Twined, page 1
TWINED
MAGGI ANDERSEN
ADAM FROST
COPYRIGHT
Copyright 2016 Maggi Andersen
Copyright 2016 Adam Frost
Published by Maggi Andersen
Published by Adam Frost
Cover Artist: SelfpubCover.com/FrinaArt
SMASHWORDS EDITION
By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book. All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner.
Please Note
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is coincidental and are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
ISBN 978-0-9953658-2-7
Table of Contents
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Thank You for Reading
About the Authors
“We are each of us angels with only one wing, to fly we need only embrace each other.”
– Luciano De Crescendo
PROLOGUE
The powerful black car hammered at her bumper flicking its lights. Cold sea air chilled her throat, her breath a hoarse rasp as the SUV swerved at her small white hatch again. Its bull bar shunted into her side panel then pulled away with a metallic screech. When she hit the brake to fall behind, the driver, hidden behind dark glass, was on to her and mirrored her action. Familiar with every bend in the road, she floored the accelerator. With a squeal of tires, her car skidded sideways into a hairpin bend, the man beside her slumping onto her shoulder. On her right, the land sloped down to the cliff edge above the sea. If only she could make it over the next hill. A sense of hopelessness engulfed her as the black SUV erupted out of the bend behind her, racing up alongside. She spun the wheel in desperation, her tires losing traction on the loose gravel. Suddenly they were airborne.
CHAPTER ONE
Hong Kong
ANGIE MARTIN SAT alone in the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, smoke from the charcoal hotpot on her table rising to the yellowed ceiling. A queue of people slowly piled past her table, keen to sample the latest gourmet broth making a buzz in downtown Kowloon.
She put down her pen, her review interrupted by remnants of last night’s dream that woke her in a sweat. Telling herself it was irrational didn’t stop a tight knot of anxiety settling in her chest and the conviction that her sister Dany was in some kind of trouble.
“Maiihdaan,” she said to a sweaty waiter as he rushed past. He briefly nodded his acknowledgement.
She prided herself on how deeply she had integrated into Hong Kong life. Learning the language had peeled layers of the culture like an onion. But it had taken some time for her to get used to Kowloon’s mad hustle and bustle, the clogged streets, constant noise and sharp smells a stark contrast to her life growing up in Australia. Her memories of home were all sunshine and open spaces.
Later at work, remnants of the dream filtered through her consciousness as she sat in her cubicle, writing her review while it was still fresh in her mind and on her palate. For once the buzz had been justified, the pepper broth with crab had stood out in Kowloon’s sea of hot pot variations.
Her phone rang.
“It’s Paul… Paul Schofield from Australia.”
At the sound of his voice, Angie’s pulse beat up-tempo again, as if still in the dream. Or thrust back into the past.
She swallowed and spoke to her twin sister’s husband. “Is Dany okay, Paul?”
The line echoed and he faded as if moving in and out of range. She forced herself to concentrate, reaching beyond the sound of his voice, not heard for ten years. “I’m sorry to ring you, Angie. I wouldn’t, believe me, but Dany asked me to call. She wants you to come…a car accident…she has been injured…the whole business…a horrible mess. A man has died.”
“What?” Angie sucked in a breath. “How serious is it?”
“She’s in hospital. They’re running some tests, but they think she’ll be okay.”
“Thank heavens. Paul, who was killed?”
“Don’t know him. The police are looking into it. Have you heard from Dany?”
“Not recently. A month or two ago.” A call to ask a favor, after years of virtual silence.
It was several beats later before he spoke again. “Dany’s been pretty brittle lately. What did she want?”
“Help to make a connection with the art scene here in Hong Kong. She didn’t tell you?”
“No.” Another pause. “Doesn’t tell me everything.”
What did that mean? Dany had contacted her after Angie appeared in the magazine with Franklin Dean, a major Hong Kong art dealer. She’d asked for an introduction, as she wanted to send him her portfolio. Their conversation had been brief, almost business-like and had left her feeling hollow for weeks afterward. Angie didn’t know Dean personally, but called his secretary to set up a Skype meeting with Dany. She’d no idea if it was successful. Dany hadn’t rung again.
“You’ll come?”
Her stomach clenched. She dreaded going back, and yet Australia seemed never far from her thoughts. Odd, how her nightmare seemed to herald this call. “I’ll try to get a seat on a flight out tonight.”
“Great. Thanks. I understand how difficult it is for you to leave your work. Text me your arrival time. I’ll pick you up from the airport.”
She grimaced. “No need, Paul. I’ll get a taxi.”
“Really, it’s no trouble.”
“No. Best you stay with Dany. I’ll be fine.”
Angie considered the best way to deal with her boss as she walked to her office. She knew she couldn’t appeal to her better nature. Janice Chung was tough. Out to prove herself as the new publisher of Mode De L’époque, a food, fashion and interior design magazine. Janice would never be a friend though she wasn’t bad company for after work drinks. But work came first and she expected the same from her staff.
