Give Yourself Away (26 page)

March moaned with delight all the way through the meal. “It tastes fantastic. Why doesn’t mine taste like this? It’s the chocolate, isn’t it?”

“And three drops of my blood.”

March’s head shot up.

“I’m serious. I cut my finger when I was chopping the onions.” Caleb did that trick with his hands that made it look as though he could slide his finger in half. Baxter had taught him that.

“I taught you that.” March grinned.

“You did.”

“The Aztecs drank chocolate rather than ate it. They liked it cold while the Mayans drank it warm. Only nobles, merchants and warriors were supposed to drink it. Nothing like our hot chocolate though, theirs was bitter and spicy. Some sources say when too much of it was drunk, it made people confused and dizzy.”

“Bit like me after three Mars bars.”

March laughed. “There are stimulants in cacao but nothing technically inebriating, so it’s probable the guy who made those comments was seeing the effects of adding alcohol. Talking of alcohol, do you want a drink?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks. I don’t drink much. I’ve never been willingly drunk.”

“It’s fun until it’s not fun. That line between ‘the world is wonderful’ and ‘oh shit, the world is spinning’ is a fine one.”

March pushed to his feet and began to clear the table.

As Caleb stood to help him, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, and when he saw who it was, he walked over to the couch and sat down. “Hi, Jamie.”

A hiccupped sob was the response.

Caleb straightened. “What’s wrong?”

“Paul.”

Caleb winced. He hadn’t thought Paul was a good match. The guy was too big and butch. Jamie was small and thin and usually went for other small, thin guys.

“What’s happened?” Caleb asked.

“Dumped me.”

“Sorry.”

Jamie didn’t usually call to tell him when he was dumped. Caleb wondered what was different this time.

“Is he with you?” Jamie asked. “I just want to talk to him. I want to know what I did wrong. Can I talk to him?”

“Why would you think he was with me?”

“He went on and on about you. He’s not with you?”

“No. Promise. I saw him at Victor’s party and then with you, and those are the only times I’ve ever seen him. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m going downstairs to Suzie’s flat to stay with her.”

“Okay. Plenty more fish.” That was what Jamie always said to him.

“Well, I’d like a nice dolphin next time instead of a shark. Paul told me he’d been in prison twice. I should have run.”

Caleb winced. Dolphins weren’t fish, but he didn’t think it was the time to point that out. “Sounds like you’re well shot of him.”

“He was so good-looking though, so…commanding.”

“Maybe he’s done you a favor. You don’t usually go for that type. You turn your back on them and look for ones like you.”

“You’re right,” Jamie said. “I just thought I’d try. He seemed so keen. Fuck it. I’m going to have a party for thin, weedy guys. Will you come?”

Caleb laughed. “Sure. Just text me when, but not this weekend. I’m going away.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

Caleb put the phone back in his pocket. That was odd, but Jamie went through guys at the rate of knots. Each time he thought he’d found the one, and each time he ended up in tears. But the odder thing was why Paul had been interested in Caleb.

“Everything okay?” March asked.

“One of my friends has had his heart broken—again.”

He looked at March and March stared back at him, everything said in that silence.

Chapter Twenty-Five

March took the call from the detective agency as he drove in to work. He was astounded by how fast they’d found Jasim. He asked them to text him the details and pulled up at the side of the road. March tapped his fingers on the wheel as he waited.

Once the information had come through, March hesitated. It would take him ninety minutes to drive to Jasim’s house and there was no guarantee he’d be there. The phone number the detective agency had supplied was a landline, not a mobile. If March called and Jasim answered, the guy was going to ask what he wanted, but March needed to do this face to face.

Should he take a risk and make the drive or call? Not forgetting he was supposed to be at work. He decided to phone. If Jasim was there, he’d go straight to see him and call in sick. March pressed the numbers.

For a while, he didn’t think anyone was going to answer, then a deep voice said, “Hello?”

“My name is March Durant. You don’t know me but you might have heard of me as Baxter Carne.”

There was silence at the other end of the phone. Worried Jasim would cut him off, March spoke again. “I need to talk to you about Caleb.”

Still, Jasim didn’t speak.

“Tye,” March said. When there was no response March carried on, “I think he’s in danger.”
Maybe from you.
“Can I come and see you?”

Jasim cut him off.

Shit.
March programmed the address into his sat nav as he called Geraldine.

“Morning, March.”

“Sorry. I’m not feeling well. Upset stomach.” Which wasn’t a lie. “I won’t be able to make it in today.”

She tsked.

“I have three seminars and one tutorial scheduled. No lectures.”

“I’ll get admin to text the students. You can rearrange the sessions when you’re better.”

“Thanks, Geraldine. I’ll be fine by Monday.”

March felt guilty but this wouldn’t wait.

All the way there, March kept hoping it wasn’t a wasted journey, either because Jasim had gone out or because he’d refuse to see him. When the sat nav announced he’d reached his destination, March blew out a breath.

High gates blocked his entry. A long drive tapered into the distance and there was no sign of a house. He got out of the car and walked over to the intercom. March pressed the button but before he could speak, the gates began to swing open. March jumped back in his car and drove through.

