The Final Minute Page 13

  We emerged from the trees on to a narrow country road. Twenty yards further up a Ford Focus was parked on the bank. Tina ran up and unlocked it, and the two of us jumped inside.

  ‘You’re wearing a tracker, Sean,’ she said urgently, switching on the engine.

  ‘I know. It’s the only way they could have found me. I think it might be my watch. I’ve thrown it away.’

  ‘Good. Are you OK?’

  ‘I’ve been better. You?’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting to be shot at today,’ she said, pulling away and accelerating fast, without putting her lights on.

  ‘At least you didn’t get hit.’

  ‘That really isn’t much consolation.’

  After a couple of minutes, we came to a junction and Tina flicked on the headlights before pulling out on to a main road and putting her foot down, quickly catching up the car in front of us.

  She glanced over at my hand. ‘Why have you got those pliers?’

  I was reluctant to tell her but knew I had to. ‘Because the tracker might not be in my watch. I was just feeling round in the back of my mouth with my tongue and there’s a filling back there that doesn’t feel right.’

  She cursed. ‘That’s all we need. I can’t afford to have people after me. We’ll have to stop and take a look.’

  A parking lane appeared up ahead with two stationary lorries in it and Tina pulled up behind them, switching on the car’s interior light and producing a small torch from her jacket. I had to admit I liked her professionalism. There was no indecision where she was concerned. She just did what she had to do, and best of all, she did it fast.

  ‘Open your mouth wide.’

  I did as I was told and she leaned in and shone the light inside. She was so close that I could smell her hair and her natural scent, and I felt the stirrings of attraction as I breathed them in. She was a good-looking woman. Her coolness under pressure was just an added turn-on.

  ‘Jesus, they made a mess in here. Did the bastards pull one of your teeth?’

  I made a noise to signify yes but that was about all I could manage.

  ‘OK, there’s something in here that doesn’t look right …’ she murmured. Then: ‘Oh shit, yeah. I think that might be it. It’s going to have to come out. I’m sorry.’ She pulled back from my mouth and looked me in the eye, still very close. ‘Do you want me to do it?’

  I handed her the pliers and took a deep breath, suddenly not so interested in what she looked like. ‘Go for it,’ I said.

  Credit to Tina, she didn’t bother saying anything along the lines of ‘this is going to hurt’ or ‘I’m sorry I have to do this to you’. Instead, she got me to open my mouth wide again and used the torch to orientate herself before clamping the pliers round the offending tooth and pulling me into a headlock.

  I shut my eyes, knowing this was necessary, and tried to move my mind to another, gentler place. I thought of my brother John and tried to picture us together fishing on a summer’s day many years ago. And as I thought this, another vision drifted into my consciousness. John and me in the local park. I was very young, maybe six years old, and he was teaching me how to ride a bike. He gave me a big push and I wobbled on the bike before finally balancing on my own for the first time. When I didn’t fall off, the confidence seemed to bloom in me, and I could hear John’s shouts of encouragement as I began to pedal—

  The pain tore through me in a single sharp burst and I had to use all my self-discipline not to pull out of Tina’s grip until the tooth came free.

  When it did, I fell back in my seat, groped for the electric window controls, and spat a mouthful of blood through the opening gap.

  ‘Here, have some water,’ said Tina, handing me a plastic bottle.

  I spat out some more blood then took a series of huge gulps, ignoring the fact that I was swallowing blood as well as water. I was too thirsty. I finished the bottle, wiped my mouth, and looked at the tooth in Tina’s hand. It didn’t look much out of the ordinary, but what was supposed to be the white filling was jutting out a couple of millimetres from the tooth as if it didn’t quite fit properly, and the material appeared to be plastic rather than enamel.

  ‘I think this is our tracker,’ said Tina, poking the end of it with a nicely shaped fingernail. ‘I’d love to take a closer look at it, but …’ She threw it out of the window, and pulled back out on to the road. ‘I don’t think it would be such a good idea.’

