Quiver (a Suspenseful Romance Novel) (5 page)

“
W
here to
, pet?” the driver asked.

Sobered by rejection and the fool I’d made of myself, my head was clearer, and I knew what needed to be done. I did not want to go home with the weight of that night on my shoulders; I had to get him out of my head once and for all. It had bugged me that he accused Max of being something that he wasn’t… but I had to find out for sure. Only then could I move on.

“Nowhere, stop the car,” I asked.

“Divvnt yee wan te gan hyem?” he replied in his thick Geordie accent.

“Stop! I’m going to be sick!” I lied.

“Not in me car!” He slammed on the brakes, and I lurched out of the taxi, feigning sickness over the closest open-topped bin. I spied the car over the top of the metal rim, discarded kebab wafting up my nose; the driver stayed in his car and for that I was grateful. Within a few moments, losing patience, he gave up waiting and pulled away from the curb in search of a paying fare.

The taxi hadn’t travelled far and I was just around the corner from the Castle Arms and the office. Now, with a goal set in my mind, I strode forward, my heels clacking on the pavement as I went.

Not wanting to bump into Max, I kept my eye on the corner at the bottom of the street in case he came into view. I didn’t think he would double back since he lived in the opposite direction, but I was on high alert, regardless.

As I approached the office door, sandwiched between two silent shops, I fished in my handbag for the spare key I’d managed to liberate from Max’s keychain earlier in the evening when he nipped to the loo; the opportunity had presented itself, and I took it. I hoped he wouldn’t notice it missing before I could put it back. I felt guilty enough already.

Peering into the gloom, I checked over my shoulder and then up the street. My nerves were on edge, and my hand shook while I gripped tightly onto the flat metal key; its jagged teeth dug painfully into my palm. I’d never broken into anywhere before, never had the need or the desire to, and although I was an employee and had in my possession a key to get in, I’m sure if caught, I would be in a heap-load of trouble.

I faced the door, contemplating my options. I had the choice of just walking away and finding another opportunity to snoop around the office during daylight hours. But the other girls were always watching, eager to stab you in the back at any given opportunity, and multiple sets of eyes would register my every movement, like when I’d make a cuppa or take time to have a quick chat with Max. Plus, I convinced myself, there’d hardly be any chance to get into the Max’s office alone as he was always in there, head bowed over stacks of paperwork, trying his hardest to impress his dad.

The pub door opened on the corner and allowed a roar of voices and loud music to escape from within its sweaty enclosure. Two men, a little worse for wear, stepped out and started to make their way, weaving slightly, up the street towards me. Paranoid that they’d see me, I found myself putting the key into the lock and opening the door, damning the consequences.

I pushed the door closed, and the sounds of the street melted away as I stood in the dim muted entranceway. I took a deep breath and was about to make my way up the narrow stairs to the first floor when a high-pitched beeping clamoured for my attention.

Crap! I’d forgotten about the alarm!

I looked for the panel; green LED lights illuminated the keypad mounted onto the wall, while above, an angry pulsing red light flashed its warning. I had maybe a couple of attempts before it would start shrieking, and I tried hard to remember the code. Did I know it? My heart raced. If only I could remember! My brain was clouded with alcohol and fuzzy with the mounting pressure. I was surely going to be caught.

A sudden image of Max’s fingers tapping the key pad, only hours earlier, popped into my head. I remembered watching his soft hands tracing a Z-like pattern when he’d entered the code… but had there been 5 or 6 numbers? I closed my eyes trying to count the number of beeps I’d heard. There wasn’t much time left.

With a trembling hand I entered the code 2-3-5-7-8 and pressed submit.

“Please be right, please be right,” I chanted, waiting and willing the red light to turn off.

The alarm chirped and the whole panel turned a quiet, calm green. I couldn’t believe my luck and slumped against the wall behind me.

Realising I couldn’t waste any more time, I sprang upright and rushed up the stairs like a startled rabbit. I didn’t know what I was looking for - ever since the encounter, I’d studied each invoice and docket that came across my desk, but nothing seemed relevant, just everyday bills and orders. I made copies to disguise my search, so it seemed to my colleagues that I was busy.

I entered Max’s cool, spacious office, which had large sash windows that overlooked the rear of the building. I was determined in my quest to prove the investigator wrong; Max wasn’t the type to be involved in anything illegal or dodgy. The office was still, and no noise travelled up from the front street. Max had set the desk in the middle of the room, and it was meticulously tidy. Everything, including the mounds of paper-clips, had its own space on the desk. Each pile of paperwork or stationery was like a secluded island; the wood of the polished desk flowed in between them like the sea, connecting them all.

My head started to pound, the effects of cheap house wine kicking in, as I set about searching for anything I could find, beginning at the desk. Sitting down, I turned on the desk lamp and pulled open the top drawer. I carefully stacked its contents on my lap, upside down so that I could easily return them all in the correct order back into the drawer.

