The Payment: Part 3

Book 0: The Payment

by Roberta Kray

Genres: Sagas; Short Stories; Women's Fiction; Female Sleuths; Crime Fiction; Suspense

Synopsis

THE THIRD PART IN THE ADDICTIVE NEW 4-PART EBOOK-SERIAL FROM ROBERTA KRAY. NO ONE KNOWS CRIME LIKE KRAY I'm keeping an eye on Ava Gold just in case her routine changes. The attack will be swift and silent, a lesson in efficiency. If you're going to do a job, you have to do it properly. It's a satisfying feeling having everything in place. I know there's always room for error, but careful planning goes a long way towards a successful outcome. The devil, as they say, is in the detail. Ava Gold is in trouble. Holly is still missing, there are now two dead bodies, and Chris Street is in the frame for at least one of those murders. Then there are the anonymous notes she keeps receiving, not to mention that Lee Bullen won't leave her alone. She knows that she should tell the police what she knows about Holly, but there's so much going on she doesn't know what to deal with first. And that means she's too distracted to notice that the most dangerous threat is getting closer and closer . . . The final part of The Payment is also available to download now! Read what people are saying about Roberta Kray: 'Once you start to read you can't put it down ' ' Full of twists and turns' 'Love this writer, great read ' ' Brilliant and gripping from beginning to end'

Release date: July 17, 2017

Publisher: Sphere

Print pages: 61

Sample

Ava was no stranger to prison visiting. She had been in most of London’s jails by the age of ten, and knew the routine inside out. It had been the story of her childhood, the weekend traipse across the city, the soulless visiting rooms with their high windows, the strained conversations, the plastic cups of orange squash. What she remembered most of all, however, was her mother’s pale pinched face and her father’s constant promises that this would be ‘the last time’.

Ava frowned, glancing at the clock again. She could swear the damn hands were on a go-slow. The waiting around was the worst bit. She purposefully avoided meeting the gaze of anyone else, not wanting to get into conversation. Her head was too frazzled for small talk, too preoccupied to have any interest in some other woman’s chatter. She still couldn’t believe that Chris was in the frame for murder.

Even after Yvette had spilled the news of his arrest, she’d imagined that his brief would have him out of Cowan Road in a matter of hours. Instead he’d been charged, sent up to court the next morning and remanded until the time of his trial. Murder. She rolled the word silently over her tongue, feeling the bad taste in her mouth. What kind of evidence could the law possibly have? Clearly enough for them to bang him up for the foreseeable future.

It was Solomon who had called a few days ago, passing on the number of the prison, saying that Chris wanted her to visit. ‘Soon as you can. Monday would be good.’

‘Have you seen him yet? Is he okay?’

‘As okay as anyone can be in a shithole.’

Ava had almost asked why he hadn’t let her know about the arrest when they’d talked outside Belles, but somehow the question felt churlish in the circumstances. Another time, perhaps. There were more important things to worry about than who knew what and when. She wondered if Chris had invited her here just because he wanted to see a friendly face or for a more specific reason. Well, she’d find out soon enough.

Eventually the visit was called and Ava followed the rest of the women out of the centre, across an open area and through another door to the place where they were all searched and sniffed by prison guards and drug dogs respectively. She had long ago ceased to be bothered by this intrusion into her personal space. It was what it was and there was no point railing against it.

Five minutes later she walked into the visitors’ room. Chris was seated towards the back and stood up as she approached. She thought he looked tired, almost haggard, and there was a strained quality to his smile. When she reached the table there was one of those awkward hesitations when neither of them was quite sure how to proceed. A hug seemed too intimate, a handshake too formal. Ava was the one to break the stalemate; she stood on her toes, lightly touched his arm, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

‘How are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Not so bad. Room service isn’t all it could be.’

‘No five stars on TripAdvisor then?’

‘No stars at all, babe.’

They sat down, facing each other across the table. Chris had on a bright red tabard over his navy shirt, a garment provided by the jail to make clear his status as a prisoner and to prevent any furtive escape attempts when time was called. It reminded her, incongruously, of something similar she’d worn as a teenager to play netball.

‘Thanks for coming,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t sure if you would.’

‘Why’s that?’

He paused before replying, looked at her and looked away. It was a few seconds before his gaze met hers again. His eyes were serious, his face solemn. ‘Because I haven’t been straight with you, and you know it.’

Ava felt a familiar twist in her guts. Shit, shit, shit, she thought, terrified he was about to confess to the murder of Josie Green. What would she do if he did? Get up and walk away? Turn her back on him for ever? She prayed that those words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. ‘Go on,’ she said softly.

‘Josie and me … There was … It was nothing, nothing that meant anything. A few weeks, that’s all, before I realised it was a big mistake.’ He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have lied. It was stupid. I should have told you.’

‘So why didn’t you? I thought we were mates.’

‘More than mates,’ he said.

This time it was Ava who had trouble holding the gaze. Their relationship, if it could even be called that, was a complicated one. They had talked, laughed, flirted, rowed and sulked – done everything, in fact, except jump between the sheets. Instead they had embarked on a curious dance: one step forward, two steps back, never quite meeting in the middle.

‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘you don’t tell me who you’ve been dating.’

Ava couldn’t remember the last time she’d even had a date, but wasn’t about to share this information with him. A girl has her dignity to consider. She gave a shrug. ‘You nev. . .