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  ‘No more than you and Alex have,’ Tess countered.

  Emma rocked her head. Due to her public persona, she and Alex were allowing a respectable time delay since Emma’s divorce to her previous husband, before tying the knot. Tess and Po weren’t similarly constrained.

  ‘You know Po,’ Tess explained, with no real need to. ‘He’s so laid back he’s almost horizontal. The same goes for our wedding plans; he’s happy with the way things are between us and is in no rush to change things. The way he sees things we’re already a couple and that’s all that matters. If I’m lucky, I’ll legally be Mrs Villere before I’m too old to remember my new name.’

  ‘Give him a jab with something sharp,’ Emma suggested, ‘and remind him I’ve already picked out my hat and it’s in danger of becoming unfashionable.’

  They chuckled at the idea, while Tess vacated Emma’s workplace. ‘Is there anything you wanted me to do?’ Tess asked; after all her job should take priority over her personal project.

  ‘You can take this coffee with you, if you want.’ Emma held out the steaming paper cup. It was her way of giving Tess her blessing to get on with her investigation into Blake and Kelly Ambrose.

  Tess accepted the drink, said goodbye, and left Emma’s office. She was encumbered with the cup, her handbag, tablet, and various sheaths of printed notes. In the outer office, she set down her things in order to take out her cellphone; she’d fully expected Po to return for her by now. Before she could ring him her phone tinkled with an incoming call.

  She looked at the unfamiliar number on the screen, before it dawned who was calling.

  Yesterday, she’d given out her cellphone number, and though he’d messaged her his contact details, she hadn’t yet assigned Jeffrey Lorton as a contact. She cringed inwardly; she’d promised to inform Lorton once she’d found Hayley, and had forgotten what with everything else being on her mind.

  She answered, but allowed him to speak first.

  ‘Is this Teresa Grey?’

  ‘It is. But please call me Tess.’

  ‘Jeff Lorton.’

  ‘Yes. Is there something the matter, Mr Lorton?’

  ‘You could say that. It’s Hayley. I know you took her home last night—’

  ‘Yeah, about that,’ Tess began, trying to concoct a satisfactory excuse for neglecting to inform him.

  ‘It’s not that. I understand you probably had a lot going on and I was the last person on your mind. No, the reason I’m calling is I’ve been by Jessie’s house this morning and Hayley has gone.’

  ‘Gone?’

  ‘As in packed her bags this time and gone for good.’

  Tess bit down on a curse. ‘Did Jessie know where?’

  ‘Wherever it was you found her last night. Apparently Hayley spent half the evening on the phone to her friend up in Bangor. When Jessie woke up this morning, Hayley had gone. She’d taken her clothes and things, and left a letter telling Jessie not to look for her. Jessie thinks she telephoned her boyfriend to come collect her. It’s why Jessie didn’t call you first thing, she thought it would be a waste of your time having you bring Hayley home again, only for her to run away at the first opportunity.’ Lorton was silent for a few seconds, then got around to why he was really calling. ‘I know you’re done with this job now, but I just wondered if you’d do me one thing …’

  ‘What’s that, Mr Lorton?’

  ‘Can you please give me the address of Hayley’s friend? Maybe I can go up there and talk some sense into her, get her to come home.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Tess. ‘It isn’t something I can do. Please, Mr Lorton, the best thing to do right now is to leave Hayley be, allow her to think, and she’ll see the error of her ways and come home. If you go up to Bangor, she’ll feel as if you’re invading her bolthole, and she’ll resist all the more.’

  ‘But, Tess, I can’t help feeling that I’m the cause of her falling out with Jessie. If I can only explain, then maybe it’ll smoothen things between them and—’

  ‘I understand,’ said Tess, ‘but, I’m sorry, the answer’s still no.’

  He was about to plead, and Tess didn’t want to hear him beg. She didn’t wish to alarm him, but the last place she wanted Jeff Lorton going was to Madison Toner’s apartment. There were already too many people at risk simply by being there, and it’d only make matters worse if Lorton stumbled into the sights of Dominick or Temperance. Tess ended the call.

  Her phone began ringing seconds later. She declined to answer. It rang again, but this time Po’s name was displayed.

