Before It's Too Late (33 page)

Authors: Jane Isaac

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Suspense, #Crime Fiction

I could still see the blade slicing through his forearms as if they were slabs of butter, all the time his pupils bearing into mine. Perhaps there is a limit to shock, it all mounts up and when you exceed that limit something inside of you bursts. Or something bad happens. Like you lose your child
.

Thick hot tears snaked down my cheeks. Maybe it would have been better if I had died back there. At least then I could put all those terrible memories behind me. My life wouldn’t be haunted by the darkness that now sat permanently within
.

Tom had been beaten, struck hard on the head and taped up, but thankfully survived. Like the policeman with him, he’d suffered cuts and bruises and a mild concussion, but would be released today. Tom had been allowed to sit beside me this morning, enveloping my hand in his. He’d tried to comfort me, to be brave, but really underneath the creases on his forehead I knew that he was secretly relieved. A baby was the last thing he needed right now. It was the last thing I needed too, although I couldn’t seem to stave off the overwhelming sense of loneliness
.

Later today, my parents would arrive. I wasn’t sure if they knew about the baby. I’d spoken to my mother and father briefly after my escape. That was when I was initially released from hospital. Before the final stretch of my nightmare began
.

I’d decided to go back to China with them, at least for a while. I needed time, to go home, back to what I know, to feel safe and secure, be swaddled in love by my parents. I needed to sit with my father and eat rice noodles, cook with my mother. Only then would the thoughts that swirled furiously around my head start to settle
.

Chapter
Sixty-Two

Jackman sat next to Alice and took a sip of water. The rim of the plastic cup was split and he flinched as it caught his lip. He’d spent half an hour explaining where he’d been for the last few days, the surprising end to the case. The week felt like a whirlwind and he started to relax as the details flooded out.

Lonny had taken his twisted obsession with Min to its furthest degree. Qiang Li was just a pawn in his game, the instrument he used to get close to her. The much larger second ransom, Jackman suspected, was intended as Lonny’s payment to Qiang’s killers – they failed to collect it because the area was too open, the move too risky. An almost flawless plan, apart from Qiang bringing Whittaker in to send those emails, a man that could identify Lonny and confirm his association with Min’s uncle. He didn’t bank on hurting his ankle in the pit either, an injury that prevented him from escaping with Min and later retrieving the holdall that contained the memory stick and duct tape covered in his fingerprints. He cast his gaze to the side. “No plan is ever foolproof,” he said gravely.

Alice was sat upright in her bed. He reached across for the hairbrush and pulled it gently through her hair. It felt soft and silky and shone under the gentle sunlight that filled the room. When he’d finished he lay the brush down and rested her head back. “There, that’s better.” He smiled at her.

“Janus was all sunshine and smiles this morning when she returned to the office to find we’d closed the case.” He snorted. “But you should’ve seen Reilly’s face. You’d think he’d be happy that we had a charge on the Readman case and a possible link to the Northampton murder. Problem is, Lonny died following police contact. Reilly was furious at the prospect of the case being reviewed by the Independent Police Complaints Commission. Something tells me we’ll be stuck with him in homicide for a while. He won’t want that to be his epitaph.”

His face fell as his tone grew graver. “There’s talk of another chief inspector’s board at Christmas.” He stared at the floor as he spoke the words, almost to himself. “Not sure if Janus’ll support me, but I’ve gotta go for it, Alice. It might mean working in another area for a while, but I’d make sure I wasn’t too far away.” He rubbed his forehead in thought. “What do you think?”

Alice stared back at him.

For the first time in almost a year a tiny thread of hope wrapped itself around him. As he moved away, his elbow caught the corner of the exercise book Celia had placed beside the bed. It made a gentle splash as it hit the floor. He leant down and read the words she had written on the front:
For Mum. Never give up hope
.

If you enjoyed
Before It’s Too Late
, here’s a first chapter sample of
The Truth Will Out
:

Eva Carradine’s foot tapped a staccato rhythm as she sat back in her chair and waited for her computer to connect. Green velvet curtains shrouded the window beside her. An umbrella lamp and gas fire combined with the light of her laptop produced a soft hue in the room, just enough for her to view the buttons on her keyboard.

