Friday's Child (8 page)

She took a couple of sips. “What are you doing here?”

“Working.”

Her face creased. She didn’t understand. “Working?”

“I’ve been assigned your case. Drink a little more for me.”

She obediently swallowed a couple more times, then sat up, pushing out of his grip. A girl could get too comfortable there, like she had before. “I’m confused. What do you mean they ‘gave you my case’? When you said you were security I thought you meant private investigator or something. If you’re a police officer, why didn’t you just say so?”

Patrick’s smile had its usual effect of her. Her heart thudded and her knees weakened. It was a good job she was sitting down or she’d have fallen again.

“That’s because I’m in national security.” He tilted his head. “I’m a spook.” His voice was low and guarded.

“Why did they send you?” she whispered.

“The reasons are twofold. First of all, I know you professionally and personally. My boss figured it’d be easier on you if you knew at least one of the agents assigned to protect you. Secondly, Foster is on our radar. He has been for a while, which makes it our case and not the police’s. So I’m taking you from here to a safe house.”

She did a double take, not knowing who this Foster was, but not going to look stupid by asking. “What? What about my things and Abbie, Mum, and work?”

“We can pick up a few of your things on the way. Abbie and your mum have not been threatened. It would put them in greater danger if they remain with you. Abbie stays with her mum and work is off the agenda, at least for a day or so. Until I have chance to debrief you.”

“You don’t understand. I have to work, I have no choice.” She barely kept them going as it was. And if she stopped both the singing and delivering the packages, then PJ would carry out his threat. Her secrets would be made public. Patrick would find out about Abbie and she couldn’t let that happen.

“We can talk about this later. Let’s go.” He helped her to her feet.

6

Rushed through her packing, and then driven way too fast to the safe house, Eleanor didn’t feel as if her feet had touched the ground. She slowly walked around the bare apartment. It was sparse, to put it mildly. There were none of the comforts of home. And it was filthy. She wouldn’t even keep a cat here.

And Patrick being assigned to protect her? What was his role in all this? She had to bear in mind that he was a spook who worked for the government and not her friend and mentor any longer. Had he really found her accidentally? Or had he been watching her, tracking her all along?

The mere idea that he been spying on her all the time made her shiver. The ‘innocent’ meet at the library? The way he kept turning up at the club? The ‘oh my brother really wanted to meet you, but then he dumped me for a football match’ line. The fact he came back several times, she’d thought to hear her sing. She’d even asked him if he were a cop—twice— and he had brushed her off. Had all of it been a lie? So much for the ‘catch up over coffee chat for old time’s sake.’ He was just after one thing.

Was he here to give her a false sense of security, in the hope she’d tell him everything she knew because he knew her? She didn’t know anyone called Foster and that was the name he’d used a couple of times on the way here, never mind in the police station. But that didn’t alter the fact she wasn’t happy with this turn of events. Being separated from Abbie wasn’t part of her plan when she went to the police.

She dumped her bag on a single bed in a tiny room and went to find Patrick. He deserved a piece of her mind, and boy, was he going to get it.

He stood silent in the kitchen, filling the kettle. “Find everything all right?”

“This place is a dump. There’s no pictures, no windows that open, the sofa is stained by goodness only knows what, the fireplace is filthy, the bathroom doesn’t look as if it’s ever been cleaned…”

Patrick sighed. “Will you listen to yourself? This isn’t a holiday home. We are trying to keep you safe, but if you don’t want it, then fine. There’s the door. No one is going to make you stay here. But
you
came to
us
, remember?” He held out a hand. “That reminds me. I need your phone.”

“My what?”

“Phone—you know the thing you make calls and texts on.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “Just give me the phone,” he said slowly.

Eleanor reached into her shirt pocket and slowly handed it over, watching as Patrick swiftly removed the battery and sim card.

The doorbell rang. Patrick pulled the gun from his holster and motioned her to stay still before moving into the hall.

