Left For Dead (Morecambe Bay Trilogy Book 1) by Paul J. Teague

Author:Paul J. Teague [Teague, Paul J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Clixeo Publishing
Published: 2019-11-10T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

Present Day - Morecambe

Will cursed Lucia as he jogged along the path in the direction of the school. Of all the times to go AWOL. He’d considered calling a taxi, but by the time it finally arrived, he’d have got there already. Uber hadn’t made it to resorts like Morecambe yet.

The temperature was beginning to drop and a white mist was starting to form where his breath emerged into the cold, night-time air. He picked up his pace but was getting a stitch. He was out of shape; if he didn’t do something about it soon, it would get ahead of him and he’d sink into old age far too easily.

Will knew where the school was, because they’d visited on an open day prior to making the move. He couldn’t recall the White Swan pub being nearby though.

After twenty minutes, cold and more out of breath than he’d like to admit, Will found the car, parked exactly as Charlotte had described it. He stopped a moment, to think through their conversation. She knew what he’d done now. He’d held onto that secret for all those years and they’d both stayed silent about it, fearful about what the other might say or do. There had been no fuss about Bruce, he wasn’t missed, he wasn’t reported missing. Like Charlotte, Will just assumed that he was mistaken about how badly he’d hurt his attacker.

He’d been so relieved the next day to find out he hadn’t killed Bruce. Even better, Bruce had thrown in the towel, handed in his notice and left. Will had spent the night imagining what jail would be like for a man like him. Full of men like Bruce, no doubt.

Charlotte and he had much more talking to do. He knew it had to come, that night probably, as long as they found Lucia. Where was she?

The car was still wedged into the parking spot, but no longer by a white van. A red 4-wheel drive had packed itself into the tiny slot, its huge bumper only millimetres away from the boot of their car. Will looked through the windscreen for clues. There was no parking permit on display, suggesting it wasn’t one of the local householders. Will looked around and saw there was a one-hour waiting time restriction. Charlotte was lucky she hadn’t been spotted by a warden; she should have got a ticket for parking there so long.

The sound of laughter and lively conversation could be heard in the pub. That’s probably where the driver was. He needed the car - a search for Lucia would be pointless on foot.

Will took out his phone and sent a Facebook message to Charlotte.

The car is still blocked in. Going to see if anybody in the pub owns it. Don’t call the police just yet. Give me half an hour to look for her first.

He lurked in the doorway as he waited for Charlotte’s reply, the three dots hanging in the message window for a long time. When it came, it was brief.

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