A Question of Guilt(93)

Fear was running ice-cold waves through my veins now, but somehow I managed to meet his eyes defiantly.

‘How can you do this to me, Jeremy?’ I demanded. ‘I thought we were friends!’

He smiled sadly. ‘We were. In fact, I hoped we might be more. If that had happened, Sally – you and me – there’d have been no need for all this . . .’

‘And you were Dad’s friend!’ I went on. ‘How could you have got your . . . your henchman . . . to start a stampede that nearly killed him?’

Jeremy sighed. ‘I was very sorry to have to do that. But I had to get him out of the way, don’t you see? I had to get hold of his computer to see just how much you’d found out, and also, hopefully, to hamper your investigations. To do that I needed the house to be empty,’ Jeremy explained in that same reasonable tone. ‘Jack, I’m afraid, was collateral damage.’

Collateral damage! The ruthlessness of the man was terrifying.

‘Except, of course, unknown to you I’d bought myself a laptop,’ I said, ridiculously pleased at that one small victory.

‘Which I was able to take without much trouble, since you’d kindly let me have a key to the house.’

‘And I’d also transferred it all to a memory stick.’

For the first time Jeremy looked thrown. Then he recovered himself.

‘We’ll talk about that later. For the moment let’s concentrate on Dawn’s diary. You told me it was in your bag. I’ve checked, and you were obviously lying to me. Where is it, Sally?’

I held his gaze defiantly. Dawn’s diary, detailing the criminal activity at the warehouse and also incriminating Jeremy, was the one card I held. ‘You really think I’m going to tell you?’

‘Oh yes, you’ll tell me.’ He tangled his fist in my hair, jerking my head back. ‘Where are they?’

I gritted my teeth against the pain, but kept silent. Jeremy jerked again on my hair, so hard that I thought my neck would snap, but stared up at him, mute and defiant. After a moment, he released me.

‘You really are a very stubborn young woman, Sally. But we’ll see how stubborn you can be when I let Jason loose on you. He doesn’t have my sensibilities when it comes to violence. Ah . . . that sounds like him now.’

In my determination to resist Jeremy’s attempts to force me to reveal the whereabouts of Dawn’s diaries, I hadn’t heard the car driving up. Now, however, the warehouse door was scraping open and a big burly figure came in. He was still clad in black motorcycle leathers, but he was no longer wearing his crash helmet, and I could see it was indeed the same man who had been working at the warehouse on the night of the auction. I hadn’t taken much notice of him then, but now everything about him alarmed me – the bullet-shaped, close-cropped head, the heavy eyebrows meeting across the bridge of a nose that looked as if it had been broken more than once, the earring and the stud in his lower lip. Jason Barlow looked every inch a thug. I could well imagine that not only would he have no qualms about hurting me, he’d positively enjoy it.

Worse. He’d enjoy staging my death, too. Hot and cold waves of fear washed over me. Josh had been right when he’d warned me I could be tangling with very dangerous characters. Why, oh why, hadn’t I listened to him? Against Jeremy’s ruthless cleverness and Jason’s brute force, I didn’t stand a chance.

‘Right, her car’s here then.’ Jason’s voice was gruff, as if he smoked too many cigarettes, and he had a marked local accent. ‘Have you decided what you want to do with her?’

‘Pretty much.’ Jeremy’s tone was dismissive – he didn’t care to discuss his plans with underlings, I thought; simply giving orders was more his style. ‘But first we have to persuade Sally to tell us where something rather important can be found. I’ve already warned her that you will be very good at extracting information. You won’t let me down, will you?’

Jason smirked.

‘Right up my street, guv’nor. Where d’you want me to start?’

Jeremy shrugged.

‘I’ll leave that up to you, though perhaps that broken leg might be a good place.’ He took a step or two away, distancing himself, then turned back. ‘Are you sure you aren’t going to be a sensible girl and tell me what I want to know without any of this unpleasantness, Sally?’

I was shaking from head to foot, so violently that the ropes binding my wrists and ankles cut into the flesh. But one thought was uppermost in my mind – Jeremy wouldn’t want me killed before he knew the whereabouts of the diaries so that he could destroy them. But the moment I told him I would be signing my own death warrant.