Antidote (Don't) (44 page)

“Excuse me, that’s marked staff only.”

I didn’t recognise the man in the reception as I pushed on through after Gray. Gray was already heading for the stairs when the man behind the desk made the mistake of getting in his way. The look off Gray deterred him from reaching a hand up to hold him off, but the man still didn’t move.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“You won’t have a fucking face if you don’t move,” said Gray, quietly, and the man gave a raised brow.

“I’m the manager here. And you just got yourself banned from going anywhere on these premises, my friend.”

“Not your friend.” Gray went close, but whatever threat running free there was buried as Sue came through, her eyes widening. “Gray.” She noticed me last. “Mr. Richards.” Gray got all of her attention again. “Mr. Raoul is allowed up to see Mr. Harrison, Aid.”

Ah, so that was Aid there.

“Okay, Sue,” said Aid, moving out of Gray’s way and heading over to the main doors through to the garage floor. He cast a wary glance back. “Be good to know these things.”

“Apologies,” said Sue and Aid gave her a practiced smile. “Would you like for me to take you through?”

“No thank you, Sue. Jack’s expecting us,” said Gray, and he took some of the stairs. I offered a smile over, which only made Sue frown, then I went up after Gray.

“You okay?” mouthed Gray, waiting, and I nodded, conscious of the soup. A tap on the door, Gray didn’t wait for an answer before he entered.

Jack was sat behind his desk, hair a little wilder than normal, as though he’d been dozing with head buried in arms folded on the desk. He eased back into his chair and wiped a hand over his face, and it was only as his hand fell that his body stiffened seeing Gray. Seeing me.

Trying to judge how many windows were open to counterbalance the draft from the door, how it might have caught and pushed my scent on him, I took the soup over to his desk. Jack started to stand, still looking so sodding pale, half-looking like he’d bolt out of the window if he could. Then he seemed to go grey, even colour draining from his lips, and he gave up, sitting back down heavily.

“Hungry?” I offered the soup over.

Because real men get dirty...

The falter was there, nearly pulling back with the soup to stop him shrinking away.

Jack didn’t look at me, just glared at the soup. I wished to God he’d just look at me.

“I told Ed not to bother sending anyone if it was problem,” he said, that bite there in his voice as he half-heartedly looked around me to Gray.

“It’s not a problem.” Gray came over, made a point of flicking a look at me, then Jack. “I just thought you might like some company.”

Jack never touched his soup as I left it there. “Not particularly,” he said. “I’m wanted on the garage floor in ten minutes.”

Lying fuck. Everything about him said so.

“Then this will only take five,” said Gray.

A grunt, Jack pulled the soup to him and opened it up. It came in one of those special bowls that had room for a spoon, and he peered in at it. Christmas day, he’d barely touched Vince’s food before throwing up. Had they been force feeding him too? It had taken me a while to think about picking up a spoon and try eating without gagging.

“Whilst we’re here,” said Gray, moving over to a comfy sofa. That was new. It even had the tag on it to say so. “I want to ask you a few things,” he said, taking a seat. Gray glanced at me, but I didn’t move.

“Not in the mood, Gray,” said Jack. He’d taken a few spoonfuls of soup, but he was looking a little uncomfortable.

“Why the police involvement?”

That couldn’t have been put any more bluntly from Gray, but then he wasn’t one for beating the proverbial bush, not without a living target in there he could leave bloodied for the effort. Jack eased back, rubbing at his head. “Police?”

“They were just here, Jack.” Gray seemed to physically push away any confrontation hearing it. “Who have you been talking to?”

“
Don’t talk to no-one over jack shit
,” snapped Jack, still not looking at me, but then he screwed his face and shrugged. “They turned up today saying I’d called them Monday morning—”

“Jack,” warned Gray, looking a little on edge. “Mart—”

“
Why the fuck would he call them?
” he shouted. “
I just don’t fucking remember.
”

Thoughts drifted back to Ed, to when he’d found Jack downstairs that night after coming out of the hospital. He’d mentioned that Jack had been sitting on a chair with the phone pulled onto the table. Just who the fuck
was
Martin and why the hell did he still have Gray on edge every time he was mentioned?

