Blood Ransom (6 page)

Mum asked me what I was doing, of course. She was well annoyed at me for not waiting to speak to her earlier. She’d wanted to ask if I minded her and Jeff (her boss) popping out to
dinner.

I told her it was fine, and that I was planning to go out myself, to see some friends. Before Mum could even mention my curfew, I promised I’d be back by 10.15. Hours away.

She bought the whole thing, which should have made me feel bad but didn’t.

Anyway, I got to Rittenhouse Square and sat on a bench. A couple of minutes later a man in a baseball cap walked past me and dropped an envelope in my lap.

I opened it eagerly, to find a US passport with a fake name and two years added to my age, plus an e-ticket in the same fake name for a flight to Edinburgh. At the bottom of the envelope was a
cellphone – fully charged and loaded with Lewis’s phone number – plus two thick wedges of cash, one in ten-dollar bills, the other in ten-pound notes.

This was it. At the back of my mind I realised I had no idea what Lewis and I were going to do when I got to Scotland, but it didn’t matter. We could work it out when I arrived. I was on
my way to find Rachel.

That was all that counted.

Shoving everything back in the envelope, I stood up and walked out of the square in search of a taxi to take me to the airport.

19

I heard another twig snap. Where was the noise coming from? Milo and I were close to the house, inside the wire-mesh fence. Trapped. My heart thudded as I scanned the patch of
dense woodland just outside the fence.

A figure emerged from behind one of the trees. It was the blond guard who’d brought us to the island. He strode towards us, his hard eyes fixed on me.

In his hand was a gun.

For a second I was so frightened I thought I might wet myself, and then Milo spoke.

‘I’m sorry, Rachel,’ he said.

I turned to him, bewildered, then looked back at the guard. The expression in the man’s eyes said it all. He knew I was here. He wasn’t surprised.

Oh God.

I took a step back, towards the house.

The guard raised his gun. ‘Don’t move,’ he ordered.

‘Do what Paul says.’ Milo’s voice shook.

‘What’s going on?’ But as I turned to look at Milo, I already knew. I didn’t need to see the shame on his face or the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

This had been Milo’s plan from the beginning.

20

I found a taxi and set off for the airport. I spent most of the journey agonising over what text to send Mum. In the end I opted for short and sweet:

I added the last sentence as an afterthought. I meant it, though. Mum and I might not be close, but I’ve grown up since last year and I now recognised how hard being a
single mum had been for her.

I sent the text on my old mobile and, having sent it, decided to get rid of the phone itself. I could be traced on it – Lewis had found it, after all, and the FBI were certainly aware of
my calls.

I hesitated just a second, then switched it off and chucked it out of the taxi window.

Weird. Without my phone I felt disconnected from my old life – as if I were doing more than just getting on a plane tonight . . . as if I were leaving everything I knew behind.

Which was also strangely liberating.

I checked in easily enough at the airport – the fake passport didn’t raise any eyebrows – then had ages before my flight took off. I looked round the shops,
then bought a burger and headed for the gate. I’d flown before, of course, but never on my own. Though I wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, I was terrified.

At first I was just scared of what I was doing – running away and using fake ID to get on a plane, possibly to walk right into the hands of the very people who most wanted Rachel and me
dead.

And then, as I bit into my burger, I suddenly felt scared for Rachel, like something terrible had happened.

I hoped it was all in my head.

21

I blinked, unable to breath, unable to move. My mind seemed to slow right down. I registered Paul, the guard, walking towards me . . . the frayed edge of his rugby shirt collar
. . . the crunch of the stones under his feet.

‘Get inside,’ he snapped.

I backed towards the house as Milo wheeled past me. Behind me I could hear him opening the front door.

‘Inside, Rachel,’ Paul barked.

I stared at him, my legs threatening to give way.

‘What are you doing?’ I said. ‘Milo, where’s Daniel?’

Milo said nothing, just wheeled himself inside.

‘Where’s Daniel?’ I repeated, more forcefully.

‘He’s not here,’ Milo muttered.

Not here?
‘You mean Elijah doesn’t have him . . .? He’s not on the island . . . not about to be operated on?’

