Fatal. Jacqui Rose

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Fatal - Jacqui  Rose


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car began to slide.

      ‘Ally!’ Cabhan screamed as his neck snapped forward, the front wheels hitting the edge of the precipice at well over a hundred miles an hour. The car hung suspended in the air for a moment before it crashed back down, smashing against the side of the mountain with bone-shattering force.

      Further and further down the side of the mountain face the car fell, rolling and twisting, tumbling and flipping, bouncing and turning with Cabhan and Ally’s screams echoing through the darkness until finally they came to a sudden stop. The impact sounding like roaring thunder.

      The inside of the car seemed to be dripping with blood. Cabhan found himself jammed up against the door. Attempting to pull himself out of the wrecked vehicle, he crawled forward, and an excruciating pain exploded within him. He cried out as a torn piece of metal was embedded deeper in his calf, tearing open his flesh.

      Knowing he had to try to get help, Cabhan, with sweat and blood covering his face, used all his strength, yelling out at the pain but refusing to let it stop him as he scrambled out of the car.

      Panting with exhaustion, he looked around. They were under the mist now, allowing him to see clearly. The car had landed on a wide rocky shelf, three hundred feet down from the road they’d been driving along, with the drop below them another two hundred.

      Stumbling round the car with his leg oozing, Cabhan bent down to where Ally lay, her face almost obscured by cuts and blood. He whispered her name. ‘Ally, Ally, wake up! Come on, honey, wake up. It’s okay, I’ll get help. I’ll get you out of there.’

      Noticing part of the car’s seat was pressing down on her chest, Cabhan took hold of Ally’s shoulders, attempting to pull her into a better position, when suddenly her head, severed by the crash, rolled towards him. He recoiled, retching and scrabbling backwards towards the edge of the sheer drop. ‘Oh shit, oh God. Please, no! Ally! Oh Christ!’

      His hand shook as he quickly dragged his mobile out of his pocket and tried to focus on the numbers. He dialled 911, holding his side to halt the flow of blood, but he abruptly cut off the call before it connected. His gaze rested on the boot of the McLaren, which had torn open. Within the panels of the car, Cabhan could see several large packages of cocaine. His gaze crossed along the ground to more packages that had been scattered around. Urgently, he began to press another number. Salvatore. But another glance at Ally stopped him. There was no way he could speak to Salvatore now.

      Cold, his body beginning to go into shock, Cabhan shook as he scrolled through his phone, then holding his bloodied hand against his ear he waited for his call to be answered.

      ‘Franny! Franny! It’s me. I need your help! I’m in trouble!’

       3

      ‘Cabhan, hey! How are you doing?’

      ‘Franny, Franny, you’ve got to listen to me!’

      Smiling, Franny twirled round as she tried to get a better signal in the heat of the Spanish sun. ‘Cab, I can’t hear what you’re saying. Hold on a minute, let me go somewhere else.’

      Eager to speak to Cabhan, Franny Doyle walked away from the busy market street in central Marbella looking for a quiet spot to take the call. It’d been a couple of weeks since they’d spoken – which was unusual for them – so she certainly didn’t want to have to ask him to call back later. ‘One minute.’

      ‘Franny, just stop, Franny!’

      Oblivious, Franny continued to walk around the corner to a quiet spot, which was drenched in the morning sun, her chestnut hair blowing in the warm sea breeze. ‘That’s better. I can hear you—’

      Cabhan cut into Franny’s words. ‘There’s been an accident.’

      Panic rushed over Franny, but she quickly pulled herself together. ‘What? Are you all right? What happened?’

      ‘I’m okay, well, kind of, but … but Ally’s not.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      There was a pause before Cabhan said, ‘She’s dead, Fran.’

      ‘Oh my God! How? Where are you?’

      ‘Franny, my battery’s going flat but I’m in a mess.’

      Sitting down on a bench along the promenade with the sun beginning to get hotter, Franny was filled with worry, something she always fought so hard not to show or even to feel.

      ‘Cab, what’s going on?’

      ‘Ally was driving and we came off the road. The car’s totally trashed and, well, I managed to get out …’

      Not understanding the timeline of events, Franny shook her head. ‘Why didn’t you call me before? When did this happen? Did they check you over in the hospital?’

      ‘No, Fran, just listen to me, for God’s sake. It’s only just happened.’

      Stunned, Franny asked, ‘Are the emergency services there?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘But you’ve called them, right?’

      ‘No.’

      Puzzled and hating to feel out of control, Franny raised her voice. ‘Then you’ve got to! Cab, what are you doing? How do you know Ally’s dead? She might still have a pulse. Jesus Christ!’

      On the other end of the line, Cabhan held his emotions together. He spoke matter-of-factly. ‘No, Franny, she’s dead all right.’

      ‘I don’t get it. Why aren’t you calling anyone? What are you playing at?’

      ‘If you’d fucking listen, maybe you’d understand.’

      Franny, upset for Cabhan, knowing that he’d never normally speak to her like that, said, ‘I’m sorry, Cab, go ahead.’

      ‘No, I’m sorry, Fran, I just don’t know what to do. The car’s panels have come off and inside them there must be at least ten … twenty kilos of cocaine. I’ve also taken a few lines of coke myself and if they decide to do a blood test, well …’ He trailed off before adding, ‘So you see, I can’t call the police.’

      Closing her eyes for a moment as she took in the enormity of the situation, Franny breathed deeply, calming herself, knowing that Cabhan needed her to be strong. She could hear her father’s voice in her head, telling her that it wasn’t emotions that won a war, it was action. It wasn’t weakness, it was strength. It was having a heart of stone, no matter what. It was never allowing yourself to feel anything at all.

      And with her father’s teaching in mind, Franny pushed down any sort of dread and began to take control.

      ‘First, Ally was driving, not you, they’re not going to do any checks, so the only thing we’ve got to deal with are the drugs. But that’s okay too. All you’ve got to do is hide them somewhere, then once you have, call 911. Get help. It’s an accident, Cab, the police won’t start searching the area, will they? It’ll be all right. I promise.’

      Franny could hear the panic in Cabhan as he answered. ‘Fran, you don’t understand, there is nowhere to hide them. We landed on a ledge when we came off Trail Ridge Road.’

      Knowing the road well and how precarious it was, Franny’s stomach went into knots, but again she rose above it. After all, she was a Doyle and, as her father, Patrick, always drummed into her, it wouldn’t help anybody to break down and cry. ‘You’re lucky to be alive, Cab.’

      ‘Fran, look, my battery’s beeping, I’m going to cut out any minute.’

      ‘Then you’ve got to listen to me, you’ve just got to get rid of the coke. You hear me? Break open the bags and throw it away.’

      ‘I can’t, Fran, it’s


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