Dangerous Promises (44 page)

She swallowed hard, her jaw clenching. But it hadn’t been her fault. Already she had dismissed the version where her eyes were on Sadie Wise instead of the road, where she didn’t even bother to look before she put her foot on the accelerator. No, that wasn’t how it had happened. The girl had run straight out in front of her. It had been a done deal. There hadn’t been a chance of her stopping in time.

Anyway, there were rumours flying round that Mona Farrell had been sick in the head and that she was the one who’d killed Eddie. It wasn’t public knowledge yet – her family were rich and influential and busy trying to sweep it all under the carpet – but if it was true, then surely Petra had done the world a favour. One less nutter on the streets had to be a good thing.

Wayne came in through the back door, interrupting her thoughts. He brought with him a gust of chill winter air and the attitude of a sulky schoolboy.

‘Don’t start,’ she said.

He stamped his wet boots on the mat and glared at her. ‘I didn’t say nothin’.’

‘You don’t need to. Just get over it, huh? It’s been weeks now and you’ve still got the bloody hump. You can’t change what’s done so just grow up and deal with it.’

‘Yeah, right,’ he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table. ‘Twenty fuckin’ grand you cost me. Do you know what I could have done with that?’

Petra raised her eyes to the ceiling – she’d heard it all before – and let her breath hiss out through her teeth. ‘Frittered it away on beer and fags, probably. Jesus, you should be thanking me, not having a go.’

‘And how do you figure that out?’

‘Because if it wasn’t for me, you’d be six foot under by now. Do you really think Nathan Stone was going to pay up? Well, I’ve got news for you – he wasn’t. What he was going to do is come round here and blow your bloody head off your neck!’

‘Says you,’ he grunted.

‘Says anyone with half a brain.’ Petra didn’t have any regrets about releasing Sadie Wise. The girl, as she’d promised, hadn’t gone to the law, not about the kidnap and not about the accident either. At about eight o’clock on the morning after she’d let her go, Petra – who hadn’t been to bed yet – had received a phone call from Stone. His instructions had been curt and to the point.

‘There’s going to be a car arriving in ten minutes, a grey BMW. Give Sadie’s coat and bag to the driver.’

Petra didn’t have a problem with that. She knew where they were. While she’d been cleaning out the cellar, she’d found them stuffed into a crate in the bigger room. ‘And then what?’ she’d asked. ‘What happens next? I don’t want more trouble. I didn’t even know about… She shot Wayne, don’t forget. She could have killed him. Why don’t we —’

But Stone had hung up before she’d had the chance to finish. The BMW had duly arrived and Petra had hurried out to hand the things over. She’d thought about asking the driver to pass on a message to Stone, but had second thoughts when she saw the evil look in his eyes.

The rest of the morning had been equally tense for her, trying to act normal when the kids got up while all the time stressing over what Stone might do next and wondering whether the law would come knocking on the door.

Petra took her hands out of the bowl and dried them on a tea towel. She gave her son an impatient, irritated glance. ‘And don’t ask me to say I’m sorry ’cause I’m not. I’ve got better things to do for the next ten years than stare at the four walls of a prison cell.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said dismissively.

‘And don’t “yeah, yeah” me. That girl could have bleedin’ well died in that cellar. Then what? You’d have had a bloody corpse to deal with. Don’t you ever think about anyone but yourself? We’d have all gone down for it, the whole damn lot of us!’

Wayne curled his lip, the loss of the money still rankling with him. ‘She wasn’t going to croak, for Christ’s sake. A few more days and he’d have paid up. That’s twenty grand you flushed down the toilet.’

‘I saved your bloody skin is what I did. Try showing some gratitude for a change.’

‘Thanks for nothing,’ he said sarcastically.

Petra made a tutting noise and got on with making the lunch. While she peeled the spuds a small triumphant smile tugged at the corners of her lips. It was good to know that she was still in charge, still in control. She’d played a smart game and got away with it. Not one of them, not Wayne, Kelly or Sharon, had managed to suss out what had really happened that night.

Petra’s thoughts slid back to the morning after. She recalled Sharon going out – it must have been almost midday by then – before stomping back into the house, waving her arms about. ‘It’s gone! It’s bloody gone! Some thieving toerag has nicked my car!’

‘Are you sure?’ Wayne had asked.

