The Truth About Celia Frost (28 page)

Frankie’s stomach churned but, as he watched, he couldn’t help noticing how she seemed transformed up there on the table, her bag-of-bones body now held with balletic poise, her
features softened by the silver light of the moon. Without being conscious of it, a smile spread across his face, pleased to see her so liberated.

“I’m feeling seasick,” she cackled, the table quivering like a tightrope with her slightest movement. Frankie’s heart was in his mouth. He knew that all it would take was
one jolt and he’d send her plummeting to her death. His trembling hand crept towards the table top, his mouth so dry he was unable to swallow his self-disgust.

“Just one small step and I’ll be lifted on the wind, soaring above the ground, able to find my Celia,” she announced giddily, the table wobbling.

It’ll be over in seconds
, Frankie convinced himself.
With all that booze down her, she won’t feel a thing and I’d be gone, unnoticed into the night. Nemo’s
right: it’ll just be a tragic accident of a drunken, broken woman.
His hand hovered under the table.
Do it! Get it over with!
he ordered his resisting limb.

When he looked up, she’d turned her head over her shoulder and was squinting at him. “Paul, are you okay?” she slurred. “You don’t look well at all. Help me down
and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”

As she reached her arms towards him, the table wobbled violently, rocking back and catapulting her forward.

Janice screamed as her body flew head first over the balcony. Immediately the distant ground was rushing up to meet her. There was nothing she could do, no time to even think, until she felt the
jolt... She swung there, twenty floors above the ground, like a squawking chicken being held upside down. All the blood rushed to her head and the swaying ground became a blur. She
didn’t know what had happened, only that any second her fall could continue. Frankie’s body was wedged against the railings, his face puce, his hands locked around her ankles. His hands
began to slip as she flailed around, terrified. He had to get a better grip.

“Hold still!” he ordered through gritted teeth. It was a terrible risk, but he knew that he had to momentarily let go with one of his hands if he was going to have any chance of
keeping hold of her.

Janice felt him release one of her ankles and screamed. “Don’t let go!”

She felt the impact of his vicelike grip clamping onto her leg. Grunting and groaning, Frankie levered her up and slid her back over the railings, where she landed on top of him.

Janice looked down on the man she was sprawled over, her face still rigid with shock, but her eyes dizzy with gratitude. “I...I...” she managed, before her cheeks puffed
out, her stomach heaved, and a stream of vomit spewed out all over Frankie Byrne.

“I’m sooo sorry!” Janice cringed as she saw his stinking top.

“It’s the least I deserve,” he muttered, carefully extricating himself from his sick-covered shirt, revealing a greying vest. “I couldn’t do it,” he
whispered, relieved. “When the moment came, I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t even think about it; I saw your feet lift off that table and my instincts took over. You see, that
proves it; I’m not a killer – despite everything, I’m not a killer!” he said triumphantly.

Janice was bemused. “What are you talking about? Of course you’re not a killer; you’re a hero, Paul. You’re
my
hero!” She beamed and threw her arms around
his thick neck. He prised her off and sat her back on the balcony floor.

“Will you listen to me, Janice?” he said gravely.

“Yes,” she answered, unnerved by his manner.

He looked her unflinchingly in the eyes. “I came here tonight to kill you.”

Janice gave a nervous laugh. “That’s not very funny, Paul.”

“My name is Frankie...Frankie Byrne. I’m a private investigator. My job was to find you and Celia. But believe me, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I wouldn’t
have taken the case if I’d known it was going to end like this.”

Janice suddenly felt as if he’d plunged her head into a bucket of ice water. Of all the emotions bombarding her, she couldn’t help feeling crushing humiliation at being deceived into
thinking this man may have cared about her. How desperately she’d wanted to believe it, how pathetic she felt. “Who are you working for?” She dreaded the answer.

“I don’t know for sure. We’ve never met; the client wanted to be anonymous. But they said that they were the only person who could deal with Celia, with the virus.”

“You know about the virus?”

“I know everything,” he replied.

“Who told you?” she demanded.

“You did.”

“That’s a lie. I haven’t told you anything!” she shouted.

“I bugged your flat, Janice,” he said, ashamed. “I’ve been listening in to everything that has happened here.”

Her flesh felt like an army of ants was crawling over it. She scrambled away from him, huddling in the corner of the balcony, her sharpening mind started to piece it together. “You know
where Celia is, don’t you?” Her voice quaked.

“Yes. I took her to this place in the middle of nowhere. The client has confirmed that she’s with Celia.”

“She?!” Janice shouted. “The client is a woman? It must be Hudson.”

“I can’t know for sure; maybe other people are looking for Celia – people who can help her.”

Janice pounced on him, raining down blows on his barrel chest with her inadequate fists. “Of course it’s her! That woman will kill her. You’ve sent Celia to her death!”
she cried, hysteria tightening around her windpipe.

Frankie restrained her by the wrists and held her at arm’s length. “Shush, Janice. Listen.”

They both fell silent as they heard the knocking at the door.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Frankie asked suspiciously.

“Celia!” Janice rushed to the door and flung it open, revealing a weary-looking boy.

Despite the headache tablets and ice pack, Sol’s head still throbbed. He’d tried to do as his brothers had instructed, but he couldn’t lie in bed any longer when he knew that
Celia was in some kind of trouble. He had to tell Janice. He had to check if Celia was back.

Janice gazed at the boy.

