Downtown Girl (Lipstick Red #1) Page 11

  He held his arms open as she ran toward him. He’d never shown her any affection before, but she needed the support. Sobs wracked her body as he smoothed her hair, like a well loved pet.

  ‘What a pickle you’ve got yourself into,’ he said softly. She nodded her head, pulling herself back to regain her composure. He steered her towards a bench for two, pulling a thermos from his bag and pouring two cups of strong whisky. ‘When in Rome!’ Kevin shrugged, as he tipped a cup greedily into his mouth.

  ‘It was Jack!’ she said woodenly. ‘I remember. They thought I was out cold, but the truth was in my dreams.’

  ‘Jack what?’ he said, his eyes fixed on her.

  ‘I don’t know who else to trust. If you’re going to kill me, do it now.’

  ‘Bloody hell Taylor, I’m not going to kill you. What gave you that idea? I’m here to help.’

  ‘You work for Jack. I thought you might be in on it,’ she whispered, her tone giving away her fear.

  ‘I don’t work for him anymore. He fired me too,’ he grinned, the space of a missing tooth catching her eye. She was sure it was there when she saw him last.

  ‘Jack blackmailed David. I think he killed Lindy himself. Lindy was killed between seven and nine, right?’

  ‘That’s what the police say.’ He poured a little more whisky in her cup.

  ‘Are you as good as everyone says you are?’ she questioned. ‘If you are, I’d like to hire you. David couldn’t have done it. He was in my bed, with me, the whole time.’ Her face flushed as she told the older man, the implication clear.

  ‘Are you prepared to testify? Do you know how much danger that would put you in?’ He ran a finger along his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing as he searched her face.

  ‘I know,’ she answered. ‘I won’t see him go to jail for something he didn’t do.’

  ‘Then we’ve work to do.’ He pulled out his phone and made a call. It made no sense to Taylor.

  ‘BD1, urgent, SH required. Edinburgh.’ She watched as he listened, then walked off to finish his call. Her stomach knotted as she considered what she was about to do. She was throwing away her safe life, forever.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said, as he steered her towards a waiting line of cabs. He handed the driver a card with an address on it. She felt uneasy, but she had to trust someone.

  The cab dropped them off a few miles from Princes Street. She had no idea where she was. Kevin used his sat nav to find directions, and then walked her down a long road before turning into an imposing four storey building.

  ‘BD1,’ he said gruffly into the intercom. The door buzzed open immediately. A woman clicked her heels along the sleek marble floor as she shook hands with Kevin, checking his id, then smiling at Taylor.

  ‘Interview room 1. Second door on the left along the hall.’ She nodded in the direction they were expected to go.

  ###

  After two days of intense interviews, statements and discussions, Kevin kissed her on the cheek as he was ready to leave.

  ‘You can do this,’ he said. She’d given her story to the special officers, and official statements had been taken and considered by the prosecution.

  She’d been granted witness protection on the grounds of fear and intimidation, while charges would be filed against Jack Collins for the murder of Lindy Collins, the kidnap of Taylor Griffiths, the blackmail of David Burton, and the framing of Alan Inglebrook. She’d remembered it all, as she recognized her subconscious bringing the trauma back. She remembered how he’d tied her to the chair and made the video, admitting his guilt. She could testify by anonymous video link, with her voice disguised, and the case against David Burton would fall apart.

  The almost unbearable price she’d pay would be relocating to another part of the UK, with a new identity, and no contact whatsoever with anyone from her past, including David Burton.

  She shed a tear as Kevin left. Without him, she’d never have been able to help David. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to see it through, but Jack Collins deserved to pay for what he’d done. She lifted her head up, pointing her chin to the sky as her liaison officer gently steered her back into the room she’d lived in for the last forty eight hours.

  ‘Let’s get started,’ he said, putting papers on the desk. ‘Your new name will be Morven Anderson. To keep it simple, your date of birth stays the same. You’re relocating to an Island on the West Coast of Scotland for work experience, which has been a lifelong dream. Your new job is waitress in the Camburgh Arms, where you’ll join two other work experience ex-pats. They’re not witness protection, so don’t think you can share information with them.’