“I don’t know what the fuck happened,” snapped Jack. “Couldn’t have been such a bad idea, though. The sooner Vinc—” He stopped, not saying anything, fingers running over the soup bowl.

“Vince?” said Gray. “Jack, do you remember me saying Vince had been taken care of? That Keal was involved as well and he’s been taken out of the picture?” Jack narrowed his gaze at the soup as Gray sat forward, elbows now on his knees. “Doesn’t matter,” he added, watching Jack closely. “What is good is that you remembered some more detail, like with the piercing?”

I stiffened; Jack looked at the door—made a point of staring at the door.

“Jack,” said Gray. “I’m going over these details now and I’m going to repeat them every couple days. Do you remember the cameras in the bedroom at all? When you were with Vince?”

He tapped his spoon on the soup bowl, knee bouncing under the desk.

“Everything was being filmed,” I added quietly. A frown, nothing more. I thought he knew this. “The cameras were hooked to an observation room, one that filmed everything that happened.”

“Internet?” That was rushed out, panicked, but a question. Questions were so fucking good to hear. But I glanced at Gray quickly, not knowing the answer that to myself—needing to know the answer to that.

“We think there were only a few watchers,” said Gray quietly. “Nothing has been found on the web, but somebody was watching.”

Jack seemed to shiver.

“Do you remember that I mentioned April Leamore?”

Faster tapping came now on the bowl, enough to nearly knock the soup into a rowdy protest that would see it revolt and burn the way it was going.

“We think she’s the one who hired Vince to kidnap us and hold us in the warehouse,” I said. “Do you remember Gray saying it didn’t happen at your home?” The new settee here suggested that he didn’t remember. “The warehouse was set-up to look just like your hom—”

That was it, he lost whatever patience he had as he stood and headed for the office door.

“Jack,” said Gray, making him stop as he grabbed the handle. “Bad scene,” he said quietly. “You were strong enough to see it.”

Jack glanced over at me for the first time. There was something there in his eyes, I’d seen it briefly Saturday night when he’d come back from that first day’s work, that need to close the distance, say fuck to the hurt, cuddle up—hold—hide. He went to say something, there was hurt and shame in his look, but he stepped back from me in almost the same instant. A glance at Gray, a long look that seemed to cling on to him for a few minutes, he left.

Hearing the door close, I went back over to his desk and put the lid back on his soup. It was something to focus on other than Jack running away again.

“Hardest part,” whispered Gray, and I glanced up to find him right beside me. “Filling the blackness,” he said quietly. “Time.” Gray rubbed a thumb over my hand. “He just needs time.”

“He’s fucking hurting, Gray.”

“I know.” Gray frowned. “We’ll watch, wait. We do this his way, at his pace, at yours.”

Our way started to take a long time, and another four weeks of it led to the inevitable: Jack’s home.

Arms traced my waist, pulling me back slightly into a hold, and a kiss went to my neck as a gentle whisper was given, just a simple “You okay
?
” I let it push down the snap of anger, the need to scurry into the corner of Jack’s master bedroom and just hide. Sense told me the rape and torture hadn’t happened here, but all the smells, sights, just the familiarity of everything belonging to Jack was twisted and touched by Vince, even though he probably hadn’t risked touching anything here at all.

Gray’s men had taken prints, checking whatever else it was that they checked, but this was the first time that I’d stood here. We were close to where I’d sent the text to Gray, just before Vince had slipped in behind me, and it had that same night-hour quietness to it now. Bed sheets were gone, so to was the mattress. It was unclear whether Vince had taken Jack to the warehouse straight away, and I dreaded what tests were being done. But other than that, everything just seemed so normal; no hooks in walls, no chains, no torn out piercings, penis plugs.

“Jan?” said Gray, quietly.

“M’okay.” I’d needed Jack here to face this with me, but Gray was, and he offered that same calmness. I nodded, let my arms rest across his as he held me from behind, his grip a lot gentler than Vince’s.

Staff had been sent daily to my home to pick up my mail; then I found those letters appearing at the manor with the post through Gray. No doubt he’d had it redirected. Not quite sure how he got around the red tape there to do that, but then I hadn’t really cared. He’d done the same with Jack, redirecting his mail, taking care of his bills, mine. But where I now showed a need to get a foothold in reality, Jack hadn’t.

