Page 95 of The Accomplice
He stood and turned, made his way to the door. Beside the entrance was a stack of hessian bags that stood at shoulder height. He put the knife away, took hold of the top bag, hauled it onto his shoulder. Forty pounds of fine sand.
Ready for a new home.
He locked the building behind him, used the chain to secure the doors and the padlock to hold it in place. The sand he put in the back of the van, and then he rode out of the street, back toward the city.
It was almost six when he found a parking space in an open-air lot that had a building standing on it about a year ago. Construction had stopped for a long time in New York, due to Covid, but a sign on the chain link fence of the parking lot said it was closing permanently next week. Life had returned to the city, and it was slowly getting back to normal.
He passed a news stand and something caught his eye. Something that caused both of his feet to stall on the sidewalk like they’d just trodden in superglue.
The news section. Every single headline was about the case.
He pulled his phone. There were half a dozen notifications and emails for case news alerts.
#EddieFlynn was trending on twitter.
He clicked on the latest update on theNew York Timeswebsite. The headline didn’t make sense.
Eddie Flynn calls on Carrie Miller to expose her husband.
TheTimeshad a statement from Flynn. A reporter called Betty Clarke had an exclusive with theSentinel, and they’d syndicated the story to all the news outlets – print, online and TV.
New York Sentinel reporter Betty Clarke has an exclusive with the defense attorney at the heart of the trial of the Sandman’s wife, Carrie Miller. The trial proceeded today in the absence of the defendant. Despite this setback, defense attorney for Carrie Miller, Eddie Flynn, made a spirited defense of his client in the face of forensic evidence, which Flynn challenges. At the end of today’s proceedings, Flynn released the following statement.
‘It’s no secret that my client is not in court today. She has not answered her bail. She’s running because she is scared. My client is afraid because she is another Sandman victim. The real murderer is still out there and is still killing innocent people. It is about time the NYPD and the FBI stopped trying to persecute my client for her husband’s crimes. This is what the justice system and the media does. Whenever there is violence against women – women somehow get the blame.
‘This has to stop. And it stops right now with me. This is a message for Carrie. I know you’re frightened, and I know why. You need to trust someone. I know that’s hard considering what you’ve been through, but you can trust me. I can’t help you unless you come in. We will stand or fall together. Call my office tonight. Either you call me, or in the morning I’ll come off record for you in the case. Then there will be no defense. The trial will proceed without you or me, and you will be convicted.
‘You’ve got until tonight to call. This is your one chance. Don’t waste it, because I can guarantee you one thing – I know you are a victim and so long as you trust me, I will never stop fighting for you, no matter what. But I can’t do this alone.’
The Sandman hit the side button on his phone, blanking the screen into standby mode. That message to Carrie was smart. She would call him. He was sure of it. Flynn was a clever son of a bitch. Turning, he headed back to the van.
Once he saw Carrie Miller with Eddie, he would kill the lawyer and take her.
There was a new life waiting for the Sandman and Carrie. Somewhere far away. He’d already made preparations. By the time it was all over, they would be safe. They could take long walks along country roads. Eat lazy dinners in front of a real fire. Talk all night, like they used to do when they first met, and then sleep late, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Sleep.
That was what he craved. It didn’t come easy, but holding her, or even just having her close, gave him a contentment that lulled the sharp teeth that gnawed at his brain in the dark. Everything would be perfect. As long as she was safe.
In truth, if he had to, he knew he would die for her.
But first, he wanted to live again.
All he needed now was the woman he loved.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
EDDIE
The phone handset for reception sat on my desk.
All calls to the firm go through this number. Denise, Harry and Bloch all slumped in chairs around my office. Lake didn’t do slumping.
He was the opposite. Bent over in the chair, elbows on his knees, right foot tapping. Occasionally the tapping stopped long enough for him to take a bite out of the cuticles around his nails. Then the tapping would begin again.
It was annoying me. And everyone else, apart from Bloch, who was too exhausted to notice or care. She was engaged in a battle with her eyelids that she was losing, badly. Now and again, she drifted off into sleep, but only for a second or two. Soon as her head began to slump her eyes fired open and the war started all over again.
‘Would you like some coffee, Mr. Lake ?’ said Denise.
