reduced her daughter’s present condition in the world to one of mere survival – but he couldn’t think what else to say. He was about to add more when he heard rustling at the other end. Then a gruff voice said, ‘Who is this?’
‘Ray, it’s Alex.’
‘What’s happened?’ Ray demanded.
‘Amy was grabbed off the street earlier today… and kidnapped. They found her a few hours later, but she’s been badly hurt. She’s in hospital; under sedation.’
‘
Unless Raymond Duvalis asked him directly, Alex knew he could not bear to explain what they had done to the man’s daughter.
‘I… I don’t know. Physically, yes, I think so. Mentally, I don’t know. She’s still sedated.’
‘They didn’t… Was it…?’
Alex sucked in a breath. ‘Yes. And they meant to kill her.’ His voice cracked into a roughened croak. ‘They tried to cut her throat.’
He could hear the other man’s breath rasping as this was taken in. ‘We’re coming,’ Ray growled down the phone. ‘We’ll be there as soon as possible. I’ll sort the flights out. How do I contact you?’
‘Er… I…’ Alex looked around. He realised he wasn’t even sure of the name of the hospital. ‘I’m not sure where we are, to be honest.’ He felt pathetic.
‘Get me a phone number, and the hospital details,’ Ray barked. ‘As quickly as you can.’
‘Okay,’ Alex replied, and heard the click as Ray hung up.
He walked slowly back towards the ward, his legs dragging, his body feeling impossibly heavy, like he’d been drugged. He suddenly wanted to sleep, to sink into oblivion, where he could discard this day, the past six hours, at least for a while. He gave back Isla’s phone, and she told him she would return in an hour to check on Amy.
Finally, they were left alone.
Alex moved over to Amy’s face. The image he had of her sleeping just that morning overlaid the bruised, beaten face before him now. He went to stroke her hand, then remembered he couldn’t even touch her. The dam inside him crumbled and he finally broke down.
41
Mark waited at the bottom of the steps of one of Surrey’s grandest stately homes, fiddling with the hem of his dinner jacket.
He had been looking forward to the Christmas ball all week. It was hosted sequentially by a number of top London law firms that fell just outside the Silver Circle, inviting barristers, solicitors and their aides to put aside their quarrelling for one evening in the spirit of Christmas festivity. It was a night of good-hearted camaraderie, but with an underbelly of point scoring that saw everyone on their guard. The occasion had also become a mock awards ceremony to publicly congratulate and commiserate with the year’s successes and failures of those gathered. Mark, as a rising star, had thus far only been mentioned favourably on the two previous occasions he’d attended, while this was Chloe’s maiden voyage into the jurisprudent atmosphere, so neither of them felt the same level of trepidation with which others from their office approached the event.
‘Looking for me?’
Chloe was suddenly right in front of him. No wonder he had missed her, he thought, inhaling sharply at the sight of her. She had metamorphosised from besuited trainee lawyer to sexy and sophisticated debutante. Gleaming black satin hugged her body, accentuating her curves, the split skirt revealed flashes of tanned calves, and strappy black sandals sparkled as she moved.
‘Wow,’ he said. ‘Chloe, you look superb.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied, beaming.
Mark held his arm out and she slipped her hand through it. Then they turned and made their way up towards the light and noise.
The dinner, awards and speechmaking were uneventful, though by the time they had finished, Mark’s head was humming from the champagne he’d slugged back with each toast. As the tables broke up to become informal groups of animated conversation, a swing band struck up and people began to dance. Mark followed Chloe over to the bar, and with freshly topped-up glasses they stood in front of a red and gold strewn Christmas tree, the tip of which stroked the high-vaulted ceiling, and watched the festivities around them.
There was a lot Mark wanted to say to Chloe as he watched her sip her drink and gaze about her. Yet he couldn’t find the words to begin, nor could he work out the phrasing in his head.
As they stood there in silence he saw his father approaching, with another man in tow.
‘Mark! Chloe!’ said his father in his usual booming voice. ‘This is Risto Kiesi, he’s taking over from Pamela in family law when she goes on maternity leave. You’ll be having a lot to do with him, Chloe.’
Mark sized up Risto as the other man proffered his hand. He had a mop of curly brown hair and deep-etched laughter lines. Mark reached out and they shook hands, brisk and businesslike.
Risto then turned and said, ‘Chloe’, and again offered his hand, but as she took it he held on to it as he said, ‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ in a tone that was almost
‘Likewise,’ Chloe said. ‘I’m looking forward to working with you.’
Risto smiled. ‘Oh, me too.’
‘Chloe!’ Henry butted in, watching them, the proud benefactor of these exchanges. ‘You look wonderful tonight, my dear.’
‘Thank you,’ Chloe said mildly, then there was a pause. Mark knew Chloe was awed and a little frightened by Henry. He had no doubt that Henry was aware of that too, but his father seemed to bask in the fact like a cat in sunshine, lingering longer than was strictly necessary.
‘Would you like to dance, Chloe?’ Risto interjected easily.
Mark’s heart sank. Chloe looked at the packed dance floor then laughed and said, ‘Yes, okay.’ And Mark could only watch as she followed Risto and they joined the jostling crowd. He caught glimpses of her now and again as Risto moved easily around the dance floor, whirling Chloe with him.
Henry stayed by Mark’s side, but his gaze was in the same direction as his son’s. ‘Those two have taken a shine to one another,’ he said. ‘Risto is a brilliant lawyer, I’ve long admired him. We’ve had to promise we’ll keep him on if Pamela comes back, but I doubt there’ll be a problem, hardly any of them can hack it once they’ve started down the family road. His curriculum vitae shows he’s worked with some impressive names; no doubt he’ll be filling the coffers a bit as well.’
Mark said nothing.
‘Better circulate, then,’ Henry said. ‘Wouldn’t do you any harm either, Mark.’
Mark cast a quick glance towards his father, who was waiting expectantly, portly stomach protruding over a burgundy cummerbund.
‘I’ll just grab another drink,’ Mark said, indicating his glass, which to his surprise he’d emptied in the last five minutes.
Henry nodded and strode away.
Mark took his time at the bar, keeping an eye on the dance floor as he downed two quick whisky chasers, and he had only just returned to his position near the Christmas tree as Chloe walked towards him alone, face flushed, smiling.
Mark held out a glass. ‘I got you another one.’
She took the drink. ‘Thanks, Mark. I’d better be careful, though, I’m feeling all light and floaty already.’ Still, she immediately took a sip.
Mark felt the same way, curiously disconnected from his body. His focus on the glass in his hand wasn’t as clear as it might be, but then again, the lighting had dimmed now, and the softness was relaxing him. He tipped a