‘Of course I’m bloody sure.’

‘Maybe you didn’t park it where you thought you did.’

Sharon had put her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing. ‘I know where I parked it. I’m not a bleedin’ idiot. I’m calling Old Bill.’

‘You can’t,’ Wayne had said sharply.

The two of them had exchanged a look. At this time, of course, they hadn’t even realised that Sadie Wise wasn’t in the cellar any more.

‘Why can’t she?’ Petra had asked. ‘She’ll have to report it or the insurance won’t pay out.’

‘All I’m saying is there’s no point in being hasty.’ Wayne had got up off the sofa, gone into the hall and put on his coat. ‘Let’s have a scout round first, see if we can spot it.’

It had been a while, well over an hour, before they’d come home again. Petra had later learned that they’d found the Capri in a matter of minutes, panicked at the state of it and decided to get rid. The car had obviously been in an accident and there were smears of blood on the bonnet and front bumper. Knowing that the filth would have them all down as suspects – apart from Petra who didn’t drive – they had taken the car to the yard and reduced it to scrap metal. A decision had been made to wait a few days, until after they’d got shot of Sadie, before reporting it as stolen.

Petra put the potatoes in a pan, added cold water and placed the pan on the hob. Her son had done her a favour, although he didn’t know it. With the car destroyed, the evidence of the hit-and-run had gone too. With no eye witnesses to the accident – at least none that were prepared to come forward – she was off the hook.

Wayne sat back and glared at his mother as she moved around the kitchen. ‘I still don’t get it,’ he said.

‘What don’t you get?’

‘It’s a bit of a coincidence, ain’t it, the Capri getting nicked like that on the night you let Sadie Wise go.’

Petra assumed an innocent expression – she’d had plenty of practice over the past few weeks – and met his gaze head on. ‘Well, it wasn’t the girl, if that’s what you’re thinking. The keys were still here, weren’t they, and the car wasn’t broken into. Anyhow, I took her to the high street and put her in a cab.’ She left a short pause and then added slyly, ‘Perhaps you should be looking closer to home.’

Wayne frowned, not getting her gist. ‘Huh?’

‘Well, where was Sharon on the night in question?’

‘She was here, for God’s sake, she didn’t even go out. You know that.’

Petra gave a snort. ‘I don’t know nothin’ and nor do you. She
says
she was here. She
says
the car was nicked. How do we know she’s being straight? I reckon she knows more than she’s letting on.’

Wayne opened his mouth as if about to protest, but then slowly shut it again. Petra could see the cogs turning in his brain, an effort that gave his face a strained, constipated look. No one liked being taken for a mug, least of all her son.

‘Still, it don’t matter now,’ Petra said. ‘All done and dusted, ain’t it?’ She turned her attention back to the potatoes, stirring the pot as the water bubbled. Divide and rule, that was the trick. If she could drive a wedge between Sharon and the rest of the family, she was halfway to getting what she wanted. It might take time but she had plenty of that. Already she was making plans for how she’d redecorate the master bedroom.

Sadie Wise placed her suitcase on the bed and glanced around a room that was already familiar. Her heart sank a little, knowing that this would be her home for the foreseeable future. How had it come to this? But in her heart she knew exactly how and there was no point in going over it all again. When she’d turned up at the front door, Mrs Cuthbert’s face had fallen. No one liked trouble and Sadie seemed to carry it around with her.

‘Oh, it’s you. I’m sorry but if you’re looking for somewhere to stay —’

‘I am,’ Sadie had interrupted quickly, ‘but not just for the night. I’m after something more long-term, a few months maybe.’

‘A few months?’

‘At the very least. I’m moving back to London, you see, so I need… The room I had before would be fine if it’s still available.’

Mrs Cuthbert had hesitated, torn between an inclination to refuse – at her age she didn’t need any unnecessary bother – and the prospect of a regular income from a small shabby room that was always hard to let. Eventually the latter had won out and she’d stood aside, albeit with a show of reluctance, to allow Sadie across the threshold. ‘I don’t want any trouble, mind.’

‘There won’t be any, I promise.’

Sadie opened the suitcase and started to empty it. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d come back here. It was, she suspected, because she lacked the energy to go anywhere new. With so much changing in her life, she craved some kind of familiarity, even if was only in the form of a small single room with peeling wallpaper and a pervasive smell of damp. Anyway, it wouldn’t be for ever. Once she was back on her feet, she’d be able to get a place of her own.

