Walking in Darkness by Charlotte Lamb Page A

somehow. The knowledge would show in his eyes, surely? Or maybe she was very naive? Maybe it didn’t show in the face, the killer instinct? Maybe men who could coldbloodedly kill could also hide their thoughts, deceive even the most watchful eye.
    She wished, wished desperately that she could penetrate his skull and read his mind, pierce his breast and read his heart.
    Then Steve said, ‘You know who wants you dead and I think I know too,’ and Sophie drew breath harshly, staring, her face so tight she felt as if the bones were pushing through her skin.
    ‘For your own safety, I think you should tell me everything,’ he said then. ‘Once you’ve talked, there’ll be no more attempts on your life.’
    Sophie saw Lilli’s eyes fill with tears. ‘Somebody tried to kill you? Oh, Sophie . . .’ she whispered. ‘How terrifying.’ And their shared blood spoke between them, Sophie’s eyes filling with tears, too.
    But Lilli was American-born as well as having Czech blood. Her first instinctive helpless fear, the inbred terror of a people who had had to live in a world where a knock on the door at night could lead to someone vanishing forever, without explanation, was swamped in a rush of defiance and rage. She bristled, her face filling with furious blood.
    ‘Have you told the police?’
    ‘No!’ Sophie and Steve both spoke at the same time, then looked at each other, knowledge leaping between them.
    What does he know or guess? Sophie wondered. Don Gowrie wouldn’t have talked to him – she was sure of that, certain that nobody else in this whole world knew, except maybe Mrs Gowrie, and Sophie was not sure even she knew the truth.
    ‘Nobody would believe me,’ she said to Lilli.
    ‘They’d write her down as a crazy foreigner,’ Steve agreed. ‘There’s no evidence.’
    ‘I didn’t see who did it,’ Sophie admitted wearily. ‘I just felt a hand in the small of my back, he pushed me.’
    Sharply, Steve asked, ‘He? You did see it was a man, then?’
    ‘I didn’t look round, there wasn’t time, but it must be, a woman wouldn’t have done that.’ She drew a shaken breath. ‘A woman . . . I grabbed at a woman . . .’ Her eyes were suddenly huge, dilated, glistening with tears as she began reliving those moments again. ‘Oh, God, that poor woman . . . I heard her screaming, she fell under the train, didn’t she?’ She swallowed visibly. ‘Is she . . .? Was she killed?’
    ‘No,’ Steve said quickly. ‘And she isn’t going to die, either. She was injured, but it isn’t fatal.’
    Sophie closed her eyes, sighing deeply. ‘Thank God.’
    Steve moved a chair out for Lilli to sit down and sat down himself next to her. ‘Now tell us about Don Gowrie.’
    Her lids flew up like blinds on a wet window.
    ‘And don’t lie,’ Steve said flatly. ‘I know this is all about him. You’ve got something on him and he’s scared you may go to the press with it – right?’
    ‘Please go away,’ she said, her voice rising shrilly. ‘Go away, go away.’
    The door opened and a nurse looked in, saw Sophie’s agitation and came into the room. Her large hand clamped on the girl’s wrist; she picked up the rapid pulse and frowned.
    ‘You shouldn’t be having visitors. You’re supposed to be resting.’ Her eyes accused Steve, instinctively fastening on him as the culprit. ‘You’d better leave now.’
    ‘Just another five minutes, it’s important,’ he protested, but the nurse shook her head.
    ‘It isn’t good for her to get upset. You must go now, both of you.’
    Lilli bent to kiss Sophie, hugged her warmly. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow morning to take you home in a taxi. Try to sleep, and don’t worry, you can go and stay with my cousin in Connecticut for a few weeks. You’ll be safe there.’
    ‘I’m right,’ Steve said. ‘You know I am – think about it. You’ll be in danger so long as you’re the only one who knows.’
    When she was alone she sighed, shuddering. She didn’t need to