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

she blame me and my partner for undoing all her hard work in saving that money? Does she blame her daughter for giving me this opportunity to steal from her? Or does she just blame herself for not being strong enough to keep the code to that safe a secret, even if it cost her daughter her life?

I guess I’ll never know. But one thing is for sure.

Amanda is just as pathetic as the rest of them.

43

AMANDA

It’s a relief to be out of the tunnels of the London Underground and back in the fresh air again and not just because it was so crowded down there. It’s because Louise is able to get a Wi-Fi connection again now that we are above ground, and that means we are able to check on James’s location.

After a brief moment of holding my breath while the laptop screen refreshes, I see the red dot again. Louise’s phone is still at this station.

That means James is here.

But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy to find him. King’s Cross and St Pancras are two of the busiest stations in the country. There are thousands of people rushing all around us right now, going in and out of the station.

Commuters. Tourists. Locals.

So many faces.

How are we ever going to find the one we need?

‘Is there any way of narrowing it down a little?’ I ask Louise as she holds the laptop in front of her and tries to get a more precise location on her phone.

‘I think this is as good as it gets,’ she replies. ‘My phone is definitely in the station somewhere, but it’s not accurate enough to show me the exact place.’

I scratch my itchy scalp again beneath the wig as I look around at the crowds of people swarming past us. A needle in a haystack is the only way to describe the task facing us now.

‘Let’s check the Eurostar first,’ I decide, heading towards the section of the bustling station. ‘If we’re wrong, then at least it means he is only going somewhere in the UK.’

I know the way because I’d taken the Eurostar once before on a work trip to Brussels two years ago. Our boss took us all away to celebrate a big contract the company had been awarded, and we had a great three days in the Belgian city. I distinctly remember being pretty tipsy before the train even left London on its way into Europe, but it’s safe to say my mood is decidedly less upbeat as I return to that same scene.

Louise continues to check her laptop as we walk, and it’s a minor miracle that she hasn’t dropped it yet amidst all the pushing and shoving that we are having to contend with as we make our way through the heaving station. We finally reach the entrance to the Eurostar, and that’s where my daughter tells me that she thinks the red dot is located somewhere close by. That gives me hope, but the long lines of passengers standing in front of the ticket desks do not. This part of St Pancras looks more like an airport than a train station, with check-in areas and large screens with the words ‘International Departures’ emblazoned across them, and it’s almost as busy as one too.

‘Can you see him anywhere?’ I ask my daughter desperately, feeling overwhelmed by the size of the task ahead of us.

‘No,’ she replies, her eyes scanning the crowd. ‘But he has to be here somewhere. My phone is close by.’

I look at the rows of check-in desks and realise I’m going to have to make a gamble.

‘I’m going to buy a ticket and go in. He must be on the other side,’ I say, reaching into my handbag for my purse and passport. Fortunately, while my safe might have been emptied, I still have my credit card and passport on me. I carry that important document everywhere with me in case I ever need ID because I don’t drive, and not having a driving licence means it’s often the only thing I can use to verify my identity.

‘How do you know where he is going?’ Louise asks me.

‘It doesn’t matter. I just need to get through security, and I’ll hopefully find him in the lounge.’

‘Yeah, but you still have to buy a ticket. You should try to get the right train just in case you have to get on it to follow him.’

‘I’m not going to Europe and leaving you behind,’ I tell my daughter, and I mean it, but she doesn’t seem so sure.

‘You might have to,’ she tells me. ‘If that’s what it takes to get the things back.’

I realise she might be right so look up at the large electronic screen for the upcoming departures. The next train is to Paris. The one after that is Amsterdam. Then it’s Brussels.

‘I guess I’ll pick Paris,’ I say, shrugging my shoulders.

‘Wait,’ Louise says, and I notice she is also looking up at the screen too. ‘Try Amsterdam.’

‘Why?’ I ask.

‘That was one of the places James told me he wanted to go,’ she says, and I notice the look of sorrow flash across her face. In all the craziness of today, I had almost forgotten that Louise wasn’t just dealing with a threat to her life—she was also dealing with a broken heart after the man she trusted betrayed her. I know exactly how it feels to have such a thing happen, which means I understand how much she must be hurting now.

‘I’m sorry about what he did to you, Lou,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘And I’m sorry that you didn’t feel like you could tell me you were seeing somebody.’

‘You wouldn’t have approved,’ she says with a weak smile.

‘Maybe so, but from now on, no more secrets, okay?’

Louise nods. ‘No more secrets.’

With that, I refocus on the task at hand and make one final check on the laptop screen for the current location of Louise’s phone.

‘You stay