  I spat more blood into the water bottle before checking out the new hole at the back of my mouth. It was directly opposite to the tooth Blackbeard had yanked out, so at least it was symmetrical, although chewing wasn’t going to be a lot of fun for a while yet.

  But you know what? I didn’t care. I was alive. I had hope. And I was having more memories.

  I settled back in the seat, trying not to think about the pain that was coming in hot, intense waves and concentrating instead on thinking about Tina. Attractive, sexy, determined, and hard.

  Jesus. She was definitely my kind of woman.

  Twenty-one

  After a long roundabout drive lasting a good half an hour, we pulled into a village which was little more than a street with a mix of modern and traditional houses on either side, and a pub.

  ‘Is this where you live?’ I asked as she slowed down in front of a row of quaint terraced cottages that looked like they’d been built when no one was taller than five foot three.

  She gave me a stern look. ‘That’s right. And don’t get any ideas, Sean. You’re not staying.’

  ‘Come on, Tina. Where else am I going to go? I’m hurt. And I’ve got no money. Well, not much.’

  She switched off the engine and motioned for me to follow her inside. ‘Whatever you might think, you’re still a convicted rapist,’ she said when she’d shut the door behind us and switched on the lights.

  The words hit me a lot harder than the attack I’d been subjected to earlier, and immediately darkened my mood. ‘But you know me,’ I said, with more desperation in my voice than I would have liked.

  ‘No, I don’t know you,’ she countered, walking into the kitchen and turning to face me. ‘You don’t even know you.’

  ‘I saved your life once.’

  ‘And I’ve just saved yours, so that makes us quits. Now I’m going to clean you up, then book you into a hotel.’ She searched in one of the cupboards before coming up with a bag of cotton-wool buds and some antiseptic. ‘Sit down.’

  I sat down at the small kitchen table and waited while she gently applied the antiseptic to the injuries on my face. It hurt, but then so did everything else, and I was beginning to get used to it. What I found harder was resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss Tina on the lips. Our faces were only a foot or two apart, and it was difficult not to look into her bright eyes and think of all the things we could be doing right now … Yet in her eyes I was a rapist, and for the moment I couldn’t prove otherwise.

  ‘How do I look?’ I asked, with the beginnings of a smile.

  ‘Not your best. They did a number on you back there. Is the inside of your mouth still bleeding?’

  ‘Not enough to worry me. They were after the same information the people last night were after. The location of the bodies that I’m meant to know about. I’m still wondering if it has anything to do with my recurring dream.’

  ‘And do you remember anything else about the dream?’

  ‘Not at the moment, but my memory’s beginning to come back. I’m getting flashbacks all the time. It’s just a matter of piecing them all together. The stuff you printed out for me helped, but the guys who took me got hold of it before I finished reading.’

  Tina’s eyes narrowed. ‘You didn’t tell them where you got it from, did you?’

  ‘No. That’s why they were knocking me around. They didn’t believe me when I told them that I’d found the information myself. I didn’t give you up, Tina. I wouldn’t do that.’

  Her expression softened. ‘Thanks. I appreciate that.’ She pick
ed up a tube of bonjela from the table. ‘I don’t know if this’ll help but you might want to rub some round the area where the tooth was.’

  ‘Teeth,’ I corrected her, taking the bonjela and applying it to the affected areas, which just made everything hurt more.

  ‘Jesus. They weren’t messing about, were they? This whole thing’s getting out of control, Sean. You need to speak to the police.’

  ‘I can’t. They were the police. Or at least they were carrying authentic police ID. That’s how they managed to lift me from A and E. They even got hospital security to help.’

  ‘I know a senior cop you can speak to who’s incorruptible.’

  I wasn’t keen but I could see her point. ‘OK, let’s set up a meeting tomorrow. I can’t face talking to anyone else tonight, and at least those guys can’t find me any more.’

