Outcast (The Darkeningstone Series Book 2) (29 page)

“Great,” Andrew said. He pushed his chair back and stood up, snatching the bill from the table. “I’ll go and pay this.” He shouldered his rucksack and started walking toward the counter.

“Wait,” Cally said. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

Andrew looked back and smiled. “No, I trust you.”

As Andrew waited at the counter, his phone began to vibrate in his jacket pocket. No doubt Crawford or one of his henchmen wanted to know what was going on. Andrew fought the urge to answer the call. Instead, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching then turned the phone off. He’d been issued the phone at work, and he knew only too well that there were any number of ways it could be used to track his movements. If he didn’t want the extraction team following his every step, he needed to ditch it, and quickly.

There was an old-fashioned coat stand on his left, festooned with a variety of coats despite the warm weather. The tearoom clearly appealed to the sort of people who never went anywhere without a waterproof coat. Andrew took a small step to his left, and sized up the coats. There was a man’s waxed jacket with large outside pockets and that would be ideal, but before he could make his move, the kitchen door opened and the waitress appeared.

She gave him a sharp look. “Can I help you? Changed your mind about the clotted cream have you?”

Andrew gave her his best smile. “I was just admiring that painting of the cathedral,” he said, and with his right hand he pointed to a framed picture on the wall just behind the waitress. “I’ve always liked watercolours.”

The waitress turned to look, and without hesitation, Andrew sidestepped so that his shoulder brushed up against the coats. He kept his eyes on the painting. “Are any of the pictures for sale?”

The waitress turned back around and smiled at him. “Some of them are, but not that one. It was done by an old friend of mine, as it happens.”

“Really? It’s very good,” Andrew said. “Must be wonderful to have a talent like that.” The waitress glanced back at the painting, and Andrew seized his chance. Without looking down, he slipped his phone into the pocket of the waxed coat and then stepped back to the counter. “But I mustn’t keep you chatting. I’m sure you’re very busy. I was wondering if I could have the bill.”

After he’d paid the bill, Andrew saw that Cally was waiting for him by the door. She was still chewing and brushing the crumbs from her clothes, and as he joined her, she licked the sticky jam from her lips. “Thank you,” she said. “That was nice.”

Andrew waved her thanks away. “No problem. Are you ready?”

“Sure.”

He opened the door for her and they stepped out into the sunlight. Andrew looked along the street. There was no sign of the young woman who’d been watching them, but that didn’t mean much. There’d be at least four in the extraction team, and whichever way he and Cally went, the team would be one step ahead. If they thought he was trying to lose them, it would only force them into acting sooner. It was best if the team thought they hadn’t been spotted.

“So,” Andrew said, “which way do we go?”

Cally hesitated. “Are you sure you still want to go?”

For god’s sake
, Andrew thought,
let’s just get the hell out of here
. But he forced a smile. “Positive. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Well, in that case, it’s this way.” She indicated with her arm and they started walking.

Good
, Andrew thought.
We’re heading back toward the main street
. Soon, they could mingle with the crowds and there was at least a slim chance they could get away from the extraction team. “Is it far?”

“No. Just a ten minute walk.”

They strolled together in silence for a while, neither of them sure what to say. As they turned a corner and rejoined the busy main street, Cally did a double take then shook her head. Andrew’s stomach tightened. “Seen someone you know?”

Cally shrugged. “I’m not sure. He seemed familiar, but I can’t place him.”

Andrew looked back but there was nothing suspicious. “A student?”

“No. He was older—forty-something. Maybe he’s a lecturer or something.”

“Right,” Andrew said. But he wasn’t convinced. In his world, it paid to be paranoid. Cally may already have forgotten the chance encounter with a vaguely familiar face, but Andrew knew it was no coincidence. The extraction team had them surrounded, and they were closing in.

Chapter 27

2014

THE MAN WAS BREATHING HARD, his cheeks twitching. He put his hand to his lips, but he didn’t say a word.

Tom saw the desperation in the man’s eyes.
He’s suffered enough
, he thought, and he broke the silence. “This is where it happened.”

“I guessed as much,” the man said. He looked across the ledge. “The police never said anything about a ledge.”

Tom sniffed. “They didn’t know about it. I never told them. I knew they wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“And they didn’t look hard enough. I said so at the time.” The man shook his head. “Unbelievable! It was
so
important to find this place, but they didn’t even come close.”

“It’s hard to find,” Tom said. “But even if they came up here, there was nothing to see.”

The man glared at Tom. “You made certain of that, did you?”

Tom shook his head wearily. “No. There was just nothing to see.”

The man gave a short, derisive laugh. “You know, I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. Forensics is pretty good these days. They can always find something, even after all this time.”

“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t do anything to him—there was nothing to hide, nothing to find.”

“You’d better tell me,” the man said. “Tell me what happened.”

Tom pointed at the grassy bank at one end of the ledge. “He was standing over there.”

The man started to turn toward the bank and then hesitated. He turned to face Tom and looked down on the ground. The baseball bat lay on the grass, just behind Tom. The man stepped forward as quickly as he could, putting his weight on his good ankle, and picked up the bat. He gave Tom a cold smile. “Show me. And don’t think I suddenly trust you. I don’t. Not for a second.”

Tom shook his head.
I should’ve known
. The boy’s father had held on to his bitter anger for too long; there was no way he’d let it go now.
There’s no use trying to reason with him
.
I’ll just have to tell him what happened and hope he doesn’t go ballistic
. He sighed and looked toward the grassy bank. He was already closer to the stone slab than he wanted to be, but the man wasn’t leaving him much choice. “All right,” he said. “Keep your hair on.” He hobbled slowly across the ledge, each step shorter than the last, until finally, he shuffled to a standstill, at least one good stride away from the bank. The man stood at his side. “He was right there,” Tom said.