In fact, Jack hadn’t acknowledged life away from Gray’s, his garage, and his parents. All he’d done for the past four weeks was work, eat, and sleep. He looked better. A damn sight better than when he’d come out of hospital. He’d lost weight during his time with Vince, and the week that followed had only seen him lose more. His clothes had looked loose around his body, all the toned muscle that had been complemented with supple skin had just defined bone. Eventually soup had altered to light sandwiches a few days later, followed by a warm two-course meal a week or so after that. Ed always made sure Jack had the same when he got home, sometimes as late as one in the morning, although the offer of bacon in the morning was always turned down for some reason. So to were the offers from me to sit with him at lunch.

Jack had steadily gained weight, losing that pale and drawn look, looking more his old self. From the checks that Gray still did on Jack’s meds, Jack had kept religiously to them, which hopefully meant that his system was coping with the basics. Christ knows I knew how that felt. Gray didn’t ask, Jack didn’t say, neither did I. Some things were too private. This wasn’t a lack of communication, just the need to give Jack his space, let him come around and talk under his own steam. But apart from Saturday mornings where the working week seemed to catch up with him, and he stayed in bed a few times, occasionally running late for work, there was no pain in Jack eyes when he moved. From what Gray heard off DCI Sanders, Jack hadn’t been in touch with her at all, his life centring around work and the people who mattered. That left me where?

Other than that, he showered, changed, brushed his teeth, and shaved, all the normal routine. But I hadn’t once seen him go casual with a photo or magazine. He hadn’t once washed his hands more than necessary. Ed would deliberately use the mats Jack hated on the dining table, and Jack hadn’t complained. Just ate his dinner and left the mess for Ed to clear up. Something Jack had never done before either.

We all looked for the signs that he was fighting not doing it, but there was none. No inner battle about him, just getting on with life. Taking away the rape and torture, Gray said Vince had used a known technique by psychologists to help OCD sufferers to come to terms with their disorder. In some sick way, it seemed to have worked.

In an even more sick way, Vince had just got to keep another part of Jack. And as the threat of Jack’s blackouts and absences seemed to have settled, maybe it was a part we’d never get back.

“I’ll have to ask Jack if he wants me to sell this place,” said Gray, focusing my attention again. I looked around his bedroom, to the bed, to where Jack and I had slept that night, how he’d hid in me.

“No,” I said quietly, resting back onto Gray’s shoulder. “He’s still here,” I mumbled. “Keep the good, fucking annihilate the bad.”

Another kiss graced my cheek. “Just have to get his ass back in here,” said Gray and I turned to face him.

“Maybe we can tickle him into submission? It would be good to hear him cry again how his giggles are ‘manly, not fucking girly giggles’.”

Gray dropped his gaze so quickly then, maybe for different times, different memories.

“No fingerprints were pulled from here?” I said, looking at the DVD player in particular. I couldn’t even remember if they’d been wearing gloves.

“Nothing.” Gray shifted over to the window and looked out. “Same went for the fibres on your clothes, the ones they took over to the warehouse.”

“This Leamore woman, the psychological aspect, she knew what she was doing.”

“Certainly had the background knowledge, or access to it at least.” Gray leaned back against the window frame as the blind fell back into place. “Organised. Everything timed until it fell apart with the overdose.”

I looked at him. “You still don’t sound happy, like with April saying ‘Jack’s’ dad, not Martin’s.”

He stayed quiet, maybe not ready to say anything.

“What about the mock-up of Jack’s home? Anything there?”

Gray shook his head. “No prints except yours and Jack’s.”

Had they been wearing gloves? “Nothing to tie Leamore to it?”

Gray thinned his lips in answer. “We know Leamore took a trip to Corsica just a few weeks after Mark Shaw had died, and the warehouse changed hands via a company over there roughly at the same time, also when those links were downloaded.”

“But you’re still not happy.”

“Something stinks about this whole set-up. Some things fall too easily into place, others... Then there’s how April knew Jack, and the money deposited in her account.”

“Where it came from?”