Amanda nudged out of the narrow space. Her hands slipped on the steering wheel once and she thought she would back into the jeep. Eventually, she was free… free…free.
She opened her laptop as soon as she entered her apartment. Was it her imagination or did the faint smell of aftershave hang in the air? She ran to the bathroom. Everything was as she had left it. She returned to her laptop and systematically deleted the research she had conducted on the Shroffs, the notes she had so carefully compiled and, finally, her almost-completed features. She felt no regret as she watched her work disappear. She was alive and free from danger as long as she walked that line laid down by Billy Shroff. She should have realised that only the Shroffs had the wherewithal to carry out such an intimidating strategy. Karl Lawson had consumed her thoughts and dulled her objectivity. She should contact Hunter, tell him everything was under control. But what if his wife… if his superiors – no, she could not afford to take that risk.
When she closed her laptop, she knew with absolute certainty that she would no longer write about crime. Let the druggies wipe each other out on Main Street and do their deals in dingy alleyways. She no longer cared about their Spanish hideaways and drug landings on deserted jetties. Men would continue to murder their wives whether or not Amanda reported on their brutality. Children would go missing, thieves would still plunder, and youths maim each other in the mean, small hours.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Karl picked them out immediately from the waiting crowd in arrivals. Sasha in pink dungarees, leggier than he remembered, and Nicole, skinny jeans tucked into knee-high boots, a streamlined jacket cinched at the waist, her boyish haircut emphasising her high, angular cheekbones.
Sasha broke free from her hand and charged towards him, shrieking, ‘Daddy. Daddy!’
People smiled indulgently as they moved aside to let her pass. He held her aloft and stared at her face, thinner now, her childish chubbiness gone, her ponytail replaced by a neat bob. She knotted her arms around his neck, and he, crushing her just as tightly, smothered her with kisses.
‘Give Daddy a chance to breathe, darling.’ Nicole smiled too brightly and said, ‘Welcome to New York, Karl.’
He gently prised Sasha loose and lowered her to the ground. ‘How are you, Nicole?’
‘I’m good,’ she replied. ‘How was your flight?’
‘Long but uneventful.’
‘You’ve lost so much weight.’
‘Gym workouts and a restricted diet over the last eight months.’
Her forehead puckered as if rejecting this dash of reality, and Sasha, tugging at her hand, her voice reedy with anxiety, said, ‘Kiss Daddy, Mom. Kiss him, now.’
Nicole gave him a quick hug and pressed her lips to his cheek. He breathed in her perfume, a light, lemony fragrance that reminded him of nights when she had turned to him in sleep, the scent still lingering on her skin. Aroused by her warm softness, he would hold her and she, sensing his nearness, would awaken and sleepily open to him. The memory was as cold as stone. Difficult to believe they had once been happy together, good friends and lovers, contented parents. The life they had known had been pulled apart too savagely to piece back together. Had he ever known her? Had she ever known him? Was it possible to know another person? To even know oneself?
‘Are you and Dora still best friends?’ he asked Sasha as he rummaged inside a carrier bag.
‘Boots is Dora’s very best friend but I’m her bestest one after him.’
‘Then look who’s travelled all the way from Dublin to New York to see you.’
He removed the Dora doll with a flourish and presented it to her.
‘Oh thank you, Daddy! Thank you.’ She hugged the doll and danced on the spot, red lights flashing from the heels of her trainers. ‘I missed you over the moon and back again.’
He laid his case flat on the trolley and perched her on top of it. Nicole smiled and gave the trolley an extra push. Their hands were close but Karl had no desire to touch her. Sasha was the glue holding them together and her excited chatter filled the awkwardness between them as Nicole drove from the airport.
‘How’s Jock?’ he asked.
‘Sasha’s given him a new lease of life.’ She smiled at her daughter through the rear view mirror. ‘Tell Daddy what Granddad calls you.’
‘The best girl this side of the Alleghenies,’ Sasha chirped.
‘Looking after Mom was tough on him,’ said Nicole. ‘She’s looking so much better since she went into the nursing home. The routine suits her. Most days she recognises us. But everything’s changing so fast. It’s quite horrendous for all of us, particularly for Dad.’
‘I’ve always liked Teresa. I hope I’ll have a chance to visit her.’
‘She liked—’ Nicole faltered and blinked back tears. ‘Likes you too. When I told her you were coming over to see Sasha she asked if you’re still writing for Hitz. I was amazed she remembered the name of the magazine. But that’s the way she is. So clear one day and confused the next. Obviously, I haven’t told her anything about… you know?’ She stopped at traffic lights and inclined her head towards Sasha.
‘Of course.’ He turned to see Sasha sucking her thumb, the doll clasped in her other arm.
‘When did she start that again?’ he asked, softly.
‘She only sucks it occasionally.’ Nicole, too, kept her voice low but she sounded defensive as she accelerated away from the lights.
His father-in-law was waiting at the front door to greet them, his sizeable girth emphasised by a loud check shirt. Not that there was anything slovenly about Jock’s weight. It was solid and arrogant, as was the habitual expression on his fleshy face.
‘Welcome, Karl, welcome.’ He enfolded Karl in a bear hug. ‘What do you think of this young lady, eh?’ Leaning into the back of the car, he unstrapped Sasha and perched her on his shoulders. ‘Isn’t she as pretty as a princess? Who’s the best girl this side of the Alleghenies?’
‘Me, me.’ Sasha laughed and gripped his neck, the Dora doll forgotten on the back seat.
The house was exactly as Karl remembered. Teresa Moynihan was a quiet, unassuming woman, who had always dressed in greys and beiges. She had applied the same colour scheme to her interior decor. It was tasteful, instantly forgettable and allowed her husband to dominate a room without distraction from his florid personality.
‘What are your plans, Karl?’ Jock settled back in his leather recliner while Nicole put the finishing touches to a meal she’d prepared earlier. ‘How long do you intend to stay?’
‘As long as it takes,’ Karl replied.
‘What exactly does that mean?’ Although Karl had been blameless in Nicole’s decision to break off her engagement to his business partner’s son, he had always been viewed as an interloper by his father-in-law.
‘That’s between myself and Nicole.’
‘Of course… of course.’ Jock crossed his legs on the footrest and pressed the remote on the television. ‘Has she told you how seriously her mother’s health has deteriorated in recent months?’