Forget Her Name(89)

He catches me by the wrists and bears down violently, leaving my skin burning. Then he spins me round to face the desk, wrenching both arms behind my back. I fight, kicking backwards and catching his leg.

‘Stay still,’ he hisses in my ear, pushing me face down over Wainwright’s desk. ‘Or I’ll be forced to hurt you.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself. You can’t hurt me.’

‘Then why were you crying when I walked in?’

‘Fuck you, Dom.’

He laughs, breathless, pressing hard against me. ‘Oh, such a tempting invitation. Only wish I had the time, darling. But we need to get out of here.’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’

‘Not willingly, maybe.’

‘What do you mean?’

His weight keeping me pinned me to the desk, Dominic fumbles in his jacket pocket as though retrieving something, then clamps a hand awkwardly over my mouth.

I struggle to breathe.

He’s stifling me with some kind of sweet-scented cloth, his voice suddenly far away. ‘Hush, relax. You’ve been up for hours, poor darling. You must be exhausted.’

‘No,’ I try to say, but my tongue is so heavy. He’s drugged me, I realise with a shock. Finally, he releases his grip on me, and I stumble away, then fall to my hands and knees. ‘No.’

As the room blurs, I stare up at my cheating husband’s melting face and think, Wainwright was on your tail all right, you lying bastard. And you killed him for it. But that’s not the whole story, is it?

‘Who . . . ?’

My mind forms questions I can no longer ask, my eyes closing against my will.

‘Time to sleep, Rachel,’ he says softly. ‘Goodnight.’





Chapter Fifty-Five Icy water is trickling down my lips, my chin, onto my chest.

‘What the . . . ?’

I’m slumped in the passenger seat of a car. Dominic is sitting next to me.

We’re parked in a suburban street with a plane tree growing beside us, its branches stark and wintry. The side window is misted up with condensation but I catch glimpses of sky out there. A grey pre-dawn.

‘Good, you’re awake.’ Dominic leans on the steering wheel, studying my face. ‘But is it Cat or Rachel I’m talking to?’

I don’t answer.

He sighs, then reaches for my face. I jerk away, realising in that instant why my arms and shoulders feel so heavy. He’s tied my hands behind my back. But he’s not going to hit me. He’s just wiping my chin with a handkerchief.

‘I got bored waiting for you to wake up, so I gave you a little splash of water. Sorry about that.’ His smile does not look apologetic. ‘How are you feeling? Dry mouth? Headache? Bit nauseous?’

‘Fuck you.’

‘Excellent.’ He puts away the handkerchief and sits back. His fingertips drum on the steering wheel. ‘After-effects of chloroform. Not my finest hour. Sorry about tying you up too. But I could tell you weren’t planning to cooperate.’

‘Did you ever think I would?’

‘No,’ he concedes. ‘Hence the need to drug you.’

I nod. ‘You came prepared.’

‘It was important to get you out of there before you were seen.’ He shakes his head at me. ‘Breaking and entering. Not very clever. Especially given your relationship with Wainwright.’

‘I didn’t have a relationship with Wainwright.’

‘The man was a private detective, investigating your husband. Then he died next to you in suspicious circumstances, soon after which you were caught breaking into his offices.’ Dominic half smiles. ‘Even Robert would have had trouble hushing that up if it had got out.’

He sounds bitter.

‘What makes you think it won’t get out?’ I say. ‘When the police walk in there—’

‘They won’t find anything.’

‘But all those photos, the files . . .’

‘Gone, destroyed.’

‘Wainwright’s computer.’

‘Also gone.’ He’s serious. ‘It’ll look like a breakin. Thieves. Pure and simple.’

‘I don’t believe a word of this. All on your own, you cleared that office out and carried me down all those stairs?’

‘There was a lift,’ he says drily.

I look at him, unable to believe what I’m hearing. ‘Okay, maybe you can make the computer and all those files vanish. But he must have had back-ups.’

‘I’ve got that covered.’

I stare, incredulous. ‘What the fuck, Dominic? What’s all this about? Wainwright must have had something really big on you. Otherwise why kill him?’

‘I told you. That wasn’t me.’

‘Yeah, of course.’ My laughter is hollow. ‘I forgot it was an accident. But then, lots of the bad shit I do is accidental. Like tying up Jasmine yesterday. That was a complete accident. I don’t know how it happened.’

His face hardens.

‘Poor Dom. You really like her, don’t you?’ I ignore the stab of jealousy. That’s Cat’s emotion, not mine. ‘Where is Cousin Jasmine, anyway?’

‘On her way back to Birmingham by now, I should imagine. Cursing your name to the heavens.’