Fatal. Jacqui Rose

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       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 probably worth about three million dollars with a street value of more. Salvatore’s not going to accept that I just threw away his coke, especially after he finds out his niece is dead.’

      ‘What else can you do, Cab?’

      ‘Fran, they’ll kill me. You know what the brothers are like. They’ll chop me up in pieces and feed me to their dogs if I can’t replace their coke. I just haven’t got that kind of money.’

      ‘I have.’

      ‘What?’

      Chewing on her bottom lip, Franny repeated what she’d just said. ‘I have. I can get you two million pounds.’

      ‘I … I … don’t know what to say.’

      ‘You don’t have to say anything. Just promise me when you put the phone down you’ll get rid of the coke and then call 911.’

      ‘Fran, I can’t take your—’

      ‘I said, promise me!’

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