A New Dawn Rising (19 page)

'How have the nightmares been lately?' asked Lucy. She had listened patiently to Sam's tale, nodding sympathetically whenever she saw him getting particularly frustrated or melancholy.

Sam considered her question. Had the nightmares changed recently? He thought so but was reluctant to make presumptions.

'Well, since I met Carl the dreams have been pretty random,' he replied thoughtfully. 'I've seen a lot of different faces, all the people I've come across in the last few days. I still dream about Elizabeth and Danielle, but their images haven't been quite so vivid or horrible. In fact, the last couple of nights, they've been more about Carl's two daughters.'

Lucy raised her eyebrows.

'His daughters?' she said. 'What have those dreams been about?'

'It's as though the girls have replaced my wife and daughter in the dreams,' answered Sam. 'They're scared and asking for help in the same way. It's as though something bad is about to happen to them.'

Sam watched Lucy trying to make head or tail of it.

'Perhaps they're in some danger,' she suggested.

'That crossed my mind,' said Sam, sincerely hoping they were both wrong. 'But that would mean I'm having some sort of premonition, wouldn't it?'

Lucy shrugged.

'I really don't know,' she said, giving him a mystified look. 'But if there's one consolation, it seems all this with Carl is taking your mind off the past right now.'

That made sense to Sam. He also had a theory of his own. One he was reluctant to share with Lucy. He had spent the last two years dreaming about the people he hadn't been able to save. Was it possible the two little girls had appeared in his dreams to give him the opportunity to make amends? Was Elizabeth telling him it was now okay to let go of herself and Danielle. To put all his energy into protecting Katie and Jenny? But if so, if his dreams were telling him to do for them what he couldn't for his family, then what had last night's dream been about?

Why the nightmare about Lucy?

Sam had dreamt solely of Lucy last night. Only it hadn't been the nice, pleasant dream he might have hoped for, but a traumatic re-run of the nightmare involving his wife and daughter. As Sam squirmed in his sleep, Lucy screamed endlessly for assistance in his dream. Petrified, she called out his name over and over again, pleading for help. If anything, the image was more realistic than any he had endured over the last two years. So much so that Sam was forced to strangle a scream of his own when the nightmare woke him out of his slumber.

He then lay awake for the remainder of the night, brooding over his latest nightmare while watching Lucy sleep peacefully on the sofa. Why were the faces changing constantly? Once, they had been as predictable as they were terrifying. If the girls had entered his sub-conscious because they were in danger, then why had their images been replaced? Were they safe now? Most worryingly of all for Sam, did that mean Lucy was going to be in danger?

Sam Carlisle spent the early morning hours seriously contemplating whether he was losing his mind. Did the dreams mean anything at all, or were they a sign he was verging on some sort of breakdown? Was the combination of stress and alcohol finally taking its toll on his mind?

Whatever, he said nothing of last night's dream to Lucy.

Sam waited in the living-room while Lucy showered and changed. He had agreed to go into town with her to buy a new charger for her laptop. They were taking her car. The blue Clio seemed the safer option given current circumstances.

Listening to the shower running in the bathroom, Sam turned his thoughts back to the previous evening. He tried to decipher why the occupants of the Freelander would want to intervene the way they had. The feeling he had was it was more to do with himself than Martyn Taylor and his cronies. A rival gang to Taylor's wouldn't have been interested in saving Sam's skin. And the police, if they had been attracted by the fracas in the car park, definitely wouldn't have waved a gun around like that. Sam had been right about one thing.

He had definitely been followed yesterday.

And he was certain the Freelander had been the vehicle tracking him.

'Well, do I look okay?'

Sam turned in response to Lucy's voice. She was standing in the doorway, smiling demurely at him, holding a leather jacket. Her hair was down on her shoulders, and she had applied a touch of make-up. She wore a long blouse over skinny jeans.

Sam thought she looked stunning.

'It will be my privilege to be seen out with you,' he laughed.

Lucy curtsied in mock appreciation.

'Thank you, kind sir,' she said, grinning widely. 'Shall we go?'

It didn't take Lucy long to find the charger she needed. After making her purchase, they walked through the shopping precinct. Despite the cold weather, the town centre was swarming with people. Lucy took hold of Sam's arm, happily allowing him to lead them through the crowds. It made Sam smile. Was something happening between them? Once again, the thought scared and thrilled him in equal measures.

Suddenly, she stopped to stare at the building in front of them.

'Do you realise where we are?' she asked.

Sam followed her gaze. In front of them was the department store he had come out of the day she was mugged.

'Yes, I remember,' he replied. 'This is where we first saw each other.'

He was surprised she wanted to recall that day given what happened to her.

