Nowhere to hide, p.1
Nowhere to Hide, page 1
NOWHERE TO HIDE
KERI BEEVIS
For my dear friend, Andrea Mummery.
And in memory of her beautiful gelding, Red.
CONTENTS
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
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
More from Keri Beevis
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Keri Beevis
The Murder List
About Boldwood Books
1
It was raining steadily as the train pulled into Norwich Railway Station and Callie Parker remained seated while the other commuters bustled around her, grabbing bags and positioning themselves in the aisle, all of them keen to make a quick exit.
The only luggage she had with her was the carrier bag she clutched to her side, and it contained all of her worldly possessions. A half-bottle of water and an untouched egg mayonnaise sandwich she had bought in London, her belly too jumpy to eat; a cheap, pay-as-you-go mobile phone; a silver picture frame – the one sentimental item she couldn’t bear to part with – and a black, woven bag filled with cash.
Everything else – her credit cards and keys, her clothes, make-up and jewellery – had been left behind in Devon. She was thirty-four and her life was down to one bag, but this was her fresh start and there could be nothing to link her to what she was running from.
Eventually, the train emptied and she made her way to the exit, butterflies swarming in her empty stomach as she scanned her phone at the turnstile and glanced anxiously into the crowd.
Was he here? Would she recognise him after all these years?
The enormity of what she had done hit sharply, fresh nerves trembling their way through her from her head to the tips of her toes. She had abandoned everything, travelling across the country to a city she didn’t know, to meet a man she barely remembered and hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. Was she crazy?
Perhaps yes, but she had no choice.
‘Callie?’
A hand touched her elbow and she flinched, stepping back abruptly.
The man who had startled her held his hand up in apology. ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump.’
Familiar, olive-green eyes held her gaze as he spoke and she tried to steady her breathing, not wanting him to notice how shaken she was. It was silly, she supposed, her embarrassment. They both knew what she was fleeing and she had nothing to fear from the man who stood before her. They may not have seen each other in years, but she was certain she could trust him.
Nico Adams.
His eyes hadn’t changed, but the fine lines fanning from them were an addition. He would be, what, thirty-six now? A year or two older than her. And he wore it well. The natural waves in his golden-brown hair thick and slightly unruly and the stubble grazing his chin taking away the softness of youth. And despite the cool February temperature, his face had a tan.
‘How did it go? Any problems?’
Callie’s voice seemed to have deserted her, so she simply shook her head.
‘Do you have anything else with you?’
For God’s sake, say something.
She shook her head again, but this time managed to speak. ‘Um, no.’
Could he detect the tremor in her tone? If so, he didn’t say. He had always been quiet and thoughtful, never using more words than necessary.
Laurel, Nico’s sister, thought it was probably because of his upbringing. No one fully knew what he had gone through before her parents had adopted him, she had once said.
‘Come on. I’m parked outside.’
He sounded a little impatient and guilt heated Callie’s cheeks, aware he had pulled himself away from work to come and collect her. She was already an inconvenience he didn’t need in his life, and had there been another way, she would have taken it.
Clutching her carrier bag, she scuttled after him like a mouse, relieved when he didn’t touch her again or try to talk to her as she followed, instead striding ahead. It gave her a few precious seconds to try to pull herself together before the car journey to where he lived.
Truthfully, she was stunned. Though she knew this plan inside and out, going through with it was altogether different.
She had started the day with everything and now she had nothing. And she was relying on the kindness of a stranger – because that was what Nico had become – to feed and clothe her, to put a roof over her head until she could find a way out of her nightmare.
The icy breeze hit them as they stepped out of the station. It was still raining, and he picked up the pace as he crossed the car park, clicking his fob at a black Jeep.
Callie hurried after him, aware she was getting soaked and didn’t have a change of clothes. He was waiting by the open passenger door and she quickly climbed in, careful not to touch anything other than the seat belt, conscious of respecting his property.
The Jeep was different to what she was used to. It didn’t look as if it had been wheeled out of the showroom, overly polished and the interior spotless. It was clean, but showing signs of wear and tear. Brown Buddha beads hung from the rear-view mirror, while sunglasses Nico didn’t currently need sat in the central console. The scent of the vehicle was of worn leather and sandalwood.
As he went round to the driver’s side, she drew in deep breaths, slowly releasing them as she tried to ease the knots out of her shoulders.
It was going to be okay. The worst bit was over.
Though they still had the drive ahead.
Laurel had said his place was about fifteen minutes from the city centre.
That was fifteen minutes of small talk with a man she barely remembered.
The nerves started churning again.
It was safer than what she was running from, Callie reminded herself as he got in the Jeep.
