‘Can we see it, please?’
‘Rach, it’s late,’ protested Liam.
Yohan seemed in agreement. ‘It’s not in a good part of town, Miss Rachel.’
‘Yohan, please. It’s important.’
He turned the car around, and she could see his reluctance in his dark eyes in the rear-view mirror.
They headed a few miles out of the city, following an old pick-up truck with a Rastafarian band playing music from its open-top boot. After a while the truck turned off and they were left alone. The houses had thinned out and the tropical foliage grew thicker, and all they could hear was the sound of exotic birds and the wind rustling through the palm fronds. The road became dusty, more of a track. There were burning oil drums on the grassy verges.
Eventually they arrived at a near-derelict building less than half a mile from the hotel. It had been name-checked in Megan Hill’s report about Rheladrex clinical trials, although looking at it now it was hard to believe that any sort of research had been carried out there.
‘Look at this place,’ said Rachel, astonished.
‘I’m not sure these are places for collecting scientific data as we know it. It’s a numbers game. Get people to sign up, test the drug,’ said Liam.
‘Yohan, park up here.’
‘Miss Rachel, it’s not a good idea.’
There was a lone street light outside the clinic that cast a silvery phosphorous glow over the building.
Without listening to Yohan, Rachel got out of the car. Liam followed her.
‘There’s no one here. There’s not been anyone here for months by the looks of it,’ he pointed out.
She went to a door and tried to push it open but it was locked up with an old iron padlock.
‘Shit,’ she hissed, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from the bag that was slung across her body. She went to light one, but Liam took it out of her mouth.
‘We’re going back to the hotel.’ His mouth was set in a determined line and he didn’t look as if he was going to take no for an answer.
‘There’s got to be someone around here who knows something.’
‘Rachel, get back in the car. We can’t be wandering around places like this at night, with or without Yohan. What’s it going to solve?’
‘Something is wrong, Liam. Julian didn’t kill himself because he was distraught over Madison. This is linked to Rheladrex, I know it.’
‘Why? What proof have you got? None,’ he said fiercely.
The clinic was on the side of a hill, and they had a view across Montego Bay. Hurricane season was starting, and there were distant storm clouds on the horizon – pitch-black thumbprints against midnight blue.
‘I’m going to find out the truth,’ Rachel said with determination.
‘I know you will. But I don’t think you’re going to find it in Jamaica.’
She knew he was right. Montego Bay was nothing but a dead end, an abandoned clinic and an old friend in a hospital bed.
‘We should go back to London. Ross’s ex-wife is here. Diana is covering the medical fees. You can’t do anything more.’
‘You’re coming to London?’
‘Well I’ve not come halfway around the world for a can of Red Stripe.’ He smiled softly. ‘A week. I’ll stay a week. The Rachel Miller I know will find what she’s looking for in a week, and if she does, then she’s coming home with me.’
He put his arm across her shoulder. She wanted to nestle into his warmth, wanted him to take her home. But Yohan sounded the horn. It was dark, it was late. It was time to get back to Round Hill. What a shame her sister had booked them into separate rooms.
35