Antidote (Don't) (43 page)

Burying a cry, I pushed away and headed on through the halls to my bedroom. By the time I’d showered, got into some pyjama bottoms and climbed in bed, Ed was pushing through with a tray and coming over.

“I’ve added some homemade bread, just a few slices,” he said, laying the tray on the bed. The fresh smell of coffee hit the bedroom too. “If you need anything else, you just give me a call, okay.”

Hairs prickled on my neck and I buried that rush to snarl every expletive under the sun at him to get things back to normal. I needed fucking normal. “This is fine, thanks,” I said, pulling the tray closer. Ed gave a smile, then headed for the door.

“Actually, Ed?”

“Yes?” He looked back.

“Could you do me a flask of this for morning, for work? Maybe for the next few days too?”

“It’s Sunday, you don’t open on—oh.” He stopped himself. “Okay. Only not a flask. I know your break times, so I’ll arrange for one of the staff to bring some fresh soup to work for you throughout the day.”

“That’s really not necessary,” I said, looking up, slipping the cloth over the butter knife.

“Jack, it’s homemade soup, my finest. It doesn’t go in a flask.” He left me to it at that and I looked down at the soup. I wasn’t hungry, didn’t need coffee, but I ate and drank it all anyway. Then I got up and took my meds, avoiding looking at the toilet as I downed them with a glass of water. The knife was gone from the tray. Where? I couldn’t really give a fuck.

I’d been in extreme scenes that left me dreading getting things back to normal, but the hurt going on in my body made me now want to crawl up into a corner and stay there. But normal. I needed normal as soon as fucking possible, not photo casual, not routine, just fucking normal. No talking, no memories, no mentioning anything about Jack shit, to anyone.

Jan

I was getting into a bad place; I knew that. Unlike Jack going to work for the past week, I hadn’t left Gray’s manor, not really noticing it until Gray had asked me to get dressed and go for a ride. There was security here at Gray’s, and not just in the physical sense with Gray’s guards patrolling the perimeter. The manor itself had that comfort to it, one I didn’t think I’d come to rely on too much until I stood there in Gray’s room trying to dress. It was getting on for lunch, and Gray was waiting downstairs to head on over to Jack’s garage and give him his lunch.

Just a trip to Jack’s garage, ease up the pressure on Ed and Mrs. Booth, and take Jack’s soup to him, maybe sit in his office for a while, not talk if he didn’t want to. Seeing him would be enough. And hopefully the smell of grease and oil would be enough to just let him be close to me without his face paling and looking like he needed to be sick.

Half an hour. Just half an hour there, half an hour back.

“Usually Ed’s soup is hot enough to melt the icecaps.”

I looked at Gray as I got in his Mercedes. He was acting chauffeur, so I took the passenger side next to him. “Huh?”

He nodded at the tub of soup in my hands. “It’s not a life preserver,” he said quietly. “You can loosen your grip before you get second-degree burns.”

The heat from the soup kicked in a little then and I put the tub between my feet on the floor. “At least he’s eating,” I said easing back and rubbing at my hands as he pulled away. I sneaked a look at Gray. “And taking his meds.” I wondered if Jack knew Gray was keeping close tabs. “Just wish he was talking,” I said more moodily than I’d intended.

Gray glanced over as he shifted gear. “He’s not been in touch with Halliday since the hospital. Neither have you,” he said, eyes now focused on the road. “That’s a concern.”

“Yeah...” The soup took my attention. “I know. I just need Jack, Gray. As selfish as that is. You spoke to Halliday?”

“Only to find out that Jack didn’t attend yesterday’s appointment. Halliday won’t discuss Jack with anyone but Jack.”

I snorted. “Even though he knows what you do for a living? Brave man.” I rubbed tiredly at my eyes. “Wouldn’t surprise me if you have a copy of Jack’s file sitting on your study desk at home.”

Gray just snorted a smile as we pulled into Jack’s garage. Another black Mercedes sat discreetly in the corner. No acknowledgement was given between Gray and the occupants of the other car. I knew who they were, and they sure as hell knew who Gray was.

“You’ve spoken to your mother?” said Gray quietly.