  ‘Hey,’ she said by way of greeting. ‘Did you get a car? Great, how soon can you pick me up?’

  ‘Just pullin’ up outside the office,’ he said. Po had a habit of disregarding the parking restrictions outside the civil building Emma’s office was housed in. ‘D’you want me to come inside, or are you gonna run out?’

  ‘I’ll run out,’ she said. ‘Literally. We need to get on the road, Po.’

  TWENTY-FOUR

  ‘Pull over here and I’ll walk across.’ Arlen Sampson indicated the parking lot adjacent to the underpass of the river bridge.

  Temperance swung the van into the lot, and maneuvered it under the overhanging boughs of the trees at its edge. Dappled shadows concealed the van from all but the closest scrutiny. By chance she’d parked in the same spot as Po Villere had the afternoon previously when Tess Grey had first arrived at Madison Toner’s apartment.

  ‘Wait here, I won’t be long,’ Sampson instructed.

  Temperance said nothing. She sat expelling sharp spurts of air between her clenched teeth.

  Sampson had deliberately come back to speak to the Toners without Dominick. As Blake had pointed out, Dom was useful when a blunt instrument was required, but Sampson needed finesse if he hoped to control the damage already done by the aggressive thug. He hadn’t trusted to bring Dom along one bit; leaving him in the van with Temperance he’d probably return to find them locked in a death grip with their hands around each other’s throats. Blake might have given the order, but Temperance had taken too much pleasure in carrying it out, and Dom was not the forgiving type. She’d pay for punching him in the nuts, but not without retaliation. Sampson could’ve driven here alone, but had thought it best to get the woman out of Dom’s reach. She understood his motive, though it aggrieved her, because avoiding a showdown with Dom, or any bully of a man, simply wasn’t in her nature.

  Sampson got out of the van and surveyed the metal fabricator’s workshop across the railway line. His gaze tracked from the converted loft on the uppermost floor to the roller-shuttered garages at ground level. A dated model Chrysler was parked with its hood nosing the leftmost shutter. According to the events related about last night, the PI crew had escorted the youths back to Portland but obviously Madison’s friends had returned. Unsurprising to Sampson. During Mike Toner’s conditioning session yesterday, he’d admitted that his daughter was the brain behind the scam, and that he and one of Maddie’s friends had been recruited to assist her with the mechanics of it. Toner, again admittedly, was engaged to do the scut work, while the girlfriend was involved in the social media campaigns designed to draw in the gullible so that Maddie could fleece them of their cash. Without the involvement of the friend, a cog was missing from their otherwise well-oiled machine. Her boyfriend was a loose end that required clipping.

  Purposefully, Sampson kept his head down as he paced across the road. If anyone was spying on him from the apartment, he didn’t wish to alarm them. He paused to check the railway line. It was single gauge and rarely used, but he’d no wish of being flattened by a train. He stepped over the tracks and went left, towards a dilapidated garden. As he rounded the corner of the building, he came across a youth hunkered on the raised edging stones around the garden’s single tree. The youth was engaged in his passion for nicotine, blowing smoke between his bent knees – he was a fraction slow to hear Sampson’s approach and the bigger man was almost upon him before his head jerked up. The
youth’s mouth fell open as he reared back.

  ‘Steady on, son,’ Sampson said, patting the air between them. ‘You don’t have to get up. Finish having your smoke.’

  His words had the effect of the youth glancing away from Sampson at the half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. Perhaps he’d expected the return of Dom, so Sampson’s appearance disarmed him. However the youth wasn’t stupid, he knew what Sampson signified; he was only unsure of what kind of trouble the stranger brought. He dropped the cigarette, stood and ground it out under his sneakers. His nose was only level with Sampson’s collar, and he was outweighed by around thirty pounds, yet he squared up, hands tightening into fists. ‘Who are you and what do you want here?’ The youth jutted his chin menacingly.

  Unperturbed by the show of bravado, Sampson looked to where the youth had propped the entrance door open. ‘I’ve business with Mike Toner,’ said Sampson. ‘If all goes well, there should be zero trouble from now on.’

  ‘So you’re with those assholes that burst in last night and threatened Maddie’s dad?’

