The deceiver, p.6
The Deceiver, page 6
Tariq stepped back as Abbie raised a hand, then touched his right eye when he realised she was pointing. A bruise inflicted by Abbie. He cringed as he made contact.
“What’s the good news?” he said.
“Hugh told the police a random group of men attacked him. He hasn’t given them your name. Neither have I.”
“That’s no surprise,” Tariq said.
“Why not?”
“Because Hugh isn’t the innocent victim you think. Now, shall we?”
He pointed, then headed up the drive towards the house without waiting for a response.
12
Abbie followed Tariq inside. The front door opened onto a spacious hallway, with stairs on the left leading up to a bright landing. Through an arch at the end of the hall was a beautiful kitchen. Grand windows looked onto an immaculate lawn. The surfaces glistened, and the sun bounced off the sparkling white goods. Tariq had removed his jacket and thrown it over the back of a chair. As Abbie entered the room, he grabbed a glass from a cupboard and walked to the sink.
“There’s a gorgeous fireplace in the living room. As you were so nervous about the poker, I thought I’d come in here. Besides, showing houses is thirsty work.”
He turned on the tap, filled his glass, drank most of that, and refilled it. Abbie watched him slam the tap shut and turn to the breakfast bar. He placed his glass down and put his palms on the surface.
“No, I’m okay for a drink,” Abbie said. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
Tariq didn’t rise to the bait. “Why are you here?”
“You don’t believe I want to buy this place?”
“People who wear bags like that can’t afford places like this.”
Abbie looked at her cheap, drawstring bag. She’d owned it for years; it’d always served her well. The comment made her smile.
“That’s very judgmental. Or maybe it’s a sales technique intended to goad me into buying. It won’t work. I’m happy where I am for the time being.”
“Whatever. Why are you here?”
“Straight to business. Why does it always have to be straight to business? What happened to small talk? All I get these days is suspicious or aggressively flirtatious comments.”
“Just suspicion from me.”
“For which I’m thankful.”
“Why are you here?”
Abbie turned to the windows above the sink, looking at a garden of lush grass and exotic plants. Someone had spent much time and money turning it into a visual feast. Maintaining it had to be almost a full-time job. It amazed Abbie that anyone, having put in so much work, could bring themselves to leave such a beautiful space.
“I was just passing through town last night,” she said. “Didn’t expect to be here long, then I saw you and your friends attempting to murder Hugh. Once I’d seen you off, I accompanied him to the hospital. You’d taken his phone, but he preferred not to call his family, anyway. He mentioned no friends, and as for his girlfriend… well, we know something’s happened there, right?”
Tariq’s jaw was set with frustration. His words were stiff and uneven, as though he were forcing them out. “What did he tell you about Zaria?”
“Heartwarming things and family troubles. He mentioned love at first sight and the difficult relationship between your father and his. He said your dad accepted the relationship. So did you. You’d even been friendly before last night.”
“All true.” He shook his head as though ashamed of having shown kindness to Hugh. “I’m protective of my sister but would never dictate what she can and can’t do or who she can and can’t date. She only had one other boyfriend, and I was the same around him – friendly. After all, if someone’s good enough for Zaria, I assume they can’t be all bad.”
Tariq never broke eye contact as he spoke. Instinct told Abbie he was telling the truth, but she also believed Hugh. Why did she get the annoying impression that the two stories were about to come into conflict?
“Why did you attack Hugh? Daddy’s orders?”
Tariq shook his head. “I appreciate your first impression of me wasn’t good, but I’m not naturally violent, and I wouldn’t have attacked Hugh on my father’s orders. I had my reasons – good reasons.”
“Enlighten me.”
Tariq took his phone from his jacket and approached. His expression matched Sammy’s; all suspicion. The difference was that Abbie hadn’t saved Tariq’s life. She got in his way and left him bruised and embarrassed. This suspicion, therefore, was warranted.
“Why are you here?”
Abbie chose not to reply, so Tariq continued.
“You say you were passing through, but how do I know Hugh didn’t pay you to watch out for him? You’re here on his behalf now, so why should I trust you? Why should I tell you anything?”
Abbie lacked good answers to these questions so went for her usual cover story.
“I’m an insomniac who suffers from severe anxiety. When panic attacks attempt to overcome me, I combat them by going for long drives followed by walks in new towns late at night. That’s all I was doing last night. I also have an awful affliction which prevents me from walking away when I see someone in danger. I knew nothing about you or Hugh before last night. I acted on what I saw. You had Hugh outnumbered and showed no signs of relenting. If I hadn’t stepped in, Hugh might have died, so I risked saving him, hoping he wouldn’t turn out to be a cat murderer, abusive manipulator or, worst of all, a lawyer. When we reached the hospital, I forced him to open up. He told me about Zaria, and his affection seemed genuine. As did his confusion when he talked about the attack. That’s why I offered to talk to you. I want to help get to the bottom of it.”
This time, it was Abbie who held eye contact as she spoke, and Tariq had to decide if she was telling the truth or attempting to pull the wool over his eyes. She watched him wrestle with that and knew he remained unsure.
