Run Away (24 page)

Chapter 40

August 2, England

K
AYLA’S HEA
RT WAS RACING.

Bling was the traitor? Not Sam? What does this mean?

She was back in the small room with the plant and the coffee machine, fumbling with a sachet of mocha.

But Bling is still alive—­she texted me back a few weeks ago
.
Did they kill the wrong person?

She stirred in a packet of sugar, then another, and took a massive gulp. It was so bitter it made her cringe, and it burned her taste buds and the back of her throat, but she didn’t feel it.

So where is Bling now?

Kayla sat down, her legs not strong enough to bear her weight, and turned the volume up on the TV. She found a rolling news station and, sure enough, there was a breaking news story flashing across the screen:
SURV
EILLANCE MOGUL GREYF
INCH INTERNATIONAL I
MPLICATED IN TERRORIST ATTACKS.

A statement had already been released.

How is this happening? How is this real?

Kayla’s erratic thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the door.

Sadie. A very red-­faced Sadie.

The detective looked breathless as she rushed over to her. “Kayla! How are you?” She didn’t wait for a response. “I came as soon as I heard. Well, that’s not strictly true . . . I got locked in my boss’s office—­my own fault, I was snooping around looking for information about this case, actually—­and as I was sorting through old footage from Berry Hill, I noticed the live feed in the corner of the screen. I knew something wasn’t right as soon as I saw it.”

“My dad’s study?” Kayla guessed.

“Your dad’s study. It looked off. It was a strange setup—­you sitting in the chair like you were trapped, your dad pacing the floor like a madman. The look of terror and disgust on your face. So . . . I enabled sound. I listened in. And the first thing I heard you say was, ‘What did you do, Dad?’ And by the fear in your voice, I knew something was wrong. I listened for another thirty seconds and sent the police cars before he even finished answering.”

Kayla sat in stunned silence. Sadie had been spying on them, but it had saved her life. How was she supposed to feel?

Sadie cleared her throat. “When your nan walked in and started with all that talk about the family name and the greater good . . . I thought I’d been too late. I didn’t think . . . I didn’t think they’d get there in time.” Her voice caught on her words. She stared into her cupped hands. “Anyway, I think they’ll let me off with snooping around in my boss’s office, considering what’s just come to light. Another thing I should tell you . . . My boss was complicit. He knew about the whole thing. Mason Shepherd. He erased all the footage from Berry Hill that night—­the footage that would have shown Iris walking into Gabe’s bedroom around the time he lost his life. That’s why he was so off with you, and why he wanted me to bury the Sam case as soon as possible. So I wouldn’t go rooting around in this mess. So I wouldn’t figure out it was all connected. So I wouldn’t implicate him in the process. As it turns out, your nan did all the implicating we need to prosecute.”

The revelation should have shocked Kayla, but it slotted into the betrayal perfectly. Besides, she was all out of shock for one night. She felt drained now that the initial adrenaline had worn off. Barely whispering, she said, “Did you hear the truth about the spy in Thailand?”

Sadie sighed and closed her eyes, taking a seat next to Kayla on the rigid chairs. “Yes, I did. I’m so sorry, Kayla. I know how much he meant to you—­”

“It wasn’t him,” Kayla interrupted. “It wasn’t Sam. It was Bling.”

Sadie’s eyes shot open. “What? How do you—­”

“My nan just told me. It wasn’t Sam.” The words felt good. Tears prickled at her eyes, but she wiped them away on the back of her sleeve. “It wasn’t Sam.”

“Wow. That, erm . . . that still raises a lot of questions.” Sadie’s writing hand twitched. Kayla could tell she was dying to take notes.
So where is Sam? Is he dead? Where is Bling? Why? How? Who?
“How are you feeling about it all?”

Kayla didn’t know where to start. The questions were racing through her tired head too. “I, erm . . . I’m okay. As okay as I can be, I guess.” One of the questions burned hotter than the others. “Where have you been?”

“I just told you, I was stuck in the off—­”

“No,” Kayla interrupted, trying to keep the resentment from her voice. “I mean these last few weeks. Why have you been ignoring me?”

Sadie shuffled uncomfortably. “Time to face the music. I didn’t want to have to tell you this, Kayla . . . but after our last meeting I was . . . followed. Attacked. Threatened.”

Oh God
.
Will the hideous truths never stop flowing?
“What! By who? Why?”

