12

Amber sat by the window, thoughts whizzing through her head. Jackson was here. He was coming. But would he get here in time? What if the real Jerome Pollard turned up early?

Dirk fastened his tie, watching her. He picked up the cigarette, inhaling deeply. “You stay in character. Don’t do anything to jeopardize this.”

“I won’t. I want this over as much as you do.” She paused. “Besides, you can’t kill me, you need me.”

He moved over to her and grabbed a handful of her hair. “Oh, I don’t need to kill you to hurt you,” he muttered, stubbing his cigarette out on her arm.

Amber bit her tongue to avoid crying out in pain.

He shoved her away. “Stronger than Joanne. Good.”

She lay on the bed, refusing to show any sign of weakness. She’d not rub her head or grip her arm where he’d burned her. Tears stung her eyes and she prayed Jackson would arrive soon. Instead she reached for the box of marzipan sweets on the side. “When did you get these?”

He snatched them away. “Room service delivered them. You know I like them.” He ran his gaze over her. “You should change. Put on that silk blouse and trousers I bought you yesterday. The ones the shop delivered.”

Amber nodded, standing up. “I’ll change in the bathroom.”

“Leave the door ajar.” He opened the box, running a finger over the sweets.

Marzipan sweets…that would give them cause to call an ambulance and a way to get out of here if Jackson didn’t arrive or if Dirk saw through him. “Save me one.”

“One, but only if you’re quick.”

Amber changed quickly. She tied her hair up in a fishtail plait and headed back into the main suite.

Dirk looked at her. “Turn,” he instructed waving his hand in a circular motion.

Amber did.

“Very nice. Undo the top three buttons.”

As she did, he nodded in approval. “Here.” He held out the box of sweets.

Amber glanced at the clock. Dead on 12:30. Please don’t be late, Jackson. “Thanks.” She reached out and took a sweet. She nibbled on it slowly, taking time to lick the sugar from it, making sure her lips were coated along with her fingers.

Dirk smirked. “Keep that up and I might just have to marry you.”

She shook her head, swallowing the sweet.

Someone knocked at the door. “You should get that.”

Dirk headed over.

Her lips tingled.

“Mr. Judge?” Jackson asked. “Jerome Pollard and my wife, Ida.”

Dirk shook Jackson’s hand and kissed the fingers of the woman with him.

Amber’s head swam. Pins and needles went from her fingers through her hands. She pushed herself to her feet, determined to be polite and make an effort.

“A pleasure,” Dirk said.

Two Ida’s smiled at him. “Hello.”

“That’s not an American accent.”

Jackson slid an arm around the woman’s waist. “Ida’s my little bit of London’s east end. Now where’s your lovely wife?”

Amber licked her lips. They felt swollen. “Here…”

Jackson spun to look at her, unable to hide his concern. “Well howdy, ma’am. You’re looking a little peaky there, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Dirk’s eyes narrowed. “Are you all right?”

“Felt…better.” Her chest tightened, making breathing hard. She leaned against the wall, holding onto the drinks cabinet for support.

“Maybe we should all have a drink first. What can I get you?” Dirk moved over to Amber. He lowered his voice. “Don’t ruin this. Or I will make you pay.”

Amber touched her lips and tried to swallow. Her knees buckled and she slid to the floor.

Jackson moved to her side in three long strides. He cupped her face. “Are you all right, Mrs. Judge?” He leaned in closer. “Amber, stay with me. The police are outside.”

“Can’t breathe…” Darkness encroached and her eyes closed.

****

No, no, no. Not now I’ve found her… Jackson prayed desperately as Amber’s eyes closed and her head tilted to one side. Darn it woman, what have you done?

“Do you two want a drink?” Dirk asked.

“She’s sick,” Jackson said, pulling Amber to the floor and rapidly feeling for a pulse. “What’s she eaten?”

“Same as me.” Dirk shrugged and pointed to the box of marzipan sweets.

Jackson stifled a groan. “Where’s her purse?” As he spoke he realized she probably didn’t have it. That it, too, could well be under a bush in her front garden.

“How should I know?”

Millie looked over. “What can I do?”

“She’ll die unless I can stop the swelling in her throat. She’s allergic to something.”

“Is she?” Dirk sneered.

“You should know; she’s your wife! She needs an EpiPen or I will need to do an emergency tracheotomy.”

“And how does a corporate exec know how to do one of those?” Dirk sneered.

“I’m a doctor!”

Dirk laughed. “You’re a doctor?”

“Yes!” Jackson snapped. He didn’t have time to argue with the jerk.

Millie reached into her purse and tossed him one. “Here.”

Jackson caught it. “Thanks.” He shoved it into Amber’s thigh, praying one would be enough this time. After a few moments, her eyes fluttered open. Relief filled him and he sent silent prayers of thanks heavenward. “Hey, welcome back. Just lie still.” He glanced at Dirk. “You should know your wife a little better. I suggest you call an ambulance.”

Dirk picked something up from the floor. His expression darkened as he looked at it. “I don’t think so. And as for knowing our wives? Maybe you knew that yours is a cop and her name isn’t Ida Pollard. Or maybe she’s having us both on.” He pulled a gun from his waistband and shoved Millie over to where Jackson knelt with Amber. “DI Jenson left her warrant card in her purse with the medication.” He threw her ID across the room and pointed the gun at Amber. “This is your fault.”

Amber put a hand on her throat. “Mine?” she whispered. “You’ll…kill me like the others…”

“Shut up. My wife did nothing but complain. You know she told me the kids weren’t even mine? She told me the last night we were together. She was leaving me and going to live with him.” He pointed the gun at her head. “And you? You betrayed me too. Where are the documents you stole? Are they in the pendant? Are you wearing it?” His hand roved over her body.

Jackson knocked his hands away. “Keep your hands off her!”

Millie reached up and grabbed the gun. As Dirk pulled back, Millie rose to her feet.

Jackson shielded Amber with his body as the two wrestled, the gun going back and forth and up and down, before finally going off.

The door burst open and three uniformed officers and DCI Fraser burst in. All of them were shouting.

Jackson glanced down at the motionless woman in his arms. He touched her face. “Someone call an ambulance,” he repeated. “Amber, honey…”

She opened her eyes, trying to focus on him. “You…came…”

“Sure did. Now you just stay awake for me for a little while longer.” He felt for a pulse. It was slower than he’d like, but steady. “We’ve got a rehearsal to get to tomorrow night.”

DCI Fraser got down beside her. “Amber Neville, you’re under arrest for theft and suspicion of involvement in the disappearance of Joanne Judge and her three children.”

Jackson looked at him. “You’re really doing this now? She needs to go to the hospital. She almost died.”

“Aye, I’m doing it now. And if you get in my way, Dr. Parker, I’ll arrest you as well.”