Page 120 of The Echo Man (Major Crimes)

Even love? Yes, even that. It was something he’d never imagined, yet here he was.

He prepares himself for what he has to do. Mentally, he pulls on the disguise; he becomes another person. He is only really himself when he is with her, and the thought claws at his insides, knowing that won’t ever happen again.

But he can’t think about her now.

This isn’t how he thought his life would be. But it’s no more than he deserves, no more than he expected, growing up in that place. He was alone at the beginning; he’ll be alone at the end.

And soon. Soon it will be over.

CHAPTER

74

THEY LEAVE THE hospital, Griffin following Cara to the car. They need to go somewhere, anywhere. Even back to the station will do, just to feel as if they’re taking some decisive action.

He doesn’t feel great. His head is woozy, his legs weak. He’s in pain. But this is more important. He needs to keep going.

He has to find Jess. He’s tense, his body on the edge of explosion. They have no idea where this madman has taken her. Or what he’s going to do.

Cara blips the car unlocked and pulls the passenger side door open for him. He’s annoyed at this little gesture—it makes him feel pathetic—but he slumps into the seat, sitting on something in the process.

He reaches under his bum and pulls out a phone. The screen flashes into life, showing a red alert. Andrew! You have a new connection! it screams, demanding attention. He recognizes the logo. The small red flame icon with a t. What’s Roo doing on Tinder? And why is his phone here? He feels a smart of anger for his sister and shoves the phone in the glovebox to hide it.

It’s cold outside the overheated hospital, and Griffin wraps his arms around himself. He’s wearing only a shirt and jeans, the clothes he was brought into the hospital in. He feels grubby. Desperate for a cigarette.

He sees a coat left in the back of Cara’s car and reaches behind to get it, trying to put it on.

The flood of emotion hits him like an avalanche. He feels his hands shake, his body jolted with adrenaline.

He looks down at the jacket. It doesn’t fit him; it’s too small, gaudy red and blue. He remembers Mia picking it out, them giving it to Roo one Christmas. And the smell … He puts it up to his nose and the shock of recognition burns through him, making him dizzy.

He’s back there, on his old bedroom floor. Wrists blistering from the cord, muscles straining as he tries to get away. He’s blind, gagged, but he hears her screaming. Thuds and bashing. Noises from Mia: primitive, desperate cries. He thrashes, turns, pulling again at his wrists, impotently raging against his bindings.

Mia cries again, then there’s silence, and the quiet is worse, far worse. Then he senses someone next to him. A body, sour and hot. Sweat, coffee, unwashed skin.

Griffin smells that man now, coming from the jacket.

Cara opens the driver’s door, and he reaches over, grabbing the keys out of her hand, then pushing her backward. He locks the doors and he sees her shocked face through the window as he climbs across to the driver’s seat, starting the engine.

Griffin knows who it is now. He knows who it is and where they’ve gone.

But Cara can’t know. It would destroy her. To see what Griffin’s going to do.

He puts the car into gear and, wheels screaming, guns it away from the hospital.

CHAPTER

75

CARA FALLS HEAVILY onto the pavement. She screams Griffin’s name after the departing car, again and again in frustration.

He’s realized something. Something he didn’t want to share with her. She curses him, can’t believe what he’s done.

She calls in to the station, tells Control to track a blue Audi A3, repeats her license plate number. She knows he’ll trigger speed cameras, but he won’t care. She just wonders if it’s going to be too late.

She goes to call the incident room again but sees the email notification received from Shenton. It’s an image of the ESDA markings, and something about it catches her eye.

Sitting on the pavement, she brings up the image, magnifying the writing. Shenton was right: it’s numbers, faint but clear. Something about it tugs on her memory, and then she realizes.

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