He glanced in her direction. ‘You okay?’ The rain had darkened the waves of his hair and he pushed it from his face.
No, she wasn’t, but she lied. ‘I think so.’
He nodded, starting the engine, and, to her relief, turned on the radio. She wouldn’t be forced to try to make conversation with him then.
It was her favourite indie station playing, she realised, recognising the DJ’s voice. Radio X. As a Kings of Leon track started, a little of the tension ebbed out of her. There had been little music in her life over the last couple of years and it hit her now how badly she had missed it.
She had been on tenterhooks waiting for today, for the plan to be put in motion, terrified it would somehow go wrong, and although it hadn’t, she was bottling a dozen emotions. Unsure how to feel about any of this.
Had she made a mistake?
Should she have stayed?
Was there another way?
She knew the answer to each question was no, but it didn’t make this any easier.
She had lost her home, her dog and her identity. There was no other way.
Her dog. She thought of him now. Giving up Chester was the toughest decision she had been forced to make and, months later, she was still heartbroken. There had been no choice, though. His safety had to come first.
Her anxious fingers fought the urge to toy with the ends of the blonde bob she wore.
She trusted Laurel and Laurel trusted Nico.
Callie had to believe she was doing the right thing. She used to trust her own judgement, but she had made so many wrong decisions lately, she had lost faith in herself.
She spared a brief thought for what she had left behind and the risks she had taken to get away. No one could ever find out she was with Nico. If the truth came out, she wouldn’t be safe, and neither would he.
Fresh terror rattled through her, knowing how dangerous all of this was, that one false move could be her undoing, and her skin grew clammy with fear.
She understood what hell was. She had been there and looked the Devil in the eye. And there was no way she was ever going back.
2
The rain stopped as they were heading away from Norwich, the sun emerging from behind the clouds as Nico slowed the car, turning off the country lane into a driveway signposted Willow Brook Farm.
Callie looked ahead, curious as they passed through a tunnel of trees, their branches bare from a harsh winter. So this was his home.
Laurel had told her that Nico had inherited the property from his former employer, Teddy Bishop, a man who had been like a second father to him.
As they emerged the other side of the trees, the landscape opened up. To the right were half a dozen paddocks, separated by white fences, with stables beyond. A woman with a ponytail was in one, standing centre of the field as a black horse on a long rein trotted aro und her.
To the left, the landscape was open and rugged, with trees that became denser, merging into woodland in the distance. A small building sat on the edge of the thicket, reminding Callie of the house in the Hansel and Gretel storybook. Was that where she would be staying? Laurel had mentioned a separate cottage.
Up ahead was Nico’s house. At least she assumed it was where he lived. Aside from the cottage, there were no other properties she could see.
She knew nothing about this place or Nico these days, other than what Laurel had filled her in on. Callie knew he trained horses, but that was it. In hindsight, she should have asked more questions when Laurel had offered to help her. But she had been so focused on what she was escaping from, she hadn’t fully considered what she might be running to.
As they approached, Callie got a full view of the front of the house. A Tudor-style, two-storey property with a black and white striped exterior. It was a pretty building and well maintained, but there was nothing showy about it, and that relaxed her a little.
‘I’ll take you down to the cottage in a minute,’ Nico told her, pulling the Jeep to a halt outside the house. ‘We just need to make a stop first.’
It was the first time he had spoken since they had left the station, but the silence hadn’t been awkward as she had expected. The radio had helped, but Nico didn’t seem to feel the need to make conversation, which had given Callie time to work through her jumble of thoughts. Now she was curious why they were stopping and wondering if he expected her to follow when he climbed out of the car.
She didn’t want to be presumptuous, aware it was a bad habit of hers, so instead she remained in the passenger seat, tension thrumming through her as she clutched the carrier bag.
Nico glanced over his shoulder when he reached the house, realising she wasn’t behind him, and his eyes widened in surprise. ‘Come on,’ he urged.
Now she reddened, feeling foolish for staying in the car.
She was unfastening her seat belt as he unlocked the front door, pushing it open, but the apology she had become conditioned to give when she messed up or miscalculated never made it past her lips as she watched the dogs charge out of the house.
The first two, a fawn boxer and a black and white spaniel, initially held her attention, but then a smiley-faced Golden Retriever was charging after them, which had her pausing, double taking and catching her breath, for a moment unsure and confused.
It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.
‘Chester?’
For the first time in longer than she could remember, she reacted without thinking about the consequences, almost falling out of the car as the dog’s ears pricked up at the name and he looked in her direction. In that moment, she was sure.