“Maybe you’re being honest. Assuming you are, I’m sorry to say Hugh’s fooled you. He’s not some innocent love-sick puppy, and he knows exactly what changed. Why I attacked him.”
“Why?”
Still conflicted, Tariq lifted his phone, unlocked the screen, and searched for something. After ten seconds, he looked up from the device.
“Maybe you’re working for Hugh, maybe not. I’ll tell you either way; know why? Because he knows what he did. Telling you makes no difference. I’ll still make him pay, and he’s never coming near my sister again.”
Abbie waited.
“Zaria bumped into Hugh a few weeks ago.,” Tariq said. “They started dating, and she soon realised she was falling for him. She thought he was kind and sweet. That was until he stayed with her at our mum’s place on Thursday night. I found her like this on Friday morning.”
Tariq slapped his phone into Abbie’s hand.
“Fuck love at first sight. Hugh pretended to care about Zaria, but he wanted only one thing. She agreed to let him stay over Thursday on the understanding nothing sexual would happen. She wasn’t ready. That was fine, Hugh told her, but he was lying. That night, he decided to push the issue.”
Abbie’s head snapped up from the phone. “Did he—“
“Force himself on her? No. He tried, though, and when she refused, he did that.”
Tariq nodded at the phone. The screen kept fading to black. Each time it did, Abbie tapped, and the photograph lit up anew. Looking at the picture made her sick. She imagined the scenario that might have led to this outcome: Hugh trying to talk Zaria into it, then becoming more verbally forceful. Finally, grabbing his girlfriend and insisting she do as he said.
And when she continued to refuse…
“That’s the man you defended last night,” Tariq said. “The one you’re here on behalf of now. Not quite the Romeo he tried to make out, huh?”
The photograph showed the face of a young woman, her sleek black hair tied back. Her eyes sparkled blue. Abbie guessed she was pretty, but the swelling made it difficult to tell. Not one punch but a barrage of them had morphed her features in this way.
What rage her attacker must have felt. Was this Hugh? Had he lied to Abbie? The photographic evidence suggested he had.
“You look angry,” Tariq said. “Maybe you get why I did what I did. The question is, what’ll you do next? Because I’m not done with Hugh. Whatever he tells the police, I promise I’m not done.”
Her temperature rising, Abbie stepped forward and placed the phone in Tariq’s hand. She kept her voice calm as she met his gaze.
“I don’t know what I’ll do next, but I’ll tell you something.” She jabbed the phone. “If Hugh did this, I wouldn’t blame you for going after him, for finishing what you started. I might even help.”
Tariq was set to reply. Abbie raised a hand to silence him.
“If he did this.”
She left the house, intending to find out.
13
More nightmares. Until someone yanked him out of the darkness. A blurry shape above his uncomfortable hospital chair. He’d know that blur anywhere.
“Isabel. What time is it?”
“Ten in the morning. You’ve been here a long while. You must feel like crap.”
“I feel fine.”
“Well, you look like crap.”
“Thanks.”
He forced himself out of the chair and arched his back. Everything hurt, and none of it mattered. He rested a hand on Courtney’s arm. The teen was still and silent. Despite her injuries, she looked peaceful, and Sammy felt a tear in the corner of his eye.
Izzy placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I heard what happened last night. You should have called.”
“No use us both losing sleep.”
“What about Dad? You get hold of him?”
Sammy shook his head. “Didn’t even try.”
“Well, I did. Several times. And our idiot brother. Neither answered. I’m starting to worry.”
Sammy wasn’t. Isabel hadn’t been around much lately. Her career kept her busy. The result was that he knew their brother was prone to disappear without a word for days at a time. Isabel didn’t.
As for their father… well, Sammy didn’t care where his dad was.
“I spoke to Xylina,” he said. “She was going to come down. Guess she couldn’t make it.”
“She could.” Isabel gave a half smile. “Not that I’m one to defend her, but I hear she’s been here for hours. By the time she arrived, you were asleep. She felt it’d be better not to wake you. I sent her to get coffee when I got here just now. Like you, she looked like crap.”
Sammy glanced at the door through which Xylina must have disappeared. Then to the floor. He’d done his best to clean up the coffee with some blue roll before the police arrived, but a professional had been at it since. The floor sparkled.
How quickly had he fallen asleep once the police left? If Xylina left home immediately after his call, she’d have arrived ten or fifteen minutes after the boys and girls in blue had gone. He must have dropped off straight away. Some guardian he turned out to be.
“I could do with a coffee myself,” he said.
“Go. I want to spend some time with Courtney anyway.”
“You sure?”
Izzy must have sensed his fear and guessed why he was worried. She lay a hand on his arm.
“After that monster failed to kidnap our sister, he’s unlikely to try again. He’ll know we’ve arranged for greater protection, which I have, by the way. Even if he were to try, he wouldn’t do it today. Too many people about.”
“You’re right.”
Izzy smiled. “All that remains is to work out who keeps attacking our little sister and why.”
This was a rhetorical question. After another minute of idle chat, Sammy said goodbye and left, retracing his steps to the café where he’d met the mysterious Abbie. The shutters were now up, and Sammy was pleased to see the staff serving coffee at the counter. No need to return to the evil vending machine.