She stood there in shock. He had never spoken to her like that before. Ever. Even when she messed up on tests and forgot everything he’d taught her. In fact even when she’d had the car accident that was her fault, he hadn’t yelled at her.

But then this was Patrick now, not the Patrick she’d known and walked out on fourteen years ago. Oh, if only he knew the truth, but she couldn’t tell him. He’d changed, and if she didn’t think he’d have believed her back then, there was no way he’d believe her now.

She leaned against the kitchen counter, staring into the garden. A cat sat in the middle of the lawn staring back at her. A cat…

****

The car skidded, the sickening thud still reverberating in her ears when another crunch brought them to a shuddering halt. Her hands shook. “I hit it.”

“Stay there.” Patrick jumped out of the car and disappeared into the darkness behind them.

She couldn’t stop shaking. She’d seen a brief glimpse in the headlights, of a cat, wide eyes shining, fixated on the oncoming car. She’d tried to brake and swerve, but she hadn’t been quick enough.

Patrick moved around the front of the car and motioned to her to back up slowly.

She wound down the window. “I can’t.”

He moved around to the window. “Don’t give me that. Just put the car in reverse and go slowly.”

“But the cat?”

“Elle, forget the cat. Back slowly off this log or we’re not going anywhere.”

“OK,” she whispered. The car jerked as she reversed slowly.

“Great, now stop and put the hand brake on, so I can check underneath.”

The light of the torch vanished under the car. She closed her eyes tightly. This was meant to be a simple trip to the cliff top house owned by Garth’s parents. His parents were away, so he’d invited twelve of them from university up for the weekend before Easter break. Studying for finals and partying was on the agenda for all of them.

The door opened and Patrick climbed back in. “No damage that I can see. A tiny scrape on the paintwork, but clear nail varnish will fix that up and stop it rusting.” He smiled. “You all right to drive or want me to?”

“I’ll do it. You don’t want to go home?”

He shook his head, kissing her cheek. “Of course I don’t. I get to spend the whole weekend with you. Why would I want to go home?”

****

Eleanor shook her head, pushing that day and those images far from her mind. If he knew what she’d done, he’d have nothing but contempt for her. She deserved every harsh word, angry look and irate tone he gave her.

The door opened and Patrick came back in. With him was the blonde haired woman that had been with him in the library, who close up, was even prettier than she remembered. She carried a bag of what looked like takeaway. Patrick carried another one. He grinned at his companion, seeming at ease in her presence, laughing at something she’d obviously said in the hallway.

Patrick put the bag on the counter. “Elle, this is my partner, Shay Williams. Shay, this is Eleanor Harrison, or Lisa Bellamy.”

An unexpected surge of jealously at the word
partner
flooded her. “Hi.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, not meaning to appear so openly hostile, but unable to stop it.

“Hello. I hope you still like Chinese. Patrick said it was a fairly safe thing to get for lunch.”

“Yeah.” She glanced at Patrick, hating the way he grinned at the other woman. Things had just got too much for her to deal with. Once the letter came she knew she needed help. She asked for, needed protection of some sort, but she didn’t expect to be whisked away from everything and everyone and hidden. She’d thought maybe a cop would follow her around, like in a movie. She hadn’t, even in her wildest dreams, expected that her protector would be Patrick, nor had she imagined he’d be an MI5 agent.

What had she gotten herself mixed up with if the top security agency in the country were protecting her? Didn’t they deal with terrorists? There was no way she was a terrorist. She was simply a nightclub singer, trying to find a break. More to the point, she was irritated, no, way more than irritated, that he hadn’t been truthful with her.

As if you’ve been truthful with him.

She ignored her nagging conscience. There was a huge difference between what she’d done and this.

And that partner of his. Did she have to be so pretty? And they were as close as she and Patrick once had been. Was he so fickle with his relationships? Did he treat all women alike until he got his way with them? Were they more than just work colleagues?

