The Passenger by Daniel Hurst (ready to read books .TXT) 📗

today,’ I assure her. ‘James has been visiting your daughter at your flat while you have been in London working.’

Amanda looks defiant, but she does well to keep her voice calm. ‘Even so, that doesn’t prove that he is there right now. Let me speak to my daughter. I need to know for sure before I do anything else.’

I shake my head to let her know that I’m the one who makes the demands, not her.

‘You’re in no position to tell me what you want.’

‘And you’re in no position to get my money unless you get that code, so I guess we’re both screwed,’ Amanda fires back, and even though it’s annoying, I’m impressed by her spirit.

I check my watch. There is time for a short call, I suppose, and if it helps speed things up, then I guess I’ll allow it.

‘Say I did let you call your daughter. How will it prove anything? She’s hardly going to tell you that she has a guy in the flat with her, is she?’

‘I just need to ask her a few questions. I know when she is lying to me, so I’ll know if she is actually alone or not.’

I think about it for a second but decide that I don’t have much choice. Amanda is a tough cookie. I can see that with how calm and logical she is being in the face of such pressure. But she isn’t stupid. She will know that she can’t take any risks until she knows her daughter is safe for certain, which is why I am willing to let her take out her mobile phone.

‘Okay. You can make the call. But listen to me and listen good. If you make any attempt to try to warn her, then I will call James, and Louise will be dead before you even get a chance to hang up. Don’t mention me. Don’t mention the money. Don’t mention anything out of the ordinary. Two minutes. That’s all you get.’

Amanda nods as she looks down at her phone, and I watch her as she presses a few buttons before holding her device to her ear.

Her two minutes start now.

11

AMANDA

I pray that Louise is going to answer the phone and not ignore my call like she sometimes does, although considering our last conversation ended with her hanging up on me, I’m not optimistic. But I need her to answer now. I need to find out if what this man tells me is true.

I need to know if she is in danger.

Keeping the phone pressed to my ear, I listen as I hear two rings go by. Then three. Then four.

Pick up the damn phone, Louise.

‘What?’

It’s an instant relief to hear my daughter’s voice at the other end of the line, even if she is greeting me in her customary way that tells me she doesn’t appreciate the interruption.

‘Hey, is everything okay?’ I ask while under the watchful eyes of the man opposite me.

‘It’s fine. Why?’

I have to remember not to give anything away, so I try to think of a reason for my sudden concern. ‘You didn’t text me back when I told you my train was delayed,’ I say.

‘So?’

‘I was just checking you got it.’

‘Yep, I got it, so you can relax now. Thanks for that.’

I ignore my daughter’s sarcasm and press on with what I really want to know.

Is she alone?

‘What are you doing right now?’ I ask, averting my eyes from the man and looking out of the window. The train is travelling a little slower now that we are approaching the next station, and the closer we get, the more I feel the urge to run.

‘I’m just at home. What do you think I’m doing?’

I really wish my daughter wouldn’t treat every single one of my questions like I’m picking a fight, and especially now when I’m trying to determine a potential threat level.

‘Whereabouts are you? The kitchen? The bedroom?’

‘Why the hell does that matter?’

‘I just want to know where you are.’

‘I’m in my bedroom. Happy now?’

I’m not happy. Far from it. That’s because I still can’t tell if my daughter is safe or not.

My tormentor taps his finger against his watch to remind me that I haven’t got all day, so I just blurt out the question I need to know the answer to.

‘Is there anyone with you in the flat?’ I ask, and the man glares at me and reaches across the table to indicate that I’m pushing my luck, but I lean back in my seat and wait for the answer.

‘What?’ Louise replies.

‘I’m asking if you are on your own, or is there anybody with you?’

The line goes quiet for a moment, and I fear the worst, especially when I see the man take out his mobile phone and hold it up to remind me that he is prepared to make a call of his own.

‘Why would you even ask me that?’ Louise eventually replies.

‘Just answer the question,’ I say, my voice cracking a little.

‘Yes, I’m on my own!’ Louise replies, her voice raised. ‘Why are you being so weird?’

My heart sinks at that moment because I know that she is lying to me. She always gets louder and more defensive when she is trying to hide something. She has always been like that, from when she was a child trying to cover up a broken ornament to being a teenager trying to fib her way out of the real reason why she ended up in detention. I know when she is telling the truth because she just mumbles her responses. The fact she is so emotional right now tells me she has something to hide.

‘I’m sorry. It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I’ll be home soon, all right? I’ll see you then. We’ll have that takeaway, yeah?’

‘Fine,’ Louise replies, and then the line goes dead.

I lower my phone, but before I can put it back in my handbag, the man snatches it from my hand.

‘Hey!’ I cry, but he barely