“I can’t be sure who, but I assume they were working for someone at Greyfinch. Or Shepherd. Maybe even your grandmother. They got a bit friendly with a knife and told me to stop looking into Sam’s case, or they’d pay me another . . . visit. So I did stop, with the exception of a few conversations with Dr. Myers, who was worried about you.” Sadie couldn’t meet Kayla’s eyes. “I must admit, I was too. But still, I stayed away. Until tonight, when you called. I listened to your voice mail. Then I started digging again.”

“Jesus Christ, Sadie. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Kayla suddenly remembered something: the sounds of a struggle, pounding footsteps, and a white van flying past the car park. “Shit. I—­I think I heard you being abducted. Oh my God, I should have come after you, I should have—­”

Kayla was cut short by her phone vibrating in her pocket. As she fished it out, she thought it’d be her mum—­she must have heard the news.

But it wasn’t Martha. It was an unknown number.

Kayla answered. “Hello?”

A hoarse voice replied. It was a gentle voice. One she thought she’d never hear again.

“Kayla? It’s me. It’s Sam.”

Chapter 41

August 3, England

I
T WAS FOUR
o’clock in the morning, and Kayla was sitting on a creaking swing in a spookily dark play park opposite the police station where a large proportion of her family were under arrest. She should have been terrified, but she’d never felt safer in her life.

Because Sam was on the swing next to her.

The tension crackled between them like electricity. Kayla wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to confess her love for him once again, to allow the day’s ridiculous events melt away and feel his body became one with hers. To tell him that her bubbling happiness that he was alive was more powerful than the devastation of her family’s betrayal.

But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she understood.

“I don’t know where to start,” said Sam. He’d come to meet her as soon as he saw the story on the news. He’d been doubtful that he would be able to make it to Northumberland from London before dawn on the creaky night bus, but Kayla told him to get a taxi. It had cost three hundred quid, but she didn’t think her dad would have much use for his credit card in prison.

Sam looked different. The last time Kayla had seen him, his face was contorted in anger and fear. That had since evaporated, but there was a tiredness, a world-­weariness, left in its place. One thing hadn’t changed, though: the delicious tingling that pulsed through her body whenever she was within ten feet of him.

“Um, how about you tell me where the hell you’ve been for the last six weeks?”

“You’re not going to believe me.” Sam laughed. Kayla shivered—­she still couldn’t believe she was hearing that laugh for real, instead of the simulated version that haunted her daydreams.

“Trust me. Nothing can shock me after my nan pointed a metaphorical gun at my head.”

“Fair point. Okay . . . well, you know when we visited the Daen Maha Mongkol Meditation Center, and there were all those residents who lived there all year round?” Kayla nodded. “Well, I thought, ‘What better place to hide than a place where there was no TV, no news, no social media?’ And I was right. Nobody questioned my presence—­they had no idea I had been reported missing. As far as they knew, I was just some handsome stranger who’d grown tired of Western civilization and wanted to join them on their journey of meditation and discovery.”

“You joined the Meditation Center?” Kayla couldn’t help but laugh. Sam was one of the least spiritual ­people she knew.

“I’ll have you know that I became a very valuable member of their community, actually. And I don’t appreciate your tone,” he chuckled, slapping her upper arm playfully. Kayla winced It didn’t hurt—­it was a reflex from the adrenaline-­fueled evening she’d just endured. Sam looked instantly panicked. “Shit Kayla, I’m so sorry. Did that hurt? God, I’m so—­”

“No it’s fine, honestly. Just a reflex.”
And it’s overwhelming to have you touch me again
.

“Are you sure?” He got up off his swing and stood in front of hers. He wrapped arms around her back, hugging her face into his abdomen and kissing her head. Her chest ached. “I really am sorry, Kayla. For everything you’ve been through. For everything I put you through.”

“It’s okay. Well, it’s not.” Kayla leaned back, and Sam took her hands in his.

He sat down cross-­legged on the tarmac in front her. “I know it’s not. But I didn’t have a choice, I hope you know that. I would never leave you out of choice.”

“I’m getting tired of hearing about ­people having no choice, but to hurt me.” Kayla smiled sadly. “Can you please just start from the beginning?
Why
have you lived in a meditation center for the last six weeks?”

“Okay . . .” Sam paused, as if gearing himself up to share a painful truth. “Remember when I slept with Bling?”

“Well, yeah. It’s fairly imprinted on my memory.”
But I forgive you
.
I forgive you everything
.