‘No. Now come inside.’

I stumbled into the house after him. It was cold and dimly lit, with whitewashed walls, but I barely noticed.

‘Why did you trick me into coming here?’ My voice sounded hoarse as a terrifying stream of possibilities rushed through my head. ‘What are you going to do with me?’

Paul came inside after us and shut the door. He grabbed my arm. ‘This way.’

‘I was just following orders,’ Milo muttered. He wheeled himself past me.

I felt sick.

‘
Whose
orders?’ I called after him. ‘For God’s sake, Milo, you can’t do this. People will come looking for me . . . My parents . . . The police . .
.’

‘Actually, they won’t,’ Milo said. ‘I took your purse and card from your bag before you got into the boot of the car. We left them on the jetty, so that it looked as if
you’d drowned . . . deliberately . . .’

‘
Killed
myself?’ I couldn’t believe it. ‘No one’s going to accept that.’

‘They will,’ Milo went on. ‘There was an eyewitness . . .’

‘
What?
’ I thought back to the desolate patch of coastline where I’d smuggled myself onto the boat. ‘Who?
How?
’

‘I need to get her into her room,’ Paul said, his hand still gripping my arm.

Milo nodded. ‘You’ll find out more in the morning, Rachel.’

‘No, wait!’

But Paul was already pushing me along the corridor. We reached a door on the left and Paul opened it and shoved me inside.

The door shut – then locked.

I stood stock-still, trying to make sense of what had happened.

I looked round the room. It was empty and painted a dirty off-white. There was no furniture apart from a narrow camp bed which was pushed against the far wall. No windows.

I went over to the bed. The mattress was stained but a thick wool blanket had been laid on top of it.

Milo had tricked me . . . had faked my death.

Anger rose from deep inside me. How
dare
anyone do that?

And
why
? It didn’t make sense.

I wrapped the blanket around myself, my anger shot through with confusion. What was Milo playing at? Was Daniel
really
not here? And what about Elijah? Was he on the island?

My heart seemed to shrink inside me as I thought it through. Faking my suicide meant that no one would know I’d been taken. Everyone would think I was dead. I imagined the shock for my
parents . . . the pain that they and Theo and Lewis would feel when they heard the news.
Surely
they wouldn’t believe it? Would they?

I closed my eyes as sheer terror gripped me. My hand closed on the tiny silver ‘t’ on the chain round my neck but, tonight, even that didn’t comfort me.

I’d been betrayed and was locked up on an island for reasons I didn’t understand.

No one knew I was here. No one even knew I was still alive.

I was totally alone.

22

My flight touched down just after noon – though it felt much earlier to me, still on US time.

As I made my way through passport control at Edinburgh Airport, anxiety surged through me. What if the UK authorities realised I was using a fake passport? What if there was a picture of me on
their files that would flash up next to my false identity? What if Lewis didn’t make contact?

In the end, none of those things happened. I sailed through security in Edinburgh and there was a text from Lewis waiting when I switched on my phone.

I found the taxi rank and set off.

After sunny Philadelphia, cloudy Edinburgh was a bit of a shock. The air was mild enough, but the sky seemed to press down on me, reminding me – now I was actually here – of the
enormous task that lay ahead.

I saw Lewis before he saw me – he was leaning against the wall of the hotel, in jeans, sunglasses and a leather jacket. He looked exactly the same as before, his hair cut in a short dark
crop and that slight air of danger about him. Except, I realised, we were now the same height. Six foot exactly. Just a couple of inches shorter than Elijah though, as Elijah’s clone, I was
presumably going to end up the same height as him.

Lewis came over as I got out of the cab. ‘You’ve grown,’ he said.

I shrugged. ‘Not any smarter,’ I said.

Lewis grinned. ‘Good to see you, man. Was everything okay with the passport?’

‘Yeah, no problem.’

Lewis nodded. ‘That guy’s brilliant – the best.’

There was a slight pause.

‘You hungry?’

‘Starving – the breakfast on the plane was, like, a roll and some jam with two teaspoons of egg and bacon.’

‘Forget breakfast.’ Lewis laughed. ‘It’s lunchtime here.’

