Jeff Abbott - Trust Me

He knew. The need to feel alive, to not be deadened by the horror. She withdrew from the kiss, almost shy, and then he touched the hem of her T-shirt, felt her lift her arms, wanting to be free from the fear. He tugged the shirt off her head and eased off her bra. He pulled off his own shirt and leaned in close to kiss her again. The silver of the Saint Michael’s medal touched her naked breasts.

‘What’s this?’ She fingered the medal, the angel’s wings.

‘Saint Michael. My dad gave it to me before he died. He’s supposed to keep me safe, he said.’ Aubrey studied the medal in the cold bar of moonlight from the window, cupping it in her palm, then she ran the medal along the silver chain and put the angel on Luke’s back.

‘It tickles me,’ she said.

‘Okay.’ She closed her eyes and Luke felt her fingertips begin to push his boxers from his hips.

The lovemaking was gentle and comforting and good and they both slipped into warm sleep. In the deep of the night Luke awoke at the sound of a door shutting down the hall. He thought he should stay awake, stay on guard in case Mouser and Snow worked more sick magic to find them but he knew they couldn’t, that he and Aubrey were safe, they were invisible. But he stayed awake for a long hour, thinking not of the woman curled in the shelter of his arms, sleeping in abject relief of momentary safety, but of Henry.

Thinking of what he would do when he saw Henry, the king of lies, the false face, the betrayer, the serpent who could say trust me and turn the words to poison.

Luke was steeling himself, he realized, for murder.

They both slept until late in the morning, the sunshine crafting through the windows. Luke awoke and she lay next to him, watching him.

‘Shouldn’t have,’ she said, but she offered a shy smile. He saw what he thought was regret in her eyes. She blinked it away, as if she knew it lingered, and gave him a warm kiss on the mouth, followed by a chaste kiss on the forehead. She kept her hand on his flat stomach. ‘But I’m not sorry that we did.’

‘Shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘I have no regrets either.’

‘You’re a good guy.’

‘So are you. Not a guy. But good.’ He had never been deft at the morning-after chatter and he saw he wasn’t improving now. He felt a pang of regret, because this was going to change or complicate an already tough situation between them. He couldn’t deal with another problem. But if he was going into battle, he wanted her: a smart and brave partner.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

‘Yes. You?’

‘I’m sad for Eric. I can’t help but feel that way.’

He said nothing.

‘But we… we can get out of this mess,’ she said. ‘Get our lives back.’

‘If we find who he made the deal with, where he hid the money.’

‘Where do we start?’

‘We start with his cell phone.’ He opened up the phone he’d taken from Eric’s pocket, searched the call log. Aubrey leaned over his shoulder. There was only one number listed on the log. An international number.

‘I know that international code is France,’ Aubrey said. ‘Eric and I went to Paris a couple of months back. He had business and I’d never been.’

‘Business,’ he said. ‘What kind?’

‘Banking stuff, I don’t know.’

Luke pressed the callback option under the number.

‘Um, is that smart?’

‘Let’s see,’ Luke said.

Four rings, and then: ‘Hello?’

He recognized the British woman’s voice. ‘Hello, Jane,’ Luke said.

She didn’t seem shocked at the use of her name. ‘This isn’t who I was expecting.’

‘No. Eric Lindoe’s dead.’

‘Sad. I thought he’d make it through the weekend, at least. Let me guess. Luke Dantry, running man?’

‘Why did you want me kidnapped? Why have you involved innocent people?’

‘Nothing personal, darling,’ she said.

‘Bitch, it’s personal,’ Luke said. ‘Why did you do it? What did I or Aubrey ever do to you?’

‘Nothing. Hence, not personal.’ Her voice was cool, crisp as breeze caught in linen. ‘You’re not going to find me. You can’t hurt me.’

‘I have a question for you. You knew about the fifty million. So who the hell’s giving it to the Night Road? Where’s this money coming from?’

‘Some secrets, sweetheart, go to the grave. My lips are sealed.’

‘This fifty million you want so badly? I’m going to find it before you do.’

‘That, darling, I seriously doubt.’ Then he heard a click, Jane hanging up.

He tried the number again. No response. ‘Why would a British woman in Paris be using us as pawns?’

‘Insulting her wasn’t exactly productive.’

‘Aubrey, this woman isn’t going to negotiate with us. Not until we find where he hid the money. Only then could we maybe lure her into the light.’ He shook his head. ‘I want to know where this money is coming from.’

Aubrey bit her lip. ‘I do have a thought about a potential hiding place for the money.’

‘Where?’

‘Eric’s childhood home. We stopped there on the way into Chicago after we ditched your car in Dallas. Eric was getting his stepfather’s gun. The house is empty; Eric’s stepfather died recently and he hasn’t sold it.’ She swallowed. ‘Maybe he did more than get the gun. Maybe he left something behind.’

The house was a few blocks off Cicero, not far from Midway airport; in a neighborhood that looked like its better days were more myth than memory. Narrow brick houses were jammed close together, as if sharing secrets. Some of the houses were maintained with pride and care; some were not. People idled in yards, on corners, bored, laughing, arguing. They drove past a trio of teenage boys who looked at them with a mix of calculation and studied disinterest. Luke parked in front of the old Lindoe house. The small yard needed a mow. Every window was darkened. The Lindoe house looked like the shy child on the block.

‘Eric paid off the house for his parents when he made real money,’ she said.

Luke thought if he made serious money he’d have bought his parents a nicer place but who knew the calculus of relationships in the Lindoe family. Maybe this had once been a happy home, one worth staying in for memories alone. Why would a wealthy, successful guy keep this house? Sentiment? Or maybe because he was involved in dirty dealings? After six months, had the will even been probated? The property would still be in his stepfather’s name. It was a perfect place to hide.

They used a key on Eric’s ring to get inside the house. The house smelled slightly musty.

‘He’s not here much,’ Luke said.

‘Yeah. His mom died of cancer two years back. His stepdad passed about six months ago – heart attack. Not long after we met. Eric said his stepdad didn’t want to live without Eric’s mom.’

‘Yeah. My own stepfather said the same thing after my mom died.’

‘I’m sorry, Luke. How…?’

‘Car accident. She was driving. Rainy night. They hit a skid, went through a guardrail, tumbled down an incline. She died, he lived.’

Aubrey opened her mouth and closed it. The silence grew heavy.

‘But because of what you know about your stepdad now…’

‘I wonder if it was really an accident.’ He shook his head. ‘Henry nearly died. It took him a long while to recover. I don’t know. I thought he adored my mom. But he’s the king of lies. Maybe I’ll never know.’

Aubrey took his hand, gave it a kind squeeze.

He switched on the kitchen lights.

‘He made me hot tea and told me to sit here and wait. I was still so rattled by what had happened and what we were facing, I don’t know what he did while I waited for him.’