As he charged towards her, Callie dropped to her knees, sobbing as the blur of golden fur leapt into her arms, covering her in enthusiastic licks.
For several seconds, it was just the two of them and Callie was in shock that he was here. As she showered him with all of the love she hadn’t been able to give him these last few awful months, her vision blurred, the tears now streaming down her cheeks.
Chester had been the breaking point. By sending him away, she had saved him, but her heart had broken. If there was any blessing in his departure, it was the realisation that she had to fight for herself.
Somehow, she had managed to get away and, even if she didn’t dare believe her nightmare was over, it comforted her that she had her dog back.
As she hugged him tight, she glanced up at Nico. He was watching them both, as the other two dogs chased each other around in the drive, and she mouthed the words, Thank you.
How would she ever begin to repay him for bringing Chester back to her?
He didn’t react, other than to nod. His green eyes dark and his expression unreadable, apart from the slight curve touching his lips.
Nico was a brooder, not a smiler. She remembered that detail about him now.
He was a careful man, measured in his responses, often deep in thought, and Callie recalled he wasn’t prone to outbursts of emotion. Excitement and enthusiasm weren’t on his agenda, but neither were anger or jealousy.
While staying with his and Laurel’s parents over Easter, back in their university days, she had overheard their mum, Janice, saying Nico had gone through a tough time before he had been adopted and that his real mother had made him suffer unnecessarily.
Callie hadn’t been earwigging, but Janice’s words had stuck and she had always been curious, though she had never asked what had happened.
She was pulled from her thoughts when the spaniel wandered over, curious as to who she was, a wet nose pressing against her cheek.
‘Meet Dash,’ Nico introduced, as she made a fuss of the dog. He nodded to the boxer who was looking on curiously. ‘And this is Shyla.’
‘Are they both yours?’
Nico’s mouth twitched again. ‘For my sins.’
He was joking, dropping down to fuss Shyla, as the dog returned to his side. He clearly adored her. Dash, meanwhile, was living up to his name, now running around Callie and Chester, wanting to play.
Callie had so many questions and was still a little in shock. When she had asked Laurel to take Chester, she’d had no idea he would end up here with Nico. She had asked only that Laurel find him a loving home, believing she would never see him again.
‘Laurel never told me you took him,’ she said once they were back in the Jeep, driving to the cottage. Although the building was in walking distance, the rain had created large puddles and the track was full of mud. Callie glanced back at Chester, who was on the back seat, his tail thumping like mad.
‘She wanted it to be a surprise.’ Nico hesitated. ‘She knows what you have given up and how hard it’s been, and she thought you should have something familiar when you got here.’
Yet again, her friend had gone over and above for her. Callie knew there was no way she would ever be able to repay Laurel for everything she had done.
Nico pulled the Jeep to a halt outside her new home and her first impression was how dilapidated it was. Grey stone and single storey with a dark roof and white, shuttered windows. A sign beside the door told her it was called ‘Stable Cottage’.
‘I know it doesn’t look much from the outside, but the structure is sound and it’s well insulated,’ Nico reassured her. ‘I lived here for a while and it’s heated by an Aga and a wood-burning stove. It’s cosy.’
Although this was good, the enormity of everything hit her and fresh nerves choked her throat, while her leaden legs refused to move.
This was happening. She had escaped.
Still, she couldn’t believe she was safe and feared she would always be looking over her shoulder.
If her hiding place was ever discovered—
No. She couldn’t think that way, just as she dared not imagine the future and how it might look for her. She needed to focus on taking things one day at a time.
It both relieved and terrified her.
Sensing she needed space, Nico got out of the Jeep, taking Chester with him, letting the dog sniff around for a few moments before heading over to the cottage to unlock the front door.
Callie sucked in a breath, releasing it slowly to try to quell her roiling stomach, then forced herself to move. She could do this.
She had to do this because it was too late to turn back.
Nico had disappeared inside and she followed after him, distracted momentarily by Chester, who was on his way back out to look for her, seeming anxious that she had left him again. As the blonde lump of fur crashed into her, Callie reached out and held on to his collar, needing him as an anchor as much as he needed her.
‘It doesn’t look much,’ Nico said, gesturing at the small living room they were in, ‘but it has all the basics. The TV is digital and you’re hooked up to a few channels, and of course you have Wi-Fi. The code is on the kitchen counter if you want to put it in your phone. I came down and lit the wood burner earlier to make sure it’s warm enough for you.’
Callie glanced around the room. One small sofa facing the TV. There was a tiny table in the corner with two chairs pushed under it, and the walls were plain. No colour, no pictures, but he was right, it was cosy. The fire crackling and providing a warm sanctuary from the February chill.
