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

on this side in case the red dot moves away,’ I tell my daughter. ‘If not, then he is through here, and I’ll find him.’

‘Okay,’ Louise agrees, looking nervous enough for the both of us.

‘Can I see the photo again?’ I say to her just before I leave, and she opens the folder on her laptop that shows me the image of James she has saved to her device. She told me that she snapped the photo of him while he was sleeping in her bed a few weeks ago, and I’m glad she did because without it I would have no choice but to take my daughter with me to identify him. Thankfully, I can leave Louise here now, meaning she will be nowhere near the dangerous events that are about to take place.

‘Got it,’ I say, confident that I have memorised the appearance of the man I am looking for. Then I go to head towards the check-in desk, but Louise grabs my arm just before I can leave.

‘Be careful,’ she tells me, and I smile because despite all the arguments and ordeals we have been through together, she still cares about me. Maybe things never had to be so bad between us in the first place.

‘I always am,’ I reply, squeezing her hand before rushing to join the shortest queue I can find at the departure desk.

Once in place, I glance back over my shoulder at where Louise is waiting for me, and hope this won’t be the last time I ever see her. But I know I’m potentially heading into a very dangerous situation, and I can’t predict the outcome, even though I have a plan. The truth is that if James was clever enough to get his hands on the contents of my safe, he may be clever enough to get out of what I am planning to do to him, and if he does, then there’s no telling what might happen.

I’m desperate to get my belongings back.

He’ll be desperate to keep them.

But only one of us is going to get our way.

A few minutes later, I’m at the front of the queue, and as I watch the couple in front of me take their tickets from the clerk behind the desk and walk away, it’s now my turn to step forward from the line.

I decide to ask for a ticket to Amsterdam based on Louise’s prediction, but it doesn’t really matter if I’m right or wrong about where James is going. I just need to get to the lounge past this point.

I hand my credit card and passport over to the female clerk before remembering to lift up my sunglasses as she checks my photo.

I want her to be able to recognise me, even with a change in hair colour.

It’s only James I need to deceive now.

44

JAMES

‘Now boarding London to Amsterdam. Please proceed to platform two.’

The sound of the female voice over the tannoy is like music to my ears, and I pick up my heavy rucksack before joining the other passengers who will be on board this evening service to the Dutch capital. I’m looking forward to getting on and finding my seat, and I’m pleased to see that it’s not going to be too busy on board, as most of the people in this departure lounge have remained seated, so they must be headed to Brussels on the next train instead. With a bit of luck, there’ll be nobody seated at my table, and I’ll be able to put my feet up on the opposing chair. I deserve to travel in comfort after everything I’ve been through to get to this point.

I leave the departure lounge and head for the ticket barriers, my mind already on the can of lager that I will be purchasing from the drinks trolley on board as soon as we set off. I wonder if my partner has enjoyed his drinks at the pub in Brighton tonight while he waits for me to show up. Something tells me he has not, and another check on my phone indicates that the calls and text messages are still incoming.

“Where are you?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve done a runner.”

“I’ll kill you if I get my hands on you.”

How charming.

And he wonders why I haven’t bothered to text him back.

I’m just about to turn my phone off when I hear the sound of a suitcase clattering to the floor behind me, and I turn around to see a pretty redhead struggling to pick it back up again.

‘Let me help you with that,’ I say, and the woman thanks me in a distinct Dutch accent.

‘Are you from Amsterdam?’ I ask her as we continue to make our way towards the ticket barrier, and she tells me that she is.

‘Great! I need a tour guide to show me around,’ I say cheekily, and I’m pleased to see that she smiles at the joke.

As she slots her ticket into the machine and steps through the barriers onto the other side, I think about how nice it would be to enjoy the company of a proper woman after spending the last few weeks dealing with Louise and her teenage tantrums. Even before I revealed to her what my true intentions were today, she was always wanting to know if I was seeing other women as well as her. But something tells me this lively redhead in front of me wouldn’t care about something like that, and I’m eager to get on board and get to know her more. I’m just about to follow her through the barrier and ask her which carriage she is seated in when a tall man cuts in front of me, puts his hand around her waist and apologises for being late.

Damn. She’s already taken.

Oh well, I guess I’ll be spending the journey alone.

No bother.

A quiet and peaceful trip it is, then.

45

AMANDA

I move quickly through the departure lounge, my head swivelling as I look in all directions for