Little White Lies (16 page)

“Vix and I worked it out,” I say hastily, shooting him a glance. “That you’re in witness protection, I mean.”

There’s silence for a moment.

“She overheard the police say something about a curfew—that’s why they rushed over last night, right?” I add. “And that’s why someone’s burned down your house—why they’re after you? Because you witnessed your friend get stabbed?”

More silence.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I can keep a secret. Believe me.”

Can I ever.

“So where should we go?” I ask as I weave through the traffic, trying to put as much distance between us and Christian’s house as possible.

“Wait—” Panic flashes across his face.
“We?”

I nod. “You’re in trouble, you need to get out of here quickly, your bike’s burnt to a crisp along with everything else you own, and I have a car.”

“No!” he protests. “Lou, pull over. I can’t let you do this.”

“You
need
a car!” I argue. “How else will you escape?”

“Then let me
borrow
it!” he begs. “I’ll get it back to you, I promise.”

“Nope.” I shake my head firmly. “I’m coming with you.”

There’s
no way
I’m losing him—not now. I might never find him again.

“What about your gran?” Christian says. “She needs you!”

I hesitate. “When I left the hospital she was doing okay. The doctor said she was stable.”

“Lou, you can’t come with me, you don’t understand! The people who are after me are violent, dangerous—you saw what they did to my house! I can’t put you at risk!”

“They’re looking for
you,
not me,” I counter. “So you shouldn’t be seen driving. Climb into the back and pull that blanket over you.”

“Lou—”

“Christian,”
I interrupt. “I’m not stopping, I’m not getting out. The longer we drive around aimlessly arguing, the more likely they’ll find us, and then we’ll
both
be in trouble.”

He hesitates, then sighs. “Okay, but only till we’re a safe distance away. Agreed?”

I don’t answer.

“Agreed?”
Christian presses.

“Okay!” I cross my fingers. “Just till you’re safe. Whatever.”

I’ll say whatever I have to to get him to accept I’m going with him. But there’s absolutely no way he’s going
anywhere
without me.

“Can I borrow your phone?” he asks.

“Course.” I hand it to him.

“Your
phone,
Lou. This is some random cassette tape.”

“It
is
my phone.” I turn it over to show him my mobile inside. “That’s just a retro cover.”

He stares at it for a moment, then tosses it out the window.

“What the—
Christian!
”

“I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous. They can trace it.”

I stare at him.
“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He nods. “You need to know what you’re getting yourself into, Lou. If I were you, I’d pull over now, pick up your phone, and get on with your life.”

“No,” I tell him. “I’ve made up my mind. Now get in the back before someone sees you.”

“Fine!” He hauls himself onto the backseat and I glance in the rearview mirror as he covers himself with the blanket.

“Who’s after you?” I ask quietly.

He sighs. “Some people who think I did something I didn’t do,” he says, his voice muffled under the blanket.

I frown. Something he
didn’t
do?

“Why would they think that?” I ask.

“I... I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Meaning?”

He sighs. “It’s a misunderst
anding.”

“Seems like a pretty big misunderst
anding!”

“Yes,” he admits. “It is. That’s why I had to leave. Vanish. It wasn’t safe. It
isn’t
safe,” he corrects himself.

“Christian—”

“I’m sorry, Lou,” he interrupts. “I’d tell you everything, but—”

“But then you’d have to kill me?” I say lightly.

“Something like that,” he agrees. “It’s too risky. You’re in enough danger as it is.”

A shiver runs down my spine.

“So where should I take you, anyway?” I ask. “The police?”

“No!” Christian says quickly.

I swallow. “Why not?”

“How do you think they found me, Lou? The police are the only ones who knew where I was.”

I bite my lip.

“I can’t trust them. Not anymore.”

I stare at the road as I try to take it all in.

“So where
do
you want to go?” I ask as we stop at traffic lights.

“Just head for the M1 South for now.”

“South.” I nod. “Got it.”

