Back Track Page 3

  Bishop removed the .357 from his waistband and placed it in the glove compartment. It joined the Swiss army knife he’d used to cut Sonja free from the cuffs. Then he adjusted the rear-view mirror. His pale blue eyes focused on the lower part of his face as he slowly peeled off the fake beard and moustache.

  Sonja turned to him. ‘What if they check the dental records of . . . of the girl in the car? You know, with our regular dentist?’

  ‘Then they’ll find definite proof that the burnt female body down there is one Sonja Addison. We took the trouble to switch your dental X-rays with hers a while back, so don’t worry.’

  She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Sorry, I’m just . . . I still can’t believe this is actually working out.’

  Bishop turned to her and smiled. ‘Now might be a good time to start believing it.’

  She nodded reluctantly and faced front again. Bishop studied her profile for a moment, thinking back to the chance encounter three weeks ago that had started all this. He’d been waiting at a stop sign just outside Louisford when her Mustang had bumped into the back of his BMW. It was a ten-year-old model he’d bought last year, using some of the money the city of New York had paid out for his wrongful imprisonment. He’d been racking up the already high mileage by driving aimlessly across America, trying to figure out what he wanted to do next, when Sonja had entered the picture.

  There was barely any damage to either car, but Sonja just went to pieces like the world had come to an end. It was puzzling. She didn’t seem crazy or anything. Just very highly strung. And scared. After managing to calm her down a little, Bishop drove her to a snack bar and made her drink something hot. He wasn’t in any rush to get anywhere, and her behaviour interested him. After an hour of talking about everything except her problem, she finally came out with it. Slowly at first, then it all came in a rush.

  She talked about her lawyer husband, Carl, and the daily beatings he inflicted upon her, both physically and mentally. She described the gruesome methods he used to keep her in line, and why she only wore long-sleeved shirts these days. But mostly she talked about how impossible it was to escape. Carl would either kill her, or go to the ends of the earth to find her. And he had plenty of influential friends to help him. For years, every local cop had known that if they had a legal problem they could retain Carl Addison’s services for next to nothing. He believed in supporting his local police force. Which meant he was owed a lot of favours.

  She also told Bishop how she’d recently overheard telephone conversations that convinced her Carl was also in the pocket of some big drug dealer over in Reading. That had earned her a major beating that resulted in a broken collarbone. She still had the bruises. After that, Bishop hadn’t needed any more convincing. At the tender age of twenty-three, she was far too young to have to face that kind of fear every day. That she also reminded Bishop of someone he knew who’d been in a very similar situation just made his decision that much easier. And that situation had ended very badly because of him. He felt that by helping Sonja he might atone for a past mistake that haunted him to this day.

  Bishop wasn’t the impetuous type, though. Never had been. He did plenty of research of his own before committing himself. He’d learned the value of on-the-spot reconnaissance from his time back in the Corps, where accurate intel could mean the difference between life and death. Even more so when he entered the close protection business a couple of years after his discharge. In this case, before he did anything, he needed to be absolutely sure Sonja was on the level. He researched her whole life. Bishop’s occasional girlfriend, Jenna Falstaff, had even chipped in to help by utilizing her unique information-gathering skills. In the end, everything Sonja had told him checked out.

  That he still had that open offer of contract work for Equal Aid, the non-profit organization dedicated to helping victims of violence, had given him momentary pause for thought. They would have snapped up a case like this in no time. And financed it. But Bishop’s bitter feelings towards the man behind the organization were still too strong for him to make that call. Besides, he wasn’t exactly short of money right now. He could afford the expense.

  He turned and saw that Luke had finished with the crates. It looked good from this side. He’d made them three deep, so they wouldn’t topple over during the journey back to New York. Luke was sitting on one of the spare crates, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else. To be honest, Bishop didn’t really want him here, either, but he’d needed a team he could trust for this and he didn’t have that many to choose from. Fortunately, Jenna’s brother, Ali, had been only too glad to help after the business last year. He still felt he owed Bishop for his sister’s safe return after an old nemesis of Bishop took her hostage. With himself taking the truck driver role, Ali’d then persuaded Luke and another pal, Leon Sayles, to fill the other parts. One thing was for sure, though, Bishop wouldn’t ask them again. As far as he was concerned, any debts Ali and Luke felt they’d accrued had been paid in full.

  Sonja broke into his thoughts and said, ‘Can I ask where you got the . . . you know?’

  Bishop smiled. ‘The bodies? They were already dead, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  She gave a half-chuckle. It was a nice sound. Soft, but genuine. Bishop wondered how long it had been since anyone had heard it.

  ‘I guessed that much,’ she said. ‘I was just wondering, that’s all.’

  ‘City and hospital morgues are full of Jane and John Does. You wouldn’t believe how many. Usually overdose victims, like our friends back there. And if you do your research, you’ll usually find an attendant who’ll take a bit of extra cash to turn the other way for five minutes. And maybe fudge the records a little, too. That answer your question?’

  She wrapped her arms around herself and nodded once.

  ‘While I think about it,’ Bishop said, ‘you better hand over that ring. A break like this has to be clean. Just the clothes on your back and nothing else. That includes jewellery.’