Naomi’s face appeared on the screen in front of her. No pleasantries were exchanged. No gestures made. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Eva’s stomach clenched. She stared at her friend’s crumpled face. “Naomi, don’t… We said we wouldn’t talk about this. We promised.” The image on her laptop flickered as Naomi reached across and took a glug from a glass of red. Crisp classical notes rose and fell in the background. “How was work?”

Naomi shook her head. “Hopeless. I can’t concentrate.” Her glass clattered as it hit the hard surface.

Eva flinched. “You need to get a grip.” She took a deep breath, “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“What if it’s not?”

Suddenly Naomi turned. For a split second she halted, her head inclined.

“Naomi, what is it?”

She whisked back to face Eva. “There’s somebody in the house… ”

The gloved hand appeared from nowhere. It stretched across Naomi’s mouth gripping her head back tightly, pulling her skin taut across her cheekbones.

Eva stared at the computer screen in horror. “Naomi?”

Naomi was pulled away, out of view. Eva heard crashing noises as blurred movements flashed across the screen. Urgent voices were muffled by the tranquil sound of Beethoven’s 6th, still playing distantly in the background. It was surreal, almost in slow motion, as if it were taking place under water.

Eva’s throat constricted. She leant in closer. “Naomi!”

A flash in the distance. Somebody approached the screen. The hand. It loomed towards her…

As it drew nearer, Eva felt the paralysis of fear take over. Just as the hand reached her, she scooted back, adrenalin igniting every muscle in her body with a sudden kick of energy. She fell over her chair, sending a coffee mug and a pile of magazines crashing to the floor in her scramble to get as far away as possible. A movement flashed over the Skype box on the screen before it went blank.

Naomi! A sharp pain spiked Eva’s lower back. She pressed her hand to it.

What should she do? Call an ambulance? The police? No! Not the police. Definitely not the police…

Ten minutes later, Eva opened her front door and glanced nervously up and down the street. A light carpet of snow covered everything in sight; an icy draught pinched at every bare patch of skin. She rushed past the maple out front, whipping its branches angrily against the relentless wind. By the time she had secured her case, locked her front door and reached the comfort of the driver’s seat, her teeth were chattering incessantly.

Eva wiped a palm across her forehead, pushing strands of hair out of her face. In desperation, she pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket and dialled Naomi’s number for the umpteenth time. The phone rang out – one, two, three – when it reached six and the answer phone kicked in, the muscles in Eva’s hands were trembling violently.

She glanced at the clock. The ambulance would be there by now. Eva yearned to see Naomi, make sure she was okay. But going over there could mean… A shiver skittered down her spine. She dialled another number, cursing as it switched to voicemail, leaving a desperate message. Come on, Jules. He had to be there. He promised.

Eva drew a shaky breath and ignited the engine. It was going to be a very long night.

Acknowledgements

A novel is never fully the work of one person and so many people have kindly helped and supported this one along the way.

I am grateful to Glyn Timmins and Ian Robinson for their input and guidance on not only police procedure, but also the working life of a detective. Thanks also to them and my dear friends Rebecca Bradley and Susi Holliday for reading early drafts and giving excellent feedback.

I owe a debt of gratitude to the wonderful people of Stratford-upon-Avon for their endless assistance in sending maps and helping with the finer details of locations, most notably Joyce Dooley. Thank you for sharing your special town with me.

Special thanks go to Wei Zhao, without whose wonderful insight into Chinese culture this book would never have been written. Any errors or omissions are purely my own.

Appreciation goes to Lauren Parsons, Tom Chalmers, Lucy Chamberlain, Lottie Chase and all the team at Legend Press and also my agent, Kate Nash, for believing in the book in its infancy and supporting me throughout the publication process.

So many friends and family helped with research and provided much-needed moral support including Jimi and Jude Ogston, Greg Hemmington, Emma Thompson and Peter Arnold, Jill Haine, David and Lynne Anderson, and Derek Archer.

Finally, David and Ella make my writing possible. Heartfelt thanks for their relentless patience, love and encouragement.

Come and visit us at
www.legendpress.co.uk

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