When You're Safe, page 2
The trail arched to the left, taking itself and Maggie away from the flowing waters of the wide river. It was a trail she had run many times before.
Her breathing deepened as she felt the blood engorging her legs, making her feel alive. Birds sang nearby, and as she moved through a patch of woodland, she began to persuade herself that the world was not crashing down on top of her; that she would be all right, even if there was a wisp of denial lingering in her subconscious.
Then the road came.
It was the one part of that jog she was wary of; the lack of a sidewalk and its narrow width made the road feel treacherous. She knew she would have to be careful.
Maggie moved onto it, undeterred. She hoped she could clear that section around the corner of the lonely road quickly. Then she could rejoin the woodland path that would take her further away from the threat of the city.
As she moved along the road, she kept looking over her shoulder for traffic. It was rare to see any vehicles, but ever since she had read about one of her favorite writers being struck by a car on just such a road, she had been hesitant of it.
The worn tarmac arched upward, steadily climbing. Soon, far below, the Thames River could be seen again, moving, lumbering through the estuary and into the heart of London in the distance behind.
Maggie breathed deeply again. A breeze came, and with it so too did the thoughts of danger. Two threats at once brewed in her mind—the hazard of the road, of the blind turn up ahead, and the danger of the one person she knew could ruin her life. The one person who might as well have held a knife to her throat.
The police? she thought, mentally scrambling for a solution to her problems as she ran. No. That wasn’t an option.
There were too many reeds to untangle. If it went public, it would hurt her, it would hurt the family. No matter which way she sliced the dilemma, a dark underbelly of future pain and shame would be revealed.
The road now curved ahead. This was the section Maggie disliked most. It bent around a blind corner, and to the left of her, a wall of sheer brown rock rose up. There was nowhere to step to, should a car appear.
She did what she always did, running as close to the rock face as possible so that if a car moved around the corner toward her, she’d at least have some room to breathe and hopefully not be struck by a careless driver.
In her mind, Maggie made space for the entrance to the woodland trail. She knew it was just out of sight. Soon she would be on it and able to disappear for an hour into the deep green. To disappear from her problems was all she wanted. It was all anyone wanted, at least in Maggie’s mind. Relief and happiness were one and the same to her.
Then a sound came.
At first, she thought it was the river far down below, a constant low swishing sound like a gentle wave never ending. But as she moved toward the peak of the blind corner, she realized that the sound was not coming from the river. It was coming from the road.
Damn, she thought. A car.
The vehicle was very quiet. Maggie assumed it had an electric engine. As she reached the near-apex of the turn, she found herself stopping for a moment. A cold sweat broke out over her body as she listened.
Which way? She couldn’t tell where the car was coming from, whether ahead or from behind further down the hill. Downhill, the weaving road was partly obscured by sporadic pockets of low-hanging trees, their branches like curled fingers, and the road up ahead could not be seen yet for the shroud of the turn.
I better move.
Maggie kept herself close to the rock face and rushed forward faster, picking up the pace. The sooner she was off the road, the better.
The swishing sound of the electric engine and tires on the road increased, approaching ever closer, and yet the source of it was still hidden, an unseen menace stuck in Maggie’s mind like a glass splinter.
Faster, Maggie. Come on!
Maggie broke into a full run as she finally passed the corner, bringing the now plateauing road ahead into view. But if relief and happiness were indeed the same to Maggie, neither were now apparent.
The road was bare and empty, but for one feature: A tree had fallen and was partly blocking the way. Its long still-leafed branches jutted out several feet onto the road on the left-hand side. Just beyond that, Maggie’s apprehensive gaze fell upon the green wooden sign she had been searching for. It pointed into the narrow woodland path.
But getting to it was going to be a problem. The fallen tree was in her way, and although the rock face to her left would give way to the woodland up ahead, in her current position, it was still there alongside her, an imposing companion stopping her from escaping to the side of the road.
The sound of the car was now definitely coming from behind, and with this knowledge she continued on, worried that the driver wouldn’t see her as she ran just past the turn.
Looking over her shoulder to the blind corner, obscuring all that she had already traversed, she could see no car yet. But Maggie knew that the fallen tree would momentarily put her in danger.
She reached it and looked over her shoulder again.
Still no car, though the strange, low hum was still increasing in volume.
She waited for a moment to see if the car would appear. It did not.
Maggie sighed impatiently and decided to take a chance. She moved around the branches, putting her momentarily on the wrong side of the road.
Now, finally, a red car emerged from behind the turn, and it was moving at a far too aggressive speed for a road that precarious and that high up.
Maggie knew that the car would have to go around the tree, too, and she wasn’t certain that at that speed, the driver would see it in time. Apprehension moved through her as she worried that an accident was only seconds away. She had to get to safety.
She moved as fast as she could, the car now bearing down toward her. Panicked, she rushed carelessly, her white top catching on a thick broken branch. It scratched the side of her skin beneath the cloth, drawing blood.
Maggie let out a gasp as she pulled at the branch, trying to free herself. With several forceful yanks, she managed to wrestle herself from the grips of the tree’s finger-like branches, but the jolt thrust her backwards.