  Her head began to spin with the enormity of it all. She wouldn’t be able to contact any friends or family, and even when it was all over, she still wouldn’t be safe. They recommended that she continue her life with the new identity.

  ‘Spend time getting to know your new profile,’ he warned. You leave in two days. We’ll go over your new identity in detail before you leave.

  ###

  ‘You must be Morven,’ a blowsy woman with a red face met her when she stepped off the bus. It was easier to get to the island than she’d imagined, as there was a bridge from the mainland.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ she smiled as graciously as possible.

  ‘There are no secrets on this island, so if you’ve got a skeleton in your cupboard, you’d better get it all out now, or we’ll ferret it out of you with a bottle of rum or a pint of whisky.’ Her eyes glittered as she teased Taylor. Morven. Remember, it’s Morven now.

  She giggled, for the first time in weeks, feeling instantly guilty, knowing the enormity of what she was about to do.

  ‘Away lass, you’re allowed to laugh you know,’ the older woman said sagely. ‘I’m Helen by the way, but don’t mix me up with Helen on the other side of the island, she’s a right old gossip. Hop in, you’ll need to know where you’re going.’

  She did as she was told, grateful for the company. She’d be living in a small chalet in the grounds of the pub. It says pub, but it was more like a little hotel with six guest bedrooms. ‘They’re rarely used mind you,’ Helen said, ‘We don’t’ get many tourists round these parts, they all go to Mull, or the Isle of Skye, but the rooms get used for weddings or lock ins, when nobody wants to drive home.’

  Her first night serving drinks was nerve wracking. Regulars teased her about her Scottish name with an American accent. She was grateful for the two other Americans working shifts. At least she wasn’t alone, but the stress of keeping up the pretence was making her very tired.

  Her first night on the island was terrifying. She dreamed that Alan Collins and a gang of henchmen burst into her little chalet, tying her up and leaving her out for the wolves to eat. She wasn’t sure what animals roamed freely on Scottish islands, but there were bound to be some.

  Island life seemed a world away from London. In only a few days, she began to settle into a routine. Sleep, work, eat, walk, and then start all over again. She kept herself at arms length from the locals, and the other ex-pats. Friendly, yet not too friendly. The more time she spent with them, the more likely she was to make a mistake and give something away that she shouldn’t.

  She overheard gossiping voices when she’d been there for a few weeks. ‘She’s a sad one that,’ Helen said to Mary, the owner of the bar. ‘We’ll bring her round in time, but it’ll have to be when she’s ready.’

  ‘We’ll no push her, or she might snap in two. She’s that frail, I think a puff of wind would blow her over.’

  She liked Mary, and Helen. If she stayed here, she’d make an effort to get to know them better.

  ###

  When the day she’d been dreading came, she took the bus back to the mainland, to be met by her handler. ‘Four hours, and then it’s over.’

  ‘For you maybe, but for me, it’s like I don’t exist anymore.’ She fought back tears as travelled to the police station, where she’d give evidence behind a screen, with a disguised
voice.

  She steadied her voice as the questions came thick and fast. The stinging questions of Alan Collins defense team almost derailed her, but she stood her ground. She knew Kevin would be in court, and she also knew that David knew nothing about her. This was Alan’s trial. David knew a witness had come forward, but not who.

  The last statement from the defense team derailed her.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I put it to you, that she fabricated all the evidence to punish a wealthy man that she set her cap at. He turned her down not once, but twice.

  The prosecution reminded the jury of how she’d been violated, both in Cannes and when he’d drugged her. The defense argument had been flawed. They’d found John Logan, and also found her clothes, still stuffed in his cabinet. He was a lazy housekeeper. Traces of both her DNA and that of Jack Collins had remained on her clothes. Jack had exposed her drugged body, to tell David that he’d take her forcibly on camera, if he refused to plead guilty.