I gave him a nod. The formal questions he’d asked me had been done at his, along with a formal statement. Whatever checks he’d done with my family had been kept away from me, although the rush of calls that came through off my mother and sisters, a scramble of tag-team unite to try and find out what was going on, had assaulted the usual quiet of Gray’s. They’d quieted down over the past few days. Gray hadn’t given them any details, I knew that much, but I was far from ready to talk too. There had been a quiet understanding from the other end of the phone from my mother, that sense that something was more than just wrong, but that it needed time and patience. She had plenty of that and seemed to calm my sisters down without saying much else either. Time. Everything needed time.

“Any further leads with the Leamore woman?” I said eventually. Gray seemed to be the only one constantly in work mode, whether tracing leads or just being aware of movement around me or Jack, especially movement around the manor and Jack’s work.

“No traces yet, but her bank account held a few surprises.”

“Surprises?”

“Large deposits of cash from an untraceable source that started six months ago. It’s timed with large withdrawals and work colleagues stating Leamore had started spending more extravagantly. New car, clothes, meals out.”

I nodded.

“All money was also withdrawn from her account the day we got you two back; ID cards have also been recovered from her home, also some recent photos and observations of Jack’s movement to and from his home.”

“So she did know Jack.”

“From preliminary investigations, yes. Interviews with her ex-husband said he’d caught Martin and Leamore in bed together; Martin played serious head games with April’s family, and their marriage disintegrated from that point on.” He fell quiet for a little too long, and I watched him.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Hmm?” Gray glanced at me. “Greg mentioned that April asked if Greg was Jack’s dad.”

“And?” But I frowned, maybe seeing what the issue was. “How did she know Greg was Jack’s dad, especially if she’d only seen this Martin?”

Gray gave a thin smile.

The more he was mentioned, the more I didn’t like the sound of this Martin. Jack had never shown any interest in women, why the hell would Martin? And what kind of head games had he been involved with back then? “Jack had been what, eighteen, nineteen during those states. How old was this woman when he slept with her?”

“Records put her at thirty-five when she met Jack, seventeen years older than him.”

I fell quiet. Jack was drawn to older men, Gray being the main point of discussion here. But Cutter had been older too, a good ten years. Seemed he preferred the older female too. I’d been the exception. Or maybe I was just Jack going casual, throwing something out of order? Would he feel the need to push everything back into place eventually? Where would that leave me? “And her husband, he doesn’t know April’s whereabouts?”

Gray shook his head and shifted to grab something out of his jacket. From his wallet, he pulled out a picture. “Do you recognise her at all?”

I stared for long moments, then eventually took the photo. Hair was long and straight, greying at the temples. The woman in the photo hugged an Old English Sheepdog, forcing her to tilt her head slightly to dodge a huge tongue that was trying to get her cheek. Although slightly overweight, there was something about her that said she’d been a looker in her youth. She carried the weight well now. But mostly she looked... normal. Not like she’d want to see two men raped for the fun of filming it.

“Jan?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Okay,” said Gray, slipping the photo back in his wallet and tucking it back in his pocket.

“Suppose I better get this to Jack.” I gave a shaky sigh. “Won’t be long.” I was about to reach down and take hold of the soup when Gray’s hard look toward the open garage roller doors caught my attention. Jack had just come outside, followed a moment later by a man and an older-looking woman, both wearing suits. Jack had stopped by Sam’s Corsa, now leaning back against it with folded arms. The two strangers stood close, seeming intent and focused on whatever Jack was saying.

A text came through for Gray, and he was already shifting to get at it. He didn’t look impressed as he read it, switching his gaze between the mobile and the two people hovering around Jack. He sorted through his contacts, then he typed in a message and pressed send.

“Foe?” I said, wise enough to recognise the change in Gray.

Gray watched Jack say goodbye to the man and the woman. Then he waited for Jack to head on back into the garage. As the two strangers rounded Jack’s garage and started to head off toward a few cars parked along the side of Jack’s place, Gray kept a close watch on them.

