Run Away (18 page)

Chapter 27

July 24, England

A
T A DESPIC
ABLY
early time—­barely even eight
A.M.,
for goodness sake—­there was a tap on her bedroom door.

Kayla groaned, pressing the only button on her phone to check the time; 7:49
A.M.
Her background picture of the group at Tiger Temple induced a sharp pang in her chest.

Another tap. “Kayla?” It was her mother.

“Yeah? Com’in,” she mumbled, thick with sleep.

Martha walked in timidly, as if Kayla was an animal that might lash out and bite her. She was wearing skintight white jeans, cork wedges with black straps, and a black jumper. And pulling a wheeled suitcase behind her.

“Mum? Wh-­Where are you going? What’s—­”

“Shhh, Kayla, don’t worry. Nothing’s wrong.” She abandoned the suitcase and perched at the end of the bed. Kayla propped herself up on her elbows, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the light. “I’m just getting the train down to Surrey for a few days. To stay with your auntie.”

“Okay . . .” Kayla rubbed her eyes. Her mum was leaving? At a time like this?

“If you need me here, I’ll stay,” Martha said quickly. “Of course I will. If you need me, I’ll be here. But . . . well, I booked this trip while you were in Thailand. Your aunt Elsie is so stressed with work, and I’m worried about her. I was going to take her away to a spa for a day or two, just to make her relax a bit, but . . .” Doubt flashed across her face. She frowned, accentuating the deep lines on her weary face. “Oh, Kayla, what am I saying? I shouldn’t be leaving you here. Not now. I’ll cancel—­”

“Mum, relax,” Kayla interrupted. “It’s fine. It’s only for a few days, right?”

A small smile. “Right. But are you sure—­”

Kayla laughed. Nothing was funny, she just didn’t want her mum to feel guilty. She probably needed the break as much as Aunt Elsie. “Go. Have fun. Catch up with your sister. I’ll be completely fine.”

Martha ran her hands through her dark hair, which she’d recently had cut into a bob. It suited her. “I’m so lucky to have a daughter like you,” she whispered. “You’re so strong.” She shook her head. “Much stronger than I am.”

Kayla’s eyes felt hot. “Thanks, Mum. But I don’t feel it, most of the time.”

Martha edged up the bed until she was next to her, leaned over and tenderly kissed her forehead. She hadn’t done that since Kayla was a little girl. “I’m proud of you, Kayla. I really am.”

Kayla gulped. “Mum? Is it . . . is it safe to travel? I know there hasn’t been an attack for over a month now, but . . .”

Something else flashed on Martha’s face. Was it fear? Anguish? Or . . . indifference?

“Sweetheart,” her mother said, clearing her throat. “The government are urging ­people to travel as normal. We can’t let these . . . these
terrorists
win. We can’t show fear.” She stroked Kayla’s cheek. “Besides, isn’t lightning only meant to strike the same place once? You’ve suffered through two strikes. I think we’re immune from a third.”

“Outside of your sessions with me, have you anyone to talk to about what you’re going through? Any friends around you?” Dr. Myers looked especially pretty today. Her skin was dewy and glowing, like she’d been spending a lot of time outside, and her eyes had the vibrant quality of someone who always gets enough sleep.

Kayla hesitated. She never knew quite how much it was acceptable to share with Cassandra, especially where her secret relationship with DI Winters was concerned. “I’d love to say yes. It’s weird for me to admit how lonely I am. I was so sociable during school and had such a big group of friends . . . but we’ve all grown apart, I guess. Ever since Gabe died, it’s like they haven’t known how to act around me. So I haven’t really seen any of them since I got back from Thailand.”

“What about family?”

“Sort of. My mum’s away now, visiting her sister, and my dad works a lot. I mean, I’ve always been close to my nan. But it’s been weird lately. The atmosphere in the house doesn’t help. She’s away on a walking holiday this week, up near Oban. I already miss her being around. How sad is that? Even when we aren’t talking much, it’s just nice to have her there.”

“It’s not sad at all. It’s lovely.” If Dr. Myers was shocked that her family were deserting her, she didn’t show it.

A moment of silence. Perhaps Cassandra sensed that she wanted to say something else.

“There are a ­couple of ­people I’ve been meeting up with recently,” Kayla began.

Cassandra cocked her head. “Well, that’s good. Who?”

“One is a guy I went to school with, the other is . . . just a friend. That police officer, actually. The one I told you about a few weeks ago. Sadie.” Kayla smiled weakly. “But now I’ve lost contact with both of them. My nan asked me to stop seeing Aran, and Sadie has been ignoring my calls since Saturday. Even Sam’s mum, Kathy, won’t return my messages.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. Still nothing.