The house came into view after he’d emerged from a small wood. It looked Georgian, with tall sash windows and a pillared symmetrical frontage. March pulled up on the gravel drive and took a deep breath before he climbed out.

The dark-blue front door opened as he reached it and a guy about Caleb’s height stared at him. His hair was dark and untidy but everything else about him looked polished, from his expensive clothes to the inscrutable expression on his face.

March hesitated and then held out his hand. “Jasim? Is that what I should call you?”

The guy didn’t offer his hand, but stepped back into the house and nodded for March to follow. The moment the door closed, March found himself shoved back against it with Jasim’s arm pressed across his throat.

Shit. Maybe this isn’t such a good plan.

“Prove who you are,” Jasmin said.

“Wallet. Pocket. I changed my name in my teens.”

Jasim pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. March’s full name was on his driving license. The wallet was pushed back.

“What did Caleb make?” Jasmin asked.

That could have meant anything, but March understood. “Birds,” he croaked.

“Does he have any distinguishing features?”

“A fucked-up back.”

Jasmin released his neck.

March fought the urge to rub his throat and instead swallowed a couple of times.

“Put your arms out and spread your legs,” Jasim said. “I’m going to check you for recording devices.”

March wondered what he’d walked into. Who was this guy?

Jasim was quick but thorough. “Okay. You can put your arms down.”

March lowered them.

“What do you want?” Jasmin asked.

“A cup of coffee?”

The Saudi gave a short laugh. He turned and March followed him to a kitchen. The house might be old but everything inside it was new and top of the range. The kitchen was four times as big as March’s.

While Jasim brewed coffee in a machine that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Starbucks, March kept quiet. Through the window he could see a guy in a blue jacket, trotting a horse on a lunge line. A woman with long blonde hair sat on the fence, watching. It made March feel better that there was someone around.
Witnesses to my murder? Oh God, this guy is a killer.

Jasim put two mugs of coffee on the long oak table. “Milk? Sugar?”

March shook his head. After Jasim dropped onto a seat, March took the chair opposite.

“He found you then,” Jasmin said.

“You told him I was dead. He thought I was. Did you know I’d tried to kill myself?”

Jasmin didn’t answer.

“We met again by accident. I volunteer for the RNLI and I rescued Caleb from drowning in a cave. We didn’t recognize one another. Caleb has been wearing colored lenses to change his eyes from green to brown. He saw a photo in my house and realized who I was.”

Jasim stared at him intently. The guy held on to the handle of his mug but hadn’t drunk any coffee. March hoped he wasn’t going to fling the contents in his face.

“Why did you tell him I was dead?”

“It was safer for him.”

“And for you,” March snapped.

Jasim shrugged.

“Do you know what happened in his life after you let him out of the room?” March asked.

“No.” There was no inflection in Jasim’s tone. Just a flat denial.

“Do the words ‘red rose’ mean anything?”

“No.”

“I’m worried.” March watched Jasim carefully as he went through the instances when the roses had been left. “Caleb thinks he’s been followed. I don’t like the idea of anyone watching him, even if that someone is—theoretically—dealing with guys who’ve hurt him.”

“You think it’s me.”

“You helped him before.”

Jasim gave a soft chuckle. “If I needed to, I could very likely prove I was nowhere near Caleb when any of these incidents happened. I spend a lot of my time abroad. Those messages with the flowers—they were things Liam said on camera, though his face was never shown.”

“But Liam’s dead.”

Now Jasim was watching
him
intently.

“Caleb said he knew Liam was dead,” March added. “But he’s second-guessing himself because he can’t figure out who else could be stalking him.”

“It could be anyone who’s seen him in one of the movies Liam made. Maybe they spotted him by chance, just like you. Why did you think it was me?”

“Because you cared about what happened to him.”
Sort of.
“You helped him escape.” March stared straight at him, hoping Jasim couldn’t see what else he knew.

“And told him I’d never see him again or contact him again, and I expected the same from him.”

“He doesn’t know I’m here. He has no idea where you live. I paid a detective agency to find you.”

Jasim gave a snort of laughter. “And you came here to tell me to keep my hands off? My hands haven’t been on. I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

March was inclined to believe him. “I’ve been trying to persuade Caleb to go the police and tell them everything.”

The reaction was slight, a tightening of Jasim’s grip on the mug, but it was there.

“I don’t want him to run,” March said. “I think he will if he believes there’s any danger to me. Another rose and he’ll leave. He won’t tell the police who he is because he knows the consequences.”

It was as close as March wanted to get to telling Jasim he knew he’d killed Liam.

“He’s hardly touched the money,” Jasim said. “That is one thing I know.”

“Do you blame him? He’s all too aware of how he earned it, albeit unwillingly.”

“Remind him if he’d told the police everything, the criminal injuries compensation board would have paid him, TV companies and newspapers would have given him money, and publishers would have clamored for his story. He should spend it. Use it to make himself happy.”

“Money isn’t the key to happiness.”