  Sampson held out his arms from his sides, allowing his unzipped jacket to flare open. He’d done away with his shoulder holster: it was to show he was unarmed – which he wasn’t – but the youth barely took any notice. ‘I’m not here for trouble, only business.’

  ‘What type of business?’

  ‘Nothing to concern you, son.’ Sampson turned for the entrance, even as the youth skipped past to block his passage. Sampson halted. ‘Look, go take another smoke, or go get in your car and take a slow drive. The less involvement you have in this the better for you.’

  ‘My girl’s up there, if you threaten her I swear—’

  ‘Don’t make threats you can’t carry through. Trust me, anything I swear I’ll do, I will do. Now go, stay out of this, because you’re not helping. I’m only here to make things better.’

  ‘Say’s you, man. You still haven’t told me who you are.’

  ‘I’m the carrot, son,’ said Sampson, and knew from the dumb lack of comprehension he didn’t get the analogy of Dom being the stick. ‘If you’re not going to get out of my way, fine, I don’t need to go inside. But do me the favor of going up and letting Mike know I’m here. We can speak privately out here if he prefers.’

  Shooting out his palm the youth said, ‘Wait here. I’ll go tell him.’

  Sampson was under no illusion. Once the kid ran upstairs he’d probably suggest that they barricade the door and ignore him until he was forced to leave.

  ‘I’ll be right here,’ Sampson confirmed.

  The youth nodded and turned for the open door. Sampson’s footsteps were silent on the pavement. He slapped a palm over the youth’s mouth, and bore him into the entrance foyer by force of their forward momentum. It was an unadorned space, blank walls and blind closed doors leading to the twin parking garages. Sampson thrust his captive flat against the wall between the two doors, even as he slipped his opposite arm around his throat. As he cinched his hold tight, he moved his smothering hand to brace his other arm. There was no opportunity to shout, the youth’s larynx was already under tremendous pressure and all that escaped him was a panic-stricken wheeze. Sampson readjusted his hold and continued to constrict the captured neck until the youth buckled at the knees, unconscious. Sampson held the stranglehold for a few seconds more, and then lowered the youth to the floor. The strangle had attacked the blood supply to the youth’s brain, depriving it of oxygen; as soon as the flow returned the youth would begin to recover. He wouldn’t be out for long, but it would take him longer to return to his full faculties, and come up with a considered response.

  By then, it wouldn’t matter. Sampson left him there and mounted the stairs, taking them three at a time. He was at the uppermost landing before he heard the faint hints of the youth regaining consciousness: it was in the form of a startled bleat, and the scuff of clothing on the floor. The kid still wouldn’t know up from down for a few seconds more. The door to Maddie’s apartment was on an open latch. Sampson pushed inside. He was halfway down the narrow hall, guided by conversation in the room ahead before a warning shout came from two flights below. The shout brought the conversation to a hushed halt, and three startled gazes met Sampson as he entered the room. He was a stranger to both girls, but Mike Toner visibly deflated before him.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Toner croaked.

  Sampson offered an apologetic shrug, aimed a finger back along the hall. ‘I would’ve knocked, but the door was already open.’

  Madison Toner started forward, but her father’s palm met her abdomen. He guided her behind him, facing Sampson. The man wore an ugly wound on his cheek, and his nose was swollen across the bridge, wounds courtesy of Dom the evening before.

  ‘Why are you here, Arlen? We’ve done everything we were told to do.’

  ‘I hoped to make some kind of amends. Dom was out of order last night.’ Sampson gestured towards Toner’s injury. ‘That was unnecessary. He was only meant to request payment, to show your good faith, not to beat it out of you.’

  Toner touched his face, wincing at the memory more than the pain. ‘He goddamn pistol-whipped me!’

  His statement wasn’t entirely true, as Dom had clubbed him with the butt, but Sampson wasn’t about to argue semantics. ‘It was unnecessary and uncalled for. You recall how adamant Kelly was that proper respect is adhered to in our relationship? Dom doesn’t understand that respect should be earned, not enforced. Sometimes he acts before thinking, and that can mean he can be spontaneously violent. It’s not the way I prefer to conduct business.’