She fell onto the ground and looked up.
The car screeched up ahead like a mechanical beast crying out. Maggie tried to scramble up onto her feet, but it was too late. The brakes thudded, the smell of burning rubber invading the air, and the car headed straight toward Maggie. She didn’t have time to scream.
Somewhere a bird sang, and Maggie’s broken body lay motionless on the quiet road.
CHAPTER ONE
Finn Wright sat in the London coffee shop, listening in frustration to the man in a gray suit sitting before him. The suit was Philip C. Reid, a meticulous lawyer in his early sixties with an obvious hair transplant, thick glasses, and expensive leather shoes.
The coffee place was busy, even in the hot, sunny weather, and the hum of conversation and the occasional clinking of cups were more appealing to Finn than what was being said. Sometimes, he just didn’t want to hear the truth, even if it came wrapped up in an American accent that made Finn pine for home.
Weeks earlier, before he decided to vacation in the UK, Finn was being investigated for the daring rescue of a hostage during a manhunt. The hostage was saved, but Finn had disobeyed a direct order going in, and even with the positive outcome, there had been substantial damage during the firefight. After the investigation, he was now being prosecuted for that damage, and it remained uncertain as to whether he would ever be able to refer to himself as a special agent with the FBI ever again. He knew he might even end up financially destitute if he were held culpable for the damages.
He sat there for a moment, his mind wandering to the sweet smell of cinnamon pastries baking behind the counter nearby.
“Finn,” Philip said, “I didn’t spend ten hours flying to London for you to ignore me.”
Finn looked down at the large brown leather couch he was sitting on. It dipped underneath as though the springs had given up the ghost from a million customers parking their posteriors on it over the years.
He bounced up and down on it gently.
“Honestly,” he said, “I think this thing could give at any moment. Then Philip, my man, we’d have a real court case on our hands. Tell me. How much would a fella get for injury by couch? I could spill my coffee on me if that would grease the wheels.”
Philip shook his head. “Seward said you’d be difficult, but I didn’t realize how much.”
Director Seward, Finn’s boss, was supposed to be staying out of the investigation, but, in an unofficial capacity, he was trying to make sure Finn stayed in a job.
Finn looked across at his lawyer and felt bad. “I’m sorry, Philip. I am taking this seriously, but I can’t just uproot back home. Not yet.”
The case wasn’t his only concern. Finn had spent a couple of weeks mulling over going home and speaking with his ex-fiancée, Demi, another loose end in his life that was threatening to wrap around his neck and squeeze the life from him. She wanted to patch things up, but while Finn missed her, he worried that he would be all too forgiving of her infidelity as soon as he saw her. She had that effect on him.
Staying away gave him distance in more ways than one. He knew it would protect him from making a bad mistake.
“That’s another thing,” Philip said, gripping his coffee and then leaning over, his gray tie almost dipping in the cup. “This consultancy role with the UK police force. Seward is unhappy about that. He wants you to drop it. I have to say, I agree with him. It’s going to blow up in your face.”
That got Finn’s back up. Whenever someone told him he needed to ignore an opportunity because of politics, it made him want to move against that opposition.
“I haven’t even said yes to the offer yet,” Finn grumbled. “It’s only an offer. And it’s been approved by the Home Office here. I would think that the US government would be happy a US agent on vacation solved the murder of a British aristocrat, and was being asked to assist in other cases. You can’t buy that sort of international press.”
Philip sat back in his seat. “Finn, no one is doubting that solving the Lord Van Reece murder was a good thing, both for you and your country. But when it was leaked to the press that you’d been offered an extended consultancy position for other future cases, if you wanted it? Well… that’s made the FBI jumpy, especially since you have a court case coming up. I don’t believe the British press have caught onto that just yet, but it’s only a matter of time, and they’ll use it against you to cause a scandal. The FBI wants you to keep a low profile in case… in case you make a mistake out here.”
“The FBI doesn’t trust me?” Finn asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s shocking.” He grinned. “They seem intent on canning me, Phil. So what if I have another gig lined up? A man needs to put bread on his table.”
Finn hadn’t decided whether to take the offer from the UK, but the more he was being pressed to lay low and go home, the more appetizing the offer seemed.
“Director Seward is fighting every corner he can find for you, Finn,” Philip explained. “Why, I don’t know, but he is doing it, putting his neck on the line. Hell, he even pulled strings to get me to represent you. Don’t you think you should put this consultancy thing to bed, get back home, and stay silent until the case is over? Don’t you owe him that?”
Finn was troubled by the lawyer’s words. Director Seward was a mentor and friend. The last thing Finn wanted to do was cause him trouble.
Sitting up on the couch, now it was Finn leaning in. He looked at Reid square in the eyes.
“I owe Director Seward more than you’ll ever know,” Finn said.
“Then surely you—” The lawyer wasn’t allowed to finish that no doubt persuasive sentence.