“Why do you think that is?” Dr. Myers looked genuinely intrigued. She’d been fidgeting absentmindedly with a dangly charm bracelet on her left wrist, rolling the white gold dove between her fingertips, but was now focusing intently on her.

“I have no idea,” Kayla admitted. “It does seem weird that everyone I’ve gotten halfway close to over the past two months has suddenly disappeared from my life. Not necessarily literally,” she added quickly. “Honestly, though, I feel like a leper.”

“Why did your grandmother want you to cut ties with . . . Aaron, did you call him?”

“Aran. If I’m honest . . . I was stepping out of line. Wanting to dig stuff up that related to my brother’s death. She found out and got really upset, said she couldn’t bear to go through all of that again. I completely understand where she’s coming from. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.” Kayla couldn’t meet Cassandra’s eye.

“So you weren’t meeting him as a friend? Just to talk about what happened to Gabriel?” Kayla said nothing. “Oh, Kayla. I know it’s hard for you, I really do. It’s fine to talk about him—­great, in fact. Healthy. Just as long as you’re not searching for answers that don’t exist. I’m here to help you get through this, to guide you through—­”

“I know,” Kayla snapped. “Sorry, I just . . . I think I’m going insane. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something. Yes, before you say anything, I know how mental that sounds. They were thousands of miles apart, three months apart. I know that. Maybe I was clutching at straws with Aran, but it helped.” She chewed her lip. “And my memory seems to be getting worse and worse, I can barely remember what happened yesterday, let alone in Phuket. How am I supposed to make sense of it all if my mind is so damn foggy all of the time? It’s just frustrating. I feel like my body is letting me down. If I don’t feel physically well, how am I ever supposed to heal emotionally?”

Kayla dropped her head into her hands and groaned. “I’m sorry. This must be so frustrating for you. Have you ever had a patient so messed up her own body prevented her from grieving?”

“You’d be surprised. The best I can do is talk it through with you, and hope that at some point, your subconscious lets down its guard. So we can work through whatever it’s trying to protect you from.”

“You think my brain is trying to protect me from something?”

Dr. Myers shrugged. “It’s certainly possible.”

“Like what?”

“That’s what we’re going to have to work on discovering. At what point do you usually feel everything start to cloud over, mentally?”

Kayla thought. “Mostly when I’m thinking about Gabe or Sam. Not just them, generally. More like when I try and wrap my head around the nitty-­gritty details of what happened to them. And why. It’s the why that gets me.” Kayla sighed. She saw Cassandra jot something down on a notepad for the first time since she’d started seeing her. “I can’t make sense of the why.”

Dr. Myers was quiet for a moment. There was something else bothering Kayla, but she knew it was even more ridiculous than not believing the police. She knew that if she voiced her thoughts, Dr. Myers would lose all respect for her. Hell, she might even have her locked up in a mental hospital.

What the hell
.
What have I got to lose
? “What if what happened to Sam and Gabe was . . . connected, somehow?”

“Connected? Why would you think that?”

Kayla squirmed in her chair. “Well, firstly, the way Gabe and Sam both acted in the weeks leading up to their . . . deaths.” The word tasted cold, metallic. “So twisted and resentful. And scared. I know, I know, their reasons have been explained. But it just seems odd, doesn’t it? For them to go in such similar ways. Fear, then blood. Most ­people go their whole lives never losing someone in such a . . . bloody way.”
There was so much blood
. . . “And yet it’s happened to me. Twice. In the space of three months. And they were both the men I loved most in the world . . . Doesn’t that seem at
all
strange to you?”

“But Kayla,” Dr. Myers said, clearly exasperated. She dropped her pen onto the pad and shook her head. “What could possibly link Sam’s and Gabe’s deaths?” She flinched at her own faux pas. Nobody knew for certain whether or not Sam was dead. But her patient hadn’t even noticed.

“Honestly?” Kayla swallowed. “The only thing I can think of is me.”

K
AYLA DIDN’T DRIVE
straight home.

Instead, she drove north. Specifically, to the northernmost town in England: Berwick-­upon-­Tweed. She’d had family here, once upon a time, but like everyone else in her life, they’d moved on to better things. Moved away from her.

There was a spot. A spot she felt compelled to visit—­one that she could drive to in her sleep. In the month just after she’d passed her driving test, at the ripe old age of seventeen, she’d been to the spot six times. Her first love had just dumped her for another girl, and, at the time, it was the most inconceivably horrific tragedy that could possibly happen to her.

Irony’s a bitch
, she thought bitterly.