  ‘It’ll be a pleasure,’ she said and twisted the gold band a few times until she was able to ease it over the joint.

  As she handed it to him, Bishop noticed part of a silver chain at the neck of the baseball shirt. ‘The necklace, too.’

  Sonja placed a hand over her chest. ‘Don’t make me give this up. Please.’

  ‘Why?’

  She pulled it out and held the talisman in her palm. It was a small silver pentagram set within a circle. Five lines of equal length joined together to create the simplest regular star polygon. Bishop had always felt a certain satisfaction in its symmetrical perfection.

  She said, ‘My mom gave me this when I was six, after my dad died. She told me it’s supposed to protect the owner from evil.’

  ‘Didn’t really do its job, then, did it?’

  ‘Well, you’re here. So who’s to say?’

  Bishop could have argued the point, but didn’t. Most people needed to believe in something outside themselves. Even if it was only a good luck charm. He reached over and turned the piece over, studying it closely. When he was sure there were no special inscriptions or markings of any kind, he dropped it back in her palm. He figured there must be millions of these things in circulation, so where was the harm?

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘This you can keep.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She placed it back under her shirt. ‘So from now on, I’m Selina Clements, right?’

  ‘Right. Start thinking of yourself under that name and keep practising your signature until it feels totally natural. Then once we get to the city, Ali, our driver, will finish up your new IDs and get you in the databases. Tomorrow, we’ll start the drive to your new apartment in Arizona. Only you and I will know about it. The first six months’ rent has been paid to get your started, but after that it’s down to you.’

  ‘We’re not flying?’

  Bishop shook his head. ‘Too many screening checkpoints and security cameras in airports these days. I don’t want to risk your face ending u
p on a TSA database so soon after your death. Besides, the journey will give you some time to start planning the new life you got ahead of you.’

  She leaned her head back against the seat rest and shivered again. ‘A new start,’ she said quietly. ‘Now there’s a scary thought.’

  SEVEN

  Five weeks later, on a bright June day, Bishop was at the house on Staten Island, raking the last of the new gravel across the backyard and making sure it was all evenly laid out. The two-storey home had been passed down to him and his sister, Amy, after their parents’ deaths over twenty-five years ago. But it hadn’t been used much since and had fallen into partial disrepair. Amy had no use for it and had made it clear the place was all his if he wanted it. So a fortnight ago, he’d finally taken on sole ownership. After placing the BMW in hibernation in the garage, he set to work making the place habitable again. Whether he planned to stay there was another matter, but it was always good to have roots somewhere. And the property taxes were minimal. For the moment, he was just enjoying the physical labour and the good weather. And trying to convince himself he wasn’t just marking time.

  As he worked his thoughts returned to Jenna. With all the recent driving he’d barely seen anything of her the last few months, and not for lack of trying on her part. It hadn’t escaped his attention that she’d begun to cool off a little in recent weeks either. Not that he could really blame her. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. There sure wasn’t anything wrong with her. Just the opposite, in fact. She was smart, beautiful and funny. And totally trustworthy. She’d proved that from the moment they’d met last year. With the whole world against him, she was the only one who’d believed in him. The only one. He knew he’d have to sort his head out and make a decision soon, though. Jenna wouldn’t put up with the situation for too much longer. In fact, for all he knew, it could already be too late.

  The vibration of the cell phone against his leg broke him out of his reverie. He leaned the rake against the wooden fence, reached into his pants pocket and pulled it out. It wasn’t a number he’d seen before, and he had a good memory for those kinds of things. Photographic, or to give it the proper term, eidetic.

  He took the call and said, ‘Yes?’

  A woman’s voice said, ‘Who am I speaking to, please?’

  ‘This is Bishop,’ he said. Her voice had sounded fairly young. He guessed early forties, but it was hard to tell with women. ‘Your turn.’

  ‘Well, we haven’t met, but my name’s Michelle Gardiner. Does that mean anything to you?’

  Bishop didn’t have to think about it for long. He knew Sonja/Selina’s mother was called Michelle. And Gardiner had been Selina’s maiden name before she got married to Addison. ‘Yeah, it does. What can I do for you, Ms Gardiner?’

  ‘Please call me Michelle.’

  He walked over and sat on the concrete stoop in front of the kitchen door. ‘So how can I help you, Michelle? And how did you get this number?’

  ‘My daughter gave it to me. She’s the reason I’m calling.’

  ‘Uh huh. Tell me, how many letters are there in your daughter’s first name?’

  There was a pause. Then she said, ‘Six.’

  Which instantly told him Selina had been in contact with her mother since her relocation. Even though Bishop had advised her not to for at least a year. That could be bad. Just how bad, though, he still needed to find out.

  ‘And how have you been keeping in touch with her, Michelle?’

  ‘By public phone. We arranged the system before the . . . well, you know.’

  ‘Tell me,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I gave her the number of a payphone near me. We arranged a day and a time for her to call me there, very soon after she moved away. The day after, in fact.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘We talked about things. You know, about what you did to help get her away from him. About . . . well, everything, really. Except her new address. We both knew that would be a bad idea. Then at the end, I gave her the numbers of four more payphones in my area. She said she’d call the fourth number at the same time the next week from a different payphone.’