Angie straightened her shoulders and entered Janice’s office.
True to form, Janice’s eyes narrowed and grew thoughtful at Angie’s request. “What about next month’s edition?”
Angie sucked in a breath and held her temper. “My sister’s hurt. She needs me there. I appreciate that it’s sudden. I am overdue for a holiday, Janice.”
A shrug. “I’ll have to reorganize everything.”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll finish the pagination and the features have all been assigned except one. I’ll send you an article from Australia.”
“Okay, if you make sure you’re covered. I’ll expect you back in a week or so.” Janice returned her gaze to her computer screen.
Angie briefed her deputy editor before booking a seat on an eight o’clock flight to Sydney. She gathered up her things, wondering if her job would still be here when she returned.
The taxi’s windscreen wipers worked hard during the short journey from Kowloon to her Victoria Harbour apartment, steam rising from the road. She went over the conversation with Paul. Some man had died in the crash. She rubbed her arms and cursed at herself for not getting more information. At least Dany wasn’t badly hurt. But why did she ask for Angie to come back home? What did she want from her? Angie chewed her bottom lip at the ungenerous thought. Dany brought out the worst in her. Her sister’s fragile exterior hid a steely determination to get what she wanted. Angie sighed. Maybe it would be different now. Maybe they’d both grown up.
Once in her apartment, she thrust clothes into a suitcase, and gathered up toiletries from the bathroom. Her thoughts were on Australia as she swept the food from the refrigerator shelves into plastic bags in the narrow kitchen before taking them down the hall to the garbage chute. Knowing Dany, a week or two could turn into a month. Her nerves tingled with anxiety. Seeing her sister again would be bittersweet. Might the rift be mended between them after all this time? A surge of energy drove her to get moving.
Packed and ready, one hand on the doorknob, she gazed around at the small space. It had been her home for a decade: the tiny galley kitchen, the small bedroom and the shared roof garden with its potted Chinese herbs whose medicinal properties her neighbor swore by. The tiny flat had seemed claustrophobic when she’d arrived, but over time it had become her private oasis from the chaotic streets below.
When Angie locked her door, the lingering smell of salty dried fish in the hall seemed foreign and unfamiliar. She dragged her bag to the lift determined to quench these unsettling thoughts.
She drifted to the rhythm of the Airport Express as it made its way from Kowloon station to Chek Lap Kok airport, gazing out through the blue-grey mist at the contrast of lush greenery, concrete motorways and condominiums like tall trees clustered around the busy harbour. She rang a friend’s number to cancel dinner, double-checked she had her passport and other essentials, then sat back. Her homesickness for Australia had vanished years ago, to be replaced by a sense of rootlessness. Once she’d accustomed herself to being alone, she was stronger, confident she could live anywhere and nothing much would touch her. Now one phone call had shattered her hard fought for self-possession.
* * *
Traffic had been backed up for an hour, impatient drivers honking at the constable in charge. Detective Inspector Nicklaus Alexander watched a tow truck lumber up and wait to winch a wrecked, burnt-out car from the bushes on the cliff below. The blackened body was still down there, strapped into the seat. The driver had fared better and been taken to hospital.
Detective sergeant Grogan leaned on the rail beside him. “It’s an accident. Why’re we here?”
“They’re short-handed with Monty off sick,” Nick said, as the vehicle extraction team arrived.
Grogan chewed the inside of his cheek, a habit that annoyed the hell out of Nick. “Miracle how she got out alive.”
“I suppose miracles do happen,” Nick said, trying not to focus on Grogan’s relentless chewing.
“One lucky woman this one. She must have a guardian angel.”
“Miracles and guardian angels eh?” Nick kept his eyes on the road unaccountably irritated. “Should we put out an APB for Tinkerbell?”
Grogan’s narrowed gaze registered a cop’s cynicism. “You don’t think this was an accident.”
With a noncommittal murmur, Nick squatted down with his penknife to scrape up flakes of white enamel spread over the road near where the car went through the guardrail. He added the flakes to the plastic evidence bag. He and Grogan continued along the road, traffic cones blocking the northbound lane. Nick stooped to pick up more flakes of enamel.
“There’s a broken tail light over here,” Grogan called from farther down the road. “Could be from the hatch.”
Nick straightened as a series of cars slowed down to peer over the verge. Grogan waived them on with an annoyed look. “Bloody rubbernecks. Here’s forensics.”
Nick went to talk to the blue jump-suited and gloved, forensics officer exiting a white van as an ambulance drove up.
“Forensics will deal with this,” Grogan said. “Can we leave the traffic to the constable and get the hell outta here? I’m hungry. Feel like some barbecue ribs.”
“I guess we’re done here.” Ignoring the tasteless reference, Nick returned to the car. “I want to see if Mrs. Schofield has regained consciousness.”