Perched on top of a steep grassy bank, she had stumbled upon Meg’s Mount by accident while walking her cousin’s Dalmatian, Baxter, around the town’s historic walls one morning. It had been an early morning in late April, and the sun had only just risen over the horizon. The pale spring sky and bracing breeze gave her goose bumps. The spot overlooked the town’s burnt copper rooftops, forest green leaves, and vast expanses of glistening water. Much to Baxter’s horror, she’d sat down, enchanted, on the lone wooden bench, and gazed out onto the River Tweed as it flowed into the gray North Sea. Doves cooed, currents gushed, the scent of damp grass hung in the air. And she forgot everything else.

It was a blank feeling she’d come to crave, especially in times like today, when her loneliness was paralyzing. She’d always found crowds to be triggering rather than healing; embracing solitude and turning to nature was, for her, a cathartic antidote. Not that she had an alternative these days.

But today was different. She sat on the bench for nearly an hour, but no inner peace arrived. Maybe it was too busy, or maybe too late in the morning. Maybe it had been too long since she’d last been here, or maybe her pain was too severe. Because somehow, the spot had lost its magic.
Or maybe all that’s happened is simply too much to come back from
. Kayla fought the thought away.

Delving into her jeans pocket, she checked her phone. No new e-­mails, no text messages, no missed calls. She hadn’t really expected anything else. She’d told Aran to stop working on his little project, without so much as an explanation. There had still been no reply from Kathy. And DI Winters? She’d been ignoring her since Saturday.
Probably because I came on too strong
.
Got too personal, asking about her studies and her cousin’s death
.
What an idiot
. Kayla didn’t know the hows or the whys. All she knew was that she was well and truly on her own. Yet again.

Just as she was going to slide the phone away it vibrated in her hand. It was a text message. She frowned at the sight of the name. It wasn’t one she’d ever expected to see again, yet for a moment, deep down, she felt glad that she hadn’t been forgotten altogether.

Kayla. I didn’t know whether I should tell you what I know. About Sam, that is
. I’ve been going over and over the possibilities in my mind, and perhaps it doesn’t even mean anything but . . . it might. And I figured that “might” was enough to act on. Can we meet? I’m back in England. I’ll come up north to see you. Please. Oliver x

Kayla’s mind raced. The idea of seeing Oliver again turned in her stomach like a slab of congealed raw meat. Was this just a mind game? Was he trying to trick her? It seemed a likely explanation.

But what if he really did know something? Would it matter if he did, or was it already too late? Did she even want to know? Would she ever know the answers to these questions if she didn’t meet him? Without Sadie’s help, it’d be nearly impossible.

Kayla knew what she had to do. She replied, hitting send with a shaking hand.

Chapter 28

June 12, England

T
HE THIRD TERRORIST
attack was on Sam’s birthday. London Kings Cross.

Huddled around the tiny television set, Kayla, Russia, and Bling watched as the news reader, who looked completely shaken up herself, shared footage of the explosion. Nineteen casualties. Countless more injured. Major roads blocked as many fled the city. The governor of the Bank of England was among the missing.

Bling was crying silently. She couldn’t get through to her family. Her father worked in the City. Banking. Russia had made her a cup of herbal tea and was trying to console her, stroking her hair and murmuring something about being sure there was an alternative explanation for their radio silence. The apartment was hot and humid, reeking of old garbage and bleach, but Kayla had chills.

It had become a rarity for the group to spend an entire evening together. Between Dave’s ill health, Sam and Russia’s conflicting work-­shift schedules, and Bling’s disdain toward the town’s sleazy nightlife, the fun nights out and thrilling adventures were few and far between. Tragedy has a way of pulling ­people back together.

As happens with many friendship circles, the gang was beginning to realize that none of its members were perfect. Gone was the polite laughter at unfunny jokes and automatic accommodation of each other’s needs. They’d now gone beyond mere friendship into the murky realms of almost-­cousinhood that came from spending every second of every day together. It was nice, in a way, that they’d become almost like family. But it didn’t come without its downfalls. There were arguments. Lots of arguments.

Sam came into the room. He’d been oddly withdrawn over the last few days, especially considering it was his birthday. His expression was pinched, his T-­shirt creased, and his hair sticking up all over the place. The exhaustion wafted off him in waves.

“Can we get a rain check on tonight’s night out? I’m not feeling it,” he mumbled, his eyes flickering toward the TV. They barely seemed to register the attack.

“But it’s your birthday!” Russia said. “Why on earth would you want to stay in on your birthday? Gotta go out and drown your sorrows. Especially considering . . .” She gestured at the news on the screen.
BREAKING: 19 DE
AD IN KINGS X ATTACK
.

“I just don’t feel like it, all right?” Sam hissed. Russia recoiled as if she’d been slapped.