  Watching a couple of kingbirds land on the apple tree in the Robinsons’ backyard across the way, Bishop nodded to himself. Not a bad system. Fairly random. Not perfect, of course. Nothing was these days. But not bad. Not bad at all. Both mother and daughter had obviously given this plenty of thought.

  ‘So that’s what she did,’ he said.

  ‘Yes. Then at the end, we made a date for her next call. May 16. She said she’d call the third number next time, but from a different payphone.’

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘That second conversation was the last one we had. That was almost four weeks ago and I’ve been a nervous wreck ever since. That’s why I’m calling you. I’m convinced my daughter’s gone missing and I don’t know who else to turn to.’

  EIGHT

  Bishop pulled the door open and entered the crowded diner. He looked round and immediately picked out Michelle Gardiner. It wasn’t difficult. For a start, she was the only woman there on her own. But mostly, it was because she was so clearly an older version of her daughter.

  She’d asked Bishop to meet her in this place off Easton Avenue in Somerset, New Jersey. Not far from where she lived. She was sitting at a booth in the corner, next to the window. She’d obviously seen him emerge from the cab outside and now gave him a sad-looking smile as he walked towards her booth.

  ‘Michelle,’ he said and sat down opposite. Straight away, he could see she was just as attractive as her daughter, but in a more subtle way. Blond hair cut to the same length, but in a different style. Bishop added a few years to his initial guess. Late forties, probably. Similar facial features too, but with added lines and bags under her eyes. She clearly hadn’t been sleeping much lately. She wore a long-sleeved V-neck shirt and jeans. But no jewellery. Not even earrings.

  ‘And you must be Bishop,’ she said. ‘Even if you hadn’t told me what you’d be wearing, I’d have recognized you from my daughter’s description. She was very complimentary.’

  Bishop gazed out the window. ‘She should look beneath the surface more often. That’s what got her into trouble in the first place.’

  ‘Well, she’s still young,’ she said. ‘What can you do?’

  Bishop turned back and saw she was looking down at his right hand. Or more specifically, the missing part of his pinkie finger. Since he really didn’t want to get into the specifics behind it, he said, ‘You’ve known all along, haven’t you? About Selina’s vanishing act, I mean.’

  She nodded and took a sip from her coffee cup. The hand holding it wasn’t too steady. ‘Son— Sorry, Selina and I have always had a very close relationship. We became even closer once she married that Addison creep and I became her only outlet. So yes, she kept me up to date with how you were helping her, although she didn’t really go into details.’

  ‘And nobody else knows?’

  ‘There isn’t anybody else, Bishop. Just her. And me.’

  ‘No boyfriend or partner in the background?’

  She gave him that sad smile again. ‘I’ve lived alone a long time. I find . . .’

  Just then, a waitress appeared at their table and handed Bishop a menu. He handed it back to her without looking at it and asked for a black coffee without sugar. Once she was gone, Michelle continued, ‘I had a hard time finding someone who could live up to Selina’s father after he died. And over the years I’ve gotten used to my independence. I’ve come to like it a lot. Although I have to admit, I could have really used somebody to talk to recently.’

  ‘Because you think Selina’s missing.’

  ‘I’m sure she is. She wouldn’t go almost a month without contacting me, Bishop. She just wouldn’t.’ She sighed and used two fingers to rub at her temple. ‘Another damn headache. It seems I get one every day now. These past few weeks, I swear I’ve been steadily going out of my mind. I can’t talk t
o anybody about it. I can’t call the police, for obvious reasons. And I can’t raise the kind of money detective agencies charge. And what would I say, anyway? I don’t know what to do.’

  The waitress came back, placed a mug on the table and filled it with coffee. Then she refilled Michelle’s and went away again.

  Bishop took a sip, made a face, and put it down again. ‘So the obvious question is, why didn’t you call me sooner?’

  ‘Because I lost the number. Or I thought I had. I wrote it down on a scrap of paper, see, and then forgot all about it until I actually wanted to call you. That was about two weeks ago. I searched everywhere and thought I’d thrown it out with the garbage by mistake. I almost went crazy trying to find it.’

  ‘Selina didn’t give you my name?’

  Michelle shook her head. ‘No, she was adamant about that. Said you were deadly serious about security and she respected that. I practically had to force your phone number out of her. And then this morning, I finally found the note lodged at the back of one of the drawers in my work desk. You can’t imagine how relieved I was.’

  Bishop could imagine, all right. He felt the same way. He’d called Selina a few times during the first week to make sure she was settling in okay and then decided to let her be, knowing she’d phone him if she had any problems. He’d planned to check in with her again later this week, but that wasn’t good enough. They’d been out of contact for almost a month now. If not for Michelle, he’d still be in the dark about this. Angry at his own lapse, he moved his cup in a circle and said, ‘Look, I know she’s your daughter, but has it occurred to you that Selina’s a highly attractive single woman in a town where nobody knows her? I mean, she wouldn’t have to work too hard to open up her social life if that’s what she wanted. And it could be she’s found herself a job already.’