Find Me (Trust Me, Find Me 2)

“We’ll pick this up later, when you get back.”

He ended the call.

He’d been looking forward all day to finally meeting Sion Edwards. Seeing the little piggy hauled in, strung up and hung upside down on a meat hook in the abattoir that at night was his domain. Watching him wriggling on the hook between the rows of carcasses. Squealing, like the double-crossing runt he was, when he set his eyes on the blade. When he worked out what was about to happen to him.

The stainless steel felt warm in his hand as Irish stroked it and considered his first slice. The straight razor had been his father’s weapon of choice. And now it was his. Like father, like son. Slashers both. A reputation carved from flesh.

People would talk about the faces that no longer had ears. The men with permanent smiles cut high into their cheeks. And the snitches silenced, their tongues sliced from their mouths.

His father was long dead. And Connor was known to everyone as ‘Irish’ now. He’d transformed the Scousers from a raggle-taggle bunch of scallies into the highest-grossing criminal gang in England. He was The General, on the ground running the operation. And to do that, it was vital he kept the fear and the respect alive. Sion Edwards was bad for his reputation.

Yes, he was going to enjoy carving that little piggy up. Sion Edwards, his trusted hitman, a feckin’ police grass.

He’d post it up online afterwards. Edwards with and without his ears. With and without his snout. And finally, photographed stylishly, his plums resting alongside his tongue on a silver tray.

No one messed with his family and lived. His dad had taught him that. Sion Edwards was the reason his brother Tony was locked away. Not to mention also the millions he’d wiped off the business when the police had raided. His delivery infrastructure was in tatters and his best men banged up. It was going to take months to get fully operational again.

And now, he’d sent his lads all the way to some unpronounceable place where a pub manager said he’d got him. All the idiot had to do was keep Sion Edwards there until they arrived. How hard was that?

Too hard, it turns out. The rat had made total chumps of them. Again.

Chapter 2

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The rain streams down the outside of the steamed-up taxi window. Wiping a patch clear with my hand, I watch him disappearing from view as we pull out from the police station into the main road.

The pain throbs in my neck like a pulse now the medication has worn off, and I’m dreading removing the dressing. The nurse’s face told me enough. The stitches stretch from below my ear to the bottom of my neck. The cut is deep and it’s going to scar.

I’ve been brave all day. But despite my best efforts tears have escaped and are rolling freely down my face matching the rain trickling down the glass.

My empty apartment freaks me out more than it’s ever done before and I triple-lock the door and slide the bolt across. Still, I find myself checking each room in turn, flicking the lights on, snapping each set of curtains shut. It’s going to take me a while to get over what happened today.

I’m in shock. I’m exhausted too and it’s late. But there’s no way I’ll be sleeping anytime soon.

My flatmate Courtney and her little boy are over at her boyfriend’s place again. Nothing’s been said but it’s only a matter of time before she moves in with him and then I’ll be looking for another place. Maybe it’s not such a coincidence that my filled backpack is propped up against my wardrobe door.

This morning I’d made up my mind to go with Sion into witness protection. To start a new life together. Now he’s gone forever.

After what happened in The Cross Keys today, staying is no longer an option for me either. I need to do it. Go on the world trip I’d been planning and saving hard for before I met Sion.

Met him, I was barely with him. We’ve done a lot of talking. Chatting over the bar. Online. One date. One kiss.

And yet, he’s affected me. He’s there all the time, swimming through my thoughts.

So confusing.

Serves me right, I suppose. I’d been daring to dream for a while that maybe I’d found someone special. Like Annie finding Jac again after all those years. But I should’ve known things like that don’t happen to girls like me, and Sion was only a fantasy.

And a fantasist? Was he really an undercover agent? He was certainly up to his neck in it with a drug gang. My wound still throbs. That was real enough.

The detective called Sion a murderer. But, Annie’s father? That’s the bit that makes no sense. He couldn’t have done it.

The sincerity of his face and my betrayal.

Even with my eyes closed, I can still see the way he looked at me. Hear the crack in his voice as he pleaded with me to go with him.

“We’ve got something, you and me. Something I’ve never felt before with anyone else. Tell me you don’t feel it too? Come with me, Claire. Why won’t you come? I’m innocent.”

And I hear my voice answering him. Its hardness slices through him worse than the blade on my neck.

“Because… I’m not sure I believe you.”

I can’t unsay it, and it cleaves us instantly apart.

It haunts me. Him standing by the police station entrance, watching as I climb into the taxi. As I drive away.

I pour hot water onto a camomile teabag. Taking the steaming cup through, I sit down on my bed, the last few hours replaying like a boomerang video in my head.

My body shudders as I feel myself held hostage again, gripped tightly by the hair. Head pulled back, the coldness of the metal against my exposed neck. Then, the vicious slash. Slicing into my skin as I struggled to break free. And Sion leaping on him from out of nowhere. Pulling me free. Overpowering the barman and tying him up… Saving me.

“Oww!”

Hot tea splashes onto my thigh.

My hands are shaking uncontrollably.

Gripping the mug I place it onto the bedside table and try deep breathing.

I’ve made a massive mistake.

Maybe, it’s not too late? Surely there’s still time to catch up with him, meet him in London before he goes? Say I’m sorry. Tell him I love him?

Reaching for my phone, I try a text.

‘I believe you. I’m sorry. Can I still come? Claire x’

The message bounces back. Three times. His phone clicks off when I call and there’s no voicemail. His social media accounts have vanished.

It’s too late. Sion Edwards is officially no more.

My silent tears turn into a full-on meltdown. Even though I’m still fully dressed, I wrap myself in my quilt, cocooning my sore neck in the soft pillow. A shiver runs through me. I was lucky to walk away with a cut, they said. But the truth is my heart’s completely broken. And it’s all my doing.

???

The bunch of keys clattered onto the airport cafeteria table.

“So… Mr Cobain...”

He couldn’t help but catch the slight smirk that flashed across the British Consulate official’s face as he said it.

“Alright, don’t laugh, it was the first name I thought of. Look, I was under pressure to come up with something quickly.”

He’d persuaded them to keep his first name Sion with a new spelling, but then the choice of surname had completely stumped him. Until he remembered Claire’s favourite band, that was. And after that he was re-christened. Sion Edwards was dead. He was now Shaun Cobain.

Stifling a yawn, he picked up the house keys.

“So, where’s this place again?”

“Three hours up to Dargarei from Auckland and then another hour or so northwest through the forest and you’re there.”

Shaun clicked and rolled his neck. A four-hour drive was the last thing he needed right now after his mammoth flight. It was a good job he’d slept on the plane but he’d be kidding himself if he said that he wasn’t jet-lagged.

“There’s a car parked for you in the short stay. Don’t expect too much. Government fun

ding isn’t what it was.”

The civil servant produced a plastic bag from his briefcase and slid it across the table towards Shaun.

He examined inside then pulled out a set of car keys, a mobile phone and a charger.

“The address of the place is in your contacts under ‘Home’.”

Shaun grinned.

“Of course.”

The civil servant smiled back.

“We aim to please. And if you need anything urgently, then call the number under ‘Mummy’.”

“Sweet.”

“Aha! You’ve picked up the Kiwi lingo already.”

Shaun took out a brown envelope from inside the bag. He’d already been given a passport with New Zealand residency before he left London.

As he carefully tore the top open he could see that they’d given him a new UK driving licence too, plus a bunch of papers including his new birth certificate.

Shaun raised an eyebrow as he shuffled through them.

“A degree? In sport and fitness?”