Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)(43)

The fear had started to crystallise back at the river bank, with a quality she had felt perhaps two or three times in her life. A realisation: This is very wrong. That car crash when she was nineteen, when she watched the other driver’s eyes grow wide and white as their vehicles slid towards each other in a macabre dance. Then again, three years later, at only her second office Christmas party. Too much to drink, too much flirtation with the wrong man and a walk home that had nearly ended badly.

And then there was that peculiar day when her father had welcomed her and Daniel into his private office – the one at home, not the one at work – and explained exactly how the BaileyTennants family business worked.

Jill had said no. She had sometimes taken comfort in that in the following years. Daniel had said yes straight away, but she had held firm for nearly eighteen months. She had enrolled in a teacher training course and sent her apologies for family gatherings.

She’d believed for a while that her decision had been accepted. Only later did she realise she was simply being given space to make the slow march towards the inevitable in her own time. But something must have happened to speed things up – she never asked what – because after eighteen months, she’d been summoned again to her father’s office. Alone, this time. He’d sat her down.

‘You’re needed. I need you.’

‘You have Daniel.’

‘And he’s doing his best. But . . .’ Her father, who she’d loved and trusted most in the world, had looked at her and given a small shake of his head.

‘Then stop.’

‘We can’t.’ We, he’d said very clearly, not I.

‘You can.’

‘Jill.’ He’d taken her hand. She’d never seen him look so sad. ‘We can’t.’

She’d felt the tears burning in the back of her throat at that. For him, and an easy favour done a long time ago for the wrong people and the slippery chute he’d found behind that trapdoor. The greedy quick buck he had found himself still repaying decades later and a thousand times over. And for herself, and the teaching course she’d never finish, and the no that had to turn into a yes. But at least for a while, she would remind herself in the years to come, it had been a no.

Now, as Jill’s lungs burned and her legs ached, she tried to focus on the immediate task ahead. Every step uphill was a step closer to where they needed to be. She watched the back of Alice’s head, driving the group onward.

Five years ago, Jill had been chief financial officer and Alice was a candidate through to the third round of the interview stage. She was up against only one other applicant, a man with similar qualifications but arguably more direct experience. At the end of her interview, Alice had looked at the panel each in turn and said she could do the job, but only would for a four per cent increase in the offered starting salary. Jill had smiled to herself. Told them to hire her. Find the four per cent.

As they approached a bend in the path, Alice stopped and consulted the map. She waited until Jill caught up. The others were straggling a little way behind.

‘We should be at the top soon,’ Alice said. ‘Do you want to take a short break?’

Jill shook her head, the memory of the previous night’s stumble around a dark campsite still fresh. The day was getting on. She couldn’t remember what time the sun set, but she knew it was early. ‘Let’s keep going while we’ve still got the light. Have you checked the compass?’

Alice pulled it out and glanced at it.

‘All good?’

‘Yes. I mean, the path’s twisting a bit so it depends which way we’re facing, but we’re still on track.’

‘Okay. If you’re sure.’

Another check. ‘Yeah. I am.’

They carried on.

Jill hadn’t regretted her hiring decision. Certainly not the four per cent. Alice had proved herself to be worth more, over the years. She was smart, she got the lie of the land quicker than most and she understood things. Things like when to speak up and when to hold her tongue, and that was important in a firm that was more like a family. When Jill’s nephew – seventeen-year-old Joel, who was so much like his dad at that age – had looked sullenly over the trestle tables at last year’s company picnic and blinked at the sight of Alice’s beautiful daughter, Jill and Alice had exchanged knowing looks. Jill sometimes thought that in another time and place, she and Alice might have been friends. At other times, she thought not. Being around Alice was like owning an aggressive breed of dog. Loyal when it suited, but you had to stay on your toes.

‘Are we nearly there?’

Jill heard Lauren’s voice behind her. The woman’s plaster had peeled loose again and a single pink trail of rain and blood had dripped down her temple and cheek, settling in the corner of her mouth.

‘Nearly at the top. I think.’

‘Do we have any water?’

Jill took out her own bottle and passed it to Lauren, who took a deep swig as they walked. Lauren’s tongue flicked to the corner of her mouth, and she grimaced as it found the blood. She cupped her hand and poured water into her palm, some escaping onto the ground, and rinsed her cheek.

‘Maybe we should –’ Jill started to say as Lauren went to repeat the process, but bit her words short.

‘Maybe what?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She had been going to say maybe they should preserve their fresh water. But there was no need. There were more supplies at the campsite. And Jill was not yet ready to admit that they might be spending the night anywhere else.