Someone To Save you (32 page)

‘You really believe that?’

‘Totally,’ she replied. ‘Marcus didn’t kill Cathy, he didn’t do any of this, I just know he didn’t. I’ve never been as sure of anything in my whole life, Sam.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Trust,’ Marcus said.

Suddenly Sam realised. ‘You’ve seen him before today haven’t you?’

Louisa nodded. ‘We’ve been meeting for the past few weeks.’

Sam shook his head and smiled ruefully. ‘All this time, and you didn’t tell me. All the things we discussed, and you just kept quiet.’

‘I wanted to tell you, Sam, believe me I did. I nearly told you, but I just couldn’t find the words.’

‘Couldn’t find the words?’ It was such a cliché.

‘No, I couldn’t. I was going to tell you, but then when all the strange things started happening, the phone calls and the notes and you starting talking about Marcus maybe being involved, it just got harder.’

Another suspicion rose. ‘Have you two been in touch since the very beginning, since the trial?’

‘No, Sam, I swear. Just these last few weeks - I hadn’t seen or spoken to Marcus since the trial, just like you. But a few weeks ago I got a call from Marcus’s parents…’

‘They were worried about me and thought I could do with a friend,’ Marcus interjected. ‘I didn’t ask them to do it, but I was glad they did. Louisa’s been a big help for me. I’d probably have gone crazy without her support.’

‘They said Marcus had just moved down to London,’ Louisa continued, ‘and that they were worried about him being here on his own after what had happened since he got out of prison and went back home. He’d been attacked, Sam. The people there, they wouldn’t let him get on with his life.’

Sam looked across at Marcus who sat impassively, his arms folded across his chest.

‘He was forced to move out of the area. That’s why he came to London.’

‘Why did his parents call you?’

‘You know our parents were always good friends. They knew I was working down here, and thought I could help.’

It didn’t add up. ‘But why would you agree to see him? You thought he killed Cathy, just like I did. Why would you meet with the person who you thought killed your best friend?’

Louisa hesitated just long enough. ‘I…’

Suddenly for Sam it all became clear. ‘You didn’t think he’d killed Cathy, did you?’ Just like his mother, she had kept this from him for all this time.

Louisa looked away, her eyes glistening with tears. ‘I didn’t know what to believe, Sam. At one time, yes, I thought Marcus had done it, long ago, but then, I don’t know, I wasn’t so sure anymore. I just wanted to do the right thing. And I wanted to find out the truth.’

Sam ran a hand along his face. ‘It was only ever me, wasn’t it? I was the only one not to see it. All these years, the real murderer has been out there, free. And now they’ve got Anna.’

‘Someone’s playing with us all, Sam,’ Marcus said. ‘And I want to find out who it is just as much as you do. This person is trying to hurt us all. We’ve got to start working together and trusting each other.’

Sam looked across. ‘Is it really that easy, after everything that’s happened?’

‘We haven’t got a choice,’ Marcus replied. ‘Look, I’m only going to say this one more time, but here goes.’ He looked straight at Sam. ‘I didn’t kill Cathy. I did lie to you, Sam, but only about our relationship. And yes, I do feel bitter about what happened - really bitter. I went through fifteen years of hell in prison. But I’m still here, and if I thought it would bring Cathy back, I’d do it all again. We were young, but I loved her, just like you and Louisa did. Please, believe me. Don’t let this evil bastard win.’

Sam considered Marcus’s words. ‘I believe you.’ He was pretty sure that he meant what he said, but it still sounded strange to say it.

‘So where do we go from here?’ Louisa asked. ‘Have you contacted the police?’

Sam shook his head.

‘Why not?’

‘I told you, the person said they’d hurt Anna if I involved them.’

Louisa didn’t look convinced. ‘So what are you going to do?’

Sam thought on that. ‘I’m not saying that I won’t involve the police. But right at this moment, I just don’t think I can risk it. I have to do something though.’

‘Then what?’

Sam turned to her. ‘Louisa, I need a massive favour from you - Richard Friedman’s address.’

Louisa looked puzzled.

‘You said he lived with his sister,’ Sam explained. ‘I need to talk with her, try to understand more about how he fits into this – how he got Cathy’s locket. Maybe there will be something in the house that might explain things.’

‘But won’t the police be doing that kind of thing?’

‘Maybe, maybe not, but I’ve got to do something Louisa. I can’t just wait for something to happen. And it seems that whoever has got Anna wants me to play the game. Engaging with this person might be the best chance I have of getting Anna back safe.’

‘If the hospital find out I’ve shared patient details, I could lose my job.’

‘I know,’ Sam replied. ‘That’s why you’re not going to give me his details.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’m going to take them. Have you got your office keys with you?’

‘Yes, but, if someone sees you doing this, looking through confidential records, you’ll never work as a surgeon again. Your career will be over.’

Sam shrugged. ‘If that’s what it takes.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Marcus said. ‘Give me the keys, tell me where to find his file, and I’ll go in there and get his address. I’ve got nothing to lose.’

Sam shook his head. ‘I can’t ask you to do that.’

‘Please, let me,’ Marcus replied. ‘I want to do it.’

‘You’re both crazy,’ Louisa said. ‘I’ll get you his address. I can do it without raising any suspicions.’

Just as Sam was about to reply, there was a firm knock on the door. ‘Police. Open the door please.’

‘Hell,’ Sam muttered. Doug. He’d completely forgotten.

Shirley Ainsley paused by the doorway of the spare room. The three children were sleeping downstairs. She felt sick to her stomach, fearing imminent confirmation that her husband had fallen back into the nightmare of alcohol abuse from which he had emerged ten years ago. Back then it had been another traumatic event – the death of his younger brother from a heart attack at the age of just forty-five. The grief had led to depression, and drinking. It was to be another two years before he came back to her. Shirley had blamed herself for letting things get out of control at the beginning. But this time would be different. This time she was determined to tackle the problem head-on, no matter how painful it might be.