Leaving a uniform in charge, they drove to the Mona Vale Hospital, which perched on prime land overlooking the Pacific Ocean. After a nurse informed them Mrs. Schofield was undergoing minor surgery, Nick arranged for a constable to interview her. He and his partner drove back to the station.
As Grogan drove along the highway towards Mona Vale, Nick went over the accident scene in his mind. It didn’t add up. “There’s quite a distance between the tail light remnants and the flakes of white enamel. Looks like more than one impact.”
“Bad case of road rage if you ask me.”
“I didn’t, Grogs, and it’s not exactly downtown New York here, is it?”
Nick stared out at the arid landscape. The prolonged drought got on his nerves. His thoughts strayed to his father and his vegetable garden. Plants needed rain, his dad had moaned. Like humans, they need oxygen.
Grogan nodded towards the local takeaway as they passed. “Lunchtime.”
“You stink the car out with fried onions and greasy food again and I’ll have your balls,” Nick said, as his partner parked the car.
Grogan grinned. “What else is there to eat?”
“Don’t you ever eat salad?”
“Salad?” Grogan shook his head and grimaced. “That’s the food my food eats.”
Nick shook his head laughing.
Half an hour later, Nick entered the office of his DCI. Bob Janson leaned back in his chair, his forehead arranged in its habitual grooves. “Just a tragic accident, eh, Nick?” He tapped his pen on the file in front of him. “Monty will be back tomorrow. He can take over. I’ve received a request to send you to Redfern. They’re short a DI.”
Nick’s heart leapt into his throat. “Something doesn’t smell right, sir. I think the car was bumped twice before it left the road. I’d like to see the report from forensics.”
“Mm.” Janson scratched his long nose with his pen. “Okay, I’ll hold off on this for now. But you’re probably being over cautious.” His face relaxed. “Don’t want to leave us, eh?”
“It would complicate things right now, sir. But I honestly feel…”
“Okay.” The pen landed on the desk. “We’ll wait and see if something emerges. Who this John Doe was. But if nothing of interest turns up in a week or so…”
“Right,” Nick said with relief. “I’ll interview the driver. Remarkably, she’s come out of the wreck relatively unscathed. Bit strange, don’t you think?”
“Stranger things have happened. Right now, it’s an additional drain on resources we don’t really need.”
Dismissed, Nick left the office. He registered the DCI’s annoyance. His boss’s patience had a time limit and Nick would have to put this to bed soon. Nick dreaded being transferred to Redfern. Too many messy cases. He was under no illusions, if this proved to be a straight accident, he’d be gone in a matter of days.
CHAPTER TWO
THE AUTUMN SUN warmed Angie’s arm through the open car window as the taxi reached the top of the steep hill. The houses dwindled and then the dusty Australian bush flanked the road, the landscape dryer than she remembered. Moments later, the cab slowed at a set of iron gates. “Drive in would you please?”
Parrots were squabbling among the bright red flowers of the melaleucas lining the drive. Set in acres of bushland, the stone house was the oldest in the area and quite a landmark.
The gracious old garden surrounded them and memories, unwelcome, rushed back to greet her. Angie had left Australia the morning after Dany and Paul’s wedding, carrying with her images of colored lights and champagne, a marquee pitched on the green lawn and Dany’s peel of laughter as her veil billowed out like a white sail in the wind.
Now, the lawns were browned off and the gardens drooped in the heat. When the taxi pulled up, she climbed out, smoothed her skirt, sticky, and rumpled after the long flight, feeling unprepared.
The front door opened while she paid the driver. Paul descended the steps, slim in jeans and striped shirt. Angie took a steadying breath.
“You look good, Angie.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, his hand touching her shoulder.
She didn’t want him to touch her. “Hi Paul. How is Dany?”
“Not bad. We’ll talk inside.”
Paul pulled her luggage from the boot. At first glance, he looked the same. She’d expected her memories of him to be flawed, that he would in any event be changed by the years.
“Let me take that small one,” she said.
“I’ve got it.” He hoisted her bag over his shoulder and set the larger case on its wheels. “How long are you staying?” He inclined his head towards the weighty case with a tired smile.
She shrugged with an apologetic grin. “Sorry. I never could pack light.”
“Don’t take that to mean that I…we, don’t want you here. This is one good thing to come out of this,” he said. “Dany can’t wait to see you.” He walked towards the front door dragging the case behind him. It bumped up the steps.
She followed as old fears and uncertainties returned, made worse by Dany’s accident. “When are visiting hours?”
“Dany said not to visit tonight. They have scheduled an MRI, to check the head injury.”
“Oh God. Does she have a head injury?”
“Yes, but it’s just a precaution. She was knocked out so they want to check. Miraculously, her injuries aren’t serious at all, a wrenched shoulder and twisted ankle.”
