Chapter Seven

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Chapter Seven

Despite her protestations that they should take things slowly, Ana was the one who pushed things forward quickly, spending almost every night with Tom since she slept better with him beside her.

All too soon though, over a week had passed and it was Friday, the day when Damien Wells would have his car accident. Tom decided it was best to lie to her, so he told her that there had been a problem with the laser and the crash was delayed until the next Friday. She took the news well and he took her out to dinner to try and cheer her up.

He chose to drive but she didn't mind as it meant she could have a drink, although she did wonder why they didn't take a cab, neither of them were poor, after all, but she didn't think it worth mentioning.

Tom received a text as they arrived at the restaurant but he often received texts, so she didn't think anything of it.

As they ate, they discussed current affairs and trivia, and were catching up on movie preferences when Tom received a second text. He frowned as he replied.

"Problem?" Ana asked.

"Nothing serious." He put his phone away and they resumed their previous conversation.

It wasn't until they were on their coffees after desert, that Ana's phone rang. She didn't recognise the number.

"Hello?"

Tom watched the play of emotions on her face as she listened, surprise, shock, fear, concern, anger.

"What? But..." "When?" "Yes, I'm still here." "Is he all right?" "Yes, yes of course." "I'm sure she's there. Perhaps you could send an officer to the house?" "Yes, I'll leave now. I'll probably be there in an hour."

She hung up the phone and looked at him.

"You lied."

"Not here," he warned. "Who was that?"

"The police. They can't raise my sister, the butler keeps saying she isn't home. He gave them my name instead."

"Will they send someone to the house?"

"Yes. I said I'd go down too."

"I'll drive you," he offered, since she'd had a few glasses of wine with her meal.

Tom left more than enough cash on the table to cover the bill and escorted her out and she was smart enough to wait until they were in the car to speak.

"You lied to me," she accused as he pulled out into traffic.

"So your responses were more believable," he replied. "Who was it that called?"

"I didn't get his name."

"His rank?"

"I don't know."

"Which is normal when you've had a shock. Were you polished and practised, they might smell a rat."

She sighed. "He's not dead."

"I know. Nicholas texted me earlier."

"It took a while for the emergency services to get him up from the car though, he's in critical condition, so he might still die."

"Let's hope he does."

Wells country house, in the home counties, was about an hour from central London, especially since traffic was light at this hour of the evening, and they had to pass the accident site, roughly 20 minutes from his home.

"We should stop," she said. "See what they know."

"No. You are supposed to be concerned for your sister and she is your number one priority. Besides, his car isn't visible, so why would you stop at a random accident site?"

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