CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

N OW S ADIE COULDN ’ T sit still. She stood up and started to pace. Where did she even start?

‘Sadie?’

She looked at Quin, who was leaning forward. This was it. No more hiding or procrastinating. She stopped pacing and took a breath.

‘In the year before we met...before I came to Brazil... I was working in a big house in London for a very rich man. I was a housemaid—one of dozens. The house was huge...luxurious...like nothing I’d ever seen. The owner wasn’t English, his accent hard to place. We hardly ever saw him. We weren’t allowed to look at him, in any case.’

She started to pace again.

‘One evening, I thought I’d forgotten to check that the lunch things had been taken out of his office—he was a stickler for that kind of thing. I was due to go home, and I didn’t want the girl taking over from me to get in trouble, so I went back to the office before I left, to check.

‘When I got to the door, it was partially open, and I pushed it open all the way. I saw that the owner was inside, with his back to me. It took me a minute to understand what I was looking at. There was a man on the floor in front of him, on his knees, with his hands tied behind his back. He was begging, pleading... I could see his face...he was young... I didn’t recognise him. I saw my boss...the owner...take something out of the back of his trousers and hold it to the man’s forehead. And then there was a sound...like a loud but muffled crack. I didn’t recognise it at first—it was such an odd thing to hear. But then I realised that he’d shot him. Just like that. Without even hesitating. I’ll never forget the mark on the man’s forehead, or the way he fell backwards. And then the blood...bright red...so much blood...all around his head, on the floor...’

Sadie stopped pacing and looked at Quin, not really registering his expression.

‘I must have made a sound, or something, because my boss turned around. He was still holding the gun, and it was pointing at me now. I could see him taking in that it was me, just a member of staff. Maybe he knew who I was...maybe he didn’t. But somehow I felt in that moment that he knew exactly who I was, and that I had no family, no ties. He could shoot me and no one would ever know. So I ran. All the way out of the house, out through the gate, onto the road. I kept running until I ran straight into a man who bundled me into a van. I thought it was someone attached to him. I was terrified. But it was the police...or not the police...a specialist unit. They’d been watching the house...they saw me run.’

Sadie stopped. She felt a little light-headed. She’d only ever told this once to the police, and then again for her video witness statement. She’d never told another soul.

Quin was looking at her. His face was hard. ‘Is there more?’

Sadie swallowed. He didn’t believe her. But she’d started now.

She sat down again on the edge of the chair, hands clasped in her lap. ‘The police...detectives...whoever they were, took me to a police station—except it wasn’t like any I’d seen before. It turned out the man I worked for was a well-known name in the organised crime world. Up to that point he’d never been caught doing anything himself—he was too powerful. The fact that I’d witnessed him murdering someone himself, on his own property, turned out to be their big break. But he fled the country before they could catch him.’

Sadie stood and paced again.

‘I knew there was something off about the house—and the people in it but I didn’t take much notice because I was only there to work part-time, to help pay for my hairdressing course. The man’s wife looked perfect, but brittle—as if she’d break into pieces if you touched her. His children were never there...always in boarding school. The people who worked for him never really joked around or chatted, like normal staff. The boss wasn’t even there most of the time, so we were cleaning a pristine house.’

Sadie’s mouth twisted now.

‘We got paid in cash. If I’d been less naive, and hadn’t been so broke, I might have questioned that.’

She sat down again.

‘Because I’d witnessed the murder, and could identify the victim when they showed me pictures, the police asked me if I’d be a witness if they ever caught my boss and got him into court. By now, there weren’t just British detectives talking to me—there were detectives from France, Spain, America... They told me that even if I said no, I’d still be in danger. My boss would be coming after me. So I agreed to put my statement on video, so it could be used as evidence someday. And then the only way they could protect me was if I went into a witness protection programme.’

Sadie stopped talking. Her mouth was dry. Quin was just looking at her. Then he stood up and walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself another shot of whatever he’d poured before. He swallowed it down. He looked at her again, and held up a glass in question.