  The deciding factor was the drink she’d spilled on her clothes. Tests showed it had contained a large dose of sleeping pills.

  She’d also given evidence of David’s innocence, supplying him with a much needed alibi that she could prove. They’d uploaded a live recording on her phone that was verified by the Internet Company it was sent to. They’d also found the fast food driver who’d dropped off their Chinese meal, at around eight pm.

  When it was over, she knew she could do no more for him. She sat quietly on the bus back to her island, looking forward to the banter in the pub, to seeing Mary and Helen. They were going to be her life for the near future, and it was time she immersed herself in it fully. Kevin thought David would be released in days. He’d have the opportunity to relocate in the witness protection program, but they’d be kept apart. Keeping them together would be too dangerous for both of them. David would be a wanted man. She’d tried to convince them otherwise, but they turned her down.

  Back in her Chalet, she spent the next two days of her week off alone. She needed time to grieve for the life she’d lost, and the man she hoped she’d saved. She watched the news, hoping to hear the outcome, but the jury stayed out for days as she ate comforting chocolate with tubs of sinful ice cream.

  ###

  ‘You look like you’ve lost a pound and found a sixpence,’ Mary said, when she finally stepped foot in the pub. Losing the miserable face, she grinned, poured herself a glass of white wine, marked it up on her slate, and then decided to sit with Helen and her friends.

  ‘So, have you got a secret man on that there mainland?’ Helen teased, while she blushed, making the other women laugh.

  ‘Aye, looks like there’s more than one, if you ask me.’ Helens friend, Susan, joined in.

  ‘That would be telling,’ Taylor answered, patting her index finger off her nose. There were worse places in the world that she could be living.

  ‘Mary, turn up that news will you, I canna hear it,’ Susan called to the bar. Mary held up her finger in understanding, while the sound increased.

  ‘Have you heard about that case in London?’ Susan asked Helen directly. ‘The one where there are two filthy rich sods in the frame? I’m right glad there’s none of that gang business on the island. We’d have to bang their heids together.’

  In spite of herself, Taylor found herself smiling. Glancing up at the screen, she saw what she was looking for. Jack Collins had been found guilty. He was led away to a police van with a jacket covering his head. She knew that Stephen was already out, and it was only a matter of time before David and Alan were released.

  ‘I suppose that means the other filthy rich sod is innocent?’ Mary walked over and plonked herself down to join them. ‘If you ask me, they’re all guilty of something. How do they get so much money otherwise?’

  Taylor opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. ‘You’re like a fish out of water lass, here get this down your neck.’ Susan dropped another glass of white wine on the table in front of her. Wistfully, she picked it up and wished her new friends good health in Scottish.

  ‘Slainte mhath!’

  Chapter 15

  In the maximum security jail, outside news was sparse. TV was banned and newspapers were limited to tabloids that resembled celebrity gossip. Stephen had been released weeks ago, but David’s new cellmate was friendly enough. He knew he could have been in a much worse situation than he was.

  Days rolled into each other, and he held fast to the belief that Taylor was safe and well. It was what kept him going. The only visits he’d had were from his lawyer, who seemed to be holding things back from him. It disappointed him, as he’d thought of the man as a good friend in Leeds, and he’d been well paid for his services.

  David hadn’t signed everything over. He’d had a couple of offshore accounts that were untraceable, even though he’d paid his dues on the income. His accountant had advised keeping some money separate for a rainy day, so he still had some means to keep himself going.

  ‘Visitor for Burton,’ a burly guard called into the hall. He stood up, surprised at the call, yet disappointed when it was his lawyer.

  ‘Fucking hell Peter, how much worse can it get?’ David asked, sure that it meant bad news. A slow smile crossed his friend’s face.

  ‘The witness came through. Jack Collins is in jail, being processed right this minute.’

  ‘Who the hell was the witness?’

  ‘It was a witness protection deal. Evidence was given behind a screen to protect her. I’m not allowed to give you a name.’

