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‘The main point I’m trying to make,’ she said, her voice getting testy for the first time, ‘is that someone is driving round impersonating my ex-husband.’
‘Oh, right. I see.’ Bre
‘No, no. It doeslook like him — well, a close-enough resemblance. But it wasn’t him.’
Bre
‘No, no. I didn’t.’ Testiness quickly verging into a
This was getting harder by the minute. Bre
‘That’s right.’ She went to nod, only then realizing that she couldn’t with the neck brace.
‘Yet you’re sure it wasn’t him… even though you say it actually lookedlike him and you were only able to eyeball him for a couple of seconds?’
‘Yes, yes… a hundred per cent sure.’ Her voice practically a hiss, her eyes narrowing. Having spent two hours unconscious and the rest of the day being sca
‘Oh… okay.’ Bre
Her eyes flickered briefly to one side. ‘Also, there… there was no recognition on his face when he saw me.’
What, he didn’t suddenly slam on his brakes as well? But from the glint in this woman’s eyes, her patience worn, Bre
‘No, uuuh… not really.’ One thing she hadn’t thought about. She smiled tightly. ‘Hopefully that’s something you’ll be able to tell me… whenyou’ve caught up with him.’
Spi
Floating. The sensation pleasant. But suddenly Truelle sensed that something was wrong. The lights were spi
Truelle’s eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright at the jolt of hitting the ground, his breath short, heart pounding like a jack-hammer. And there was a woman’s voice in the background, coming from the lounge — ‘…when you get this message, Le
‘Hello…. Maggie. I’m here. It’s Le
‘I… I found him when I came back with the kids.’ Fresh breath to fight back the tears. ‘But the crazy thing is, there doesn’t seem to be anything of value taken.’
Falling… ‘Oh, Maggie… Maggie. I’m so sorry.’
‘Something like this, it’s… it’s unbelievable.’ She forced an ironic snort through her shaky voice and sniffles. ‘That’s why we moved upstate, because we thought it would be safer.’
‘I know… I know.’ Falling… the breath grunting out of him as his legs finally gave way, sinking to his knees as he clung to the telephone table with his other hand.
‘I started my calls at six, not long after the police left. Relatives, friends… and I called you, Le
‘ Oh?’ Not daring to tell this mother of two — this widow— that it probably wasn’t there any longer and that her husband had very likely been killed because of it. Truelle looked towards the clock for the first time: 8.08 a.m.
She forced an awkward, tremulous chuckle. ‘I remember him smiling about it at the time, because you’d given instructions of what to do if anything happened to you… but not what to do if anything happened to him.’
‘Well, I… I hadn’t really thought about that.’ He swallowed hard, closed his eyes. City lights still spi
‘I know.’ Sniffling, the tears close again.
‘There… there’s no urgency. I’ll give you a call in a few days time when I’ve thought about it and things have settled down more your end.’ He sighed heavily. ‘And again, Maggie, I’m sorry… so sorry. If there’s anything I can do over these coming days, anything…don’t hesitate to contact me.’
But Truelle found it difficult to stand up again after they signed off, still gripping to the table as if it was that last raft or the edge of a high building. Oh God… Oh God!
But why now? If they’d known of Alan’s whereabouts all along, then why not just after he’d first sent the envelope? Or maybe it was just a terrible coincidence. People got shot in upstate New York too. Or was it because of Ayliss visiting him yesterday and him then going AWOL. Nel-M fearing the worst and not able to catch up with him, so…
Truelle got up then, in fact leapt back a full two paces from the phone as if it had given him a high-voltage shock, staring back at it accusingly as he recalled the message that had come in the night before from Chris Tullington in Vancouver.
‘ Be careful where you call from with anything too juicy or incriminating. Your phones might well be bugged.’ McElroy too had warned him earlier, but he’d already had his lines checked and cleared! Office andhome.
He’d also spoken to Chris two weeks back when he’d first sent the envelopes. He racked his brain for what might have been said then, shaking his head after a moment; it hardly mattered now. If for whatever reason everything was going down now, Chris was in danger, and himself: if his line was bugged, they’d now know he was back at his apartment. Nel-M could be on his way already.
He shrank back another pace from the phone, then rushed over to the window, looking out. No Nel-M in sight, nothing else that looked out of place or worrying. He grabbed his keys, a handful of coins from a side-drawer, and leapt breakneck down the apartment building steps. He gave the street a furtive each-way scan, then ran round the corner, finally settling on a kiosk three blocks away, in case Nel-M meanwhile pulled up by his place.