Sammy glanced over the tables and got in line. Once the server took his money and gave him a cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich, he placed his tray on a table near the vending machines.
“Mind if I sit?”
The table’s only occupant glanced up. Her eyes were blank for several seconds. She didn’t even seem to recognise him. Still, she nodded.
“Thanks.”
Izzy was right; Xylina did look like crap. It was strange to see. Sammy’s mother had never been a knockout but was an attractive woman, even after three kids and too much booze took its toll. Based on looks alone, many had considered Sammy’s father a lucky man to have ended up with her.
Then came Xylina, the clichéd younger model. Sammy was thirteen when his father met this stunning twenty-year-old Greek model. In the fifteen years since, Sammy had never seen Xy looking anything but her best. Stopping at one kid and remaining teetotal probably helped.
Today was different. Exhaustion and worry had robbed Xylina of her beauty. In an alarming turn of events, she looked like Sammy’s mother after one of her binges – the kind that became more common after her husband walked out for a woman half his age. Literally.
Xylina hadn’t had it easy. Her difficult home life during her teens convinced her to flee her homeland for pastures new. She arrived in England without the language or any friends to rely on. After six months, she was working as a model, making money. Her English had improved, but the friendship situation had not. She was lonely when she bumped into Sammy’s father. No wonder he won her heart with kindness and a few gifts. After another six months, she still had no friends, but her new man had convinced her she wouldn’t need any. She had him, and she had something even better. Or soon would have. She was pregnant.
Izzy hated Xylina for hurting her mum, while their younger brother hated her for stealing their dad. Sammy was more pragmatic. He struggled to get on with Xylina but tried to be kind. She hadn’t known the man she was falling in love with had a wife and three kids until it was too late. Izzy liked to imply that Xylina was only with their father for the money, but Sammy had never believed that. She’d loved their dad when he left their mother for her, and she loved him now, all these years later. Sammy had seen that yesterday when she came to his office almost in tears, begging for help, not only because he was a private detective, but because she still had no friends and, therefore, no one else to whom she could turn.
“I’m sorry I was asleep when you arrived,” Sammy said. “I know how awful you must be feeling.”
She met his gaze, and her eyes flashed with grief.
“My daughter’s my world.”
“I know. I love her, and it’s killing me to see her like this, but I know what I feel must be nothing compared to your pain. This is your daughter.”
She looked away, staring into the distance. Perhaps her mind was taunting her with memories of her child during happier times. What she said next indicated this was the case.
“Meeting your father was the first good thing to happen to me. I know what he did to your mother and you kids was awful, but he’s always been my rock.”
It was odd being called ‘you kids’ by a woman only four years older than his big sister, but Sammy took the point.
“Getting pregnant was the second good thing,” she said, “and it far dwarfed the experience of meeting your dad. I knew from the day of the positive test that the baby growing in my stomach would become more important to me than anyone or anything, including myself and my husband-to-be. And then when—”
A wave of emotion hit Xylina.
“When what?” Sammy asked.
Xylina shook her head, crying silently, but continued her story.
“There were cramps, pain. I thought that must be what going into labour felt like, but thought that couldn’t be what was happening. I was two months from my due date. Then the pain didn’t stop. I called your father, but it intensified to awful levels before he arrived. When I called him back, he called the ambulance. They took me to the hospital, and the doctors rushed me to surgery. Something was wrong. I don’t know the details, but they went to work. They got my baby out, but that wasn’t the end of the trouble. One of the doctors was brave enough to tell me there was nothing they could do for my child. Within 24 hours of Courtney taking her first breath, she’d take her last. Can you imagine how that felt?”
Sammy could barely breathe, let alone get the word out. He shook his head.
“Am I crying?” Xylina asked the question and touched the corner of her eye. “It’s happening again. I’m going to lose my daughter.”
She continued to dab her eyes, and when she returned her hand to the table, Sammy took it in his. The move was instinctual, and he felt embarrassed initially, but Xylina seemed grateful.
“Courtney survived,” he said. “She defied expectations then, and she’ll defy them now. In fact, she won’t have to. We’ll protect her. I promise to keep her safe.”
Xylina squeezed Sammy’s hand, the tears rolling down her cheeks. There was desperation in her eyes as she asked her next question.
“What has my husband done?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll find out. I promise that as well.”
He squeezed her hand back and considered how he might unlock the secrets of his father’s actions before their enemies came for Courtney again, this time succeeding in their goals.
14
Abbie left Tariq, got into her car, and tried to rip her steering wheel free to deal with her fury as she recalled her conversation with Hugh. His touching story. Had it all been a lie? Could it be? She closed her eyes to recall his version of events. Not only his words but his expression. She searched for tells and found none. If he had fabricated the tale because, in truth, he’d assaulted Zaria when she refused to sleep with him, it meant one of two things: he was either a sociopath or in severe denial.
Abbie forced her grip to loosen. She took one hand from the wheel, started the car, and pulled away from the curb.
Her mind didn’t stop working.