  ‘I need to put a plaster on that cut above your eye,’ she said, and came in close again as she cut off a thin strip and placed it over the wound.

  This time I could smell the sweetness on her breath and, worryingly, felt myself getting aroused.

  ‘Are you sure a hotel’s going to let me in looking like this and paying in cash? I’d really appreciate it if you could just let me sleep on your sofa. I promise I won’t let you down.’

  Tina straightened up and took a pack of cigarettes from her jacket, lighting one without offering the pack. ‘Let me tell you something, Sean. This place is my sanctuary. It’s where I retreat from all the crap in the world. Some men tried to kill me in here once, and they almost succeeded. I came this close to moving out because of that, but I overcame my fears and swore I’d never let anything happen to me in here again. Only people I truly trust stay in my house. And right now, you’re not one of them.’

  I nodded. ‘Fair enough. I understand. I hope at some point you’ll learn to trust me.’

  She shrugged. ‘We’ll see. There’s a hotel ten minutes down the road from here who aren’t too fussy who they let in. It’s not the flashiest establishment in the world but it’s clean, and it’s safe.’

  ‘And I guess it’s better than being stuck in a barn with a couple of torturers.’

  ‘That’s for sure.’ She took a drag on the cigarette and gave me a half smile through the smoke.

  ‘I read about my brother,’ I said, changing the subject. ‘The way he got killed trying to stop an armed robbery. It’s amazing. I’d forgotten I even had a brother.’

  ‘Did reading it help you remember him?’ Tina asked.

  I nodded. ‘Definitely. I keep getting flashbacks about growing up with him. They’re vivid too. But, as I said, I didn’t finish reading all that stuff you gave me. Did they ever catch the men who killed him?’

  She frowned. ‘You don’t remember?’

  I let out a hollow laugh. ‘I don’t remember much of anything, Tina.’

  ‘Well, you got your revenge, Sean. It took you a long time but you got there in the end. It’s how we met.’

  ‘Care to tell me more?’

  ‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time.’

  ‘Are the men who killed my brother dead?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘They’re all dead.’

  ‘And did I kill them?’

  ‘You killed at least one of them. In fact, you killed him in front of me. No one knows whether it was you who killed the other two – I guess, not even you – but you were never charged with any crime, although you had to leave the police.’

  I sighed. I was pleased I’d killed at least one of them, and possibly all three. I had no idea who these men were who’d destroyed my family some twenty years ago, but they’d deserved to die for what they’d done to John. I just wished I could have remembered what had happened.

  Tina put out her cigarette and opened her laptop on the kitchen table. ‘Tell me something. In that recurring dream of yours, you said that you remembered seeing the woman I’m looking for, Lauren Donaldson, and also another woman. Can you remind me what she looked like?’

  I could picture her immediately, as clear as day. ‘Long, thick blonde hair. Very pretty. Late twenties.’

  Tina picked up the laptop and handed it to me. ‘Is this her?’

  A photo of the top halves of three young women filled the screen. One of them was the dead girl in the dream; another I didn’t recognize; but all my attention was on the third. I couldn’t stop looking at her wide smile and deep blue eyes. I felt my mouth go dry and my stomach clench tight. ‘Jesus Christ,’ I said quietly. ‘It is her.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  I nodded. ‘Positive.’

  ‘What the hell is going on here, Sean?’

  ‘I wish I knew. What’s her name?’

  ‘Jen Jones.’

  It wasn’t familiar but that didn’t matter, because the girl was. I couldn’t stop staring at the photo as an intense emotion so powerful it made me want to throw up swirled round my system like an infection.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Tina, staring at me.

  I took a deep breath. ‘This girl … Jen Jones. I was in love with her.’ And for a second I was back in the dream, with her sat propped against the wall, bleeding from the head as she turned in my direction. And then the fear in her eyes as she saw me standing there.

  Why? Why was she so terrified of me?