We headed for a café across the road. Once we’d ordered our food, and I’d thanked Lewis for all his help getting me here, I asked him the all-important question:

‘So, what leads do you have on where Rachel might be?’

‘I don’t have any.’ He sighed, taking off his sunglasses and laying them on the table between us. ‘The police have totally bought this suicide thing. There’s even
an eyewitness account of Rachel walking into the sea.’

‘I told you before, she wouldn’t have done that. Not in a million years.’

Lewis looked up. His eyes were a bright blue against his tanned skin. ‘I know,’ he said.

‘Which means that eyewitness is lying and we need to find out why – and who for,’ I said.

‘I agree. The only trouble is that the inquest into Rachel’s death won’t be held until next week, which is the first time we’ll get to see the eyewitness.’

‘We can’t wait that long . . . anything could have happened to her by then!’

‘I agree,’ Lewis said with a groan, ‘but I’ve already been to the place where she was supposed to have killed herself. There are no clues – nothing for us to follow
up at all. A few people apparently remember seeing her on the high street, but that’s it.’

I shook my head. ‘Then we have to speak to her parents, find out what they know.’

‘After yesterday, that’s what I was thinking too, but we have to be careful. They won’t want to talk to us, especially me,’ Lewis cautioned. ‘We’re a reminder
of the past – a threat to their safety.’

‘Tough.’ I gritted my teeth. ‘They’re the only option right now.’

Two hours later, we reached the place where Rachel had been living in Roslinnon – a neat semi-detached house at the end of a long terrace.

‘I’ve been keeping an eye on her for months,’ Lewis explained as he parked his car. ‘After Mel . . .’ he hesitated, his voice growing bitter, ‘well, I
requested relocation to Edinburgh, so I could be near Rachel.’

I nodded, trying not to feel jealous. I knew Rachel saw Lewis as a big brother, but it was still hard to think he’d been looking out for her all this time while I’d been stuck on the
other side of the Atlantic.

‘How’ve you been getting money?’ I said, thinking about the cost of my false passport and ticket.

‘Security guard job,’ Lewis said. ‘The pay’s okay and I get plenty of time off.’

He had to ring the doorbell of Mr and Mrs Smith’s house twice before anyone answered. In the end Mr Smith came to the door. He looked terrible – ashen-faced and dead-eyed.

His mouth fell open when he saw us. ‘
You.
What the hell are you two doing here . . .?’

‘Rachel,’ I said.

Mr Smith’s eyes widened. ‘How did you even find us?’

‘I’ve always known,’ Lewis explained quickly. ‘It was part of my deal with the FBI.’

‘Your
deal
!’ Mr Smith’s voice rose. ‘What the hell are you
thinking
, coming here?’

‘We’re certain she didn’t kill herself, Richard,’ Lewis said quickly. ‘Somebody’s covering up what really happened.’

Mr Smith hesitated for a second. ‘You’d better come in.’ He stepped back to allow us to pass, then ushered us into the living room. With its rose-patterned wallpaper and
polished wooden furniture, it looked like a cheaper, smaller version of the house I remembered visiting last year in South London, that first day I met Rachel.

Mr Smith didn’t bother to sit down – or invite us to. He simply shut the living-room door and folded his arms.

‘Now, listen,’ he said, his voice terse. ‘I appreciate Rachel may have meant something to both of you, but there are still risks involved in us all being together. I also
understand why you don’t want to believe she’s gone . . . especially
that
way, but there was an eyewitness and . . .’

‘Whoever he is, he’s lying,’ I said.

Mr Smith shook his head helplessly. ‘My wife and I . . . we’ve been over it and over it . . . the government are certain that neither Elijah nor RAGE had any idea where Rachel was.
Her . . . what she did, it’s the only logical explanation, no matter how much it hurts . . .’

There was a pause as we all stood in awkward silence.

‘What makes you so sure Rachel would do something . . . like that,’ Lewis said gently.

‘She wasn’t getting on with her mother,’ Mr Smith said, heavily.

Well, that was true. I thought back to the many times Rachel had complained online about how controlling her mum was.