Page 18 of Alive (Shadows of a Forgotten Past #2)
CHAPTER 18
~ COLLIDING ~
Alex alerted Inspector Overton, and we left the house. I feared this drive might be the longest of my life. We crossed into the neighboring town, my sense of foreboding growing with each mile. I regretted telling Will about the Haywoods’ financial troubles. Had I known the truth, I would have kept it to myself to keep him out of harm’s way. I said a silent prayer that we would catch Deborah White once and for all— and that she would never again bring harm to our family.
“That bloody woman! She’s planned this down to the last detail. Bristol station will be packed,” Alex growled. “The more people there are, the harder it will be to catch her.”
“Scotland Yard won’t get there fast enough, will they?” Dread gnawed at me.
“They’ll be behind us for sure. They have a longer drive.” Alex floored the gas pedal, pushing the Lagonda to its limits.
Like a never-ending motion picture, we zoomed past towns, farms, and everything in between. And at length, like all films, the drive was almost over. Alex eased up on the gas as we entered Bristol. With its harbor, aircraft factories, and significant railway station, the city was a prime target for air raids.
“Didn’t the granary used to be there?” I gestured to a mound of rubble. The sight tugged at a memory of my first life when my father, my brother, and I came to Bristol to watch a horse race. We’d watched from the edge of the grandstand while the crowd buzzed with anticipation. The horses thundered past us, the embodiment of power and grace. Their jockeys, blurs of blue and orange, seemed to fly with their mounts.
We had cheered for a younger, untested horse endowed with bursts of speed and astonishing stamina. I could still see my father clapping and laughing; Lucca’s grip on the rail, his eager eyes as he followed the race; the frenzied crowd—it all came back vividly.
“It did—that’s what’s left of it and the eight-thousand tons of grain it stored,” Alex replied, bringing me back to the present.
“I see it, but I don’t believe it.” Again, the footprint of war came into focus.
“No one does.”
Bristol changed a lot over the years and with the war. Nevertheless, our people’s resilience kept the city moving and the stations running.
A sign loomed ahead: Bristol Temple Meads Railway Station.
“This will do.” Alex parked the Lagonda between two large trucks, out of sight of the main entrance. “The less visible, the better.”
My fingers wrapped around the door handle, ready to bolt.
Alex grabbed my arm. “Florence, you must be careful.”
“I will.”
I expected him to release me, but he didn’t. “I mean it. Don’t let your guard down, even for a second.”
“You too.” I met his intense gaze. “Remember, you are not invincible.”
“Don’t worry about me.” His very words concerned me. They reminded me of the many times he had expressed a desire to settle Deborah White’s debts—a debt far deeper than we fully understood, tied to what she had done to our son.
“We must think about Will,” I warned. “Alex, you mustn’t lose your head.”
“I won’t.”
We crossed the parking lot and entered the station. The central hall bustled with activity—people filled the benches, moved between offices, visited ticket windows. The sea of strangers was chaotic and ever-shifting, a reminder of how easily someone could vanish in the crowd.
“Bloody hell,” Alex hissed. “I knew it would be busy, but not this busy. If White is armed, she won’t hesitate to hurt anyone in her way. We must avoid that at all costs.”
“We need to catch her by surprise—don’t give her time to react.”
“Easier said than done.” Alex stretched his neck, scanning the crowd. “Focus on people’s faces and height. White is short and might be in disguise. Will is tall—he’ll stand out. If you see her, find me or a porter. Don’t approach her alone.”
We split up and circled the great hall. I kept Alex in my peripheral vision, my focus shifting constantly. Moments later, I saw him dart through the throng. I bolted after him, but his speed and the way he cleared a path left me struggling to keep up. I climbed onto a bench to get a better view.
The man Alex pursued didn’t resemble Will. Who was he? He turned his head slightly, and then I knew. My chest tightened with the same fear and unease I’d felt the first time I encountered him—his shrewd gaze, cold touch, and cryptic riddles. Mr. Vines.
I lost sight of the men as they disappeared into an adjacent corridor. Leaping off the bench, I sprinted after them, scanning every face in my path. Mrs. White couldn’t be far. I did a double take at a woman by a telephone booth—no, not her. My gaze shifted beyond her to another. A scarf covered her hair, but her stance and silhouette were unmistakable. Deborah White. My heart pounded in sync with my racing footsteps as I closed the distance. Heavy with the weight of her deeds, I placed a hand on her shoulder. With a startled gasp, the woman spun around. “What in the world!”
“Ohh,” I stammered. “I’m dreadfully sorry—forgive me. I mistook you for someone else.”
