Border Lines (Reachers Book 2) Read online

  “I don't know, Pinky always used to be pretty good with his hands.”

  “What do you want with Rachel anyway?”

  “Just a chat, there's some things of her sister's I'd like to go through with her.”

  She put no effort into the deception. Her attention solely focused on her hand, as though that would be enough to sway him. He was getting close.

  “I don't know Riva, if I cross them again…” He closed his eyes – the train of thought lost in the moment.

  “Roxy we are from S'aven, you and me. The others, well they're not like us. It's in our interests to stick together. When I get what I want Roxy, your life will be infinitely more rewarding.”

  He came, and laid back – satisfied for a change. Riva removed her hand, wiping it on the bed sheets. He'd always had a thing for the older woman, Riva in particular. She was sharp and smart, with the right amount of ruthlessness running through her blood. But she wasn't cruel like her husband, or crazy either. Even though her beauty was fading in conventional eyes, she still knew how to stir a little something in the men and women around her. If this woman was queen of S'aven, Roxy thought, it was a kingdom he could live in.

  “Do you want me to send the nurse back?”

  “For the love of everything that is holy, no.”

  “You're here for the doctor?”

  “I'm here to make sure Rachel can get to the doctor.”

  “And if she can't?”

  Then it would be up to Charlie, he thought, but that wouldn't be what she wanted to hear. “Then I guess I'm here for the doctor.”

  “Good boy.” She got up and made her way to the door, her heels bouncing sharply off the floor. “Was it really necessary that they shoot you?”

  It was a question he'd been asking himself too.

  29

  Charlie opened his eyes and froze. He braced himself for a pounding head and when it didn't arrive he dared himself to move. There was no hangover, which made no sense. He was naked and he didn't remember getting naked. Images from the previous night flashed in his mind. They had started in the lounge, but somehow they made it to the bedroom. Charlie's back wasn't in agony, so he figured he didn't carry Jess through. His crutch was over by the door so he was pretty sure she didn't carry him. He remembered kissing her. They were drinking – how much did they get through? He couldn't remember.

  Jess was still sleeping beside him. Even first thing in the morning she was still beautiful, but this wasn't how he'd intended the night to go. He'd crossed the line and he could already hear John and Rachel nagging him about it… Rachel! He was supposed to be taking her to the hospital.

  He wasn't the type of guy to just up and leave, but if he was late John would kill him. As quickly as he could, he grabbed his clothes, pulling them on while stumbling towards the door. Despite the noise Jess didn't stir. He walked through the trail they had left down the hall and into the lounge, retrieving his shoes and giving up his socks as a lost cause. He figured he'd come back for them later. And the thought made him smile.

  When he got to Roxy's, Rachel and John were already preparing to leave. They met on the corner where their car was parked. After a brief standoff, Rachel welcomed him while John gave him his most disapproving scowl.

  “Well look what the cat dragged in,” Rachel jeered. “Holy shit Charlie, you look awful.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I take it she rocked your world?” she asked, her face beaming with mischievousness – she took far too much pleasure in making him uncomfortable.

  “Are you wanting a lift to work or are you going to walk?” he replied.

  “So you are taking her?” John snapped. If Rachel was finding the whole thing humorous, John was oblivious to the joke. “I figured you were too preoccupied to work.”

  “Hey, I was working.” As he said it, Charlie instantly regretted it.

  John's eyebrow raised – his challenging look. He was gearing for a fight, which meant Charlie had no chance of winning. “So what have you uncovered?”

  “Mrs O'Connor by the look of him,” Rachel added. “Come on Casanova we're already late.” She'd picked up on the tension and like a good referee was separating the boys before they started throwing punches. Sometimes Charlie wondered how they ever managed without her.

  John threw the keys at Charlie. He turned on his heels and stormed away. They watched him go, sharing an eye roll.

  “Has he been like that all morning?”

  Rachel shrugged. “No, he's been cracking jokes since dawn. I think he's pissed with you.”

  “Just what I need,” Charlie said opening the car door. “Shall we?”

  John could bear a grudge for years if he wanted to, but when it came to Charlie he usually let things go sooner. Not because they were brothers but because every time they worked together the reset button would be pressed and the circle would start again.

  “So?” Rachel said as he pulled out into the street.

  “So?”

  “Are you going to fill me in on the gory details?”

  “Honestly, I can't remember a thing. There was vodka, kissing then waking up and doing the walk of shame.”

  “Jesus, how much did you drink?”

  “I don't know. I remember the first glass. But that's not much help is it?”

  “Charlie you have to be careful. You're in recovery.”

  “From painkillers, not booze. I've always been able to handle my drink.”

  She didn't agree.

  “Okay, maybe not. Listen I swear to you it was nothing. I promised you full disclosure, didn't I? Well, I like the girl. For some reason she likes me back. I tried to keep it professional, she brought out the vodka. We drank, things happened, but that's all – no drugs.”

  “I appreciate the honesty.”

  “That's what I promised you.”

  “That's what sober–Charlie promised me. Off–his–face–Charlie I wasn't sure about.”