  Just then, the youth clattered down the hall, red-faced and wild-eyed. He almost fell into the room. Sampson turned sideways so he could see all parties. The youth faced him, breathing raggedly, then his gaze darted to check on his girlfriend. Since he’d entered the room, the purple-haired girl had stood statue-like, one hand fisted at the hollow of her throat. The youth pointed a trembling hand at Sampson. ‘I tried to stop him … he fucking choked me out!’

  Toner’s back straightened an inch or two. He wasn’t the most aggressive man, but neither was he the type to let a kid being harmed go unchallenged. His attitude earned him some credit from Sampson. ‘So violence isn’t your thing, eh, Arlen? What about choking Jacob, is that the way you prefer to conduct business?’

  Sampson observed Jacob for a few seconds. He was red-faced and slightly disheveled but otherwise looked fine. ‘Are you injured, Jacob?’ he asked directly.

  ‘You choked me!’

  ‘I strangled you. There’s a difference. If I’d fully choked you, crushing your windpipe, I seriously doubt you’d be standing here right now. If by chance you survived a choking, I’d say you would be in considerable pain and discomfort, and have difficulty complaining about your perceived mistreatment. How do you feel, Jacob?’

  Other than being mildly wobbly on his feet – as much a result of shame, as it was any lingering effect of his strangulation – Jacob was unhurt. Sampson had attacked the sides of Jacob’s neck, closing down the arterial feed to his brain until he’d blacked out. If he’d continued to squeeze, the boy would’ve eventually perished, but Sampson had taken care. Jacob would suffer no detrimental harm whatsoever.

  ‘I’m … uh …’ Jacob’s accusatory finger lifted again, but he’d no energy to argue. His hand went to his face, and he rubbed at his forehead as he tried to collect his thoughts.

  ‘I strangled you unconscious so that I didn’t need to physically hurt you,’ Sampson went on. ‘Sadly, it was all I could do in the moment to stop you from running up here and slamming the door.’ He returned his attention to Toner. ‘I wished to speak with you calmly, without any histrionics, and, as I said earlier, hoped to make amends.’

  ‘What kind of amends?’

  ‘For starters, there’s the matter of reimbursing you.’ Sampson looked directly at Madison for his next announcement. ‘If you check your account, you’ll see that the cash you transferred last night has be
en fully refunded to you.’

  A moment of confusion followed, where father and daughter talked hurriedly between them, a note of confusion overriding everything. Sampson caught a number of glances aimed at him. A furrow so deep had formed between Madison’s eyebrows it had to be painful.

  ‘Check if you wish,’ Sampson told her. ‘I’m happy to wait until you confirm it.’

  More rapid-fire words were exchanged, then Toner urged Madison towards the home office. Jacob took his opportunity to slip across the room and join Hayley. They too exchanged words, and Sampson noted that any concern for welfare went only one direction: that girl wasn’t as invested in Jacob as he was in her, Sampson deduced.

  Toner shook his head. ‘What’s this all about, Arlen? I don’t get it. Why have Dom demand the money and then give it back?’

  ‘Like I already mentioned, it was supposed to be a show of good faith. To ensure we all knew where we stood in our arrangement. Mutual understanding breeds mutual respect, yes?’

  Toner didn’t know how to answer. He nodded simply by rote.

  ‘Good. I’m glad we’ve cleared things up. Or we will as soon as Madison confirms the money’s back in her account.’ Sampson raised his voice. ‘How’re things going in there?’

  Madison didn’t reply. The sounds of her fingers on a keyboard indicated she was still in the process of checking. Sampson stood silently, waiting. He caught a glimpse from Toner and offered a supportive smile. Toner only appeared dumbfounded by the unexpected turn of events.

  ‘I don’t expect us to be friends,’ Sampson said, ‘but in future we can be civil with each other, right? There’s no need for further animosity. I understand how you and Madison must feel, having to hand over half of what you believe is rightfully yours, but it has to be better keeping half than none at all?’

  ‘I guess, when the alternative’s being closed down, and having nothing.’ Toner replied as if in agreement, but Sampson knew there were words unsaid: being closed down meant permanently, and that meant killed. For all Sampson had presented a more agreeable approach, it wasn’t lost on Toner that it was a front adopted by the man, and events could turn horrible again if he stepped out of line.