“But it helps.” Jasim drank his coffee.

“How the hell did you do that? Give him a new identity, open bank accounts?”

“That has nothing to do with you.”

“Can you think of anyone who might be doing this?” March asked.

“Not that Caleb won’t have already thought of. I destroyed Liam’s computer records, but it would have taken an expert to identify any buyers.”

“Destroyed, as in…?”

“Taking a hammer to the hard drive.”

“Right. Tell me about the auction. Is there a way I could trace others who bid? Someone who lost out to you?”

“I doubt it. There’s no record on my computer. I suspect others would be as cautious. I have no idea who bid as well. No one used their real name. I only know the amounts. Four years is a long time.”

“Twelve is even longer,” March snapped back. “Do you still do it? Bid online for sex with guys who have no choice in the matter? Why the fuck did you want someone like that?”

Jasim stared at him without speaking.

March fought back his irritation. Part of him wanted to hit Jasim, but that he’d done something evil yet wonderful for Caleb meant March ought to be thanking him.

“I needed anonymity.”

March was surprised when Jasim spoke.

“I wanted sex with someone desirable, whom others found desirable. I was instantly— But I also needed to walk away with no risk of what I’d done being discovered.”

“You knew Caleb was being coerced?”

Jasim hesitated. “Not to the extent he was. I had no idea Liam had abducted him when he was eleven.”

“Liam delivered him to you drugged. You raped him.”

A muscle twitched in Jasim’s cheek. “Rape was never my intention. I never forced Caleb into anything. Change the direction of your questions or leave.”

March reminded himself again that this guy was solely responsible for Caleb escaping, that he’d killed a man to keep Caleb safe.

“Can you think of anyone who might be behind this?” March asked again.

“I assume you’ve considered the cameraman.”

March straightened. “Cameraman?”

“I never saw any movie with Caleb as a young boy, but some of those of him as a young man, featuring him and his abductor, were shot by another person, someone able to move around the room. By the way, all that equipment, all the discs, were removed and destroyed.”

“A cameraman.” March clenched his fists. They should have thought of that.

“There were payments from Liam’s bank account to someone called Derry Fitzpatrick. His was the only name that cropped up. The rest were payments to utilities and businesses.”

“Do you have anything else, other than his name?”

“Only that he’s Liam’s brother.”

Caleb was still working when Keith came to tell him they were finishing for the day.

“It’s only half past two,” Caleb said.

“We always clock off early on Friday. Jed doesn’t mind. Dwayne lives a couple of hours away so he goes home at the weekend to see his kids.”

“Okay.”

“You’re well ahead of the game anyway. Much faster than Sam. Clear up and bugger off. Have a good weekend.”

“You too.”

Caleb was getting on better with the guys now. He didn’t think they’d stand up for him in a fight, but there was a grudging respect for the work he’d done, and giving as good as he got in the teasing helped.

By the time Caleb tidied up and locked the unit he’d been working in, the others had gone. Instead of driving home, he decided to call in at the college on the off chance March wasn’t busy. Maybe they could experiment on his desk. Caleb grinned.

He wasn’t grinning as he walked back to his car in the college parking lot. Why hadn’t March called him and told him he was sick? What if it was something serious?

When March failed to answer his phone, panic gripped Caleb’s guts. What if he couldn’t answer the phone? What if he was dead in bed? What if he’d tried to get help, crashed his car, and no one had found him? Caleb drove back faster than he should have and when he didn’t see March’s car on the drive, he took his foot off the accelerator without changing gear and stalled.

There was no sign of March in the house. No indication he’d spent the day or part of it in bed. And he still wasn’t answering his phone. Caleb wanted not to be worried, but he couldn’t help it.

He kept telling himself there would be a simple explanation. Maybe March had wanted to spend the day on the water and had bunked off work—but he wasn’t the type to let people down.
And he’d have told me, wouldn’t he?
Maybe he’d gone to see a doctor and been sent to the hospital. That would explain the lack of telephone contact, but wouldn’t he have just texted to let Caleb know what was happening?

Caleb didn’t want to go down one route, that March had been hurt…or worse…by stalker-guy.
I have to go to the police and tell them everything. Almost everything.
He’d keep quiet about how Liam died. Tell them Liam had let him out and that was the last he’d seen of him. But he’d wait a little longer. Wait for a call, wait for a text.
Where the fuck are you?

Caleb really wasn’t the jealous type, or at least he hadn’t been, but he found himself making up wilder and wilder scenarios so that when he finally heard March at the door, he was ready to explode. But he didn’t. He pinched his thigh to distract himself and waited for March to come into the kitchen.

“Hi.” March dropped his workbag, walked straight over and pulled Caleb into his arms.

Caleb hugged him briefly but his heart was pounding so hard he felt sick. “How come you didn’t answer my calls or my texts?”

“Dead phone. I forgot to charge it. Which reminds me.” He took it from his pocket and plugged it in next to the kettle.

Caleb didn’t think he’d deliberately put the phone facedown, but what if he had? “Long day then?” Caleb heard himself ask.

“Very long. What about you?”