She shook her head. ‘Just some water, please.’

He brought over a glass. She took a sip. Now Quin started to pace back and forth. Sadie could feel the volatile energy crackling around him...between them. Eventually he stopped and turned to face her, shaking his head.

‘You’ve had four years to come up with a story and you couldn’t come up with anything better than a plot straight out of a soap opera?’

Sadie felt deflated. And then angry.

She stood up, clutching the glass. ‘I told you it was a lot.’ Then she thought of something and said, ‘Those nightmares I used to have—remember? They were actual memories of watching that man being murdered, except I had no idea what they were about.’

Quin’s jaw was hard. ‘Easy to say now...’

Sadie’s hand was clutching the glass so tight her knuckles were white. ‘Why do you think I didn’t want to go on a date with you when you asked me out? Because I couldn’t. I wasn’t allowed to get close to anyone.’

Quin looked at her. ‘So you’re saying you only had a relationship with me because you couldn’t remember that you were in a witness protection programme.’

‘Exactly.’ Sadie had to admit that it did sound fantastical. But that had been her reality.

Quin asked, ‘When did your memory return?’

Was he starting to believe her? It didn’t look like it. If anything, his expression was even more obdurate.

‘The day Sol was born. That was when I remembered everything. It was as if a veil had been pulled back, revealing the past. I think going into the city sparked something... I knew instinctively that going into a city was dangerous...so much CCTV. I’d been told to move around—to stay in places big enough to get lost and not so small that I’d stand out. Sao Sebastiao was perfect.’ Before Quin could say anything else she asked, ‘Why do you think I had no personal effects in my apartment in Sao Sebastiao? Why was there no trace of me online?’

‘What’s your real name?’

Sadie’s chest tightened. ‘It’s Lucy White...but I haven’t been Lucy for years now. I’m Sadie.’

Because she’d been Sadie when she’d met Quin and had Sol that was who she was. Who she wanted to be.

‘You mentioned family...where were your family?’

‘My parents died when I was a baby—in a car crash. I was unharmed. I was adopted, and lived with a family until I was around five. But then they had problems and handed me back into care. I was brought up in foster homes after that. It’s harder to get adopted the older you are.’

Sadie tried to hide the lingering pain of knowing that she hadn’t been enough for her adopted parents. She’d carried that feeling of being excluded all her life, like a stubborn wound. It had only been when she’d met Quin that she’d felt as if she’d found a home.

She could see now that it was part of the reason she’d fallen so hard for him—instinctively relishing the safe harbour of his love without understanding why until after her memory returned. Her upbringing had been a far cry from Quin’s.

That reminder made her feel exposed and vulnerable, she said, ‘I’d lost my memory. I had no idea who I was. You did know who you were, but you kept your past from me as much as I kept mine from you.’

Quin’s mouth tightened. ‘You looked me up?’

Sadie nodded. ‘Afterwards, yes. Primarily to see if I could find you online, so I could keep tabs on you and Sol.’

Quin sounded a shade defensive. ‘I never lied to you.’

‘Maybe not,’ Sadie conceded, ‘but I never lied to you either. Maybe I would have had to if you’d pursued me and I hadn’t had the surfing accident and lost my memory.’

Quin sounded weary. ‘Why don’t you cut all this melodrama and tell me what really happened? You had the baby and you realised that you weren’t really cut out for the domestic life so you ran. And when you realised that I’d made my fortune you came back to see what you could get out of it. Why not just admit that and save us all some time? I’d respect you more if you did.’

Quin’s words landed like stinging barbs all over Sadie’s skin. The hurt landed heavily in her gut. ‘Because that’s not what happened.’

There was only one way to prove her story. ‘Can I use your computer?’

He frowned a little. ‘Okay.’

Sadie loosened her grip on the glass, only realising then how tense she was. She put it on the desk, and went around to the other side of the desk and sat in Quin’s chair.