  ‘What was the evidence?’ He ran his hand through his hair. It couldn’t have been, could it?

  ‘She gave evidence that Jack molested her in Cannes, and tied her up to blackmail you. She gave you an alibi, one that held water, with proof.’

  ‘Is she mad? She’s a walking fucking target now.’ His protective instinct took over, translating to anger, as he knew there was nothing he could do for her.

  ‘You can’t see her again. You do know that.’ Peter searched his eyes before issuing his next offer.

  ‘You’ll be given the opportunity for a new identity, given the sensitive nature of the case, and the ongoing death threats. It won’t cross over with your witness. It’s safer if you’re apart.’

  David’s heart leaped into his mouth as he shook hands with his friend. Back in his cell, he thought about the short time they’d spent together, and how much she meant to him. He’d meant it when he’d said he wanted to move her in with him. Everything about her made him want to hold her close and protect her forever. He was prepared for vanilla sex for the rest of his life to be with her, and he’d accepted that she’d never forgive him for being convicted of murder. He’d agonized about how she would come to terms with how intimate she’d been with a vicious thug.

  He’d thrown away his reputation, his business, and decades of his life to ensure her safety, and she’d done the same right back. While he was imagining her rebuilding a life, she’d been deliberately putting herself in danger to save him. He wished she’d told him about Jack in Cannes. He’d have wanted to kill the bugger.

  He thought about the mouth he’d never kiss again, the thighs he’d never rub, and the shattering orgasms that made her muscles squeeze the life out of his dick, and it made him hard. Bloody hell. How was he supposed to get over her?

  ###

  He woke to a feeling of apprehension on his release date. They wasted no time in throwing him out.

  ‘David Burton, sign here,’ the desk jockey jabbed a finger at a small box on the form, to get his phone and wallet back. He did as he was told, then Kevin Johnson stomped into the release room, carrying a thermos flask and two cups. He winked at David while he waited for him to be let free.

  Outside the gates, Kevin filled a cup to the brim with a good scotch whisky. ‘Get that down your neck. It’ll put hairs on your chest!’

  David blinked as he stood and breathed deeply in the frosty air. ‘I never thought I’d be free again.’ />
  ‘You’re not the only one. For a few weeks back there, I thought you’d had it.’

  ‘You might not have given birth to me, but you’re the only father I’ve ever had.’ David’s eyes watered as he looked down on the man who’d taken him in when no-one else would. He’d given Kevin a rough time as a teenager, but Kevin had stood by him, through thick and thin.

  ‘Where is she?’ he asked, knowing what the answer would be.

  ‘No bloody idea, but she’s safe.’

  David leaned over a set of railings outside the prison. ‘Why did you send her to me?’

  Kevin sighed, the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘You were both lonely and I’d no idea all this was going to blow up, or I’d never have let you two meet. She’s the bravest girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.’

  A black car drew up and Kevin stood aside. ‘I’ll say goodbye now. I know you won’t be able to contact me, but make it a good life David. Make yourself proud.’

  David stepped forward and enveloped the older man in a bear hug. When he let go, Kevin walked away, sliding into the back of a rental car to drive away.

  ‘It’s time to go,’ a business like suited and booted man ordered.

  ###

  Four days later, David’s eyes seared through his new passport and driving license. George Carter! Did he look like a George?

  ‘You’ll be working as a lettings agent for a new business. There’s a lot to prove in the industry and you’ll be setting the benchmarks. It won’t be an easy job, but given your past history, it’ll suit you well.’

  His brows knotted as he drifted off while his teacher spoke. He only knew him as Daniel. It wouldn’t be his real name, but David didn’t envy the job. He smiled as he considered the implications. Daniel lived the kind of life that he’d be walking along the road of very soon. A life of anonymity, with his real identity hidden, always looking over his shoulder, wondering if the next visitor would be the one he’d look down the end of a barrel at.

  He knew that wherever he went, whatever street he walked down, he'd be looking for her face. Every client that walked through his door could be her. He'd look for her until the day he died.