But then life pulled people in many different directions.
Whatever had driven Aaron to that building, it had caused his path to cross with Sam’s.
He couldn’t walk away.
He had to help.
Sam looked at Aaron who slowly sipped his tea, his movements were laboured, and the panic had reduced a loving father to a desperate man.
Sam knew desperation.
Throughout his life, through all his tours of Iraq and Afghanistan. When he had faced down several men on his own, bullets spraying around him, he never panicked. When he took down the High Rise six months before, he never questioned himself. Training took over and he became the weapon the UK Government had spent a lot of money turning him into.
But that summer’s night over three years before, on his knees in the middle of the road, staring into the lifeless eyes of his son, he had never felt so helpless.
As he watched Aaron fumble with his mug in the sink, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve, Sam realised that he had a new mission.
He needed to bring Jasmine home.
Stepping forward, Sam placed a reassuring hand on Aaron’s shoulder, causing the man to stop dead. It was the feeling of comfort, that he wasn’t alone, that suddenly caused the tears to flow fully, drenching his cheeks in seconds.
‘I’ll bring her home,’ Sam said stoically. ‘I promise.’
Aaron nodded, refusing to face him. Not wanting anyone to see him cry under the bizarre notion that it would embarrass him. Sam took a deep breath before continuing.
‘Why were you at the factory last night?’
‘I have an app on my phone that tells me her location.’ Aaron spoke with a new-found vigour as he reached into his pocket. ‘It tells me how much battery she has, where she is, and so on. The last location it was switched on was the factory. Look.’
Aaron turned the phone to Sam, who stared intently at the bright screen. It was a map of Shepherd’s Bush and sure enough, a little photo of Jasmine was pasted over the factory.
‘I took a screen shot of it,’ Aaron offered. ‘I thought it might help.’
‘It does,’ Sam verified. ‘What was she doing there?’
‘That’s the thing, she wasn’t supposed to be there. She was at a friend’s party in Perivale, but like I said, she keeps in contact. So I don’t know what her phone was doing there.’
‘That’s what we need to find out,’ Sam said, typing his number into Aaron’s mobile phone and sending the picture across to himself.
‘Find out?’ Aaron said in exasperation. ‘Last time I saw you, you were armed with a fucking rifle, shooting fucking criminals. You don’t need to find out, you need to do what the papers say you do and scare the living shit out of these people.’
‘Look, I know you’re scared, but I need you to be calm.’
‘Calm?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know what it’s like to lose a fucking child?’ Aaron spat, his face turning red with fury. Sam stared at him before responding calmly.
‘Just over three years ago, my son was killed by a drunk driver who got off on a technicality. So yes, I know how it feels to lose a child and to feel like the law isn’t on your side.’ Sam saw the horror on Aaron’s face. ‘It’s why I do what I do. A sense of justice or whatever the hell people are calling it. I don’t know. But all I know is, there are bad things happening to good people and sometimes, they need someone else to stop them.’
Silence hung heavy in the room like a morning fog, Aaron’s embarrassment eating at him like a cancer. After a few more beats, he spoke.
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.’
‘You wouldn’t have. Don’t be sorry, be helpful. And by that, I mean stay calm and don’t do anything stupid.’
Aaron took a deep breath and nodded.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘We are going to go and find out why your daughter’s phone was at the factory. And I know just where to start. Grab your coat.’
Sam headed back out of the kitchen, back through the well-lit hallway and the shrine to Aaron’s wonderful family. He picked his coat from the bannister and smoothly swung it around, his arms sliding into it with ease. The coat hung down below his buttocks, nicely covering the bulge from the back of his jean’s waistband.
Aaron hadn’t noticed the Glock tucked safely against his spine. He carried it so often that Sam forgot it was there.
It had almost become an extension of him.
As they headed to the door and the teeth-chattering cold of the outside world, Aaron took one more moment in the sanctity of his home to ask a question.
‘Why are you doing this, Sam?’ he asked thoughtfully. ‘Why are you helping me?’
Sam slid a glove over his hand, reached for the door knob, twisted and pulled it open. A blast of cold, wet wind flapped in like a rogue curtain. Sam turned, looking at Aaron and realising he was his only hope.
Jasmine’s only hope.
As he answered, he realised it was the same reason for everything meaningful he had ever done in his life. The same reason he was now one of the UK’s most wanted men.
He offered Aaron a warm, reassuring smile.
‘It’s the right thing to do.’
Chapter Eleven
The thick, grey clouds hung over London, bathing the entire city in a dull shadow. With the continuous downfall of rain, the buildings took on a pitiful, damp look that only added to the depressing weather. Winter had arrived, and as usual, it hadn’t entered to a jolly Christmas song or in a picturesque snow storm.
All it had brought was dark clouds and freezing rain.
Pearce looked out of the window, the rain pelting the city and felt its pain. The last six months had been relentless, ever since he had begun to look into Sam Pope. When Chris Morton, a man who was cleared of rape, was