She knew she was being irrational, but it still hurt to think about the relationship she had thrown away. She bowed her head.

God, I know I don’t have the right to ask You for anything, but help me not to be angry, when I have no right to be. And help me not to feel so jealous. After all, I left Patrick, not the other way around
.

****

Patrick chatted with Shay as they ate, trying to compensate for Elle’s sullen demeanor. He didn’t know why she was suddenly sulking like a three year old and acting as if her life had been ripped from her. It wasn’t as if the protection was being foisted on her against her will.

As soon as she’d finished eating, Elle rose and left the room without a word. Patrick sighed and pushed his hand through his hair.

“So she’s your old flame from university, then?” Shay sounded more bored than curious.

“Yeah. But I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into her. It must be me. She’s been a bit frosty the past few times I’ve seen her.”

“Oh, this is beyond frosty, Patrick. It’s more like icy or even beyond icy. I thought she wanted our help?”

“Maybe it’s just
my
help she doesn’t want. I’ll talk to her.”

Shay stood. “You do that while I go grocery shopping. Think I have the better deal actually.”

Patrick winked at her. “I think you could be right.” He went to find where Elle was sulking. If she was running true to form, she’d be in her room or by the fireplace. Not that she’d admit she was sulking, because she was far too mature for that, but it was as close to sulking as a person could get.

He tapped on her bedroom door and pushed it open not waiting for an answer. She lay on her stomach, reading. She didn’t look up, so he stood between her and the window, blocking her light. “Elle, can we talk?”

“Why?”

“I need the truth, Elle. All of it.”

“My name is Eleanor, not Elle. And talking won’t change anything.”

Not bothering to hide his irritation, he flopped down on the bed beside her. “Look,
Eleanor
, if you don’t play ball, we can’t protect you. We need to know anything you’ve seen or heard that might have gotten you noticed.”

“You’re MI5. You figure it out.” Again she spoke over the book, not even looking at him.

He caught his breath, his hands curled into fists, and his jaw tightened. This was a mistake. He should never have taken this assignment. And he wasn’t going to start calling her Eleanor either. Reaching out, he snatched the book, closed it, and tossed it to the side in a swift single movement.

“Hey, I was reading that,” came the immediate indignant protest.

“What happened to you, Elle?”

She sat up and glared at him. “Me? What you mean, what happened to me? University was a long time ago. Maybe I grew up. Just like we all did. Grew up and changed. None of us are the same people we were back then. For instance, why didn’t you tell me you were a spy?”

“Need to know,” he snapped back.

“You’ve changed.”

“You too, way more than I expected. You used to be—”

“I used to be what? Innocent?” She tossed her head, sending her hair shimmering over her shoulder. “In answer to your question, you happened to me, Patrick. You made me who I am now.”

He caught his breath, doing a double take.
He
got her involved in drugs, if indeed she was? “Excuse me?”

She stabbed a finger at him, emphasizing every word. “That last weekend at the house party changed who I was forever.”

He flung his hands up in defense. “Now, wait a minute. That wasn’t all me. You agreed. You didn’t say no or stop or…”

“I should have.”

Patrick stood and stomped across room, shoving his hands through his hair. “So what
are
you saying? That I forced you to do something you didn’t want to do? Because you know very well that’s not true.”

He grunted in annoyance as his pocketed phone vibrated and rang. “Don’t you dare move. This isn’t finished.”

“I’ll move if I want to.” She scowled at him, and marched over to the window, keeping her back to him. “Answer your phone before they ring off. There’s probably a major terrorist threat you need to save the country from.”

He snatched his phone free and glared at the screen before answering. “Page.”

“It’s Nahum. Abbie Harrison never made it home from school.”

His anger dissipated faster than if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. He fixed his gaze on Elle’s stiff back. His free hand twisted through the hair on the back of his neck. “
What?
Say that again.”

7

Patrick stood stock still, hardly daring to breathe, waiting for his boss to confirm or deny what he’d just said.