“I’m sorry, Kayla. Again. Well, a few days before that, she and I were at a cash point getting some money on a night out. I happened to look at her balance—­come on, we all do it, it’s human nature—­and it was a lot. I mean
a lot
. Not just an I-­have-­rich-­parents-­and-­daddy-­spoils-­me amount. We’re talking six figures. I thought it was strange, but didn’t mention it to her, of course. In fact, I forgot about it until that morning I woke up in bed next to her. Her phone rang, and honestly, I’ve never seen anyone leap out of their skin quite like that. She sprinted out into the corridor to answer it, and came back looking really flustered. I thought that was odd too, especially when I asked her if she was okay and she snapped and ran away to the toilet. But she left her phone on the pillow.

“So when an e-­mail came through and flashed on the iPhone screen, and I saw it was from a woman called Iris Finch, naturally I freaked out a little bit. I’d heard you talking about your nan, and wondered why the hell she’d be e-­mailing Bling. So I read the e-­mail. I’m not proud of it, and I wish I hadn’t, but I did.”

“What did it say?”

“Something along the lines of Bling’s payment being stopped if she didn’t stop messing around. I flicked back through the earlier conversations they’d had, and I swear to God, I was nearly sick. Bling had been sending your nan reports on your activity, mainly to the tune of you not seeming suspicious, the secret still was safe, that kind of thing. The reports had become more infrequent as time passed, which I assume was why your nan was getting pissed off. I didn’t know what the hell it all meant, but Bling came back from the toilet, so I couldn’t do any more snooping.”

Kayla blew air out from between her lips. “Wow. Where is Bling now? I thought Greyfinch ordered the spy to be eliminated. That’s what I thought had happened to you. Why I thought you were almost certainly dead.”

“You thought I was the spy?”

“Well, what would you have thought?” Kayla shrugged. “You were missing.”

“I suppose it was the logical conclusion. Though I can’t believe you’d ever doubt my intentions,” he said, grinning despite the situation. “I actually have no idea where Bling is. I kind of hope she’s okay, and that she got away safely. Is that weird? Yeah, it’s weird. The massive amount of blood I lost must have messed with my head. But we’ll get to that.

“So anyway, over the course of the next few weeks, I started doing some investigating. I went to Internet cafés and read up on your dad’s company, all the controversy surrounding it . . . and your brother’s death. I figured it
had
to somehow be related to the fact your own family had sent somebody to spy on you, just to make sure you didn’t figure out a secret of theirs. I just couldn’t work out exactly what. I desperately wanted to fill you in on everything I’d learned and see whether you had any idea what it could all mean.”

“So why didn’t you?” Kayla stroked his hands with her thumbs.

“Because one day it hit me: telling you could put you in danger. It seemed an outlandish theory, but I started thinking, ‘What if Gabe was killed because he found out this awful secret?’ It seemed completely ridiculous, but the more I thought about it, and the more I monitored Bling’s behavior, it made sense. For a brief time I also thought Oliver might have been paid to follow us to Phuket too—­that’s why I freaked out on him so aggressively. In hindsight, though, I think he’s just a creep.

“Then I noticed I was also being followed. I kept seeing the same two guys everywhere we went. Bling must have reported back that I was acting strangely and that I might have started to figure it all out. After they almost knew for certain that I had, I saw them just before we went swimming with sharks—­”

“Is that why you didn’t feel well out in the water? And we had to go back to shore?”

Sam nodded. “Yes. That, and I’m shit-­scared of sharks.”

Kayla laughed, a girlish giggle that made her sound like a love-­struck teenager. Which was exactly how she felt. “So how did you eventually work it out?”

“I couldn’t. I drove myself crazy, dreaming up these fantastical theories that I’d never be able to prove. I thought it might have something to do with Greyfinch, as a business like that, by its very nature, was just waiting to succumb to corruption. And what other secret would be more worth killing for than one that proved your family guilty of treason? So in the end I took a risk. I set up a new e-­mail account almost identical to Bling’s address. I started sending progress reports on your activity, in exactly the same format as the ones I’d read on Bling’s phone. It worked, and your nan never noticed the difference. Then, after about a week of fake reports, I sent an e-­mail saying I didn’t feel like I could accurately report on whether you had figured out their secret, when I myself had no idea what the secret was. It was a massive risk—­what if they’d already told Bling and they realized I was a fake? But they hadn’t. Your nan confessed everything about the blackmail to me without realizing. I filled in the blanks about Gabe.”

“Holy shit. Nice one, Sherlock.” At the mention of Gabe’s name, a fish hook pierced her heart.
Gabe
.
I love you
.
I love you for trying to put a stop to this
.
I’m sorry
.
I’m so sorry for what our family did to you
. Kayla could hardly breathe. She wondered if she’d ever be able to think about her brother without crippling pain again.

