The Sister(146)

‘You have to go now?’

He nodded. ‘I’m going back to the hotel to collect my things and then, yes, I’m leaving to catch the train this afternoon.’

She pulled a little girl face, poking her lower lip out as if she might cry at any moment.

‘Hey, I’ll be back before you know it. I want to talk to you about coming back to work for me.’

She managed a half smile and said, ‘It’s not the job that’s bothering me. What if he dies while you’re away?’

‘Just give me a call,’ he said as he turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him.

‘See you,’ she whispered.

He didn’t even say goodbye.





Chapter 125



‘Ain’t the same anymore, this game. Slowly been strangled...see this cab? Got two hundred and fifty thousand miles on the clock.’

The taxi driver hadn’t stopped talking from the moment he’d entered his cab. Miller answered perfunctorily, too deep in thought to engage in any meaningful conversation.

Far too many coincidences occurring to be just coincidence. For such a series of events to unfold in such a short space of time, it has to be synchronicity. No time to think about it now.

Arriving back at the hotel at 2:35 p.m. he tipped the driver and then, pushing through the revolving door, crossed the polished marble floor to the reception counter.

The receptionist looked up from her computer screen and watched him approach. She stood to greet him.

‘Good afternoon, sir.’ She smiled politely.

‘Can I have the key for room number 112? I’m sorry; I’ll start again.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘Good afternoon, I’m in a bit of a hurry, would you be able to make my bill up quickly? I have to leave more or less straight away. Oh, and can you get me a taxi for say—’ He checked his watch. ‘Ten minutes time?’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Kings Cross station.’

‘It’ll be quicker by tube.’

‘I haven’t travelled on the tube for so many years. It’s probably changed so much. I think I’ll stick with the taxi, but thanks for the suggestion.’

‘Yes, of course, sir.’ She pushed a button on the telephone and then reached for the key. The sound of the phone came through its loudspeaker, ringing three times before someone answered. She snatched the receiver up as the male voice said, ‘Hello.’ She maintained a polite smile as she organised the taxi and held out his room key.

As he pressed the button to call the lift, the receptionist called out behind him. ‘Ten minutes, Mr Miller, and your taxi will be here!’

He acknowledged her with a smile and a mock salute.

Using the bed as a staging point, he threw his clothes and other belongings onto it. He checked under the bed, scanned the room for anything else and, satisfied everything was there, crammed it all unceremoniously into his bag.





No sooner had he settled the bill, the cab arrived. He slung his bag over his shoulder, opened the door and got in. ‘Kings Cross, driver, please.’

‘Damn traffic,’ he muttered under his breath, checking his watch as the driver dropped him off. He’d missed the three o’clock train. She was right; I should have taken the tube. Now he’d have almost an hour to kill before the next train left at 4 p.m. After buying his ticket, he decided to have a look around.

The station had changed beyond recognition since he was last there. Then, it had been old and grimy. Now, it looked clean and new. The journey would take about four and a half hours, which meant he wouldn’t arrive much before seven thirty. Suddenly realising it was a bank holiday weekend, he thought about booking a room, at least for a couple of nights. He telephoned directory enquiries and obtained a list of numbers. With no accommodation available at any of the major hotel chains, he worked his way through a list of smaller hotels. He hung on the line with the last of the best-situated hotels; near the town centre. The receptionist was friendly, but chided him for leaving it so late. ‘It is a Bank Holiday you know, but let me check; sometimes we get a cancellation.’ She came back on the line and confirmed they were fully booked. ‘But listen; I used to work at this little place.’ She gave him a number to call. ‘Ask for Ronnie, tell him you spoke to Glenda. Hang on a minute, someone’s speaking to me. Oh, you know, this must be your lucky night; we’ve just now had a cancellation, would you believe?’

Another coincidence? Shaking his head, he concluded it probably happened all the time and promised himself he’d put all thoughts of chance or fate from his mind. After giving his credit card details to secure the booking, he put his phone away and checked his watch. Still three quarters of an hour to go. Bored with waiting already, he spotted a newspaper discarded on a bench. The headline caught his eye. Boy 7 Rescued From Paedophile Gang: Two Dead, Police Appeal To Public. Although the paper was two days old, he picked it up, tucked it under his arm, and went to buy a coffee. Then he sat down to read.

The bodies of two men have been found at an address in West Lothian, following a tip-off. A seven-year-old boy, reported missing early yesterday, was discovered at the scene. He is recovering in hospital. His parents are at his bedside. Police have asked the caller to come forward. Unconfirmed reports suggest it was a vigilante attack.