“Jeez. No need to act like a grumpy old man. Even though that’s what you are.” She tried to nudge him playfully but was met with a withering glare and no response. “Kayla? Tell him! We have to go out for his birthday, we just have to.”

“Come on Sa—­”

“I said no, all right?” Sam said, cutting Kayla’s protest off. He turned back to Russia. “What makes you think I’d listen to Kayla? Don’t treat me like a stubborn child.”

“Whoa, I’m not. I just thought that—­”

“Whatever. I’m off to bed.”

“Sam! It’s only nine o’clock. Please just come for one—­”

Sam slammed his bedroom door before Russia had even finished her sentence. The news reader continued her updates. Another body. Twenty now.

Bling looked up from her phone and blinked rapidly, sniffing. Her eyes were pink-­rimmed and her nose shiny. “What’s with Sam?”

Kayla shrugged, trying to convey apathy, and probably, she imagined, failing miserably. “Who knows. He’s been acting weird for weeks.”
Like he doesn’t even know me
.
Like he doesn’t even care
. She cast her eyes back to the TV and immediately felt guilty for her petty troubles.
ST. PAN
CRAS EVACUATED AND E
UROSTAR LINKS CLOSED
FOLLOWING KINGS X BLAST.

“Yeah, he has,” Russia agreed. “Have you got no idea why? You two used to be so close. Though not as close as he and Bling were . . .” Bling giggled through her tears and pushed Russia off her perch on the arm of the sofa.

Kayla blushed. “Nah. He doesn’t talk to me these days. I don’t really know why. It . . . sucks.”
It kills me
.

Russia lowered her voice, wary of the villa’s paper-­thin walls. “Did anything ever happen with you two?” Kayla shook her head. Bling had turned her attention back to her phone, repeatedly pressing the redial button. “But you do like him though, right? At least you used to?”

Kayla pressed her lips together and glanced toward his door. It remained firmly shut. “Doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

The bathroom door opened and a billowing cloud of steam poured out, closely followed by Dave, who wore a towel turban and a dopey grin. “Look! I finally worked out how to do the twiddly towel thing you girls do on your head. I feel like a genie or something.”

Russia giggled. “I think that’s vaguely racist?”

“It’s all right, I’m Indian. I’m allowed to be racist. Where’s Sam? Gotta give him his birthday present.”

“In a huff. What did you get him?”

“That’s for me to know, Rush,” Dave said, winking.

“Oh God. You’re going to snog him, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps. Are we off out tonight, then?”

Kayla and Russia exchanged a look. “Sam isn’t the greatest fan of the idea.”

“So what? Majority vote. If he’s going to be a miserable sod, let’s go without him. I might even wear my turban.”

T
HANKFULLY, HE DIDN’T.

The strip was even busier than usual. The smell of fruity tobacco from a nearby shisha café hung in the air, and a fresh throng of party animals—­completely oblivious to the terrorist attacks—­had arrived since they’d last been out. Kayla didn’t know if she was simply out of practice, but the music seemed louder, the crowds more fierce, than ever before.

Bling, who’d finally got through to her completely uninjured family, was furiously sinking Jägerbombs like her life depended on it. Kayla offered to get the next round. As she was on the way back from the bar, clutching four beers and forcing her way through the crowds, someone grabbed her arm. Hard. She twirled around to yell in the face of whatever overly pushy male had taken a fancy to her but the words never quite left her mouth. She froze, her mouth hanging open.

Oliver. Since the first night they’d spotted him in Phuket, he’d kept his distance.

“Kayla,” he said urgently. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

“Go away, Oliver. And get the hell off me.” She tried to shake her arm free.

“Kayla, I know I’ve fucked up in the past. Believe me I know. I hate myself for it. But I really, really need to tell you something. Please.”

“What the hell—­”

“Please.” His voice had an overtone of begging. “I’m serious. This is serious.” He tightened his grip on her arm. It started to hurt.

“Oliver, for fu—­”

“Get the hell off her, you twat,” Sam said, barging into Oliver. Sam’s hand grasped his throat, and Oliver’s eyes looked like they might pop out of their sockets. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

Oliver flailed helplessly at Sam’s huge hands, resembling a weasel caught in a trap. Sam let go and yelled over the pounding music, “Get lost. Now. And don’t you
ever
touch her again.” Oliver obliged and trotted away, his head bowed against the bustling crowds.

Sam started to turn and leave. Kayla touched his arm. “Sam! I didn’t even realize you’d come out. I’m glad you’re here. Happy birth—­”

“Yeah, well, I was just leaving.” His voice was flat. He didn’t meet her eyes. Kayla desperately wanted him to gaze back at her longingly, lovingly, like he used to. “If he gives you any more trouble, just let me know.”

Then he was gone.

She felt empty.