“Miss Frost, I’m sorry for coming round at this time. You don’t know me, but I’m Celia’s friend, Sol. Has she come home yet? I’m really worried about
her.”

“I do know you,” Janice replied, as if speaking her thoughts out loud. “You’re the boy in the drawing. You’re the boy who makes Celia smile.”

The baffled boy just nodded politely, aware of Janice’s mental health problems. He was ushered into the flat, where the atmosphere felt like a war zone. He watched, uncomfortably, as
Janice circled the vaguely familiar man in a vest.

“You’re right to be worried about her, Sol,” Janice said, not taking her dagger-eyes off Frankie. “This man has put Celia’s life in danger.” She thrust her
finger angrily at the accused.

“Calm down, Janice. I can sort this out.” Frankie’s mind was racing. “The client will be expecting to hear from me, to confirm that I’ve done the job. I don’t
want her to get twitchy. I’ll call her, try and find out if Celia’s okay. Now, you two, don’t even breathe. I need complete silence.”

Janice and Sol stood petrified as Frankie called Nemo and launched into his chilling dialogue.

“It’s done. Janice Frost is dead...”

By the time the brief call had abruptly ended, Sol was staring, slack-jawed, at the worried-looking man.

“Tell me about Celia! Is she all right?” Janice barked.

“I...I don’t know. She didn’t say,” Frankie said guiltily.

“She could be dead. Hudson might have killed her already,” Janice screeched, searching for her phone. “Tell me where you took her. I’ll get the police over
there.”

“No,” Frankie said firmly. “Let me phone the police. I know all the details. It’ll be quicker.”

Janice hovered around him.

“Give me some space, Janice! I need to concentrate. I don’t want to forget anything important.” He strode into the kitchen to make the call, emerging a couple of minutes later.
“The police are on their way to get her. Get your bag, we should drive over there.”

“Hang on!” Sol piped up. “If you’re going to get Celia then I want to come too.”

“What do you think this is?” Frankie growled. “A school trip? I’ll take Janice, I owe her that, but I don’t need a kid tagging along too.”

“Sol, you should wait in the flat. Someone should stay here in case they send police round to get more information,” Janice said.

Frankie quickly interjected. “On second thoughts, maybe we should take him. He might come in handy.”

“Thank you,” Sol said, surprised but flattered that the big man should consider him an asset. “Now let’s stop wasting time and go and get her,” Frankie ordered.

Janice felt a pang of gratitude. Frankie could have got away if he’d chosen to. Instead, by phoning the police, she knew that he’d resigned himself to prison. “You’re
doing the right thing,” she said.

Frankie looked down at his shoes. She could have sworn that he was blushing.

Ever since they’d reached the moor, all Frankie could see out of the corner of his eye was Janice, rocking like a distressed child.

“Bloody hell, Janice!” Frankie said, through gritted teeth. “Have a cigarette to calm yourself down. That rocking is driving me insane. Its pitch-black out there, I’m
going 110 mph and I’m trying not to crash into these stupid sheep that keep coming out of nowhere, so for God’s sake, stop it!”

Janice’s voice trembled. “But I know where we’re heading. She’s taken her back to that place. She’s got her at the clinic.”

“Why haven’t the police phoned to let us know what’s going on? Maybe you should phone them back, Frankie?” Sol said.

“No. We’re best to leave them alone and let them get on with the job,” Frankie said with authority. “Anyway, we’re almost there.”

They drove on, in oppressive silence, the car rocketing along the moor road; Frankie hunched over the steering wheel, his brow furrowed, Sol sat in the back, his stomach in knots, and Janice
dragging on a cigarette held between her shaking fingers.

Frankie took the corner so fast that the car swerved off the driveway and onto the moor, leaving skid marks in the peaty earth. He fought with the steering wheel to get the car
back on track and came to a halt halfway up the drive; the clinic hidden over the brow of a hill.

“We’ll park here,” he said to his passengers. “We don’t want her to hear the car and give her time to do something stupid. We need to surprise her. Catch her
unaware. Come on, we’ll run the rest of the way.”

“But the police must already be there,” Janice said.

Frankie didn’t reply. He pulled himself out of the car and started pounding up the driveway. Sol shot out of the passenger door and sprinted after him.

Sol reached the building first, Frankie panting behind him and Janice out of sight, still struggling up the incline.

“Why aren’t the police here?” Sol said, seeing the lone car parked next to the prefab building.

“Because I didn’t call them,” Frankie said breathlessly.

“What?!”

“If I got the police involved, I’d end up spending the next fifteen years in prison, and I’m not ready to do that. They’d only mess this up anyway, put Celia in more
danger. It’s better that I sort this out. I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

But trusting him was the last thing Sol felt like doing.

Celia felt the professor’s fingers tapping on her arm. She looked down as the blue vein rose towards the surface, offering itself to the needle. Celia was suddenly struck
by the healthy glow of her skin. She was so used to it being deathly pale that she’d forgotten how it had been transformed by the sun over the past weeks, while she ran wild in the flooded
quarry. Her mind turned to Sol. How different she felt since meeting him. How brilliant life was with him. And what about Janice? She’d sacrificed everything for a child who’d been a
stranger to her, who she owed nothing to. Celia wouldn’t let herself believe that Janice was dead. She needed to let her know how much she loved her; how she now understood all that Janice
had done for her. She couldn’t give up on Janice, on Sol. She had to find them, make sure they were all right.