The man glanced at the place. “And?”

Tom tutted to himself. “Can’t you see it? Go closer. You have to go right up to it.”

The man hesitated. He tightened his grip on the baseball bat. “You first.”

Tom looked at the ground for a moment. He should refuse. He should not move one millimetre nearer to that bloody stone. But would the man listen to him? No. So what was the point in arguing?
Just get it over with
. “All right,” he said. Taking care where he placed his feet, he stepped up to the bank and looked down onto the stone slab. Its surface was dull, streaked with mud and littered with gravelly soil and dead leaves.

The man joined him. “What is it?” But he didn’t wait for Tom to answer. He bent down and swept some of the dead leaves away with his hand.

Tom held his breath but nothing strange happened when the man touched the dark stone. The man bent lower to examine it. “It looks like a slab of black marble, or is it a dark granite?”

“No,” Tom said. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s not what you think.”

“I don’t know. Could be gneiss or…” He brushed some of the loose soil away and ran his fingertips over the stone’s surface. He looked up at Tom. “It’s so smooth. It’s perfect—almost like it was carved yesterday.” He straightened his back and gazed at the stone. “So this was what he found,” he murmured. “This is why he kept coming in here. He tried to tell me…in his email. He tried to tell me. But I didn’t listen. I wasn’t there for him.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a second. “I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I didn’t understand.” He turned to Tom. “What happened?” he demanded. “Tell me
exactly
what happened.”

Tom took a breath and fixed his eyes on the stone slab. “He…he fell. He fell on the stone.”

“You saw it? You were here?”

Tom nodded.

“Why? Why did he fall?”

Tom couldn’t answer.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You hurt him. You attacked him.”

Tom held out his hands and spread his fingers. “No. It wasn’t like that. I just threatened him. I went toward him. He backed away.”

The man put his hands up to his mouth. “Christ! He must’ve been terrified.” He stared at Tom. “I get it,” he said. “You’re trying to tell me it was, what—an accident? He just fell. Nothing to do with you. Is that it?”

Tom turned his face away. He couldn’t deny it.

“But you
were
going to hurt him, weren’t you? Whatever you threatened—you would’ve done it.”

“I don’t know. I…” Tom’s voice trailed away.

“Oh please,” the man sneered. “You admitted you’d already attacked him once. I was at your trial. I
know
the things you’ve done. I know what you’re capable of.”

Tom’s fingers curled into fists. He glared at the man. “Yes. For once, you’ve got it right.”

The man gave him a withering look.

Tom took no notice. “That’s how it was back then. This place was ours. It belonged to us. I had to punish him. I had no choice.”

“Don’t give me that bleeding heart, peer pressure crap.”

“It’s true. It’s what I was. It’s who I was.”

The man rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m listening to this.” He stepped forward, put his face close to Tom’s. “My son is dead. If he fell, it’s because you
made
him fall. You killed him.”

“No,” Tom said. He took a step back. “No. You’re wrong.” He ran his hands through his hair. “You know what? You have no bloody idea what you’re talking about. You’re…you’re a bloody maniac, that’s what you are.”

“How dare you? How dare you stand there and talk to me like that?”

“How dare
you?
” Tom demanded. “You talk to me like I’m scum, but
you!
You stalked me, you broke into my house, you made me lose my job. For god’s sake, you crashed into my car—on purpose. You almost killed me. You’re more of a criminal than I ever was.”

“That’s enough,” the man roared. He raised the baseball bat, pointed it at Tom’s face.

“Or what?” Tom sneered. “Are you going to beat me with that thing?” He stepped closer to the man. “Is that what you’re going to do? Is it? Because then you really would be down on my level, wouldn’t you?”

A rush of cold anger leeched the blood from the man’s face. He raised the bat to his shoulder, ready to lash out. “Shut up,” he snarled. “Do not say another word unless it’s to tell me what you did to my son.”

“I am trying to tell you but you won’t bloody well listen, and I have just about had
enough!
” Suddenly, Tom stepped forward and grabbed hold of the baseball bat. In one motion, he wrenched it down, yanking it from the man’s fingers. The man lunged forward, but Tom was ready for him. With his right hand, he tossed the bat away across the ledge, and at the same time, he slammed the palm of his other hand against the man’s chest. It wasn’t hard enough to take the man off his feet, but it knocked the air from his lungs. Then, before the older man had a chance to recover, Tom grabbed the lapels of his coat with both hands and pulled him close.

The man’s chest heaved as he gasped for breath. He glanced across the ledge, looking for the baseball bat, but it had rolled too far away. He stared into Tom’s eyes. Still gasping for air, he growled, “Get…your…hands…off me.”

“Fine,” Tom said. He pushed the man away and stepped back. “But now, I’m going to tell you something. I’m going to tell you exactly what happened to your boy.
Exactly
. And you are going to shut up and listen. Do you understand?”

The man’s only reply was to curl his lips in a sneer of disbelief.

“Do you understand or not?”

The man shook his head. “Just get on with it.”

“All right.” Tom took a breath. “Like I said, he was standing right there, by the stone. I came toward him. When he backed away, the stone caught him in the back of the knees and he fell, backward.” Tom paused.

I’ve never told this to anyone
,
and now, to do it here, where it happened—it’s too much
. For four long years he’d tried so hard to hide from the memories, but now they found him, rushed in on him. He shook his head, but the images wouldn’t go away, wouldn’t let him be. It was as if he was back in that time, watching the boy stumble backward. “He couldn’t stop himself,” he went on. “He ended up laid on his back on the stone. He…he cried out when he fell.”