'We never got the chance to speak to each other, did we?' she said, turning to gaze into his eyes. He felt her fingers interlock lightly with his own.

'Well, there was a lot-'

Sam looked back at the store, feeling slightly awkward at the sudden intimacy. His attention was taken by a figure he vaguely recognised.

'What's the matter?' asked Lucy, noticing his distracted look.

Sam peered over at a woman leaving the store. It was her. The woman in the photo.

'That woman over there,' he said, nodding towards the store. 'I've seen her before.'

He let go of Lucy's hand.

'Can you wait here a minute?' he asked her.

Lucy gave him a baffled look and shrugged.

Sam left her and broke into a jog. He wanted to catch the woman before she disappeared from sight.

'Excuse me!' he called out. A number of people looked around at him. 'Excuse me!'

The woman turned his way with a quizzical look on her face. Sam was satisfied it was her. Mid-forties. Dark, curly hair. He wanted to find out more about her.

'Are you calling me?' she asked, looking about her warily.

'Er, yes,' he replied hesitantly. 'Sorry to stop you, but I know you from somewhere.'

She gave him a hard look.

'Well, I don't mean to be rude, but I don't know you.'

Sam knew he only had a moment or two before she decided he was some kind of nutcase.

'Carl Renshaw?' he offered hopefully. 'I worked for Carl.'

Sam could see in her face the name had triggered something. She was struggling to make the connection.

'DR Garments?' prompted Sam. 'Carl Renshaw's factory?'

Something clicked in her head.

'Ah, yes,' she said, her face softening a little. 'That's where my husband works. Do you...did you work there as well?'

'Not exactly,' said Sam. 'I was Carl's driver.'

She looked at him, puzzled.

'So, where do you know me from? You might know my husband, Dave Starkey. He was the foreman there. But I can't see how-'

'That's where I know your face from!' exclaimed Sam, thinking fast. 'I know Dave. I used to pop into the factory every now and then. He must have shown me a photo of you. Well, it is a small world, isn't it?'

Mrs Starkey gave him a sceptical look.

'Well, Bursleigh is a small town,' she admitted. 'Look, Dave's in one of the shops just up the street if you want to say hello to him.'

The last person Sam wanted to talk to was Dave Starkey.

'Sam?'

He turned round. Mrs Starkey did the same. Lucy was standing before them, waiting for an introduction.

'Right, got to go,' he announced. 'Can't keep the lady waiting.'

Mrs Starkey and Lucy both gave him bemused looks.

'Nice to meet you, Mrs Starkey,' he said hurriedly, already moving off and taking Lucy with him.

***

'What was all that about?'

Sam had marched Lucy away from Mrs Starkey and back to the car without saying a word. Now they had reached the Clio, she wanted an answer.

'That was Dave Starkey's wife,' he told her.

'Who's Dave Starkey?' she asked.

'Remember me telling you about the photo? The one I found at the factory on the night of the fire?'

Realisation dawned on Lucy's face.

'That was her?'

'The very same.'

Lucy's eyes widened.

'You don't think-'

'That he was the one running from the fire?' said Sam, reading her thoughts. 'Nah, he worked there, didn't he? He probably just dropped it out of his wallet one day.'

'Yeah, but-'

'I know what you're thinking, Lucy, but why would he want to burn the factory down and hurt Carl?' said Sam, just glad to have finally put a name to the face in the photo. 'He's lost his job now the factory's not there anymore.'

Lucy thought about it for a moment.

'I suppose you're right,' she said, unlocking the doors to the Clio. 'I'm letting my imagination get away from me.'

Sam smiled at her across the roof of the car.

'That's what it does to you, this detective work.'

Lucy looked disappointed.

'Why do you have to go?' she asked.

'I won't be long. I just want to make sure no-one's burnt my home down.'

Sam wasn't entirely joking. Too much had happened recently to take anything for granted. He wanted to take a quick check on the cottage.

'I'll take your car if it makes you feel any better,' he said.

She stuck her tongue out at him. They both laughed.

'Yeah, I'd feel happier if you did,' she said, moving towards him. 'I'll be even happier when you get back here safely. Here, have these in case I get bored and pop to the shop.'

She dropped a spare set of flat keys into his palm while gazing tenderly into his eyes. All of a sudden, she leaned into him and kissed him lightly on the lips. Sam was pleasantly surprised.

'I'll be back here before you know it.'

***

Sam stalled the car at a junction, laughing at his inability to adjust to the unfamiliar controls of the Clio. As he fiddled with the gearstick, a car whizzed past in front of him.

A black BMW.

