Hideout by Jack Heath (iphone ebook reader txt) 📕

‘Nice.’ Donnie turns back the way we came. The sirens in the air fade away. By the time we reach the highway, the only sound is the rumbling of the van’s engine.

Kyle nudges me. ‘You murdered a serial killer,’ he says. ‘Holy shit.’

‘I don’t think that’s what Blake was,’ I say. ‘I got the feeling he was running an off-the-books investigation of his own. That must have been why the body was in his freezer.’

Every person in the van shoots me a sceptical look.

‘Either way,’ I add, ‘Blake didn’t seem like Thistle’s enemy. In fact, he seemed like he’d do anything to keep her out of harm’s way.’

Thistle scoffs. ‘He hasn’t done a great job so far.’

‘He’s dead, bitch,’ Kyle says.

‘How do you know?’ she asks. ‘He could still be out there, living under a false name.’

She’s threatening me. If she tells these guys I’m not Lux, then I’m dead. But if I’m dead, I can’t help her. Can’t she see that?

‘Lux killed him,’ Donnie says. ‘He’s six feet under.’

‘Lux did, huh?’

‘I can see why you’d want to think he was alive,’ I say. ‘Without Blake, you’re completely on your own.’

I stare at her, trying to make sure she understands.

‘You’re all making a mistake,’ Thistle says. ‘You didn’t clean the scene at the motel. Prints, DNA, a bullet left in the wall and a casing on the floor—a SWAT team will be breaking down your door within twenty-four hours.’

Kyle looks a little worried by this.

Donnie doesn’t. ‘I’d like to see them try.’

Thistle has spotted the weak link. ‘You really want to spend the rest of your life in prison?’ she asks Kyle. ‘Assuming you don’t get shot during the raid. You could end up quadriplegic, or brain-damaged …’

‘Don’t listen to her, Kyle,’ Donnie says. ‘Nobody saw us take her. Even if someone heard the gunshot, they probably won’t even work out which room it came from, never mind find the bullet hole. And no one’s gonna report her missing. You saw her texts and her emails. She’s divorced. No kids, no friends, no upcoming appointments and on an indefinite leave of absence.’

Thistle chews her lip. She knows he’s right. But she keeps trying. ‘Kyle, right? I’m Reese. You don’t have to do this.’

‘Use first names so your captors think of you as human,’ Donnie says. ‘Try to establish a rapport with your captors. Straight out of the playbook. Anyway, you ever tried to get touch DNA from a cheap motel room? It’s useless. There would be evidence of thousands of people and they’d have no way of knowing which samples were relevant.’

Donnie clearly has experience with in-person crime, not just the internet variety. I glance at Thistle—she’s realised this, too. It’s bad news. Experienced criminals are harder to catch.

‘And you Krazy-glued your fingers, right?’ Donnie adds.

‘Right.’ Kyle looks down at his shiny fingertips.

‘Well, there you go. No prints, either.’

No one told me to put glue on my fingertips. If anyone does realise Thistle has been abducted, any evidence they find will point to me.

Fred, Zara and Cedric are waiting out the front of the house when we get back.

Donnie leaps out of the van, buzzing with leftover adrenaline. ‘Honey, I’m home!’

‘You caught the Baby Killer?’ Fred asks.

‘Sure did.’ Donnie throws Thistle’s handbag into the pick-up, probably so it can be dumped on their next trip to the gorge. If Donnie had a tail, it would be wagging. It’s not just Kyle who likes impressing Fred.

I’d forgotten Donnie’s claim that Thistle had killed a baby. He seemed to believe it. Why?

It feels like I’m missing something obvious, but I’m too busy trying to save Thistle’s life—while also maintaining a false identity and trying to solve a murder—to work out what.

Kyle and I climb out of the van. Fred leans past us and sees Thistle trussed up in the back.

‘Nice.’ He nudges me. ‘You like?’

I don’t know if this is a genuine gift or another test. Lux would be thrilled to see Thistle here, while Blake would not.

‘Best surprise ever.’ I grin. ‘Thanks, bro.’

‘No sweat.’ Fred looks satisfied.

Zara unexpectedly wraps her arms around me and whispers in my ear: ‘Does she have nice feet?’

For a second I think I’ve misheard. Then I remember what she nearly caught me doing to Samson’s body.

‘I’m looking forward to getting a closer look at them,’ I say.

Zara laughs and strokes my chest with a fingernail. Like everything Zara does, it feels like a performance. Maybe for Thistle’s benefit.

Thistle clenches her jaw in the back of the van. As far as she can tell, I’m Fred’s friend and Zara’s boyfriend. My chances of convincing her I’m not one of the bad guys are evaporating. At any moment she could tell them that I’m not Lux.

‘I want to make a deal,’ she says, as if reading my mind.

Fred raises his eyebrows. ‘Oh, really?’

I think of the last person to try to make a deal with the Guards, and the brick that went through his skull.

‘Wait.’ I climb back into the van. ‘No deals. Not before I’ve had a chance to enjoy her.’

I hear someone chuckling outside.

‘I have something to tell you,’ Thistle calls.

I clamp a hand over her mouth. Her breath is hot on my palm.

‘Talk all you want once you’re locked up,’ I snarl. Then, as I lean over to untie the ropes, I whisper in her ear: ‘I’m trying to help you.’

I release her mouth. She spits on me. ‘Like you helped the guy in your freezer?’ But she says it too quietly for the others outside the van to hear. Offering me a chance to convince her.

‘Please. Trust me.’ I tug on the knot, which unravels instantly—showing Thistle that I never properly tied