“Lou—”

“Shh!” I hiss as a dark blue Ford pulls up beside us. Two heavyset men sit in the front, grim expressions on their faces. Could they be the ones after Christian?

Calm down,
I tell myself. What are the chances of that, really? Just cos they’re in a blue car? I’m being paranoid.

Even so, I glance in my mirrors. We’re the only two cars on the road. I risk another look at the car and find one of the men staring straight at me. He runs a hand through his dirty blond hair, then nudges his buddy. I sweat under their gaze, my heart pattering in my chest like a hamster on a wheel. Slowly, he winds down his window and I flash him what I hope is a dazzling smile.

“What’s up?” I grin.

“You turning left, sweetheart?” he grunts.

“Um, y-yeah,” I stammer, trying to keep my voice steady. “Why?”

“Because your light turned green about twenty seconds ago.”

“Oh!” Blood rushes to my face. “Oh, right—thanks! Bye!” I pull away swiftly, just as the lights change back.

“What was all that about?” Christian whispers from the backseat.

“Nothing,” I hiss, keeping a close eye on my rearview mirror to make sure they don’t follow us.

Finally they pull off, heading straight over the junction, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Everything’s fine.”

For now.

As we reach the motorway we lapse into a heavy silence. I don’t know if Christian’s fallen asleep beneath the blanket, or if he just doesn’t feel like talking. He must be so scared. I can’t believe someone
torched
his house. How did they find him, anyway? I can’t believe the police leaked his location. But then again... My stomach lurches uneasily. They were the only ones who knew where he was....

My mind whirs wildly, wondering what’s going to happen next, when they’ll realize Christian wasn’t inside the house, whether they’ll catch up with us any moment, whoever they are. I check my rearview mirror every few seconds as we drive, but I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Finally the petrol light begins to flash.

“What are you doing?” Christian asks anxiously as I pull up at a service station.

“We need petrol,” I tell him. “And food. I’m starving!”

“Where are we?” he mumbles. “What time is it?”

“Somewhere on the M1.” I check my watch. “And it’s one o’clock.”

“Shit,” he mutters. “Why didn’t you wake me up? You were only supposed to drive me a safe distance away.”

“I didn’t know you were asleep.” I shrug. “You want to come in? Get a burger?”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, I can’t.”

“Christian, come on, we’re miles away from Sheffield now.”

“It’s not safe,” he says. “I’ll stay here.”

“Okay.” I sigh. “Well, do you want me to bring you some food?”

“No thanks, I’m not hungry,” he says. “But could you see if they’ve got any hair dye?”

Randomly, the service station does sell hair dye, but I kick myself for not asking what color Christian wanted.

Not that the range is incredibly inspiring. Most of them are varying shades of brown, with one ginger and one black, and they’ve all got Cheryl Cole on the box. As Christian’s hair’s dyed black already and bright orange isn’t exactly great camouflage, I pick a brown at random, grab a sandwich, and head back to the car.

I pause as I reach a pay phone. I could call the police right now—tell them where he is... but something stops me. The look on Christian’s face when I suggested it earlier, how adamant he was that it’s the police who betrayed him, and something about his story has got me thinking...
They think I did something I didn’t do.
What did he mean by that
?

I turn away from the phone and head back to the car. He trusts me, after all.

“I hope ‘cappuccino’ dye’s okay—they didn’t have much choice,” I say, tossing the box onto the backseat as I start the engine and pull away. “I got a BLT. Though I’m not sure what that stands for in this case. Burnt Leftover Tomatoes?” I eye the sandwich suspiciously. “Sure you don’t want half?” I glance in the rearview mirror.

But Christian has gone.

“Christian!” I screech to a halt and scan the car park quickly, but there’s no sign of him.

Goose bumps break out down my neck. He
told
me it wasn’t safe. What if they found him—what if they’ve got him now? I look around anxiously, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Shit
! I hit the steering wheel in frustration.

