Pitch Black (Romantic Thriller, Completed)

Chapter 30

"You were right to send them. I'll get the cops to keep an eye out as well, off the record."

For that, I called an acquaintance in the Metropolitan Police. Jason Bridges was a good guy, one of the few cops I trusted. He saw the bigger picture rather than striving to keep his paperwork shipshape and his statistics up.

His methods meant he wasn't always popular with his superiors, and more than once he'd shared his frustrations over a drink. I'd offered him a job several times, but for the moment his loyalty lay with the Met. He genuinely believed he could help to make the city a better place, and I had to respect his tenacity.

Months had passed since I'd spoken to him. Did he know about my break?

"It's Emmy. Long time, no speak."

"You're not kidding, mate. I heard you'd gone AWOL."

"I needed some time off. You know, with everything that happened."

"Fair enough. Look, I'm sorry about your husband. Nobody deserves that."

"Thanks. It was a shock to lose him." I didn't want Jason's sympathy, and I didn't want to discuss the past either, so I moved the conversation back to the problem at hand. "I need a favour."

"I had a feeling this wasn't a social call. What do you want?"

He was right. I didn't do social calls. Although perhaps I should start? Spending so much time away from my old life had made me realise just how much my friends meant to me. But now wasn't the time to think about that.

"Can you keep an eye out for a white Ford Transit?" I read out the registration number.

"Sure thing. If anything gets picked up, what do you want done?"

"Nothing, just call me with the details. Quickly, yeah?"

"Right-oh. Don't suppose you want to tell me what this is about?"

I laughed. "You know me better than that, Jase."

"Always did play your cards close to your chest. Talk to you soon."

"You can count on it. And thanks."

I hung up, shoving the amber phone I'd recently been reunited with into my pocket alongside the red phone and Ash's phone. At this rate, I was going to need more pockets.

Living with Luke, I hadn't needed to cart so much crap around with me. Today, I'd stuffed my jacket with the bare essentials—the phones, my wallet, a couple of knives, lip balm, flex-cuffs, tissues, a tactical pen, pepper spray, a torch bright enough to blind a man, my favourite Zippo lighter, and a tube of mascara—I felt like a pack pony.

Bradley's voice played in my head. "Emmy, you're ruining the line of your jacket. It's by Ishmael, and it wasn't designed to be used as luggage."

Sigh.

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At a quarter to ten, my pocket started playing "Put Your Arms Around Me" by Texas, the ringtone I'd set for Nick back in happier days. I fumbled to get the red phone out, dropped it, then cursed as the screen cracked. Ah well, another one bites the dust. The amber phone rang ten seconds later, and this time I managed to answer successfully.

"Yeah?"

"Did you know Luke had a conversation with the kidnapper before you got there?"

"No, I didn't. Luke wasn't exactly coherent last night when I tried to speak to him. What did the bastard say?"

"Something about Luke ruining his life. I'll send over the recording of the interview. You'll want to hear it for yourself."

That would have been my next request. He knew me too well. "Thanks, Nicky."