“Usually friend,” said Gray pushing out. Giving a frown, I finally found the will to get out and follow Gray as he headed off after them. I caught up just as the woman pulled open the driver side door of a Lexus. She looked a little startled as Gray pushed it shut and leaned against the panel, arms folded.

“Detective Chief Inspector Sanders,” he said, not looking at her. “What business do you have with Mr. Harrison?”

The woman frowned for an instant, then, giving a nod over to the man who was looking over the car at Gray, she said, “Detective Sergeant, can you give us a minute please?” A look over at me as I waited on the other side of the road, the DS eased down into the car.

“Is Mr. Harrison under investigation by MI5?” the DCI asked, looking at me too. If she was the police, then she’d just got me wrong. I was nothing to do with MI5, but Gray didn’t correct her.

“That’s none of your business,” said Gray flatly, and Sanders sorted around in her jacket. She’d had her keys a moment ago and I’d seen her slip them into her left pocket.

“Likewise,” she said to Gray, not even looking at him as she cursed under her breath. She found her keys and tugged the car door open. Gray shut it again, this time leaning against it.

“I asked a question.” Gray eased back, folded his arms as Sanders sighed heavily.

“Move please, Mr. Raoul.”

Gray smiled down to the floor. “Not what I asked you. Answer the fucking question I did.”

Sanders snorted, causing a piece of hair to fall from her bound hair. “Don’t you just love the Secret Service arseholes,” she added reaching for the handle of her car. “We’re investigating Mr. Harrison’s kidnap and rape,” she said flatly and that won all of Gray’s attention.

“Not anymore.”

Sanders only narrowed her eyes. “This is police business. It interests MI5 because?” she said.

“Regional instability,” he said flatly. “The case is already under investigation.”

“And Mr. Harrison?”

“Witness protection.”

“Yours?”

“Mine.”

“Then we’ll assist in any way we can. I’m not your enemy here, Mr. Raoul.”

A mobile text alert was heard and Sanders pulled out her phone. “Excuse me a moment,” she said. “Oh, right,” she looked at her mobile. “We won’t be assisting.” She focused on Gray. “Have a nice day, Mr. Raoul. Give my boss, Mr. Brennan, my regards.”

“One more thing,” said Gray, stopping her. “Did he give you a statement?”

“Mr. Harrison? Not formally, no,” she said, easing back. “With the drugs they put in his system, it makes him a pretty unreliable witness.”

“Did you tell him that?” Gray didn’t look happy.

“Of course not,” Sanders said stiffly. “We were going to check out the details he could remember, see if we could draw something from that.”

“What details?”

Sanders reached in the car and took something off the DS. A notepad. Easing back up, she started thumbing through it. “The name “Vince” was mentioned. No surname. Also that Mr. Harrison was at home during the kidnapping. He spoke to his mother, saw her, but wasn’t too sure on the second one there.”

“On seeing his mother. Why?”

Sanders turned a page. “Said she just looked and smelled different.”

“But there was a woman?”

Sanders shrugged. “Harrison knows his system was pumped full of drugs, even he said there was a possibility the ‘she’ could have been a ‘he in drag’.”

Gray nodded. “Anything else?”

Sanders went to slip the notepad in her pocket, but Gray took it off her. “He just wants to know who,” she said quietly. “He didn’t go into graphic detail, just some of the sights and smells he remembered.” She glanced over at me. “I think he’s lucky to have been given those drugs. It doesn’t sound a good place to be.”

Gray nodded, then opened the door for Sanders to get in. She eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then took the hint, even though Gray had taken her notepad.

“If Mr. Harrison phones and asks for an update,” he said, leaning down to talk. “Tell him you’re investigating a few leads surrounding Corsica and a woman named April Leamore.”

“April Leamore?”

“Leamore,” said Gray before shutting the door. Waiting for a car to pass, Gray came over and we waited for Sanders and her DS to pull away, Sanders’ gaze staying on us.

“Why involve the police?” I said, frowning.

“I don’t know. But Sanders mentioned Jack thought it happened at his home.”

“I thought you’d told him about the warehouse—that Vince was out of the picture?”

“I did.” A glance down at the notepad, Gray headed back toward the garage.