Suddenly another thought flashes across my mind.
What if he’s just done a runner?
He
said
it was too dangerous, that he wouldn’t take me with him, that I should just drive him somewhere safe and then go back....

Crap. He’s gone. He’s buggered off.
He could be anywhere
!

But then,
why
ask for hair dye? I reason. I was going inside for food anyway—he didn’t have to find a way to get rid of me... and why would he leave me
here,
at a service station in the middle of nowhere? How would he get away without a car?

It doesn’t make sense. Where
is
he?

Slowly, I coast round the car park, searching everywhere. I have to find him—I
have
to. Otherwise... it’s all been for nothing.
Think
!

He’d have to hitchhike, get a lift with a lorry driver, perhaps. I crane my neck as a lorry pulls out, but I can’t see him in the cab. Even if I could, what then?

It’s hopeless. I’ve lost him.
Shit
!

Suddenly the back door of the car flies open and a man hurls himself inside. I scream.

“
Lou!
Shh!”

“Shit—
Christian!
” I cry incredulously, slamming on the brakes. “What the hell? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“
I
nearly gave
you
a heart attack?” he gasps. “You’re the one who drove off and left me!”

“Why did you even get out of the car?” I counter, twisting in my seat.

“I...” He hesitates. “I needed the loo.”

“What? Well, why didn’t you just come into the services with me?”

“I couldn’t go
inside,
but you parked near those trees—I thought I could make it before you got back.”

“You should’ve come in,” I tell him. “It was really quiet in there—you’d have been fine.”

“Yeah, but there’s still CCTV.”

“CCTV?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Paranoid much?”

“No,” he says evenly. “Not paranoid,
cautious
. If I get caught on CCTV, if anyone recognizes me... they’ll find me again.”

I look at him for a long moment.

“I’m serious, Lou. This isn’t a game. It’s not safe—for either of us.” He sighs. “I’m putting you in danger.”

“No, I’m putting myself in danger,” I argue. “And sitting here isn’t exactly the safest place to be either.”

“Okay.” He hesitates. “Well, maybe if you could just drive me a bit further—to London...”

“Of course,” I say immediately.

“But then you have to leave—go back to Sheffield. Okay?”

“Okay.” I shrug.
Yeah, right.
“What’s in London?”

“It’s my home. I’ve got mates there who’ll help me, hide me.”

“But if you’re from London, don’t you think it’s the first place they’ll look for you?” I frown. “You can’t go back there.”

“I have to,” he says sadly. “I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

“But—”

“And it’s time I put a stop to this. Once and for all.”

I look at him, trying to work out what he’s planning.

“I can’t live in hiding anymore, Lou. I’ve tried, and it doesn’t work. I’ve given up everything, and for what? They still found me.”

I stare at him. “What’re you going to do?”

“First of all”—he swallows—“I need to find my mate Joe.”

But fate isn’t on our side. We haven’t been back on the motorway for more than ten minutes when the overhead hazard warning lights come on and I spot a queue of slow-moving vehicles ahead; then, eventually, the traffic comes to a complete standstill.

“What’s going on?” Christian asks from the back.

“Dunno. Roadworks or an accident,” I say, gazing miserably at the line of cars stretching into the distance. We share the BLT sandwich as we inch along for mile after mile until we reach the mangled wreckage of a car and my blood runs cold. I’ll never get used to seeing the debris of other people’s lives. Every accident, every crash fills me with dread, as it reminds me of that terrible day. The day my parents were snatched from my life forever.

After what seems like days, the traffic starts to flow more quickly, and finally, just before half past three, Christian directs me off the motorway and into the outskirts of London, but it’s difficult to follow his instructions through the maze of side streets—es
pecially as he’s still hiding beneath the blanket, so he can’t actually see where we’re going.

“This is impossible!” I cry as we end up at our third dead end.

“No, it’s not—you just have to turn right at the kebab shop.”

