Out of Sight Out of Mind (21 page)

‘I am Jayston Creed. The man who signed your book is called Eddie Jones.’ Jay’s head was down. He seemed to be finding something fascinating on the scarred surface of the old pine table. ‘He was one of my first associates. There was a mix-up when we presented research papers together at a conference in Berlin. A news service used his picture instead of mine.’ Jay’s voice had no intonation, the flatness of exhaustion. Madison flopped into a chair. This sounded like the truth.

‘Big conferences – they were never my thing. I preferred to press on with the work. Eddie was good at putting stuff over to large audiences. The next big event …’ He shrugged. ‘We just kept up the deception. At first it was kind of a joke – seeing if anyone would notice. It worked, and it seemed like a good idea, so … from then on, Eddie became the face of Jayston Creed.’

‘But there were other pictures, from the trial,’ she objected.

She saw him flinch. Had he really expected that she wouldn’t know?

‘Archive shots, or snatch stuff, taken with a long lens. Eddie and I, we look enough alike to pass. It was a closed court. The security services saw to that.’

‘That’s who you work for now? The security services? They shut down the trial and got you out? Everyone says you’re dead,’ she accused.

He shrugged.

She sat back, not wanting to believe him. Unfortunately it made sense. To someone employed in the world she inhabited. No way would she want to work for the people he represented. She
never
wanted to be that kind of spook, living in a shadow world. Her life was complex enough already. ‘How was it done? The barrier?’

‘As you thought, an enhancement of the control function. You were right on the money, Madison.’

She didn’t want to hear the praise. ‘And that’s what this was about, was it? Testing me?’

‘There’s always a place on my team for a fresh mind.’

‘Not this one.’ She felt dizzy. She realised it was relief. This was about what this bastard wanted, about
him
, not about her and her work. It had crossed her mind, sitting in the car in the rain, outside the general store, with its sad little holiday display, that Creed might have another reason for this charade – that he was testing the extent of her powers for her employers. It didn’t look like it. No one was checking up on her. Her life could go on as normal. Once she got this man out of it. ‘I appreciate your flattering interest, Dr Creed, but I don’t have any plans to change my job in the near future. Of course, I may well be wanting to write this up, for the professional journals.’

She got a nasty spark of pleasure from putting the knife in.

‘You may not get the chance to publish it.’

‘Threats, Dr Creed?’ She pushed back her chair. ‘I know I’m naive, but I’ve always believed that the truth will out. Somehow.’

She got to her feet. It was time to finish this. She had all the information she needed. This whole charade had been a perverse, demented job interview. The man had to be more than three-parts crazy.
Hold that thought
.

She shut her mind to the clamouring curiosity that wanted to ask for the real story
. Did you kill your wife, Dr Creed?
Did you get away with murder?

And the anguish behind the curiosity.
We made love. When you were inside me, did that mean anything?
She blanked the thought, forcing all the power she had into it. No memories about lying in the arms of a murderer. No wondering if she could, even now, learn to trust this man.

‘I think we’re finished here. Do you want a lift?’

‘Thanks, but I’ll walk.’

Madison opened her mouth to argue, then shut it. Why did she care? He’d go as far as the nearest phone and call up whatever backup team he had in place. There’d probably be a fast car to collect him within the hour, maybe even a helicopter.

Backup team – the ones intercepting her results at the lab? It fitted.

And never mind if it messes me up with my current employer – having someone else sniffing around. Thanks a bunch, you arrogant bastard.

The fresh pulse of anger was hot, but it didn’t do much to warm the cold place inside her.

She stood beside the sink, well away from him. No excuse for him to brush close to her when he left. That cold place in her heart yearned for one last touch, but it wasn’t going to happen. If he touched her she might still unravel in his arms. She couldn’t even trust herself.

After a pause, when he seemed to be gathering himself together, Jay got up. He reached for the waterproof coat that was hanging on the back of the door.

‘I’ll go now. I don’t need to take anything with me.’ He stopped, eyes searching her face. She kept it averted, watching him covertly from under her lashes, keeping her mind veiled, blocking out any probe he might send in. He took a step towards her. Instinctively she leaned back, ready to move. He raised his hand, then dropped it again, in a curiously forlorn gesture that added another unwelcome layer of ice to the ache in her heart. She felt sick.
Just leave, why don’t you?

‘You should stay on here, Madison.’ His voice was low, but unexpectedly urgent. ‘The forecast is for more fine weather. Take a longer holiday. You deserve it.’

She caught her breath at the barefaced cheek, but even outrage wasn’t going to make her look at him. ‘You’re not my boss, Dr Creed, nor likely to be. Goodbye.’

He hesitated for a moment longer, eyes still fixed on her profile. Then, at last, he turned to open the door. ‘Goodbye, Madison. Take care.’

The door closed. She heard the crunch of his step on the gravel path for a few paces and then – nothing.

With a swift pounce towards the table, she snatched up the mug that he’d used, hurled it at the wall, and burst into tears.

Jay turned his collar up and began walking along the empty road. Rain had soaked his hair in seconds, running down his face. His head was still fuzzy. Regret was pulling, like a sickening millstone, on his neck. He wiped his hand across his eyes, not sure whether all the wetness was rain.