She gave me a nasty look and walked away.
Was Mrs. White even here? Could she have sent Vines in her place? The thought circled my head as I neared the corridor where Alex and Vines had disappeared.
Then I saw her.
She noticed me at the same time, her wicked, catlike eyes locking onto mine. I sprinted after her, my legs churning with a speed I didn’t know I had in me.
Mrs. White took off, scurrying into a deserted passage. I arrived just in time to see a door swing shut. Out of breath, I gazed over my shoulder toward the central area. No one paid us any attention; we were just another pair of figures in the rush of the station. In that split second, I made my decision. If there was another exit in the room she had entered, she could already be gone. I couldn’t waste time finding help. I pushed after her.
The storage room was lit by two high windows overlooking a platform. Stacked crates formed tight rows, leaving little room to maneuver. From what I could see, there was no other way out. She was hiding somewhere amid the clutter.
“ You must be careful. ” Alex’s warning urged me to reconsider. No matter. This was a chance to put an end to her manipulations. It was a risk I had to take.
I contemplated the multiple directions I could take, my ears straining against the oppressive silence. She was waiting, watching, ready to strike when the moment was right. I took a tentative step into a narrow aisle. The door behind me creaked on its hinges. I turned.
Will entered and motioned for me to stay put. My heart surged—he must have seen me and followed. It took all my restraint not to run to him. He moved farther into the maze of crates, his eyes alert, his movements calculated. He was soon out of sight.
“I wanted to reel in one fish, not two.” Mrs. White’s cackling bounced off the ceiling, concealing her position. “This complicates matters.” She’d lured me here. However, Will’s arrival would make it a bit harder to kill me.
“This has gone far enough, Deborah,” I called. “Come out and face me!”
“Far indeed. You just couldn’t help yourself. You had to go inquiring about Mr. Sterling’s son. Once again, you unearthed the past and forced my hand.” She confirmed what I suspected. Somehow, she’d learned about my visit to Dr. Jones and, maybe even, the cemetery. She must have feared Mrs. Haywood would yield, revealing the truth and ending her blackmail scheme, her source of income. But I felt it was more than that. Mrs. White didn’t want Alex to find his son, to claim the connection to his past, or find the closure that would finally allow him peace and love in his life.
Now, she knew her game was over. Capture was inevitable, and prison awaited her. Her only remaining victory would be to take my life. She had succeeded once before, but not this time. This time, I knew exactly who I was dealing with.
“Speaking of the Sterlings’ son.” I had to strike at her confidence. “Why don’t you tell Will who his real parents are?”
There was no response. I had hit a nerve. Will surely heard but remained silent to guard his location.
“Tell Will the truth,” I pressed on, my righteous anger boiling over as I tried to draw her out. “Tell him the Haywoods aren’t his birth parents—that his father is Alexander Sterling. Tell him how you switched him with the Haywoods’ deceased son at birth. Come on, Deborah! Tell him how you made Alex believe his son was dead. Tell him! Tell Will the truth!”
“Silence, you infernal creature!” she hissed, her voice venomous. “You know nothing about the past!”
“Oh, I know enough, believe me. Now, stop hiding.” I inched farther down the aisle. “Don’t be a coward. Face me!”
A sharp click broke the tension, followed by the pressure of something hard against my shoulder blade. A gun. I swung around and grabbed her arm. The gun went off, the bullet grazing my forearm. Pain ripped through me, and I screamed, hurling myself at her. We crashed into a pile of boxes, toppling them around us—one struck her arm, knocking the gun to the floor, while another pinned me beneath its weight.
Will appeared at the end of the aisle, gun in hand. I struggled to push the box off, but before I could rise, Mrs. White regained balance and retrieved her weapon. I kicked a crate at her and rolled out of sight. Two shots rang out. The door slammed against its frame, and moments later, Will knelt beside me.
“Mrs. Sterling, are you hurt?” He examined my arm.
“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”
“I took a shot at her but missed. I was afraid to hit you.” His voice was drowned by the whistle of a train. “She’s going to escape.” He jumped to his feet and ran out.
I staggered after him, aching from the crates’ impact, my arm burning. The platform stretched ahead as a freight train thundered past the station. Clusters of people milled about, but no guards were in sight. Then I saw Mrs. White—running like a soul unleashed from a hell of her own making. Will chased her, closing the gap with every stride.
At the far end, Alex was still pursuing Vines. Why didn’t he have the man in hand already?
Will reached Mrs. White and yanked her to a halt. She whipped around and shot him—point-blank in the chest.