  I handed back the laptop, suddenly feeling drained and very, very tired. ‘I guess we’d better get me booked into this hotel. Maybe I’ll remember more tomorrow.’

  But even as I spoke the words, I was wondering if I actually wanted to.

  Twenty-two

  It was gone ten o’clock when Tina finally got home from dropping Sean at the hotel. She made herself a decaf coffee, sat at the table and lit another cigarette before making a note on the laptop that she’d lent him another two hundred pounds to cover hotel expenses and a change of clothes. At this rate she’d be broke in a week. It wasn’t as if she made a huge amount of money from the detective work. She got by, but that was pretty much it, and she could ill afford to subsidize anyone, let alone a man like Sean who had little prospect of raising money from anywhere and whose presence in her life made things extremely dangerous.

  The men at the barn tonight had been tracking him electronically ever since he’d fled the house in Wales. This meant that they’d know every place he’d been that day, including Tina’s office, so it wouldn’t take them long to put two and two together and ID her as the woman who’d rescued Sean.

  So now she was in danger. She sighed, and dragged hard on the cigarette. It was the story of her life. The private detective work had been a way for her try to get some normality back in her life while still making use of some of the talents she’d picked up in the force, but nothing ever ran that smoothly for Tina Boyd. And tonight, when she’d emerged from the darkness and crept towards the barn with a Taser in her hand, knowing she was risking her life, the excitement had been incredible, the rush almost sexual.

  She stubbed out the cigarette and finished her coffee before walking through the cottage and checking that all the doors and windows were locked, as she did every night. Tonight it felt like a lonely job – the lonely job of a lonely woman – and she found herself missing Sean’s presence. She’d felt a definite stirring when she’d been tending his injuries earlier. A need for closeness, and a real desire to hold him, just so she could feel male contact again. But she’d fought it back down, and not just because she couldn’t entirely trust him. It was more than that. It was because she always pushed men away. It was as if falling in love, even allowing herself to need someone, was a sign of weakness that could only damage her in the long run. She’d even started receiving counselling to deal with the problem, which was something she never thought she’d end up doing. Her therapist said that her intimacy issues stemmed from the violence she’d suffered at the hands of men during a long and unusually bloody police career. And Tina believed it. She’d come close to being killed on more than one occasion, and had killed others too. Three times.
All men who’d deserved it. The scars those traumas had left her with were deep and permanent.

  ‘Yet still I come back for more,’ she said aloud as she readied herself for bed.

  Through her bedroom window, she could hear the faint rumble of traffic on the M25 four miles away. Otherwise the world was silent. Ordinarily she enjoyed that silence, but tonight there was something foreboding about it.

  She laid the Taser and the pepper spray on her bedside table, so they were close to hand, then got into bed and lay there for a few minutes with her eyes open, thinking about Lauren Donaldson, Jen Jones, and the enigmatic Sean Egan, the man who might yet be able to explain their disappearance.

  Just before she let sleep take her, she asked herself a single question: ‘Do I regret getting involved with Sean Egan?’

  The answer came to her straight away.

  Not yet.

  Twenty-three

  The dreams came again that night. A mad, seemingly never-ending jumble of snapshots: childhood on sunny afternoons; the angst-ridden days of youth; tragedy; undercover work; violence; sex; joy; despair. The whole shebang. It was like a heavy door being slowly forced open and my past pouring through the gap and flooding the present.

  I woke up once at about three a.m., sweating and disorientated with a violent throbbing coming from my mouth and no idea where I was. It took me an unfeasibly long time to work out that I was in the crappy hotel room I’d checked into a few hours earlier, with one set of dirty clothes and two dirty great holes where two of my back teeth had once been. I got up, stumbled over to the toilet, and took a leak in the gloom, unable to resist looking at my reflection in the mirror. The glow from the streetlights outside allowed me to get a pretty good view of my battered face. My hair was greasy and wild, and I looked like shit.