  “You talk about it like I'm two different people.”

  “Addicts tend to be. How are you feeling now?”

  “I'm good.”

  “No hangover?”

  The fatigue was starting to catch up with him but otherwise he didn't feel too bad. “No, I'm good.”

  “I hate you,” she said smiling.

  30

  The morgue was becoming a second home. The latest victim was zipped away. He had a new name to add to his list – Cassie J. She was twenty–two, with a kid at home. The border patrol found her body pressed up against the edge of the S'aven boundary, as though she'd been lured towards it from the fence itself.

  Mark made brief notes. He was getting good at recording information. Adams asked the questions, Mark wrote down the answers. The interview with the mortician could be summarised easily – same as the other girls.

  But it wasn't the same. The time lapse was now only a couple of days. And there was something else, something Mark couldn't put his finger on. Adams felt it too. Cassie was a turning point, they just couldn't see how.

  They walked back to the office, it was midday and the traffic had come to a standstill.

  “The killer's London based,” Adams said.

  They'd always assumed that was the case, people from S'aven didn't cross over the border as quickly as Londoners, but this case confirmed it. There was no way the killer would have been able to dump the body so close to the border if he was on the other side.

  “But how did he get her to the wall?” Mark asked.

  “I guess he used whatever powers he has. Or she has. You saw what your girlfriend did to that crowd of people.”

  He tried to imagine it – Rachel standing on the brighter side of the barbwire fence, trying to coax a tired Cassie over to her. The whore would be reluctant. If the border police thought she was going to cross the line they'd shoot her dead. How much persuasion could Rachel really use?

  “That's six,” Mark said.

  “And if we don't stop this soon it will be seven.” />
  31

  Mr Jeffries was dead.

  Rachel arrived for her shift, late thanks to Charlie, and his room was cleared out, his wife sent home and nobody seemed interested in what had happened. She had to dig for information and eventually found the nurse that had cleaned up the room. Jeffries had started having palpitations, probably the onset of a heart attack. He lost consciousness then died shortly after. Nobody helped him. Nobody thought to hook him back up to the medicom and save his life. Nobody cared.

  Even the worst hospitals, places like St Mary's, tried to do what they could to keep their patients alive. Supplies and expertise were limited, but nobody died without a fight, because if they did there was no hope for anyone. Rachel paced the ward, unable to look at the so–called doctors around her. The best medical education in the world wasted. The fury inside her was making her shake. Then she spotted Dr Curtis making his rounds. He carried an air of arrogance as he supervised his incompetent staff and she couldn't hold herself back. Before she could stop herself she was marching towards him.

  Roxy, hanging off the arm of a blonde haired doctor, shook his head in warning, unable to do anything more without blowing his cover. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, she was too far gone for common sense.

  “Are you happy now?” Her voice reverberated through the ward.

  Dr Curtis turned and as he did the rest of his staff copied him. Everyone was watching, holding their breath in excited anticipation.

  “Dr Smith,” Curtis began. He clearly had been expecting this and the indifference in his tone only added to her anger.

  “We are supposed to be doctors! We're supposed to help people and not one of your so-called healthcare professionals did anything.”

  “This is not the time,” he said, his voice low and threatening.

  “That man could have lived.”

  “The hospital was not responsible for Mr Jeffries.”

  Her fist was clenched. It would have been easy to hit him. But she stopped herself. “You were responsible,” she spat. “You were all responsible. As human beings you all should have been thinking about how to help instead of turning your backs on him. Well I hope you all end up penniless and in need of goddamn medical treatment. And do you know what, even after this, even if you don't have a penny to your name, I'll still do everything I can because I'm a doctor and that's what we're supposed to do!”

  All those eyes started to penetrate her rage. She stepped back, as though their glares were enough to push her away. Some of them were smiling, amused at her little tantrum, others furious at her attack. And then she realised that she could scream and shout as much as she wanted, it would never change anything.

  She gave up, tossing her hands in the air and heading towards the balcony. She'd screwed up, drawing attention to herself when she had a mission to complete. Keeping a low profile should have been the easiest thing in the world and now they all knew who she was. Charlie and John would never trust her again.

  The door went behind her but she didn't turn around. When two arms held her tightly she wasn't surprised. Roxy had made enough mistakes in his time to appreciate when one of his own needed support.

  “Did they see you come out here?” she asked.

  “No, I waited until Curtis had scurried off, rather sheepishly I might add. The others seem to think the whole thing was hilarious.”

  “Well I'm sure a man dying is the funniest thing in the world.”

  “Don't let it bother you, pet.”

  “How can I not let it bother me? I'm a doctor.”

  “No, you're not. You're Rachel Smith, you work with John and Charlie, sometimes even with me, and you're working a job right now. This hospital is a cover story and your boss is your target. That's your priority, nothing else.” He squeezed her. “Screw them all, that's what I say.”

  “That's what you appear to be doing.”

  “Well someone has to get information while you're busy trying to fruitlessly save lives, darling. Now given your current outburst I'd suggest we get this show moving sooner rather than later.”