She opened up the internet search engine and searched for a name and accompanying news articles. Then she wrote a name and a number on a piece of paper, and pulled up a biography of that person. She left the tabs open and stood up.

She pointed to the screen. ‘You can read news articles about the murder and the implosion of the organised crime gang that was run by the man who owned the house I worked in—the man I saw murder another man. Then you can ring the person who was my witness protection case officer. If you don’t believe she’s real, you can see her Scotland Yard biography, which I’ve also pulled up.’

She came around the desk again and stood in front of Quin.

‘That’s why I left that day, Quin. Because if I hadn’t, and if they’d tracked me down, we’d all be dead now. The only reason I’m here at all is because all the people involved with that man and his gang—anyone who would have needed to kill me, or anyone close to me—is now dead.’

Sadie turned and walked to the door, but before she opened it she stopped and turned back.

‘For what it’s worth, I haven’t been with anyone else since you. I wanted you to know that.’

Then she turned away again, opened the door and left.

Quin wasn’t sure how long he stood looking at the door. At the empty space Sadie had left behind.

Not Sadie. Lucy.

What she’d just told him was like something from a lurid American daytime soap script. Ridiculous. A fantasy. And yet the words that reverberated in his head were, ‘I haven’t been with anyone else since you.’ As if that was the most important thing.

And yet he couldn’t deny the frisson of satisfaction he felt at hearing that admission.

He shook his head. Focus.

Maybe, he thought now, maybe she’s actually mentally unwell.

Maybe she’d created this fantasy explanation and perhaps she even believed it—because she certainly seemed genuinely invested in it. So much so that he’d doubted his own disbelief a couple of times.

What was it they said? The more elaborate the story, the more likely it was to be true, because no one could remember that amount of false detail.

Quin shook his head. No. It was nonsensical. He’d never heard such a labyrinthine story in his life.

Eventually he broke out of his stasis and went and sat down behind his desk. He looked at his computer screen and saw a slew of press headlines and images of a crime scene. Men on the ground. Dead.

Notorious crime boss living in plain sight SLAIN by his own gang!

Quin got a jolt. He’d heard of this man. He’d been a well-known billionaire businessman and philanthropist. There’d always been murky rumours about where his wealth had originated and whispers of links to criminal activity, but nothing had never been proven.

There was mention of him being on every Interpol list, with a high reward for any information. And there was a small paragraph about an anonymous witness who had been put under protection for their own safety. A witness who could place him at the murder of Brian Carson. Another well-known criminal.

Breathless column inches described how the crime boss had lived in one of London’s leafiest and most exclusive suburbs—how he’d even socialised with royalty and sent his children to the best schools in Europe. How the authorities had watched him for years but hadn’t been able to pin anything on him because he’d had such a vast network of people to do his dirty work.

Lucy White. Had she really just been an innocent, naive young woman who’d unwittingly worked for a notorious criminal gang boss? Maybe she’d been part of it and had taken a deal to get out if she confessed what she knew?

Quin’s head throbbed. He made a call to Claude, an old friend who worked in security. He was someone he trusted, because he had helped him stay off the grid when he’d wanted to escape the furore around his family five years ago, after it had been revealed that his ‘father’ wasn’t his biological father. When he’d walked away from everything he’d known and taken control of his own destiny.

He greeted his friend with the minimum of niceties and gave him the details. ‘Can you look into this?’ he asked. ‘And also Lucy White? Let me know what her involvement was, if any.’

‘Sure... This is an...unusual request...is everything okay?’

Quin clamped his mouth shut, to stop himself from revealing that the mother of his child might possibly be linked to a major crime syndicate. He just said, ‘Everything is fine, thanks, Claude. I owe you.’

‘No problem. I’ll get back to you ASAP.’

Quin terminated the conversation. He felt edgy, restless. Didn’t know what to think. All he could see were Sadie’s huge eyes and how innocent she’d looked. Had she even really lost her memory? But then his conscience pricked. He recalled the headaches she’d get—so painful that they’d leave her pale and sweating. And the nightmares, when she would wake, sitting bolt-upright in the bed, screaming, her body slick with perspiration, eyes huge and terrified. He remembered cradling her in his arms as she said, over and over again, ‘So much blood... I’ve never seen so much blood.’

