Stop Me (15 page)

He thrust himself forward, attempting to put as much of his body out of reach but the grip on his ankle tightened. He heard the wooden steps creaking under Coker’s weight and the drag on his leg decreasing as he moved over Leo’s flattened body. Leo waited for the pierce of the blade but Coker was moving up further and he guessed it was to cut his vocal cords. Coker obviously didn’t want to disturb the neighbours and silencing him would be his first priority.

Snared, Leo felt his chin graze the edge of the step below the top one. He thrust out his hands against it and pushed himself back with as much force as he could. His body slid under Coker and he felt his feet connect with his attacker’s shins. Leo heard a yelp of pain as they both shuddered down the stairs and then Coker’s weight on him as they hit the bottom. He thrashed out his limbs in all directions and pushed back on the heavy bulk with his spine, freeing himself and righting his balance as he staggered up and backwards against the front door. His back connected with its solidity and he straightened his legs and slid himself up it as Coker got from his knees and turned towards him. 

Coker didn’t straighten, however. The knife was jutting sideways from the left of his ribcage and a new, dark insignia on his white shirt was spreading to match the blood-red paintings on the walls. 

The knife was almost in to the handle and Coker’s mouth was open and silently attempting to draw air. He fell backwards and hard against the bottom of the stairs but the impact didn’t register. He looked down at the blade handle as if weighing up his chances of survival and curled his fingers around it – not with any intention of trying to pull it out but almost as if he were caressing it. His fingertips were dyed red against the wound and as his heart pumped more blood around the blade it sprayed the front of his chinos. His feet gave way, the bottoms of his heels sliding the hallway carpet away from his body – but Coker’s focus was only on the handle. A noise escaped his mouth. Not a yell or a moan but the sound of something inside rupturing – a low hiss and a gurgle that he had no control over. 

Opening the door seemed to take minutes as Leo’s fingers fumbled with the handle and he anticipated Coker on his back. As soon as he was out of the house and into the pathway at the back of the gardens however, his instinct to run immediately ebbed. Everything seemed so normal again and he couldn’t even hear the sound of the TV from within the house. It was uncannily silent and it immediately decelerated him, his speed walk losing pace before he was back in the main passageway.

In the square he used the payphone to call 911. He wondered how long it would take for an ambulance to reach Coker if he wasn’t dead already. Leo thought about the sound that Coker had made but felt desensitised to what had just happened. He wouldn’t feel the bruising on his ribs and ankle until he was on the plane home. His brain compartmentalised Coker with the knife sticking in him while another instinct took charge and impelled him to get out of Winnett. Out of Winnett and home. There was no reason to remain a second longer here than he had to.

It seemed only a stroke of luck had allowed Leo to escape with his life. He was also convinced that Coker had been telling the truth about Laura and Louis Allan-Carlin. What reason had he to lie?

He vaguely registered a familiar face smiling at him. It was the red-headed pregnant girl he’d seen earlier, but he didn’t notice her expression turn to 
dismay as she looked into his blank stare.

So Leo was no closer to finding Laura but the trip had brought him closer to the truth or, at least, eliminated the most likely candidates. Bonsignore, Bookwalter, Coker – they were names that had no relevance to what had really happened in Chevalier’s on that Christmas shopping day. He’d been looking in the wrong direction.

The chill and wind of London blasted away the dislocation he’d felt about what had happened in Coker’s hallway and as he crossed the tarmac towards baggage retrieval a feeling beyond nausea saturated him. It was likely a serial killer lay at the bottom of the stairs in Winnett – stuck with his own blade as he’d attempted to take Leo’s life. But the thought of another human being, whoever they were, dying as a result of Leo’s actions was something he knew he’d not even begun to contemplate.

He wondered how much evidence he’d left in the house and what he’d touched – the stair, the picture frame, the fridge and the front door handle at the very least. Perhaps the ambulance had arrived in time to save him – in which case, would Coker really want to tell the truth about what had happened? Whatever the outcome, on the flight home Leo had elected to keep an eye on the area’s local news via the internet, find out what had happened and decide when was the best time 
to submit the info he had on Coker to the state police.

Now though, he needed the company of friends – somebody to relay everything that had happened to him since he’d landed in the States.

More than the desire to see Ashley though was an overriding need to know why she had handed over the photo of Laura to Bookwalter. He tried to recall how many times she’d chided him for his internet dialogue with him. Could Bookwalter have been lying to him? It was certainly a possibility, but Bookwalter’s confession to murder in the cemetery had been about trying to validate himself with the little truth he had left to offer, his revelation about Ashley a last ditch attempt to prove he had at least a tenuous connection to Laura.

The taxi dropped him off at Ashley’s home in Richmond, but he suddenly realised that he had no UK currency in his wallet – only thirty or so dollars. After knocking several times he glanced at his watch for the first time and realised it was just after seven in the morning – far too early for Ashley.

Leo looked up at the curtain of her front bedroom and was relieved to see it part and fall back into place. He saw a light come on through the stained window above the white-panelled front door, and then she was standing in the hallway in a purple satin nightgown, a hand covering her dishevelled hair.