“
Which
kebab shop?” I ask. “I can see three from here!”

“Um... I think it’s called something like Tikka Tikka? No—Marsala Marsala?”

“Marsala Marceau?”

“That’s it! Bexley’s only French kebab house.”

“Great! We passed that twenty minutes ago!” I groan. “So it’s right at Marsala Marceau....”

I spin the car around and follow Christian’s directions till finally we arrive at a tall bleak-looking block of council flats identifying themselves as Jonas Towers.

“Okay, Joe of Jonas Towers,” I sigh. “We’ve found you at last!”

“Let’s just hope he’s in,” Christian mutters.

I nod. “I’ll go check it out.”

“No, I’ll go.”

“Stay put,” I order. “There’s no point risking your neck to knock at an empty flat, is there? And if you need the loo, hold it. Got it?”

“Got it.” He grins sheepishly. “Third floor. Flat thirty-nine.”

“See you in a mo.”

“Lou—”

I turn.

“Tell him... Leo’s here.” He looks at me awkwardly. “That’s my real name.”

“Leo?” A shiver runs down the back of my neck.

“Like the star sign.” He nods. “And take care. This can be a rough neighborhood.”

Great.

I lock the car and walk towards the tower block. It’s a gloomy, gray afternoon, and I shiver as the wind whips past, sending dead leaves and litter scuttling across my path.

In the courtyard a group of tall black guys are passing a basketball between them, bouncing it off the walls and shooting hoops. They look up as I pass and I glue my gaze to the ground, hugging Christian’s hoodie closer around me. Finally I reach the relative privacy of the concrete stairwell. I punch the button for the lift, but nothing happens. I sigh, then head up the stairs, ignoring the graffiti scrawled all over the walls and holding my nose against the stench of urine. I walk quickly along the concrete balcony and am filled with relief as I reach the last door: number thirty-nine.

Down in the courtyard I can still see the group of guys slamming that ball around, and I’m not sure whether to feel comforted or threatened by their closeness. I take a deep breath, knock at the faded red door, and cross my fingers that this isn’t a complete waste of time.

Nothing.

I knock again, then hear a noise inside, and something moves behind the frosted glass panel in the door. The third time I knock, there’s a rattle, like a series of bolts being unlocked; then suddenly the door opens but catches on a security chain.

“Hello?” A skinny guy in his late twenties peers out suspiciously, his face covered with volcanic acne.

“Hi—Joe?” I smile tentatively.

“Who’re you?” he demands.

“I have a message. From a friend of yours.”

The guy’s expression hardens and he pulls the door closed a few centimeters.

“What friend?”

I glance around, then drop my voice to a whisper. “Christian.”

His eyes narrow. “Who?”

I blink. “Christi— Leo. I mean Leo.”

“Leo?”
The guy’s eyes bulge.

I nod, glance around again, then drop my voice even more. “He’s downstairs.”

“Shit.” His eyes widen even more. “Leo’s
here
?”

I nod. “Can he come up?”

“Yes! Yes, bring him up, I’ll just—clean up a bit.” He slams the door in my face.

Charming.

When I return with Christian, Joe’s door opens on the first knock. He pulls us quickly into a small living room, shuts the door, then grabs Christian in a bear hug.

“Mate!” Joe cries. “Bloody hell, you’re a sight for sore eyes!”

“It’s good to see you, Joe.” Christian beams.

“How
are
you?” Joe asks. “I haven’t seen you since—”

“Forever,” Christian finishes for him quickly, glancing at me. “Tell me about it.”

“See you haven’t wasted much time, though!” Joe grins at me. “Girlfriend already? Better luck with this one, eh?”

I look up sharply as Christian stiffens, and immediately Joe’s smile disappears.

“Jesus, sorry, man—I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean anything.” He turns to me. “I’m Joe, Joe Macdonald. Pleased to meet you.” He shakes my hand.

“Louise,” I reply, my eyes locked on Christian, who looks incredibly tense suddenly.