She couldn’t have faked that.

Or maybe she could, and he was just a supremely gullible idiot taken in by a huge pair of eyes and a lithe body.

She’d been a virgin.

He could still remember the spasm of pain that had flashed across her face as he’d breached her tight body. The way she’d resisted him before her body had softened and moulded around his, giving him the most erotic experience of his life. Blood was pumping to his groin just at the memory.

Quin surged to his feet. No. He would not do this—sit here and torture himself. Tomorrow he would quiz Sadie about everything and look for chinks and holes in her story, and when Claude came back with the inevitable proof that she was indeed not what she seemed Quin could wash his hands of her for good.

The following day Sadie was cleaning Sol’s bathroom, going through the motions automatically, avoiding thinking about last night. She needed to keep busy. She hadn’t seen Quin yet—he’d taken Sol to school that morning. She felt curiously empty. Flat. Anti-climactic. She might have expected to feel somehow more...relieved, or even happy after finally telling Quin what had happened. But clearly he had viewed her explanation with outright suspicion.

Would it change anything?

But at least she’d done it. Told him the full truth. He would have to believe her eventually.

But would he ever forgive her? Maybe in his mind even the threat of death wasn’t a good enough excuse for her leaving.

All she’d known at the time was sheer terror at the prospect that she might be the cause of any harm coming to Quin or Sol. She would do the same today if she needed to.

She heard a sound nearby and turned her head to see Quin appear in the doorway, as if manifested straight out of her thoughts. He took her breath away before she could try and control her response. He was dressed in dark trousers and a shirt. Open at the neck. The casual clothes did little to hide the powerful musculature of his torso and wide shoulders.

She only realised belatedly that she was still on her knees and she stood up, very aware of her hot face and perspiration from working.

He said, ‘We’re going out for lunch.’

Sadie struggled to understand why he was announcing this. ‘Okay... You and Lena? Or Roberto?’

After all, they were the only other people she’d met so far.

Quin frowned as if she was being dense. ‘No, you and me.’

‘Oh...’

Sadie’s insides fluttered, but then she told herself she was being silly. Obviously he just wanted to talk to her about everything she’d landed on him the previous evening. This wasn’t a date.

She said, ‘We don’t have to go out if you’re busy.’

Maybe it would be better to talk in a private space rather than out in public.

‘You haven’t left this house and gardens since we arrived,’ he pointed out.

Sadie hadn’t even realised that. But it was true. She remembered how, when she’d been with Quin before, she’d never wanted anything much more than to be with him. In their modest beachside house. She could appreciate now that part of that must have had to do with the danger she’d known was out there, but cloaked by her faulty memory.

Quin was looking at her. ‘Okay, then, that’d be nice,’ she said.

‘Leave the cleaning things there. Sara will be back later—she’s recovered from the accident.’

Sadie took off the cleaning gloves and took a second to check her reflection. She groaned slightly. As she’d feared, a shiny face, and hair scraped back to stop it getting in her way.

She released her hair from the clip she was using to hold it and quickly ran her fingers through it, to try and make it look a tiny bit presentable. She left the room and made her way to the front of the house, where Quin was waiting by a small, sleek sports car in the main courtyard.

Sadie came down the steps. Her chest felt suspiciously tight. ‘You got your dream car.’

‘I did.’

From what Sadie remembered him telling her about this particular car, it was fully electric. She reached out and touched the sinuous line of the roof. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘Sol loves it.’

Sadie looked at Quin, delighted by that fact. She wanted to hoover up every piece of information about her son.

Quin came around and opened the passenger door. Sadie had to contort herself slightly to get in, but the seat seemed to mould itself around her body like memory foam.

