Don't Come Looking by AJ Campbell (top 100 novels of all time TXT) 📕

‘But you’re one of us.’ Sasha lets out an almighty sob, whimpering like Ralph, who is circling Marc’s feet.

‘I couldn’t see clearly,’ says Marc. ‘It was like I had been taken over by someone else. I kept hearing these excruciating banging noises and voices telling me to end it all.’

Harry cracks at this point. One sentence too much for his fragile state of mind.

My phone beeps. Rob is on his way to take me to the Sofitel. I give a tight-lipped smile. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow. I have to be somewhere.’

The roads are empty as we pull on to Balham Hill, a stark contrast to the usual grind of the capital’s traffic. The streets at this time of night captivate me. There’s something about watching London in its slumber, broken only by the honest folk who go about their nighttime duties and the undercurrent of London’s irrepressible darker side.

‘Luke Walker was blackmailing more people than just Robbins and that Chelsea.’ I update Rob on the rest as he accelerates through London’s streets.

‘Who’s been a busy girl?’ he says, enjoying the drama.

It isn’t long until we are on the M4, heading out to Heathrow. As we drive through the car park to the hotel entrance, I notice the same car that swerved in front of me earlier on. ‘I think Luke may have been followed here.’ I point to the Mini Metro. ‘That same car pulled in behind his taxi earlier. It nearly caused an accident.’

‘It looks like it belongs in the knacker’s yard,’ he says.

‘That’s why I remember it.’

We enter the hotel lobby and charge up to the front desk where two police officers are waiting for us. We produce our warrant cards. One of the officers addresses us. ‘We’ve taken the liberty of getting a key card for you.’

‘Great work,’ I say and take it from them. I give a cursory nod to the hotel manager, who points in the direction of the lift, and we set off with the two officers in tow.

My senses are racing, as they always are when I’m involved in an arrest. This should be easy. Luke is hardly a threat. Rob knocks on the door. ‘Luke Walker. It’s Detective Robert Sharpe here. Can you open the door, please?’ There is silence. ‘Luke. Please, open up.’

I wave the key card, suggesting its use. Rob nods. A beep and a click as I enter the electronic key in the slot. I gently push the door open. Luke is not much more than a boy, so it doesn’t seem appropriate to go in all guns blazing. I ease into the room. Rob follows me.

The mess confronting us shocks me to the core. Curled up on the floor in the foetal position, Luke lays in a pool of blood, the deep burgundy staining the cream carpet. I gasp in horror, my insides twisting at seeing Annie’s son in such a desperate state.

‘We need medics here. NOW!’ I shout.

In the corner of the room, a figure sits in an armchair in the semi-darkness, rocking back and forth, murmuring, ‘I told him. I told him he’d pay.’

‘Who do we have here?’ I ask.

‘I can tell you that,’ Rob says. ‘Mr Timothy Robbins.’

Thirty-Nine

Five months later

Gill pushes a bottle of ginger ale across the table. We are at the Italian restaurant up on the High Street, where the chef is preparing a batch of pesto. The smell of basil is overwhelming. It’s doing nothing for the incessant queasiness tormenting me as much as a drawn-out hangover. Except I haven’t had a drink for over three months now, not that I’m counting. I take a few sips of the ginger ale. It’s the only thing that seems to be working this time. With Joe and Isabella, Fanta had hit the spot.

‘It’s good to have a proper catch-up, finally,’ Gill says.

‘You will go away on all these trips,’ I say, my tone teasing. She knows I’m her number one supporter of the travelling lifestyle she has adopted since retiring. Having dedicated her life to raising foster kids because she couldn’t have children of her own, she deserves it more than most. She has just returned from a three-month Caribbean cruise with Derek, although she remains steadfast that their relationship is purely platonic. Her face radiates a healthy glow.

‘So, tell me. I’ve never had the opportunity to ask. What changed your mind in the end?’ Gill asks, nodding at my belly.

‘Jim desperately wanted a third as much as Joe and Isabella wanted another brother or sister. I guess I realised they’re growing up way too fast, and I don’t want to live with any regrets.’ I exhale a deep breath. ‘It’s going to be a challenge.’

‘You’ll find a way to cope.’

‘Don’t fancy moving in for a few months, do you? Like you did when Joe and Isabella were born.’

She smiles with the love only a mother can give their daughter. ‘I’m sure we can sort something out.

‘You’d be closer to Derek,’ I tease.

‘And the kids are all OK?’

‘Doing well. Joe is ticking over. And Isabella has a new bff – Aida, the daughter of that woman over there.’ I nod towards Siena serving behind the counter. ‘She’s a cute kid. They have a lovely friendship.’

‘I bet Jim was over the moon when you told him you were pregnant.’

‘Ecstatic.’

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Tell me you’re going to take a decent amount of maternity leave.’

‘Jim’s insisting I take a year, but we’ll have to see how his third book goes.’

‘A year minimum, I should think.’ She picks up the menu. ‘You ready to choose?’

I scan the offerings and opt for a turkey sandwich, but when the waitress appears, I ask her to hold the cranberry and grilled brie, and the butter too.

She smiles her understanding. ‘A dry turkey sandwich it is.’

‘I wish this damn morning sickness would leave me alone.’

Gill orders then pops to the toilet. I pick up my phone and respond to an email to