Sam had only caught a glimpse of the two men inside the car, but it was enough. It was the two heavies he had encountered outside Carl's house. More wannabe hard men with attitude problems. They hadn't looked in his direction as they flashed by, so he put the Clio into gear, let the clutch out and set off after them. He accelerated through the gears quickly, pushing his speed until he had the beamer in sight. Then he kept his distance. This was more to Sam's liking, watching the bad guys rather than being chased by them.

He realised they would be passing the Renshaw's empty house soon. He wondered once more how Molly and the girls were doing. Where had they gone? He presumed they were staying with family or friends. People who could offer them some comfort.

Sam expected the BMW to carry on past the entrance to Carl's drive, but to his puzzlement, the car slowed down and turned into it. What were they doing? There was nobody living in the property. Sam's curiosity got the better of him and he slowed down too, debating whether to follow in the Clio or get out and sneak down on foot. He decided on the latter.

Walking down the drive, Sam heard the sound of car doors being slammed shut. The men were out of their vehicle and outside the house. Sam quickened his pace. Just before the house came into view, he left the gravel and dived behind the mass of bushes running off to one side. He could hear the two men talking. Sam crept closer, using the dense bushes as cover, until he was only yards away from the men.

'There's still nobody here.'

'Well, what does Bellamy expect? They're not going to move out and put the house up for sale, then move back in, are they?'

A light breeze had picked up, carrying the men's words over to Sam's hiding place. He caught the name Bellamy clearly. Sam presumed they were referring to the Bellamy who had hassled Carl over the phone.

'This is a waste of time. Why's he sent us back out here?'

'Because he's desperate, that's why. Renshaw's dead, and the only way of getting back what he owes is through his wife.'

'Well, he's not going to find her here, is he?'

This was all very revealing to Sam. So, Carl had been in debt to Bellamy for some reason. Was it money he owed? There was only one way Sam was going to find out. He discreetly backtracked to the Clio, jumped in and drove down to the Renshaw's former home. As he reached the house, the men were climbing back into their car with resigned looks on their faces.

Sam feigned surprise as he pulled up next to them. They watched him with interest, a flicker of hope appearing on their faces when they recognised him. It was clear to Sam they were desperate for a break. Anything that might give them a lead to Molly's whereabouts. That suited him. They would be more likely to talk this time.

Not that they gave Sam that impression straight away.

'What do you want?' asked one of them gruffly.

Sam ignored the bluntness. He knew they still had appearances to keep up.

'Well, we meet again,' he said, getting out of the Capri. 'Still no-one at home, then?'

They cocked their heads at him, trying to work him out. Was he being funny? Knowing he had to work fast, Sam trotted up the front steps of the house, went to the nearest window and peered in through the glass pane. Suddenly, he banged his fist down hard on the window frame.

'She's pulled a fast one on me!' he announced angrily, turning to the two men. 'I take it you two haven't got any idea where she's gone?'

'Pull the other one, mate.'

Sam edged back down the steps.

'Look,' he said, 'the only reason I'm standing here staring at an empty house is because Carl Renshaw owes me money. I'm sorry he's dead, but his missus told me she would pay up the wages he owed me...and now she's disappeared!'

They continued to stare at him, unable to work out if he was genuine.

'She owes you money?' one of them asked eventually.

Sam sighed. These two were definitely employed for their brawn rather than any brains.

'Yeah, three weeks pay,' he told them, sitting down grumpily on the bottom step. He pretended to have a sudden thought. 'Don't tell me you're owed money, as well?' he asked hopefully. 'Is that why you were here the other day?'

He watched them glance warily at each other. They weren't totally convinced they could trust him just yet.

'It is, isn't it?' said Sam, allowing more optimism into his voice. He jumped back up to his feet. 'You're here for the same reason as me, aren't you? Just trying to get back what's rightfully yours.'

Both men looked down at their feet. Sam could see their tough-guy masks slipping. They were relenting in their desperation. They didn't want to return to their boss empty-handed.

'Renshaw owes us...our boss...a lot of money,' one of them finally conceded. 'He took out a loan with us and hasn't paid a penny of it back. Now, there was a lot of expensive stuff in that house. If we could just track down his wife...'

Sam had been right. Money. But why would someone as wealthy as Carl need a hefty loan from sharks like these?

'So, I'm not the only one being turned over by the look of it,' he concluded glumly. 'Not that it's much consolation. I've still gotta put food on the table.'

His two new friends murmured in agreement. They looked at him expectantly, hoping he could come up with a suggestion. Sam felt like laughing. How the tables had turned.

'I tell you what,' he said with renewed vigour. 'Why don't we swap numbers? I'm not giving up yet. If I find out where Mrs Renshaw is, I'll let you know. And you can do the same for me.'

The two men looked at each other and nodded. They had nothing to lose. At least they could tell their boss they had made some sort of progress.

'Okay, mate. Give us your number.'