  “How the hell are we going to do that?”

  “A little bit of flirting.”

  “He hates me.”

  Roxy sighed. “Yeah, I didn't think that would work either. Okay, you've come to blows, now you're going to apologise. Then you're going to express concerns that I'm abusing the morphine here and you need him to restrict my access.”

  “Have you been abusing the morphine?”

  “Let's just say I've been sharing it.”

  Rachel frowned, that was a good plan, if Curtis would go for it.

  “Get him to come down here and when he's here I'll be in his room.”

  “Do you need me to call John in to help?”

  “Sweetheart I was shot in the arm not in the head. I could do it in a coma. Come on, let's give those Smith brothers a run for their money.” He smiled like a mischievous child and Rachel couldn't turn him down.

  She ran a final sweep of her rounds, clocked off her shift, and went to Curtis' office, hoping he was there. His assistant had already left and the way to his room was clear. She was about to knock when she heard raised voices inside. A woman was yelling. The sound proofing was good enough to muffle the words but not the tone. The woman was angry and Curtis seemed to be trying to calm her down.

  Suddenly the door was flung open. The woman ran straight into Rachel, knocking them both to the floor. Rachel got up first and offered the blonde a hand. When she was on her feet, Rachel went to retrieve her prescription – an unmarked bottle filled with blue crystals.

  “Sorry about that,” the woman said and then hurried towards the elevator.

  Curtis watched her go, an infuriated frown fixed into his face. When he saw Rachel irritation turned to confusion. She took that as a good sign.

  “Dr Smith, your shift is over.”

  “I know. I came to apologise.” She swallowed the bitterness in the back of her throat.

  “Apologise? You agree it wasn't the hospital's responsibility?”

  “No, I came to apologise for shouting at you. That wasn't professional. I lost my temper and I'm sorry for that.”

  He tilted his head, as though he were trying to examine her in a new light. “But you still think we're responsible?”

  She was silent and suddenly more than aware of how alone they were. The floor was deserted. Curtis seemed to realise it too. His eyes flickered at the emptiness around them and he leaned forward.

  “You're right,” he said.

  “I am?”

  He returned to his office, grabbed his keys, and locked up. Everything about him seemed different.

  “Do you want to get something to eat?”

  The conversation wasn't going the way she wanted it to at all. They needed to talk about her patients. She needed to convince him there was a problem he needed to investigate. Her thoughts abruptly stopped. She stared up at him and contemplated what he had said to her.

  “Something to eat?” She repeated the words aloud to work out what he meant. Then her eyes snapped open. “You want to get something to eat with me?”

  He seemed to find her response amusing. “If you want to.”

  “Okay, sure. When?”

  “You're off shift now?”

  “I thought I was supposed to go straight to sleep after shift.” She mentally kicked herself for being her usual antagonistic self. “Are you inviting me to dinner because you don't think I can moan at you with a mouth full of food?”

  He started to laugh. “Does that work?”

  “I guess we'll find out. I'll just get my coat.”

  She knew what Charlie would say so she sent him a text instead, then set her phone to silent so he couldn't argue with her.

  32

  The one thing London had was food. Real food, not those chemically enhanced protein meals they hand out on ration day. London catered for everything and everything was good. Any major building in the city was flanked by an arr
ay of eateries and the hospital was no different. Where there was sickness, there were visitors and appetites were always for sale. Rachel couldn't hide her excitement as they walked out of the hospital. They passed each restaurant and she breathed in deeply, savouring the smells. She was so preoccupied with where they could be going the fact that they weren't speaking totally passed her by.

  They left the bustle of the main streets behind. Turning into a more modest road. The buildings here were from the old days, before the time of the border. These were ordinary structures, there was nothing grand or ornate about them. They were simply practical, sturdy and built for purpose. At the end of the street was an open door with a sign hanging over it: Lou's.

  Curtis stepped inside. He nodded to the waitress and immediately she showed them to his booked table. She smiled broadly at Rachel as she added an extra table setting, but otherwise kept a professional air. There were a few other people sitting back in the dimly lit room, all seemed relaxed and at peace here. Rachel settled in her chair and took a menu from the waitress.

  “Order whatever you want, it's on me,” Curtis said, not even bothering to open his.

  Rachel hadn't a clue about menus or food. Most of what she ate needed to be rehydrated back to life. From what she could tell the restaurant was Italian and that meant pasta – at least that was what she thought it meant. She put the menu down. “I'll have whatever you're having.”

  He put in their order and eased back in his chair, mimicking every other customer around them. This wasn't the doctor she had seen inside the hospital. The pressure he was under had been released and he could enjoy himself. It wasn't an easy job – keeping a hospital going – and he was clearly not suited for it. She started to feel sympathy for him.

  “You're not as talkative outside the ward,” he commented as their drinks arrived.

  She smiled. “I'm trying desperately not to offend my host.”

  “Offend away. I'm off duty.” He lifted his glass. “And on a day like today I'm not sure I'd disagree with you.”