didn't need to rehash the pursuit.
"Look," Pierce
said, leaning forward in his seat again. "I can protect you. Both
of you. But you've got to give me something to go on here. Tell me
at least, why does McLaren still have the hots for you?"
I frowned at
his choice of words. My eyes flicking over Daisy to see if she
picked up Pierce's terminology. She seemed oblivious, but that
could all be a ruse. Kids her age are notoriously good at flying
under the radar, but picking up on every nuance and reaction with
ease.
I turned back
to Pierce and offered the only solid explanation I could. I still
needed him, for protection for Daisy. I had to make it seem worth
his while.
"It's like you said yesterday in my office. I witnessed
something he would rather not have the courts made aware
of."
"And that's
it?" he asked, disbelievingly I think.
"That's
enough, isn't it?" I bluffed.
Pierce stared
at me for a long moment and then ran a hand over his goatee beard
in contemplation.
"OK," he said
finally. "The problem is he's still got one 'worker bee' out there
following his instructions, given through his attorney we believe.
We can't cut the lawyer off, but with some time we will apprehend
the 'helper'."
I wondered if
the terms he was using were chosen because Daisy was here, or
whether Pierce spoke in code like this all the time. Clearly
'worker bee' and 'helper' was meant to describe the tattooed
freak/goon. If it wasn't such a vile and dangerous situation, I'd
have smiled.
The good news was though, that the Police believed only one of McLaren's men was still at
large.
"Are you sure
it's just the one guy?" I asked, needing clarification. Surely
catching one man was easier than catching a platoon of them. And,
with only one man after us on McLaren's orders, then surely we
could hide until he was caught.
Then
disappear.
"We're sure,"
Pierce replied firmly. "He slipped the net when the taskforce went
in, because he was overseas on holiday at the time."
Goons take
holidays. Go figure.
I let a long
breath of air out.
"OK, so what
now?" I asked when I was done deflating.
"I need you to
make a statement about yesterday."
"I'm not going
to the Police Station."
"You don't
have to," he replied instantly, shaking his head to back up the
statement. "We can do it remotely."
I nodded
slowly. I could sign a statement about the guy being in our flat
and then chasing us. That wouldn't give too much, if anything,
away. It was obvious McLaren wanted us, or more to the point me,
and the reason I'd given - witnessing Rick's death - was not news
to the cops. And it fit into the scenario nicely.
If I could
keep their attention on just that, then they wouldn't find out
about the rest of it.
"And until we
can secure this loose thread," Pierce was saying, "we can place you
and Daisy in a safe house."
"What's a safe
house?" Daisy piped up, letting us know Pierce's carefully chosen
euphemisms hadn't quite been careful enough.
He didn't even
bat an eyelash, just launched into a suitable description for a
five year old mind.
"It's a
special place people holiday in when they can't go back home right
away."
I had hoped
Daisy would focus on the word holiday, just as I'm sure Pierce had
hoped too.
"Why can't we
go home?" Daisy asked, eyes flicking between me and Pierce. "Is it
because of that man?"
My heart
shattered, cleaved right in two. She'd been so resilient, I'd begun
to think everything that had happened had slid right off my
daughter's back. But of course she remembered it all. Right down to
standing on our doorstep and hearing the crashing going on inside.
Right down to my frozen terror at the realisation we had an
intruder in our home and who had probably sent him.
"Daisy,"
Pierce said softly, leaning forward over the table top to give her
his full attention. "Do you know what a detective is?"
"He's a
Policeman who doesn't wear uniforms," she announced with pride at
her knowledge.
"That's true,"
Pierce said, picking at his jacket
"Look," Pierce
said, leaning forward in his seat again. "I can protect you. Both
of you. But you've got to give me something to go on here. Tell me
at least, why does McLaren still have the hots for you?"
I frowned at
his choice of words. My eyes flicking over Daisy to see if she
picked up Pierce's terminology. She seemed oblivious, but that
could all be a ruse. Kids her age are notoriously good at flying
under the radar, but picking up on every nuance and reaction with
ease.
I turned back
to Pierce and offered the only solid explanation I could. I still
needed him, for protection for Daisy. I had to make it seem worth
his while.
"It's like you said yesterday in my office. I witnessed
something he would rather not have the courts made aware
of."
"And that's
it?" he asked, disbelievingly I think.
"That's
enough, isn't it?" I bluffed.
Pierce stared
at me for a long moment and then ran a hand over his goatee beard
in contemplation.
"OK," he said
finally. "The problem is he's still got one 'worker bee' out there
following his instructions, given through his attorney we believe.
We can't cut the lawyer off, but with some time we will apprehend
the 'helper'."
I wondered if
the terms he was using were chosen because Daisy was here, or
whether Pierce spoke in code like this all the time. Clearly
'worker bee' and 'helper' was meant to describe the tattooed
freak/goon. If it wasn't such a vile and dangerous situation, I'd
have smiled.
The good news was though, that the Police believed only one of McLaren's men was still at
large.
"Are you sure
it's just the one guy?" I asked, needing clarification. Surely
catching one man was easier than catching a platoon of them. And,
with only one man after us on McLaren's orders, then surely we
could hide until he was caught.
Then
disappear.
"We're sure,"
Pierce replied firmly. "He slipped the net when the taskforce went
in, because he was overseas on holiday at the time."
Goons take
holidays. Go figure.
I let a long
breath of air out.
"OK, so what
now?" I asked when I was done deflating.
"I need you to
make a statement about yesterday."
"I'm not going
to the Police Station."
"You don't
have to," he replied instantly, shaking his head to back up the
statement. "We can do it remotely."
I nodded
slowly. I could sign a statement about the guy being in our flat
and then chasing us. That wouldn't give too much, if anything,
away. It was obvious McLaren wanted us, or more to the point me,
and the reason I'd given - witnessing Rick's death - was not news
to the cops. And it fit into the scenario nicely.
If I could
keep their attention on just that, then they wouldn't find out
about the rest of it.
"And until we
can secure this loose thread," Pierce was saying, "we can place you
and Daisy in a safe house."
"What's a safe
house?" Daisy piped up, letting us know Pierce's carefully chosen
euphemisms hadn't quite been careful enough.
He didn't even
bat an eyelash, just launched into a suitable description for a
five year old mind.
"It's a
special place people holiday in when they can't go back home right
away."
I had hoped
Daisy would focus on the word holiday, just as I'm sure Pierce had
hoped too.
"Why can't we
go home?" Daisy asked, eyes flicking between me and Pierce. "Is it
because of that man?"
My heart
shattered, cleaved right in two. She'd been so resilient, I'd begun
to think everything that had happened had slid right off my
daughter's back. But of course she remembered it all. Right down to
standing on our doorstep and hearing the crashing going on inside.
Right down to my frozen terror at the realisation we had an
intruder in our home and who had probably sent him.
"Daisy,"
Pierce said softly, leaning forward over the table top to give her
his full attention. "Do you know what a detective is?"
"He's a
Policeman who doesn't wear uniforms," she announced with pride at
her knowledge.
"That's true,"
Pierce said, picking at his jacket
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