Having left most of her stuff at her mother’s house, the process of unpacking didn’t take long. Once it was done, she shoved the case on top of the wardrobe and wondered what to do next. It was almost six o’clock – too late for job hunting – but she felt that kind of restlessness that comes with the hope of making a fresh start.

She went over to the window and stared down at the street. Inevitably, she was jolted back to that traumatic night when she’d finally managed to talk her way out of the cellar only to witness the gruesome sight of Mona Farrell being mown down in front of her. She wrapped her arms around her chest, shuddering at the memory.

Sadie closed her eyes and waited a moment before opening them again. She had to find a way to deal with it, to move on, or she wouldn’t have any kind of future at all. The first step, she decided, was to tie up the loose ends. Quickly she turned away from the window and pulled on her coat.

Outside the rain was coming down heavily, hammering on the pavement and running in fast streams along the gutters. She put up her umbrella, began to walk and then made a zigzag dash across the road when the cars slowed for the red traffic lights. As she went past the Fox, the door opened and she heard the clink of glasses, a snatch of laughter, before the door swung shut again.

Sadie hesitated, wondering if Velma was in there – she wasn’t in her room – but knew that now wasn’t the right time for a detour. Although she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Nathan Stone again, it was something that couldn’t be avoided. Living in Kellston, she was bound to run into him at some point and she preferred to get it over and done with.

However, as she rounded the corner and saw the blue neon sign for Ramones, her resolution began to fade. Did she really have to do this now? Maybe it could wait until tomorrow or the day after. There wasn’t a rush. It wasn’t as if he was going anywhere. But she was aware that if she put it off, she’d probably never do it, and it was better, surely, to have the meeting on her terms rather than his.

Sadie slowed as she drew closer to the bar. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling being beholden to someone you didn’t like. But sometimes, she thought, you just had to swallow your pride and get on with it. If it hadn’t been for Nathan Stone, she wouldn’t be here now, a free woman, if not a particularly happy one.

Before she could change her mind, Sadie pushed open the door and stepped inside. It was quiet apart from the soft strains of jazz playing in the background. There was only a handful of customers, early drinkers who’d come straight from work and were busy demolishing their first bottle of wine. The barman gave her a glance, but went back to polishing his glasses as she walked past and went to the rear of the bar.

A part of her had been hoping that Stone wouldn’t be around, but there he was, sitting at the same table, his grey head bent over what could have been the same set of books. She had one of those déjà vu moments, recalling how she’d hesitated the last time she’d come and wondering what would have happened if she’d just turned around that day and walked straight out. There would have been no need for the lies she’d gone on to tell Joel, no need to try and hide the truth.

Sensing her presence, Stone looked up. His cool grey eyes narrowed at the sight of her, his brows shifting up. If he was pleased to see her, he was doing a good job of hiding it. ‘Well, if it isn’t Sadie Wise.’

‘Hello,’ she said.

There was one of those awkward silences before he waved a hand towards the chair on the opposite side of the table. ‘Are you going to sit down?’

Sadie glanced at the chair, but then shook her head. ‘I’m not staying. I just… I just came to say thanks, you know, for helping me out and everything.’

‘Right,’ he said.

Sadie pulled a face, unsure what to say next. She shifted from one foot to the other. ‘So thanks,’ she finally managed to utter again. ‘I appreciate it.’

Stone sat back, folded his hands on the table and gazed at her. ‘And that’s it? Not even a drink for all my troubles?’

She looked back at him, trying to read his face but getting nowhere. Was he serious or just teasing? ‘I’m sorry,’ she said dryly. ‘My manners are atrocious. Would you care for a drink?’

‘I would. Trouble is, I don’t like drinking on my own. It’s a bad habit, don’t you think, and I’ve got enough of those already. Why don’t you stay and have one with me?’

‘I can’t. I’ve got things to do.’

‘What sort of things?’

Sadie thought of Oaklands and the long empty evening stretching out ahead. It wasn’t an appealing prospect. She may as well spend ten uncomfortable minutes with Nathan Stone as spend them staring at the four boring walls of her room. ‘I suppose they could wait.’