“Lou just gave me a lift,” Christian says quickly. “She has to get going.”

“You’ve got time for a cuppa, surely?” Joe offers. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Coffee’d be lovely, thanks,” I say swiftly.

“Milk? Sugar?”

“Actually, Lou really has to—”

“Watch her sugar intake,” I interrupt. “Just milk, thanks.” I smile at Joe, avoiding Christian’s gaze.

“Leo?” Joe asks. “Wait—tea, two sugars, right? Or have you gone all hard-core since being inside?”

Christian’s eyes dart to mine.

“Come on, let’s have a real drink!” Joe rubs his hands eagerly as he hurries over to a cabinet by the TV. “Let’s see, what’ve I got? Whisky? Vodka? I know, how about a JD and Coke—your favorite!”

“Just Coke for me,” Christian says. “I don’t drink anymore.”

“Go on—it’s a special occasion! It’s not every day I get to see my best mate, after all! Wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, to be honest.”

“Me either,” Christian sighs.

“And I didn’t expect it to be so soon!” Joe beams, pouring a glass of Coke. “Sure I can’t tempt you with a cheeky shot in here?”

“Sure.” Christian smiles.

“Your loss.” Joe shrugs, passing him the drink and putting the bottle away. “So you just passing through, or what? They moving you somewhere else?”

Christian’s face darkens. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

Christian hesitates. “They found me, Joe.”

Joe freezes. “They
found
you?”

Christian nods. “They set fire to my house this morning.”

“Shit, man!” Joe’s hands fly to his hair as he starts pacing the room. “
Shit
! But... the whole point of changing your name and moving hundreds of miles away was so they
wouldn’t
find you—so this wouldn’t happen again!”

I look up sharply.
Again
?

“I know.” Christian sighs. “At least it’s me they’re intimidating this time, not Mum and Dad.”

I stare at him. They threatened Christian’s mum and dad?

“So why’ve you come back, then?” Joe asks anxiously, hugging his arms.

“I’ve got nowhere else to go,” Christian says helplessly. “If I check into a hotel I’ll need to give my name and the police would find me, and after the fire... I can’t trust them to keep me safe anymore. I just need a place to lie low for a couple of days while I work out what to do. I figured they don’t know about you, so...?”

“Course, man! Of course you can stay here!” Joe cries. “What are friends for?”

“Thanks.” Christian smiles, sinking onto the lumpy sofa. “You’re a mate.”

“Forget about it. Host with the most, that’s me!” His eyes flick nervously to the locks on the door; then he smiles brightly as he notices me watching.

“So how do you two know each other?” I ask Joe. He’s forgotten about my coffee, but that works for me—the longer I can put off leaving, the better.

“Oh, we go way back.” Joe smiles, moving to the window and glancing outside as he picks up a photo frame from the windowsill. “I used to live next door to Leo, and his parents would always take me on outings with them, and in return I babysat for this pipsqueak.” He shows me the photo. It’s a family at a fairground—a kind-looking man with a pretty woman, a skinny teenage boy who looks vaguely like Joe, and a chubby blond younger boy proudly clutching a huge teddy bear.

“It took him six tries to shoot that target and win that bear, but he finally did it—all by himself.” Joe smiles. “He was only seven. Your first time with a rifle too, wasn’t it, mate? You should have seen him, Louise—he was so proud of that teddy. And his mum and dad were so proud of him.”

Christian sighs. “Were.”

Joe sighs. “They still are, mate. They miss you heaps.”

Christian turns. “You’ve seen them recently?”

Joe nods. “I like to keep an eye on them, you know. Make sure they’re all right.”

“And are they?” Christian asks quietly.

“They’re... okay.” Joe nods, perching on the arm of the sofa.

I slide silently into a chair in the corner, my gaze on Christian. He looks broken suddenly, and so young. Every time I think I’ve got him figured out, something else happens to make me think again.