“Just…” she opened the door and climbed out. If she’d thought the events at the garage had shaken her, it was nothing compared to the anxiety she felt now.
The Jaguar crunched down the driveway as she reached the front door. She didn’t have her keys—she hadn’t thought of grabbing them in the rush to leave London. She’d just assumed Dan would be there.
She held her breath and raised her hand to knock on the door. She hesitated. Could she handle it? She turned away and looked at the Jaguar. She turned back. They were strangers.
She was overwhelmed—she hadn’t expected to be. Even standing there in the porch; the wooden doorjamb with the scratch where the earlier red paint showed through under the more neutral grey they had compromised on. The tiles they’d put down and ripped up several times until Dan was happy with the spacing. The hanging basket of flowers, long dead now, that she’d put up there with the best of intentions.
It was home.
And she was here, against all the odds.
She took another deep breath. What am I waiting for?
She knocked.
Waited.
Knocked again.
There was still no answer.
She closed her eyes. She’d never allowed herself to dwell on this possibility.
She turned and started. Olivia had come up behind her without her noticing.
“Do you have a spare key? We need to get Terry inside as soon as possible.”
She nodded. Of course. They left one under a pot at the back. She stepped out of the porch and hurried around the corner. The gravel crunched somewhere in front of her. She froze. All of the others were by the cars. There was no-one…
A second later, she was looking down the barrel of a gun.
“No,” she cried, reaching for her own weapon. Had it really come to this? Two hundred miles across hell only to be shot on her own doorstep?
Not without a fight.
“Annie?”
The gun lowered and a moment later, a man stepped out from the side of the house. It was getting dark, but she’d know him anywhere.
“Dan!” she cried, heart thumping. “Is that a…”
She put her gun back in her pocket and he lowered his shotgun to the floor. She ran to him and leapt into his arms, crying big ugly tears of relief.
“Annie, thank goodness. I was so worried.”
She closed her eyes and relished the feeling of his strong arms around her. He’d grown a beard. Slowly, she felt herself pulled back to the present.
“Dan, I’ll explain everything later. Terry’s been shot. We need to get him inside.”
“Shot?”
She nodded. There was a lot to tell him. “Later.”
Annie sat by the empty woodburner with a generous glass of scotch. Si had gone to bed. Dan was helping Olivia and Clive with Terry. Annie didn’t have the energy left to help. She looked around the achingly familiar room. Something stopped her from loading up the wood burner and starting a fire even though she was freezing.
She didn’t hear Dan come into the room. She looked up at him. The warm light of the oil lamp should have been flattering, but it wasn’t. He’d aged five years since the last time she’d seen him a few weeks earlier.
She swallowed. “How is he?”
“Olivia’s done everything she can. It’s a waiting game now. He seems stable, though.”
She looked down at her glass, which was sweating despite the lack of ice. “What’s going on, Dan? We have lots of firewood in the shed. Why no fire?” She glanced over at the corner of the room, where he’d propped up his gun. “And what’s with that? I thought you were dead against guns?”
There was a dead look in his eyes. He crossed the room and hunkered down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees. “I’m glad I listened to my gut. I knew you’d come back, but there were times I wanted to pack a bag and come looking for you.”
She stroked his cheek. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
“What happened to you lot out there? Terry shot. The rest of you… You all seem like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”
She thought about it for a few moments and shrugged. “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in tomorrow. The main thing is we’re safe now. That’s all that’s kept me going these past few days.”
The haunted look returned to his eyes.
She wanted to ignore it; to appreciate everything she still had, but she couldn’t. “What is it, Dan? You’re acting weird.”
He sighed. Finally, he spoke. “Oh, Annie. I wish I could tell you that you’re safe now and everything’s going to be fine. But I can’t.”
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Copyright
Copyright © 2018 by Alex Knightly
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and organisations are entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.