If only …
Saddest two words in any language. He straightened up. No point in going there. He’d known the price of failure before he got into this.

If he could save Madison, then it wouldn’t be a failure.

She’d run out of tissues. Which meant it was time to stop crying.

There was a long stain of coffee on the kitchen wall, with the debris of the mug below. She got a cloth and dustpan. A small cut on her finger from the broken pottery almost made her cry again. She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

She’d had what … a lucky escape? A close encounter of the worst kind?

She sat down heavily on the floor. So many things were slotting into place. She had never met the real Creed.
Not until you picked him up one night in a dark alley
. No wonder she’d always found their official meetings curiously flat, and disappointing. She’d shaken the hand of Eddie Jones, the substitute, not Creed, the real deal. Jonathan was going to love this story. As soon as she got back.

She looked around the room. She could pack the car and be in London in four or five hours. Lock this place and throw away the key. Erase all traces of Jay from the studio and the apartment. Get her work back on track – pick up all the projects she’d let slide in the last two months. Be ready for a fresh start on Wednesday, when the lab reopened.

It sounded like a plan.

She got to her feet. The rain was coming down in sheets. Anyone foolish enough to be out walking in it was going to get really, really wet.

The book Jay had been reading was still face down on the floor in the other room. She picked it up, smoothing down the spine. Should she take it with her, or leave it here? Would it be a useful reminder never to trust a glib stranger? Or would it turn her stomach every time she looked at it? She put it on the table, until she could decide.

The cushions on the sofa were still dented from where he’d been lying. She straightened them and plumped them up, smoothing the fabric with hands that were not quite steady. The mouse from the fairground was squinting at her from his place on the window seat. She picked him up to hug him to her chest, resting her face in soft fur.

Tears were rising in her throat again. She sucked them back.

She put the mouse down on the table. She’d take him back to London. Donated to a charity shop, he had a chance of making a child happy.

Uncomfortable shivers of recollection were replaying in her mind, like scenes from an old film. She saw herself sitting across the table from Jay, eating food that he’d cooked for her. She’d promised him that night that she’d have no regrets, whoever he turned out to be. She bit her lip. Implicit in that declaration there’d been a second promise – that she’d stand by him, whoever he turned out to be.
But that was then, before you knew that the whole thing was a scam.

With an effort she put the image out of her head, along with the picture of Jay standing by the door, before he’d walked out into the rain. Of the outstretched hand that she’d pointedly ignored. What purpose would have been served to take it?

You know, for a con man, he didn’t have much to say in his own defence.

‘Whose side are you on?’ She was talking to herself again! With a grunt of irritation she gathered up a pile of magazines and slung them into the basket by the hearth that held kindling.

Maybe she wouldn’t let this place go. She could rent it out. There were so many young people who needed a home, priced out by second homers, like her.

She sat down on the sofa. Jay had wanted her to stay here. She frowned. He’d been insistent on it. Almost as if he wanted her promise not to return to London.

What’s in London that he doesn’t want you to find?

Was there some other part of his elaborate scheme that she hadn’t discovered yet?

Elaborate scheme
. She picked up a cushion and hugged it to her middle. The whole thing had been completely over the top. All that, just to test her and maybe recruit her?
Come on – would they really want you that badly?

There was more to this.

The conviction went through her with sickening realisation. For a moment she felt faint, then her sight and her thoughts cleared. She’d been too wrapped up in her own emotions to see it. Jay had given in, and got out, far too easily. Almost as if he wanted to avoid any more questions. And fogged with betrayal, she’d let him go.
Oh no.

She threw the cushion on the floor and surged to her feet. The keys to the car were in her pocket. She tossed her coat over her shoulders, to protect her from the rain, and made a run for it.

She stopped the car at the junction of the track and the road, peering through the deluge. Which way?

On a gamble she turned right. Nothing but high hedges and sheets of rain. He had a head start on her, of at least half an hour. Would he have already reached a phone? Hitched a ride?

When she spotted the phone box, beside the road, her hands clenched on the wheel. Heart in her mouth, she half-rammed the car into the hedge and scrambled out, not quite sure why.

The broken glass and the shattered handset, dangling lifeless from the wall, made her heart lurch. The rain had already plastered her hair to her skull and seeped in at the neck of her jacket, but she barely noticed. She flung herself into the driving seat. What would Jay have done when he found the vandalised phone?

Should she go on? Or go back?

She chose on.

The road was narrow, barely wide enough for two cars to pass, the hedges on either side towering and impenetrable. She couldn’t even see into the fields beyond. She ploughed forward, uncertain of her choice, head shifting from side to side as she hunted for a place to turn.

She drove past him.

He was standing on a narrow strip of verge that bordered the lane, almost one with the rain, sheltering in the inadequate lee of an elder bush. Barely thinking, she threw the car into reverse, blocking him, so he couldn’t get away from her. She reached across the seat to open the passenger door.

‘Get in!’