Sam rubbed his face, hard, like he was trying to scrub the memory away. “But I wished so much that I’d never found out. You can’t unlearn that kind of knowledge. A girl you’re rather fond of’s family played a part in some of the biggest domestic terrorist attacks in years? I put myself in massive danger, and even worse, I put you in danger as a result. I knew I couldn’t tell you, or God forbid you’d meet the same fate as Gabe. But I couldn’t spend every day with you and not tell you either. I’d be betraying you every single second, and I just couldn’t do that.”

“So why didn’t you just fly home, escape the whole mess and forget you’d ever met me?”

“Because Greyfinch found out that my e-­mail account was a fake. Bling must have sent something that contradicted what I said, because I woke up one morning to an e-­mail demanding to know who was behind the account. That night, when you came into my room, was when the threatening phone calls started.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Sam looked away bashfully. “Kayla . . . the day you chose to sit with me by the lake and tell me how you felt about me, it killed me that I couldn’t tell you that I felt the same. That I’d never thought it possible to love someone as much as I loved you. But I knew it was only a matter of time before Greyfinch shut me up permanently, and I couldn’t complicate things any further.”

“So, logically, you faked your own death and disappeared to Daen Maha Mongkol.”

“Yup. I planted all the drugs so the cops would think that was an appropriate explanation, sent those messages to my phone, where even the most moronic detective would find them—­”

“Wait, how did you plant messages on your phone?” Kayla asked.

“Really? That’s what you wanna know? Well, I actually did contact the dealers to buy the drugs to plant—­most terrifying thing I’ve ever done in my life, by the way. They aren’t the friendliest ­people!—­then I just used this app that lets you fake iPhone messages. And I called my mother to ask to borrow some money, so that when the drugs theory came to light, she’d believe it. Knowing it would kill her—­that hurt more than . . . you know. The blood. I left a drastic enough amount in the villa for them to assume me to be dead. Though I very nearly messed it up and
actually
killed myself. I cut a little too deep—­I’m obviously not the greatest med student in the world. Luckily there was a medic at Daen Maha Mongkol. He was about a thousand years old, but handy with a needle and thread.” Sam rolled up the sleeve of his navy hoodie, revealing an angry scar running across his wrist.

Kayla shuddered, tracing her finger over the length of the cut. It looked so deliberate. “Didn’t it hurt?”

“Of course it bloody hurt. Have you met me before? I’m a complete wimp. I nearly bailed after the first millimeter.”

Kayla planted several soft kisses along the scar. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’m sorry you had to do this to yourself because of my messed up family. I’m sorry you did this for me.”

“I’m not that much of a hero! I did it to save myself too. And my family. I’m actually not a hero at all, when you think about it.”

A lump formed in Kayla’s throat. “I—­I thought . . . I thought you were dead, Sam. I thought I’d lost you.”

Sam got to his feet, stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Kayla, stroking her hair softly. The air was warm and still. “I know.”

A hiccupy sob. Kayla’s. “I’m glad you’re not. Dead, that is.”

Sam chuckled quietly. “Me too.”

A thought dawned on Kayla. Sniffing tears away, she looked up at him. “Hang on. Does your mum know you’re alive and, for the most part, well?”

Something flashed across Sam’s face but disappeared too quickly for Kayla to work out what it was. “Yeah. I called her from Thailand a few weeks ago, once everything died down a little, on the condition that she didn’t tell a soul. I thought she might expire with happiness. She asked me to come home, of course, but I think she understood why I couldn’t.”

The penny dropped in Kayla’s mind. “That explains why she stopped talking to me!”

Sam cocked his head. “Hang on, you and my mother had been
talking
?”

“Sam, after everything that’s happened, are you really still going to freak out about me meeting your parents?” Kayla laughed.

“My
parents
? Plural? Kayla. I mean, I think you’re cool and everything, but this is all moving a bit fast—­”

“Oh be quiet!” She pulled out of the hug and slapped his unscarred arm. “So why did you come back from Daen Maha Mongkol? You couldn’t have known it was safe to return?”

“I knew the story had died down, and nobody was really on the lookout for me anymore. But I had no way of gauging the situation from over there. I desperately wanted to come back home to see my mum, to show her I really was fine, but I didn’t want to put her—­or myself—­in any danger. I’ve been hiding out in a dingy little hostel in London, keeping my head down, trying to work out my next move. Then I saw the story on the news—­that the secret we were all running from had been made public—­and nearly cried. Because of the pain you’d be in, and because it was finally over.”