‘Leo, where the hell have you been?’ Her features were unusually fierce. 

‘I’m sorry, Ash. I’ve been away and the cab’s just dropped me off from the airport. I don’t have any money.’

Wordlessly, Ashley turned on her bare heels and marched back into the hallway. She pulled out a cluster of notes from one of the ornate dresser drawers and strode back to him, handing the cash over without making eye contact.

After he’d paid the driver and dragged his case into the house, he found Ashley in the front lounge. He offered her the change but she didn’t register it, pulling her robe tighter around her. He thought she looked so small and vulnerable standing in the middle of the rug amongst the antique furnishings.

‘Why didn’t you tell me where you were going when you left the message? Where have you been?’

‘I’ve been to the States.’

Her expression froze. ‘What the hell for?’

‘I went to see Bookwalter.’

‘Bookwalter…I thought you’d promised me not to have anything more to do with him.’

‘And what about you, Ash? When did you decide not to have anything more to do with him?’

‘That bastard.’ Ashley sat down on the sofa, her
pearl-painted
toes dangling off the floor. ‘He said everything would be confidential.’ The right-hand side of her face suddenly trembled and Leo realised she was holding back tears. He’d never seen Ashley cry before – not 
even when Laura went missing. She’d always seemed to keep her emotions private and it was the last thing he expected to see. She bowed her head, composing herself behind her curtain of hair. But when she flicked it back again there was still pain in her eyes. ‘He duped me…said putting the photo on his site would keep Laura in the public eye.’

‘But Bookwalter is a nut job.’

‘Which is why you flew thousands of miles to see him?’ She looked at Leo for the first time since he’d entered the house, but there was more than recrimination welling there.

‘Your words, Ash. It’s what you’ve been telling me all this time.’

‘I didn’t want you to make the same mistake I did.’

Leo sat on the sofa beside her and looked at the dirty marks his shoes had made on the oatmeal rug. He felt her gaze on the side of his face.

‘He told me he could help me. I was just as desperate as you.’ Ashley pleaded.

‘I don’t understand. I’ve always known he was a liar. Knew nothing he told me about Laura could be true. But he ended up the only person I could talk to about her disappearance. Everyone else wanted me to move on.’

‘What happened when you met him?’

‘You haven’t answered my question. You’ve never seemed to be in any doubt about his motives. I willingly 
indulged him because it seemed to be leading me towards the closest thing I’ll ever have to an explanation. Why did you ever associate with him?’

‘Why d’you think I warned you off? Have you any idea what it was like for me – how irrational I was at that time? Kenton had just left me, Laura disappeared, everything I’d known evaporated in a matter of months.’

Leo turned – her face was only an inch away. There were tears in her eyes and the pain that he’d awoken in her had shaped her features into something familiar. He suddenly found himself kissing her and felt her lips being pressed back hard onto his. He closed his eyes and inhaled her. He wanted to fall into her and be comforted by her familiarity and warmth and anise scent. The room was silent and their contact seemed to petrify them. Then he felt the warm wetness of her face and opened his eyes. Hers were still closed and for a minute Leo was looking at Laura.

He moved his face away from hers and shook his head.

Ashley opened her eyes and whispered. ‘Sssssssh.’ She moved her face towards him again and it was exactly like the sound Laura used to make when he had woken from a bad dream. He moved his face back towards hers but screwed his eyes tight as they touched again.

‘Sssssshhh.’ Her fingers were on his cheek, the tips 
touching his earlobe and sliding back to touch the skin at the nape of his neck.

Feelings that he’d forgotten suddenly surged through him and a shell felt as if it were breaking at the boundaries of his chest. In his mind he was already deep inside her, feeling her warm limbs tight about him and their mouths as one chamber. The promise of the release was excruciating. But deep down he knew that’s all it would be. He was moving away from her. He broke the contact and stood looking out of the window, not seeing what was beyond it. ‘I’m sorry…we can’t…’

‘I know…not now.’ When he looked down at Ashley her eyes were still closed and her fingers were at her lips. ‘How could you want me now?’

‘Ash, I still love Laura.’

‘But your trip to the States changed everything.’

‘Bookwalter doesn’t have any control over us.’

‘But he does. He must have told you how legal and above board everything was.’ The back of her hand streaked tears across her cheek.

‘He tried to get me to sign some ludicrous piece of paperwork if that’s what you mean—’ Leo faltered as he took in the expression on Ashley’s face and he identified the shame that had been lurking behind her anger. ‘You didn’t sign anything…?’

She swallowed nervously. ‘I was in the middle of my divorce with nobody to turn to. I didn’t know where I was going to end up.’ 

‘You sold the photo of Laura to Bookwalter?’

Ashley neither confirmed nor denied it, tentatively waiting for his reaction.

He was suddenly aware of Ashley’s tears cooling on his face.

Another tear streaked down her cheek. She knew it was pointless to speak.

Leo felt a hundred words cancel each other out and saw the wretched guilt in Ashley’s expression. She looked so alone, dwarfed by the enormous sofa but Leo knew what they’d shared since Laura had left their lives was over. Ashley wasn’t Laura – never could be and her confession had proved this beyond doubt. ‘This is…’ But nothing more came and Leo walked from the room.