Eric had left the house ten minutes ago, having spent just half an hour in her company since coming home from work. Barely enough time to eat his evening meal. He had hardly spoken in their time together, save for muttering that he was off to see some work colleagues.

Shirley hadn’t believed him.

He had made his way straight upstairs upon his arrival home, taking his work bag up with him. He had come back down, saying that he had desperately needed the toilet, and indeed she had heard the flush. But his breath smelt of alcohol. And from the creaking of the floorboards above, Shirley was pretty sure that Eric had also been doing something in the spare room. Hiding drink, she suspected.

She looked around the room. Nothing seemed to be out of place. She moved around, pulling out each drawer in the cabinet and running her hands through the piles of aging underwear and socks – items that should have been thrown away long ago.

She found nothing – no hidden bottles of whiskey or vodka.

Then she turned to the bed. It was the last place. She crouched down at its base, and reached for the valance, slowly pulling it back. Peering underneath she used the small torch she had brought from the kitchen to sweep across the darkness. The space was empty. But then, just as she was bringing the torch out, something caught her eye – a cut in the fabric across the roof of the bed’s base. She slipped her hand inside and it met an object, balanced on the wooden slats that ran along the underneath of the bed.

She pulled out a brown, battered leather bag – she’d never seen it before. It felt too light to contain bottles of alcohol. Shirley looked at it for a few seconds, fearing where all this was leading. How would she approach Eric, and how would he react to knowing she had gone snooping like this?

But she would deal with that later.

Shirley pulled back the zipper and gasped.

This was much more serious than she had ever imagined.

36

Sam finally gave up on sleep at four am. For hours he’d struggled to find rest in a shallow slumber. His body just wouldn’t relax. He reached the realisation that he just didn’t want to sleep. Sleep was about rest and relaxation, but that was the last thing he wanted to do while Anna was still missing.

He paced around the flat for a few minutes, checking his mobile and home phone for any messages, texts or missing calls. There was nothing. Sam made himself a strong coffee, and then booted up the computer. He checked his email, just as he had done on returning from Marcus’s, some five hours ago. But there was nothing new there either. Now he craved what only yesterday he’d dreaded – contact from this sick individual.

Sam listened again intently to the audio of the train crash, eyes closed, hoping that something would rise from the recording that would help to explain all this. But all the recording served to do was to transport him back to that horrific event. It set his skin on edge, listening again to the girl’s desperate cries over the noise of the oncoming train.

Sam thought back to what Louisa has said about telling the police. Was he wrong in not telling them? It hadn’t been an easy decision, and it certainly didn’t feel comfortable. Would the person who had Anna find out if he did tell the police? It all depended on how closely he was being watched.

He slid across a pad of paper, and taking a pen, wrote out his sister’s name in the centre of the blank page. Around that he wrote several other names: Jane Ainsley, Shirley Ainsley, Alison Ainsley, girl at scene of train crash (drowned), Richard Friedman, Marcus Johnson, Louisa, Sam, Anna. And then two more names: Vincent McGuire, boyfriend of Jane Ainsley, and girl watching from the bridge. Between those names he wrote the words; Cathy’s murder, train crash, drowned girl, drugs in locker, Anna’s kidnap, Richard Friedman’s suicide.

Sam stared at the page until his head throbbed. He underlined Richard’s Friedman’s name three times. He still seemed the key to this. He’d had Cathy’s necklace. He said he’d killed her, whether that was now true or not. Sam flicked on the stereo and selected Coldplay’s Fix You from the hard drive: one of Anna’s favourite songs. He sat back, closed his eyes and could almost feel his wife’s warming breath on his neck. It made him feel like crying, but he needed to be strong.

Sam woke with his head flat against the computer desk, the piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He grimaced from the pain in his neck as he pulled himself upright. Sunshine bathed the room in an early morning hue of yellow. He looked at the clock. Just after eight. He may not have wanted to sleep, but he had needed it.

Sam dressed quickly before travelling over to the hospital. As promised, Louisa was waiting for him in the far corner of the cafeteria. But unexpectedly, Marcus was sat with her. Sam nodded a hello to him as he sat down, uncomfortable with his presence. Although he no longer believed Marcus was behind all this, it didn’t necessarily mean he wanted him so close this soon.

Marcus seemed to pick up on his unease. ‘Hope you don’t mind me being here. I can leave if you like.’

‘It’s okay,’ Sam said.

‘Any more news?’ Louisa asked.

‘Nothing,’ Sam replied. ‘Total silence.’

Louisa smiled sadly. She then reached into her bag and slid a piece of paper across the table. ‘I hope this helps, I really do.’

Sam pulled it up. Richard Friedman’s address. He lived in Hackney, West London, some ten miles away from the hospital. ‘Thanks,’ he said, recognising Louisa’s discomfort with all this. ‘It means lot.’

Louisa nodded. ‘Just don’t do anything silly, Sam.’

‘I won’t.’

She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve got to go. My first appointment is in five minutes. Let me know what happens.’

Marcus remained seated as Louisa walked away. ‘She really cares for you.’

‘I know,’ Sam replied.

‘She really didn’t enjoy keeping it a secret you know, that we were seeing each other.’

Sam just stared down at Richard Friedman’s address.

Marcus continued. ‘She didn’t want to hurt you. She wanted to help me, but she felt as though she was betraying you.’

Sam nodded. ‘I know she did it for the right reasons. She always does do things for the right reasons.’

‘I’ve missed you both,’ Marcus revealed. His face flushed with embarrassment that the words had sprung out. ‘We were all such good friends.’