As I made my way down through each drawer, I came across nothing that stood out. Only piles and piles of the same regular invoices and paperwork that I dealt with during the monotony of my working day.

I placed it all back into the drawers, both frustrated and relieved, and I looked about the room. Spotting the cupboard in the corner, I quickly opened it, hoping not to find anything untoward. Imagining stacks of drugs, like in the movies, I was delighted that it contained only a vacuum cleaner, its handle propped upright, and a few dusty cleaning supplies standing like tired soldiers on a make-do shelf that’d been wedged and hastily nailed to the side wall.

Exhaustion was setting in; there was nothing to find here and nowhere else to look. This was the only enclosed and private room in the office. All the filing cabinets were out on the main floor which we all shared, and I’d already checked them anyway.

The handsome investigator had lied to me. Damn him!

With the intention of leaving, I walked back into the middle of the room but noticed a small glinting keyhole set into the middle part of the desk… what looked to be a hidden drawer.

My hands immediately went to pull it open, but the drawer wouldn’t budge. I rattled it again; it was locked. A locked drawer indicated that Max wanted to keep something hidden, and I wanted know what. I searched the corners of the drawers I’d already gone through for signs of a small key… nothing but lint and dust.

I scoured the desk, hoping Max did not keep the key on him. I investigated the paperweights and ornaments without caring about their original placements when I put them down. I glanced over the pile of paper-clips in a small open tin - surely not, I thought. I swished my finger in the tin, prodding and moving the clips around. To my surprise, buried right at the bottom, a glint of brass, with its aging colour, shone through between the silver haystack maze of paper-clips. Plucking it between my fingers, I grinned like I’d just won a fairground prize.

I didn’t waste any time getting it into the keyhole, and with a gentle clunk, the lock mechanism inside allowed me entry. The drawer slid out on its greased rails, and I gasped as I saw the contents.

“Please, no,” I whispered. What had Max gotten himself into?

Two black handguns rested upon what looked to be a thick diary.

I’d seen guns on television, but never in my life had I seen or touched one in person. It wasn’t something you would see up in the Northeast of England. You’d hear of gun crime down south in the capitol, of course, but never up here.

My mouth was dry, and it was difficult to swallow. My pulse raced as I reached over to touch the cold steel.

What did Max need with a gun, let alone two?

Curious and hesitantly at first, I inspected one of them and lifted it into my hands to see how it felt. It was heavy, but not so heavy that I couldn’t raise and aim it. A powerful rush surged through me; I held in my delicate hands a weapon that could kill, and my nipples hardened with excitement. I had enough sense and had seen enough TV to check that the safety was on. I continued to hold it while removing the thick, bound notebook from the drawer. Surely, there’d be some answers contained within it.

A sudden crash rattled the building, causing the book to fall from my hands as the front door came to a close a floor below.

T
he stout notebook
landed with a soft thud on the carpet, and I stood frozen, still as a statue, with my eyes fixed wide open and still grasping the gun in my hand.

Maybe I’d imagined it. It must’ve been the coffee shop next door… but no, they wouldn’t open till morning. Creeping towards Max’s office door, I strained to listen.

I almost cried when I heard heavy footsteps climbing the stairs, accompanied by muffled conversation.

I rushed back to the desk and fiddled to find the switch for the lamp. Darkness fell, and I was blind. I cursed, panicking – I shut the drawer and attempted to find the fallen book in the shadows. I felt the rough carpet tiles beneath my fingers as I stretched them out, but the damned notebook eluded me.

Where the hell was it?

They would be in the main office by now, and thoughts of hiding in the women’s toilets were no longer an option. I had only a matter of moments to hide if indeed their intended destination was Max’s office. Reaching around once more, my fingers finally found the notebook. I shoved it into my bag and whirled in the direction of the storage cupboard, feeling with outstretched hands so I wouldn’t bump into the wall.

I pulled the cupboard door shut and nestled into the corner, careful not to knock into the vacuum cleaner; it’d just be my luck that it’d turn on, screeching to life, alerting them to my presence.

My right hand clenched the gun tight to my chest. My stomach was doing cartwheels, and I wanted to be sick. Why hadn’t I put it back in the drawer?

“Bloody alarm not turned on…” I heard one say. My ears strained to hear, but I resisted getting closer to press my ear to the door.

I urged myself to calm down; I was sure they’d hear me breathing. My legs already felt stiff from the confined position, tucked under myself, but I dared not move.

“Goddammit! I’m going to kill him!” A male voice yelled as a heavy wooden door slammed shut.

“I’ve told him, time and time again, to keep everything locked up, and he can’t even manage that. Useless…” the voice continued. Deep, thick and like a fog horn: always loud.

I recognised the voice and trembled. It was Max’s father, Terry Quadrello, the real boss. The not-so-silent partner who ran things with a clenched iron fist and had his fat fingers buried deep within many small businesses around the city, not just his own. He would be nice as hedgerow pie to all the assistants in the office, but you could tell his bubbling temper was ready to boil over at any moment. Even when the door to Max’s office was shut, we’d occasionally hear his dad bellowing at him, causing us all to go silent.