Ashley didn’t follow.

Leo became aware of his surroundings after leaving Ashley’s private crescent, crossing the main road and finding himself skirting the edge of the Thames. The blurred yolk of the sun shimmered over the water but it was cold air that stole into his clothes. He realised that she’d told him what she’d done because she’d wanted to. If he’d known about her contract with Bookwalter he certainly wouldn’t have kissed her. She knew this but she’d still told him anyway. He wondered if she’d always been waiting for a moment to expunge her guilt or if she’d done it because she felt she couldn’t have him until she had.

His emotions were in turmoil but he was quite sure he didn’t want Ashley. Not now and not before. They shared an empty space in their lives and she was a 
physical reminder of Laura. The two things fed off each other whenever he saw her and their relationship had grown from it.

What had happened to Laura in all this? He thought of the girl with the chipped black nails being stabbed by Bookwalter in the cemetery and the knife jutting from Coker’s chest. He thought about Bonsignore being stabbed through the eye in prison and Doctor Mutatkar’s body being pushed into the path of an oncoming lorry. None of it seemed to lead to her but she was steadily being consumed by it all. He could still taste Ashley’s mouth on his and he thought of Laura watching them both the moment they made contact.

A woman walked past him pushing a pram and it triggered a recall of the red-haired girl in the Gristex housing complex. It felt like he had only seen her ten minutes ago and that what had happened between both their encounters had been nothing but a nightmare he’d awoken from several times on the plane.

The deep-seated nausea returned and he felt it prickling on the edge of his tongue. Days and days of ever decreasing circles had left him at the centre of the inevitable. Laura had and always would be gone and he’d never know what happened to her.

A car horn sounded but barely pierced his train of thought. He wandered down the riverbank and past the shuttered cafes and restaurants not knowing in which direction he was headed. 

‘Fuck off.’ Cleaves responded to the horn of the car behind him, waving his arm from the open window and putting his hazard lights on. The car swerved around him and Cleaves faced forward so he couldn’t see what the driver was mouthing at him as he passed. He crawled along in the car so that he could see Leo walking beside the river in his rear-view mirror and adjusted his earpiece – he’d already dialled and figured he’d waited long enough to pull Allan-Carlin out of his beauty sleep.

‘Hello.’ It was a very groggy female voice.

‘Mr Allan-Carlin, please,’ he said in as businesslike a manner as he could.

‘Who the hell is this?’ she croaked.

‘Opallios International.’ Cleaves remembered what Mr Allan-Carlin had told him to say if he ever had to call him at home.

‘Just a moment…’

He heard a rustling and muted remonstration from the female voice.

‘Yes?’ Joe-Allan-Carlin sounded wide awake.

‘He’s back.’

‘OK. Look, it’s early here. I’ll just take this call in my office.’

Cleaves waited and listened to Mrs Allan-Carlin’s breathing. then there was a click and the humming atmosphere of the home office suddenly accompanied it. 

‘OK. Got it, Maggie – you can hang up,’ Joe said sternly.

They both listened to her breathing.

‘Maggie – hang it up.’

There was a slide and a clunk and her breathing was cut off.

‘Where is he?’ Joe didn’t waste any time.

‘Taking a stroll along the river.’ Cleaves watched Leo pass the car and rolled another twenty yards to keep up with him.

‘At this time of the morning?’

‘Let’s hope he doesn’t do anything rash, I’d be out of a job. He’s just landed, been to see his sister-in-law and now he’s taking some air.’ Another car beeped behind him and he waved them on.

‘Stay with him and report to me when I get into the office. He hasn’t been home yet then?’

‘No, but I don’t think he’ll be calling the police.’

Leo knew that somebody had broken into the house before he discovered Mutatkar’s laptop was missing. The atmosphere in the house felt different – not just the dampness of having been unoccupied – there was an alien smell when he opened the door that only briefly registered in his nostrils. Strange aftershave? It evaporated as he made his way up the hallway, but he knew that all wasn’t as he’d left it.

Whoever had taken the laptop had made no attempt 
to conceal their intention either. Nothing else appeared to have been taken or vandalised to give the impression of an opportunist ransacking. Leo had left the laptop on the card table in the living room. The blinds were still shut as they had been since the day he’d pored over the files. But now only the unplugged mains wire remained on the green baize.

He checked all the doors and windows but there was no sign of a break-in anywhere. This he found more unsettling than the theft. Somebody had known exactly what they wanted and taken it effortlessly without caring that he knew it.

His home had been the last place he had wanted to return to but now it was even further removed from being the shelter where he and Laura had felt safe. It was like everything he’d known had been just a wobbly bit of scenery and he was now seeing the flimsy props that held them up from behind.

He’d found nothing incriminating on the laptop but it was clear that somebody thought he might. Mutatkar had much to hide and his own answer machine message had connected him to Laura. Where else could he look for an answer from a dead man though? For all his allusiveness it was clear that Bookwalter had no connection to Mutatkar and neither did Coker. But having searched the flat in Camden he had only one option, although that already seemed exhausted.