Quin got in and started the engine. Sadie could barely hear it as they made their way down the driveway and out into the suburban Sao Paulo streets. She felt a bit like an alien, beamed down onto planet Earth. She’d spent so much time hiding in the shadows that she’d never luxuriated in just being driven down a sunny street, looking at people going about their business.

Her life had been on hold and now, finally, it was beginning again. She was here with Quin, and whatever this was between them might be complicated and gnarly and prickly, but she was also with her son and that was the main thing.

Absurdly, emotion sprang up and made her eyes water.

Quin glanced at her at that moment and asked sharply, ‘Are you okay?’

‘Fine...fine,’ Sadie said quickly, blinking her eyes. ‘It’s just the sun.’

Quin reached over and pulled down the sun visor. He said, a little gruffly, ‘I didn’t think to let you get your bag or things.’

Sadie shrugged. ‘It’s fine. I don’t have much anyway.’ She thought of something and said a little stiffly, because she was suddenly embarrassed, ‘I’ll pay you back whatever I owe you when I can.’

Quin’s hands tightened marginally on the steering wheel. ‘You’ve been cleaning the house. I shouldn’t have let you do that.’

‘I didn’t mind,’ Sadie admitted easily. ‘I don’t like being idle. Anyway, it’s what I’ve been doing for the last four years, in between some hairdressing jobs, so I’m used to it.’

She felt Quin looking at her as they pulled to a stop at some traffic lights. They were getting closer to the city centre, and Sadie could feel her heartrate inevitably rise at the thought of all those people and the proliferation of CCTV cameras. She took a breath. It would take her a while not to worry about that any more.

‘So how did it work, then?’ Quin asked.

He sounded mildly interested, but Sadie could still hear a trace of scepticism. It hurt that he didn’t trust her, but she couldn’t blame him. In a way, she was lucky he hadn’t just thrown her out on her ear after hearing her story.

Sadie had to consciously relax her hands, which were clasped tightly together. ‘I moved around a lot. Stayed away from big cities.’

‘Aren’t they easier to get lost in?’

‘Surprisingly, no. There’s so much CCTV. I stuck to big towns, but not cities. I took menial jobs—cleaning offices and hotels. And I’d ask busy hair salons if they needed extra help at Christmas—things like that. Places that had enough foot traffic that the customers wouldn’t strike up a conversation or get to know you as a regular stylist.’

‘Where did you live?’

‘Hostels, mainly. Sometimes hotels, if I was lucky enough to have the funds. Sometimes I even got a short let.’

‘Didn’t the police give you any money?’

Sadie shook her head. ‘You’re expected to get a job and provide for yourself. They paid for my ticket to Brazil, and some modest funds to help me disappear, but that was it.’

‘You said you weren’t with anyone...?’

Sadie looked at him. Did he doubt what she’d told him? His profile was so hard.

‘No one. I couldn’t afford to get close to anyone.’

‘Did you want to?’

Sadie shook her head. ‘No, there was no one.’

How could there have been? she wanted to say to him. All she’d thought about was him and Sol, going into internet cafés when she thought it safe enough and looking Quin up online, hoping for a glimpse of her son. Hoping for a glimpse of Quin. Hoping she wouldn’t see him with another woman.

Quietly, Sadie said, ‘If I’d felt I had a choice, of course I wouldn’t have walked away. But I knew Sol was in good hands...you’ve been an amazing father.’

Quin was pulling into a valet parking area outside a building on one side of a pretty leafy street. When the car had stopped he looked at her and said, ‘That’s probably because I had to become mother and father overnight. I had no choice but to step up.’

Because she’d stepped out.

He didn’t say it, but he obviously meant it. She was tempted to defend herself by pointing out that she hadn’t had a choice either, but she said nothing. Clearly her explanation had fallen into some space between them where Quin was not ready to believe her. Yet. She couldn’t necessarily blame him—it was a lot to take in.

He would have to believe her eventually, though, because there was no other explanation. But right now she couldn’t imagine that even then there’d be much of a thaw in the air.