and on his way. He removed the battery from his cheap mobile phone and dropped them both down a drain as he headed towards the local shopping centre.

Chloe stood in Sheffield city centre and looked up at the offices of Anderson, Gormley and Drake. It was an impressive and imposing building, probably Edwardian and much larger than her previous firm.

There must be room enough inside for a couple of hundred people at least
, she thought, which did little to settle her nerves. She stood across the street, watching people heading into the building to begin their day’s work, wondering how many of them she would get to know; future colleagues and acquaintances, perhaps even friends.

The cold began to wrap its prickly arms around her and so she took a deep breath and hurried over to the entrance. She’d already noticed that it was a revolving door.

The challenges are coming thick and fast this morning
.

Revolving doors were awkward, especially for someone who doesn’t always have full confidence in or control of her own body. How hard does one push? How many people should try to get into one compartment? She decided to use the standard door to the left of the main revolving door to avoid potential embarrassment. She walked confidently towards it and put her hand out to push, in accordance with the instruction printed clearly on the glass. It was locked, causing her to stop in her tracks and back pedal a step or two.

Damn. Why do they always lock these doors?

Already feeling a little embarrassed she turned to the revolving door just as a young man came running towards it. His timing was impeccable as the slow moving door swung round at just the right point for him to enter a compartment. As Chloe looked at the door waiting for it to turn to the next section, he flashed her a wide smile.

‘Good morning,’ he said in the friendliest manner she’d experienced since leaving home. She was instantly grateful for the interaction, but somehow mistook it for an invitation to step into the compartment with him. It all happened so fast but as soon as she stepped forward it became apparent that it was a mistake; the space inside was not as large as it had seemed when looking in from outside. It must be something to do with the shape of it. She was embarrassingly close to him, almost pressed up against the back of his coat as the door continued its progress round and into the building.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Chloe, horrified by what was happening.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ replied the young man, though he looked around awkwardly as the pair arrived in the reception area of the building after a seemingly never-ending journey. ‘I’ve got to dash. I have a meeting at eight thirty. It was nice to meet you.’

‘Yes, of course, sorry.’

I’m such an idiot sometimes.

Chloe hoped that would be the last time she would have to apologise to anyone that day. She headed over to the rather fierce lady on the reception desk and then took a seat as instructed; it was clear that not everyone here was going to be so friendly.

She looked around as she waited, remembering her previous visit on the day of her job interview. It was certainly an impressive area – large and spacious and panelled in dark wood from floor to ceiling. Two stone lions sat proudly on either side of the lifts, casting clear reflections in the polished marble floor. She couldn’t help but compare it all to the offices of her previous firm.

Don’t worry
, she thought,
it can’t be that different. People are people wherever you go
. An old eighties pop song burst into her head and refused to go away.

‘You can go up now. Mr Drake is ready for you. Third floor, room three-oh-three.’

Chloe looked up at the receptionist but she’d already moved on to her next task and had the telephone pressed to her ear. Never having been a fan of lifts, Chloe headed over to the stairs and began the climb to the third floor.

Stepping out from the stairwell, she was expecting to see a corridor with numbered offices, much like her old firm. However, this floor was open plan in design. A central area was filled with several rows of desks facing each other with low privacy barriers between them. About half the desks were filled and more people were arriving sporadically to start their daily routines, chatting about the previous evening and collecting cups of coffee from a modern-looking coffee machine. Around the edge of the main area were glass fronted offices. The nearest office to her left was numbered three oh one. She walked past it noticing that it was empty, past three oh two which was also empty, and approached room three oh three. The light was on and she knocked on the glass door, trying not to stare into the room as she waited.

‘Come in.’

She pushed the door open and walked in, immediately noticing how tidy everything was. Cupboards had door fronts on them, so that very few papers were on display, and none littered the floor. No boxes, or coats, or anything out of place.
How very different to the old firm
, she thought again, and then decided not to keep comparing the two. This was the future. Her future. Time to forget the past.

‘Oh, not you. My God, is someone having a laugh?’