Wait for Me (Waters of Time #4)(7)
Author: Jody Hedlund

 

Emotion crowded into Dawson’s throat. Words wouldn’t be able to express his appreciation. He wished, instead, he could look Acey in the eyes and let him see his gratitude for all he’d done. He missed sharing meaningful looks—there was so much a person could see and learn through eye contact. He hadn’t realized it until he could no longer experience it.

 

“I’ve made up my mind.” Dawson slipped out his fork and plunged it into his chimichanga. “And I’ve decided to move to Fakenham and live in my mum’s town house.”

 

After Mum’s disappearance, he and Sybil had clung to the hope that she’d show up and need it again. But as the years had passed without any word from her, they’d forgotten about the place—or at least he had. Only a month or so ago, Sybil had mentioned she was thinking about putting it on the market. Two days ago in the hospital, he’d phoned the caretaker of the complex and learned Sybil hadn’t gotten around to listing it. He’d let the fellow know he intended to come and stay there for a while.

 

He hadn’t yet met with the family lawyer to transfer ownership of everything he and Sybil had jointly shared, including the savings Mum had left for them. It wasn’t a lot, but along with his war disablement pension, it would be enough to get by.

 

“You know you don’t have to move out.” Acey still hadn’t touched his food, which told Dawson more than anything how much he was rattling his friend.

 

Dawson swallowed his first mouthful. “That’s just it. I have to do this. For me.” He should have done it long ago. But he supposed it had taken the stripping away of everything else in his life for him to see how pathetic he truly was.

 

“I respect that.” Acey’s voice dropped a notch. “But someone clearly has it out for you.”

 

They hadn’t talked much about the attack. Whenever Acey had started to question him at the hospital, Dawson insisted they wait to discuss everything in private. After the thugs’ final warning that they would be watching him, Dawson hadn’t wanted to take any chances. The investigative unit had located and removed several spy bugs from their flat. But that feeling of being watched was back now all the time.

 

Acey paused as though he sensed that feeling too. “Maybe you oughta wait until the police catch your attackers—”

 

“You and I both know that won’t happen, not when I can’t give them more details.”

 

“At least here, you won’t be alone.”

 

“If I stay, there’s a risk I’ll be putting you and Chloe in danger.”

 

At the beat of silence, Dawson guessed the couple was exchanging silent communication, reassuring each other that they were willing to face danger for him.

 

Before Acey could protest any further, Dawson flipped on a playlist and turned up the volume. If the investigators had missed any bugs, he didn’t want anyone hearing the upcoming conversation.

 

“Can you bring me that rubbish bag you set aside?” Now that he’d informed his friends of his plans, he also had to let them know about the holy water and the real reason he’d been targeted.

 

Acey pushed up, disappeared outside, then returned a minute later and set the bag down beside Dawson’s chair. The foul odor was all the evidence Dawson needed to determine that this was indeed the same rubbish he’d collected the day of the attack.

 

“Hid it in the shed behind some gardening tools.” The shed—likely once an old privy—now served as a storage unit for the building’s few occupants.

 

“I appreciate it.” Dawson half wanted to wait to dig around in the trash until after he’d eaten, but he’d already put Acey off long enough and suspected his friend wouldn’t rest until he had a sense of what was going on.

 

He slipped his hand through the slash the thugs had made. The stench rose powerfully, forcing him to breathe through his mouth instead of his nose. He dug through refuse, his fingers providing the sight he needed as usual. He bypassed old takeaway containers, pill bottles, vape pens, pizza crusts, and sticky cans.

 

After one pass through and no sign of the small bottle, his pulse accelerated. Had one of the thugs searched through the rubbish? Maybe after they’d knocked him out?

 

He shifted in his chair, bending and digging deeper. This time as his fingers touched the bottom of the bag, he connected with the smooth, rounded middle of the bottle and released a short huff of relief.

 

As he pulled the bottle out, he concealed it in the pocket of his hoodie. “Is everything closed up? Windows? Curtains?”

 

Chloe and Acey stood and began moving from room to room, making sure they were alone. Dawson tied up the rubbish bag tightly to diminish the stench, and then he washed his hands before he returned to the table. As he sat, so did Chloe and Acey.

 

“So?” Acey said.

 

“So, what I’m about to tell you will make me sound completely mad . . .”

 

“Go on, then.”

 

Dawson pulled the bottle out and placed it on the table. He waited for a reaction from his friends, but they responded with only silence.

 

“And . . .?” Acey finally asked, as if he was expecting more than an ancient-looking bottle.

 

“I think this is what my attackers were after.”

 

“It doesn’t appear to be of any particular value.” With Chloe’s background in history and architectural conservation, she was more knowledgeable of historical artifacts than the average person.

 

“It’s not the bottle itself.” Dawson lowered his voice to a whisper. “It’s what’s inside.”

 

Acey’s blurry outline leaned in. “It seems empty.”

 

“If you shake it, you’ll be able to tell there’s a tiny amount of liquid in it.”

 

Chloe picked up the bottle first and shook it. Then Acey. When the bottle was back at the center of the table, Dawson took another bite of his now-lukewarm chimichanga.

 

“Well?” Acey asked.

 

“It’s possible this bottle contains ancient holy water.”

 

Acey released a snort of disbelief, but Chloe seemed to be nodding.

 

“Everything I’m about to tell you . . . well, it needs to stay confidential.”

 

“Right,” Acey said.

 

“Of course,” Chloe added.

 

While they ate, Dawson shared the details of all that had happened, starting with Sybil showing up a few days before her coma and insisting that he drink the holy water so it would cure him, to the bottle found beside her at Reider Castle. He relayed everything Lord Burlington had explained to him at the graveside along with what he’d learned from his attackers.