The Stranger by Mark Ayre (books you need to read TXT) 📗

At this, Eddie’s face twisted. Grief heard the confession and leapt upon it, and he almost leapt upon Abbie.

Jess was paying attention. She gripped his shoulder and shushed him as she might soon shush her child in the middle of the night. Wrapped her hand around his hand on the door and squeezed. She nodded to Abbie, who went on.

“Here’s the rub. If I was an unknown assassin called in from out of town, why would I, A, make myself known to you and Danny and, B, allow him to stay in my hotel room? I wouldn’t even have paid for a hotel room, but if I did, I certainly wouldn’t let my victim stay there.”

Jess opened her mouth, but Abbie held out a hand to cut her off.

“You’ll say I set myself up an alibi by staying with you, but why bother? Even with an alibi, that course of action was still going to bring me to the attention of the police, which by extension would endanger Francis, which was what he was trying to avoid by hiring me in the first place, within the confines of this hypothetical. So why take the unnecessary risk? If you remember, Eddie, I was hidden in shadow when I first found you and Danny. It wasn’t until he knocked you to the ground that I intervened, but why would I do that? Your life would mean nothing to me if I was who you think I am. Even if it did, it was clear you and Danny were close. I knew he might knock you down, might even knock you out, but I didn’t believe your life was in danger. In fact, if he had knocked you out, that would have been perfect. At that point, I would have crept out of the darkness and slit his throat, then slipped into the night. Nobody in this town would ever have known I was here. Simple.”

Abbie stopped. Waited. She could see Jess was conflicted. She had been suspicious of Abbie for obvious reasons, but Abbie’s logic made sense, and now she was unsure.

Eddie wasn’t.

“You didn’t want him dead,” said Eddie. “You wanted him alone. Somewhere Francis’ people could torture Danny and get back what he stole.”

Abbie tilted her head. This was new information. She hadn’t known why Francis was after Danny. It seemed Travis was not the only person keeping Francis’ possessions, or perceived possessions, from him.

That Francis had wanted to reclaim something from Danny added an extra level of curiosity.

“But Danny wasn’t tortured,” said Abbie. “His killer stabbed him the moment he opened the door. Sanderson must have told you that?”

Eddie opened his mouth. Closed it. He had decided Abbie was responsible for his brother’s death. No matter what logical arguments she presented, grief held to this belief. It did not want to let go.

“Francis must have thought he had it hidden in the room,” said Eddie. “He killed Danny, then searched for it.”

Abbie considered then disregarded this.

“Surely he’d still keep Danny alive in case it wasn’t in the room? And is this item small?”

Eddie wouldn’t have answered. Jess said, “No.”

“Then Francis would have known it wasn’t in the room,” said Abbie.

“How?”

“Because Danny didn’t have anything but the jacket on his back when we dropped him at the hotel. If I was the villain you think I am, I would have told Francis that. In which case, the only reason to murder Danny immediately would be if he had found what Danny had stolen. Had he, do you know?”

Neither of them spoke, which was answer enough.

“He hadn’t,” said Abbie. Considered. Looked at their faces. “He still hasn’t, has he? He’s sent someone to see you?”

More silence. Abbie closed her eyes. It was becoming clearer. Danny had died before revealing to Francis where he’d hidden this stolen item. Francis still wanted it back, so the natural place to turn was Danny’s local relative, his brother. That put Eddie and Francis at odds and could easily be what got Eddie killed.

Question was, why had Francis sent someone to murder Danny if he did not yet have back what Danny had stolen?

Second question: what had Danny stolen? And did it relate in any way to Travis’ mugging of Francis’ wife?

Both questions could wait for the moment.

“It still doesn’t make sense for it to be me,” said Abbie. “If I wanted to find what Danny had stolen, I would have waited until he knocked you out and followed him. Even if he failed to knock you out, the two of you eventually would have left. I would have followed; would have kept on his tail until he led me to this stolen item, or until I got him somewhere I could persuade him to tell me where it was. A place I can assure you wouldn’t have been a hotel room booked in my own bloody name.”

Abbie took a breath. Don’t let frustration overcome you. Grieving brother, pregnant wife. No one was thinking straight. All she could do was try persuade them to let her in.

“If Francis has been to visit you, you know you’re in danger,” Abbie said. “I know you might find this difficult to accept, but I can help. I want to help. But I can’t do that unless you let me in. Unless you put at least a little faith in me. I know it’s hard. I know you’ve lost your brother, and you’re hurting, and you want someone to blame, but it isn’t me. Please, Eddie. Let me help. Let me show you I’m on your side.”

Some of the fury had drained from Eddie’s eyes. They were still lost, grief-stricken.

Far more in control of her senses, Jess again squeezed her husband’s hand and pulled it gently from the door before placing it by his side. Her other hand remained on his shoulder. She pressed forward so her bump was against his back and spoke softly, as though attempting to calm an agitated