“But I’ve come through a lot in my life,” Finn continued. “And while loyalty means a great deal to me, it isn’t Seward who is facing being fired from the FBI. It isn’t Seward who is facing financial ruin through paying damages. It’s me. Just like it was me who decided to rush into that building and take down the kidnapper. I did that. It was the right call. That girl wouldn’t be alive if I hadn’t gone there on my own.”
“Hubris, Finn.” The lawyer shook his head.
“Experience, Philip,” Finn argued. “I grew up with nothing. I followed my gut and it led me to a life of service. A life of trying to make a small dent in this goddamned world. It’s got me into scrapes, sure, but out of scrapes, too. I’m still standing. Now my gut is telling me to—”
Finn’s words were now the ones being cut short, but not by Philip C. Reid.
Finn looked down at his phone and saw who was calling.
Philip sighed. “It’s normally good practice to ignore calls during a meeting.”
“A meeting?” Finn looked up and smiled. “I thought we were two pals having coffee.”
Answering the phone, Finn said: “Hey, Rob, what’s up?”
It was his good friend Rob, the youngest chief constable in the country, and the person who had pulled Finn into the Van Reece murder case to help out.
“Finn,” Rob said, his voice grave, “I’ve just been given an order from my superiors.”
“An order?” Finn said. “That sounds ominous. I hope it’s not to start up a singing career. Your performance at the karaoke bar last night was unheard of. Do they have crimes against music in England? Are they arresting you?”
“Quit mucking about,” Rob said. “This is serious.”
Finn enjoyed joking—it had been the only way he could traverse the tragedies in his life—but he knew when to rein it in. “What’s happened?”
“I’ve been asked to bring you and Inspector Winters to a crime scene along the Thames River just outside of London.”
“I don’t know…” Finn said.
“It’s now or never to take up the Home Office’s offer, Finn,” Rob said. “They want the same team who solved the Van Reece case. I’m not going to lie—they were very specific about it. You’d help me out, big time.”
Finn nodded. For a moment, he thought about Director Seward back home. Would he do as he asked and pack up his bags?
No, he thought to himself.
Rob needed him. There was pressure on Rob to pull another rabbit out of the hat and get the case solved. Finn knew that as highly as Rob was respected by the public, if there were any gaffes or mistakes, the Home Office would come down on him like a ton of bricks. There was still the lurking suspicion that Rob had been given a position of authority at too young an age. Some resented him for it.
And that was all without the implications for Finn himself. If he were to make an error, then it would become an issue between the FBI and the UK police force. Finn’s career would be pulverized in the middle, even more so than it already was. He’d end up blacklisted on both sides of the Atlantic.
But life is full of risks, Finn thought. When they work out, that’s what makes life exciting.
Finn looked across at the lawyer as he held the phone to his ear. Philip C. Reid looked fit to burst with disapproval.
“Well?” Rob asked.
“I’m in,” Finn replied. “Just tell me where.”
CHAPTER TWO
The gear stick stuck in Finn’s hand as he wrestled with the clutch of the car.
“Come on, you piece of—” Suddenly the gear cranked into its desired position. Finn wondered if the thing was taunting him just because he was American. He hated driving a stick.
He’d rented the diminutive dark blue car from a dealership back in Garden City in Hertfordshire. The car felt fine when he had first sat in it, but now as it chugged along and continued its climb up the lonely winding road that rose high above the Thames River below, he was starting to think he had been conned into a vehicle they could normally never get rid of.
It didn’t help that the driver’s seat was stuck in a position too close to the wheel for his long, muscular legs to feel comfortable. His knees were nearly touching the bottom of the dashboard.
The mid-morning sun was rising with them, higher into the sky above, casting its glow through a canopy of trees that sporadically parted to the blue sky. Below to the right, the great river flowed, glistening in the sun, moving steadily toward the congestion of London in the distance.
If he hadn’t been struggling so much with the car, Finn would have thought the place scenic. To his left, a high rock face accompanied the road, and Finn started to feel that with any wrong move he and his ailing automobile might end up down in the river themselves.
He reached a hideous bend with a sharp blind corner at its apex, and the other side soon revealed several police cars parked on the road, and two very familiar figures standing waiting.
Finn stopped his car and got out with a gasping struggle to free himself from the wheel.
“Ah, good to see you!” he said to the two figures further along the road. “I—”
Suddenly Finn was aware of the car still moving on the road behind him.
“In the name of all that’s…” He struggled to the side of the car, opened the door, and this time made certain that the parking brake was fully on.
When he got out of the car and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, he saw both familiar figures smiling, covering their mouths as if trying to hide their enjoyment at Finn’s woes. It was Inspector Amelia Winters and Chief Constable Robert Collins, the two people with whom he had solved the Van Reece murder case.
“Right,” Finn said, shaking his head. “Can’t you guys build a decent car?” He waved at the little vehicle in frustration.
“It’s not British, it’s French,” Amelia said, her red hair and milky skin glowing in the sun and her full red lips unable to stop smiling.
“Geography was never Finn’s strong point,” Rob said, dressed in a black police uniform and all six feet of him looking imposing in his flat-top police hat. “I did warn you about that car dealership.”
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