Louise Voss & Mark Edwards 3-Book Thriller Collection: Catch Your Death, All Fall Down, Killing Cupid

Jack screwed up his face and stuck his tongue out. ‘Eww. I hate Subway.’

Paul said, ‘Right, you’ve asked for it. We’ll stop at Little Chef.’

‘Alright.’

Paul and Kate exchanged a smile, and Jack looked up at them. ‘Paul, my mum said you’re not her boyfriend, just her friend. But she’s married to my dad, so you couldn’t be her boyfriend anyway, could you? Daddy wouldn’t like that.’

Kate groaned. ‘Ja-ack.’

She couldn’t see Paul’s face to ascertain whether he was amused or horrified by the idea. She knew it was stupid, but she would have been crushed if she’d seen a look of horror. And besides, Jack was dead right. Daddy wouldn’t like that at all.

A minute after they left the car park, John Sampson drove in.

Chapter 14 (#ulink_3670cdd4-c19c-5068-8556-37ba8f1e4c0d)

‘How can I help you, sir?’

Sampson didn’t think of his police ID as fake. It wasn’t fake – it had been removed from the still-warm body of a detective inspector and modified later so it showed Sampson’s picture. It always came in handy in situations like this. Real criminals, or people who often had dealings with the law, were usually unimpressed and uncooperative. But flash a police ID at an ordinary member of the public, and act in the right, superior way, and they would fall over themselves to help you. It was easy.

He held up the ID and said, ‘Who’s in charge here?’

There were two receptionists behind the desk, a brunette woman and a man who Sampson was pretty sure was homosexual. He could sense it in the same way someone with a phobia of cats could sense a feline presence. He bristled as the man leaned over and said, in a poofy voice that made Sampson grit his teeth, ‘The manager’s not here at the moment, sir. Perhaps we can help?’

Sampson concentrated on the woman, putting a picture down on the desk in front of her. ‘I believe this woman is staying with you.’

The receptionists gave each other a knowing look. Sampson said, ‘Well?’

The woman said, ‘She looks a lot younger in this picture, but she was staying here. She checked out this morning.’

‘Was she due to check out today?’

‘I’m not sure. Let me check.’

The woman knew Kate’s name, even though they must have hundreds of guests come and go every day. Interesting, thought Sampson.

She brought up Kate’s name on the computer screen beside her and said, ‘She was supposed to be here for another week, though there’s a note here to say her stay was open-ended.’

It was amazing how much confidential information people would give you if they thought you were a police official. It was the human need to gossip taken to a new level. Only fear of losing their jobs made people cautious. But if they felt they had to give the information away – or had an excuse to do so – they would squeal like piglets in a slaughterhouse.

‘Why did you give each other a knowing look when I showed you her photo?’

The guy couldn’t wait to tell him. ‘She had a bit of an altercation last night with one of our babysitters.’ He told him about the scene the previous evening.

‘So, she and the child checked out this morning?’

‘Yes, and the guy they were with.’

Sampson narrowed his eyes. This fucking homo was giving him the creeps. ‘A guy? Can you describe him?’

‘Um, he had really nice eyes. Late thirties, maybe. I wouldn’t make a very good witness, would I, officer?’

The woman said, ‘Are they in trouble?’

Sampson counted to three under his breath and said, ‘Maybe.’

The receptionists looked at each other. This was exciting.

‘Do you have CCTV here?’

The homo nodded. ‘I could show you if you like.’

Sampson blanched. He nodded at the woman. ‘No, you show me.’

‘Okay.’ She turned towards her colleague. ‘Can you look after things down here, Damien?’

‘I’m sure I’ll manage.’

Sampson concentrated on the receptionist’s butt as she led him towards the security office. She had a nice arse. Very womanly. Her hair was tied back in a short ponytail that exposed the back of her neck. A good spot to bite.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘Michelle.’

‘You’re being very helpful, Michelle. I won’t forget you.’

She touched her hair. ‘It’s no problem.’ She lowered her voice and cast her eyes left then right, as if checking that no-one was eavesdropping. ‘To tell you the truth, I thought there was something funny about Ms Maddox, even before the scene with the babysitter.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. She seemed jittery, like she was afraid of something.’

She was desperate to know why he was after Kate. She’d regret finding out, though, because then he’d have to kill her.

When he had dropped off the virus and hard disk the night before, Sampson had been given the picture of Kate. She looked a bit pale and washed-out in the photo – it didn’t do her justice. Didn’t show her true extraordinary beauty. The picture was sixteen years old, taken when both Kate and he had been at the CRU.

‘It might take us a few days to get a more up-to-date picture,’ Gaunt had said. ‘Her name is Kate Maddox now.’

‘I thought I’d never see her again,’ said Sampson, gazing at the picture. Kate Maddox. She must be married. That thought had a strange effect on him, made him feel nauseous. It was something he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

Sixteen years.

‘I got tipped off that she’d entered the country. She’s probably merely on holiday or visiting friends. But as a precaution I’d like you to find out what she’s up to. Just in case.’

‘And if she’s up to something?’

‘Report back to me. There’s a chance we might have to do something we should have done a long time ago.’

Sampson felt himself growing hard.