I had no idea what he would do to me if he found me whimpering in the closet; I clutched the gun.

“Want me to have a word?” a squeaky voice asked.

“Nah, you’ve done enough. I’ll give him a good talking to when I see him,” Terry answered, “Let’s just get what we came for.”

I had visions of them opening the cupboard door and finding me, but their footsteps moved farther away towards the other end of the carpeted office. One of them had turned the lights on, and the cupboard door was outlined in a soft yellow glow.

“Where’s the other one? We need to get rid of these for fuck’s sake!” Terry cried.

“Max probably has it, for protection, what with Eric sniffing around the past few weeks,” the squeaky one replied.

Terry grunted and asked, “Did you take care of him?”

“Oh, yeah. I got one of the lads to sort it. We won’t be seeing his lanky ass anymore,” Squeaky responded. I wondered, could this Eric be the man I’ve been longing for? I doubted it…

“Are you sure?” Terry asked.

“Do you doubt me? Have I ever let you down?”

“No, you’re a good boy.”

“Well, we tracked him down. Never guess what he was doing?”

A pause.

“Perving on one of your girls! Er, Kate, I think. Max’s bit, you know, the new one; brunette with the baps upfront,” Squeaky chuckled.

“Anyways, Eric’s a goner, having a whale of a time in the North Sea I imagine.”

“So be it… it had to be done,” Terry sighed, “And the girl? Anything we need to worry about?”

“Nah, Max vouched for her.”

I couldn’t believe my ears and pressed my hand to my dry mouth to stop from crying. They were killers, casually talking about the demise of another human being. Eric. My Eric? I prayed that he was not my stranger. Could he really be dead? God, I hoped they would not find me, as I would surely be disposed of just as easily.

The gun handle was slick with sweat from my tightened grip; I doubted I would be able to use it if they threw open the door and found me. I wasn’t a killer. I was just an ordinary filing clerk. Damn Eric!

A tear escaped. I didn’t want to die. How could the most exciting night of my life lead me to this point, trapped in a cupboard scared for my life, re-evaluating the only friendship I’d be able to cling to?

“Where’s the sodding ledger?” Terry continued.

“Check the other drawer.”

“I did, it’s not sodding here.”

“Max must have that with him, too,” Squeaky voice said.

“Can’t trust him with anything. Get on the phone and ask him, will you?”

I winced, coming back to my senses. If they called Max, he’d tell them he didn’t have it with him. They’d start searching, and they’d find me.

“Straight to voice-mail,” Squeaky reported.

Max would soon receive a brutal talking to due to my interference, but if there was ever a time I felt relief, this was topping the all-time charts: Top of the Pops, eat your heart out!

“Sod it, we’ll have to do without it. We need to be at the docks now. We don’t have time for this shit,” Terry said, temper flaring, patience all but extinguished.

I listened and waited. They’d stopped talking. I couldn’t hear what they were doing. Had they heard me?

A switch was pressed, and what little light had bled through the cracks of the doorway was now gone. The slight shuffles of feet diminished, receding as Terry and Squeaky, to my relief walked away.

Resisting the urge to come out of my hiding place, I started to count. I would wait for five minutes before emerging from the cupboard. I don’t think I would’ve been able to move anyway. The fear I felt pulsing around my body held me firmly in place. And I didn’t have the strength to even lift my arms.

All I could think about was Eric… it had to have been him, right? They mentioned him watching me, I was the only Kate working at the Quadrello office, and now he was gone. When had they taken him? When had he looked upon me without me knowing he was there?

Silent tears streaked down my face; he would never touch me again, never stroke my neck or hold me from behind. Weak with grief and stunned with fear, I managed to stand, unstable in the awkward space. I dropped the gun into my bag and reached to open the door to freedom, ready to make a hasty exit.

T
he door creaked
open and I stumbled out into Max’s office. Pins and needles surged up my legs, protesting my hurried movements.

I shook my legs to get the blood flowing when a tall, looming figure, too skinny to be Terry, burst through the private office door. His breathing was laboured as though he’d just run a couple of marathons back to back.

I screamed and fell as he approached. He was head to toe in black, coming for me. Searching in the bottomless pit of my bag for the gun, I propelled myself backwards. I drove my legs into the floor and pushed myself away, scrambling towards the wall… towards a dead end.

My fingertips grazed the cool steel of the gun, and just as I was about to pull it out, a familiar voice registered in the air.

“Kate, stop. Kate! It’s me!”

I paused, not believing. His face was bruised, battered and broken. He was more purple than pink. Rapidly blinking, I stared into those crystal blue eyes.

“Eric?” I asked, squinting at the person kneeling over me.

He nodded, puzzled. “Smart cookie. Are you OK?”

He was alive! Anger flared and battled against the pleasure rising within me from seeing him again.

I slapped him hard across his swollen cheek, then unceremoniously fell to the floor, fainting.