‘I don’t—’

She leaned out of the car and yanked at the first thing she got a hold on. His feet slipped on the wet grass and she felt the impact as he collided with the side of the car. She kept on yanking, with a death grip on the sleeve of his coat.

‘All right. I’ll come quietly.’ She didn’t let him go until he’d squelched into the seat beside her and she’d leaned across him to shut and lock the door. ‘Madison, I don’t know what this is about—’

‘You lied to me.’

‘We’ve been through all that – if you followed me to—’

‘No.’ She waved the words away. ‘All that, back at the cottage. That was the lie.’
Don’t cry now.

She put up a hand to the nape of his neck, and pulled him towards her. As she slammed her mouth against his, she opened her mind. Power erupted between them, like a fountain of emerald sparks. She let him go. He was shaking. Or maybe it was her.

‘You lied.’ She was surprised how even her voice sounded.

‘I let you assume—’

‘It’s the same thing, Jay.’ She twisted to look at him. He really was soaked. Dark, drenched patches stained the waterproof jacket and his hair was a mat of soggy rat’s tails. She started the car, backing halfway into the hedge to turn it. ‘Put your belt on.’

‘Um – this is kidnapping.’

‘In the country, in a downpour, no one can hear you scream,’ she informed him tartly. ‘You’re coming back to the cottage. And when I’ve dried you out, you’re going to tell me everything.’

‘Or?’

‘Or I turn this car around again and we head straight to London, to the lab, and whoever has been helping you to set me up. Maybe they’ll tell me what this is all about.’

She didn’t have to look at him to know he’d given in.

She waited downstairs while he changed, drying her own hair with a towel. And keeping her ears open for sounds of escape, wondering what to do if he tried to run.

She didn’t have to decide, but she had begun to glance uneasily at the clock. The fresh logs she’d tossed on the fire were burning steadily by the time he came in and sat down beside it. He was watching her warily.

‘Right, this time I want the truth.’ She planted herself in the chair opposite to him. ‘Did you stage this charade to test me for yourself, or for my employers?’

His eyes widened at the second part of the question. Madison felt a warm trickle of relief to her bones. That spectre had still been lingering in her mind.
At least the lab isn’t involved. Your job is safe. It may be the only thing that is.

‘It wasn’t a test – at least – look, Madison. I know you have no reason to trust me, but could you do it anyway? Let me leave. Stay here. Don’t tell anyone where you are.’ His face was haggard. She couldn’t read his eyes. ‘By the end of the week it will all be over.’

‘What will?’ She stiffened in alarm. ‘This isn’t a terrorist thing, is it? Oh God!’

She was fumbling in her pocket for her phone. Jay was out of the chair and on his knees in front of her, hand over her wrist, before she depressed the first nine.

Her skin burned where he touched.

Then her mind shuddered as his thoughts leapt into hers. She tried to recoil, until she realised that he wasn’t invading her. He was pulling her into him.

‘Not terrorism.’

All her senses told her it was true.

‘What then?’

He was reaching still, trying to surround her with soothing waves of reassurance. The distraction wasn’t strong enough.
He
wasn’t strong enough. With a mental push, she parried the connection, but his fingers were still tingling on her wrist. He’d touched her, which gave her the right to touch him. She skewered his chest with her finger. ‘You set me up. Made me look a fool. This whole thing was a great big experiment. So what the hell was it for?’

Suddenly she was mad, good and mad. Spits of power spilled out of her and into him. She could feel them landing, searing. Feel the sudden exhaustion in him that stopped him blocking them. He was just taking the hurt, letting it burn where it touched.

The fight went out of her.

‘Jay.’ She put her hand to his face, ran her fingers along his cheekbone. ‘Please tell me. Whatever it is, it has to be better if I know.’

He was still kneeling in front of her. He let her go and flopped backwards, on to the floor. ‘You’re not going to let this rest, are you?’

‘Damn right, I’m not.’

‘Not even if knowing can put you in danger?’

‘I’m already in danger.’ She didn’t know where that certainty had come from. ‘That’s why you want me to stay here, out of sight.’ She felt curiously calm. Somewhere inside her a little bubble of hope was forming.
How crazy is that?
She nudged him gently, with her foot. ‘If I know what it is I have to be afraid of, maybe I’ll understand the need to hide. So tell me.’

‘I don’t think I can.’ He got wearily to his feet, took her hands and guided her towards the sofa, pulling her down with him. ‘My head is still falling apart. You’ve seen it.’ He gave her a dog-eared smile. ‘I feel like shit, and I don’t have the energy left to talk. You’ll have to come in and take it.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Please.’ The plea was low and quiet. It did something to the pit of her stomach.

‘I … okay.’ She put her hand to his forehead, easing his head back against the sofa, stroking his hair, until she felt him relax. It took a few moments. He was wired and so was she. She pushed into his thoughts, and met residual resistance. ‘Let go.’

‘Madison.’ She had to lean close to hear him. ‘What’s in there … is bad. I’m sorry, so, so sorry. I didn’t know I was going to love you.’

Her mouth had just enough time to form a gasp of astonishment, her heart to give an incredible bound. Then the last barrier of his defences went down, and she fell, like silk, into his mind.