Page 16 of The Fallen
At least now, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.
~
The ferry port is crowded with people all trying to make the crossing over to Spain. Because I didn’t pre-book a ticket, I have to wait for a later crossing, but I'll have my ID checked through on leaving the country; there's little I can do about that. Besides, I’m hoping Noah will be watching flights into London rather than ferry crossings.
I find a quiet seat in the corner of the waiting area and pull out my burner phone. Since digging into Lewis, the guilt's only grown, and also, the worry. He’s been so calculated – so crazy – in his goal to get what he believes is rightfully his. It makes me wonder if Landon will be able to keep everyone safe if he doesn’t know who to look for.
I toy with sending him a text, fingers typing words.
Be careful, Landon. Keep everyone safe. I’ll explain when I can.
But I delete it. He won’t understand, and then he'll just insist on me coming home. Landon’s natural position is to protect and fix. He can’t do that for me. But I’m playing into Lewis’ hands by staying away – I look guilty if I do. And maybe that’s what he’s counting on, that poor, gullible Neve won’t fight back.
Not now. I search for flights from Spain to London. I already know my plan, but I like to go over information when I’m nervous. It’s a habit I’ve had since school. I double and even triple check plans, or more precisely what the steps are in the plans, to the point where I can recount each phase flawlessly.
My security blanket, perhaps. Either way, the same details are still live. After I arrive in Algeciras, I’ll head for Malaga for a flight on to Bristol and finally a coach back towards London. I can pay for a ticket at the airport, so nothing is pre-booked.
I look up and around, noting the commotion of travellers moving. Finally, I can board the ferry. It’s only an hour across the water, but it feels like a much bigger journey. The first step closer to home.
~
With all the waiting around, taxi rides, and more waiting, there’s plenty of time for my idle hands to work. Noah Locke has become the shadow in the corner of my mind since he saved me from that creep in the market. He was a little excessive in tackling the rogue to the floor, but I suppose he would have woken up sometime later.
I did a basic check on him, looking at financials when searching for who Landon sent after me, but I haven’t had a chance to look at those details any further. I Google his name, and click on images. Not a lot comes up, and certainly not a gorgeous portrait shot of him, which really isn’t why I hit that search function.
I shake my thoughts off and check back in the records I pulled before I ran. It crafted a basic outline of how long he’s been working for Landon. It would be easy to dig deeper, to find any and all details about this man, but my fingers pause before striking the keys. It’s an important word, ethical. And before all this mess started, I’ve always upheld the responsibilities that come with my job. It’s a violation of trust to pull up people’s secrets without their permission. And while I understand why it can be needed, now that I’ve met Noah, it feels wrong to dig around in his personal affairs.
There is another reason I hesitate, and that’s becoming more and more apparent to me. I might need his help, and if I do, I don’t want to be in his bad books any more than I already am.
Lewis is my target now, and he’s not someone I have any concerns about remaining ethical over. I’ll utilise every possible means at my disposal to find him. Although what happens from there is a bigger question. He’s already resorted to kidnap and murder. What would he do next?
~
By the time I arrive in Bristol, I feel like I’ve been travelling for days, and I still have a three-hour coach ride. The warmth of Morocco had wrapped me in a comfort that the British weather strips away in less than a minute. Drizzle clings to my hair and clothes between the plane and the arrivals gate, reminding me of the dour reason I'm here.
I scan my passport through the computerised arrivals and head out to find the kiosk for my coach. My eyes instantly look for the familiar dark hair and brown eyes of Noah in the small area of the airport. But if he’s here, I can’t see him. I linger, surveying the people as they leave until the crowd thins.
Still nobody.
With my ticket purchased, I find my seat on the coach and stare aimlessly out of the side windows. Now that I’m so close to being home, my mind drifts to tomorrow and where I should be. How I should be marking the occasion, and how I’ve given myself no other choice but to see it through like this.
Tomorrow I’ll say goodbye to my father.
~
The dreary weather I arrived back to continued overnight.
I didn’t go back to my apartment, regardless of how much I wanted to check on Murph. His food will be running low soon, and besides, I’ve never left him for longer than one night before. He might hate me when I finally get to go home to him. He can join the club.
The small hotel I check into, again, takes cash. I feel exhausted and covered in grime from all the travel, but I can't relax even after a hot shower. Nerves about tomorrow are swirling through me, turning my stomach in knots. They’ll all be there. Standing together. Supporting each other. And I won’t be able to join them.
Sorrow, so all-encompassing, knocks me down like a physical punch to the gut. Grief consumes my thoughts, and my mind turns to thoughts of each of my family, especially my mother. Good intentions or not, the consequences are very real. Will they ever understand?
Chapter Nine
NOAH
Guess days like these are supposed to be stoic affairs, regardless of money. Everyone’s standing around, all of them dressed in black as they walk the final yards down to the private family graveyard on the grounds. Most of the main family is already there by the coffin, as the other masses filter in behind them. It’s a big crowd. Not surprising. He was a well-known man. Whether he was well respected or not is something I can’t tell, don’t really care about either.
