This Was a Man (The Clifton Chronicles 7)

Seb gave her a slight, almost undetectable nod.

“I, I haven’t seen her for years, Richie. I didn’t even know she was still alive.”

She had told him everything he needed to know.

“Maureen is very much alive,” said Seb. “And she rather hopes Kelly won’t be returning to England.”

“Then she can think again,” said Richie. “Just make sure that bitch comes back with my money,” he said, squeezing the little girl’s arm until she burst into tears, “otherwise she won’t be seein’ Cindy again. So what happens now?”

“My flight leaves for London at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, so I could pick Kelly up around eight.”

“Five hundred dollars would help convince me you’ll be back,” said Richie, brandishing the knife in front of him.

“I don’t have that much on me,” said Seb, taking out his wallet. “But I can give you everything I do have.” He handed over $345, which quickly disappeared into the back pocket of Richie’s jeans.

“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning,” said Seb. Kelly nodded, but didn’t speak. Seb smiled at the little girl, and left without saying goodbye.

Once he was back on the street, he began the long walk to his hotel in the center of town, aware that it would be some time before he came across a cab. He cursed. If only he’d known Kelly had a daughter.

* * *

Sebastian woke at two o’clock the next morning, eight o’clock in London. Despite closing his eyes, he knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep, because his body clock was ticking and he was wide awake on another continent. In any case, his mind was buzzing with thoughts about how Kelly Mellor could possibly have ended up living in such circumstances and with a man like that. It had to be the child.

When three o’clock struck on a nearby church tower, Seb phoned Hakim at the bank, and told him in great detail about his encounter with Richie, Kelly, and Cindy.

“It’s sad that she’ll have to go back to Chicago if she wants to be with her daughter,” were Hakim’s first words.

“No mother would be willing to leave her child with a monster like that,” said Seb. “In fact, I’m not even certain she won’t have changed her mind about leaving her by the time I get back.”

“I wonder if you gave him a thousand dollars in cash, he might let the girl go too?”

“I don’t think so. But twenty-five thousand might do it.”

“I’ll leave you to decide what Plan C is,” said Hakim. “But make sure you’ve got a thousand dollars on you, just in case,” he added before putting the phone down.

Seb took a long hot shower, shaved, dressed, then went downstairs to join the other early risers for breakfast. Looking at the menu, he realized he’d forgotten just how much an American could eat first thing in the morning. He politely declined an offer of waffles and maple syrup, fried eggs, sausage, bacon, and hash browns, in favor of a bowl of muesli and a boiled egg.

He checked out of the hotel just after seven thirty. The doorman hailed a cab, and once again the driver looked surprised when Seb gave him the address.

“I’m picking someone up,” he explained, “and then we’ll need to go on to O’Hare.”

The cab pulled up outside 1532 Taft a few minutes early and, after taking one look at the house, the driver kept the engine running. Seb decided to stay put until just before eight o’clock, not wanting to antagonize Richie any more than was necessary. But he hadn’t noticed two pairs of eyes staring expectantly out of the window, and a moment later the front door eased open and a little girl came scampering down the path toward him. Her mother closed the door quietly behind her and then also began to run.

Seb leaned across and quickly opened the back door of the taxi to allow them to jump in beside him. Kelly pulled it closed and screamed, “Go, go, for God’s sake, go,” her eyes never leaving the front door of the house even for a moment. The driver happily obeyed her command.

Once they’d turned the corner and were heading toward the airport, Kelly breathed a deep sigh of relief, but didn’t stop clinging onto her daughter. It was some time before she had recovered enough to say, “Richie didn’t get back until after two this morning, and he was so drunk he could barely stand. He collapsed on the bed and fell asleep straight away. He probably won’t stir before midday.”

“By which time you and Cindy will be halfway across the Atlantic.”

“And one thing’s for sure, Mr. Clifton, we won’t be coming back,” she said, still clinging onto her daughter. “I can’t wait to see Bristol again. Fifty thousand dollars will be more than enough to buy a little place of my own, find a job, and get Cindy settled into a decent school.”

“It isn’t fifty thousand,” said Seb quietly.

Kelly looked alarmed, her expression revealing her fear at the thought that she might have to return to 1532 empty-handed. Seb took an envelope out of his briefcase addressed to Miss Kelly Mellor and handed it to her.

She ripped it open and pulled out the letter. As she read it, her eyes widened in disbelief.

HMP Belmarsh