Shattered: The Final Act.: The Shattered Series Book 4, #4

By Allan Hudson

Leaving a lover and trouble behind in Paris, Jo has settled into an easy life in New Zealand with a different name. She's even learning to make pottery. One morning, while returning a book to the library where a new friend works, she discovers the librarian is trying to hide her tears. When pressed for details, Jo discovers the woman's sister is missing. Along with her boyfriend, who, like Jo is a Canadian. Jo does her best to not get involved but relents with a promise to help locate the missing girl and that's all.
The trail will lead Jo to one of Diamond Harbour's richest inhabitants, regardless of being warned away. She hears rumours of stolen cash, trading in body parts and ruthless gangsters. She's in too deep to turn her head. The young man, the boyfriend, is being kept alive because a rich man's daughter is on her deathbed and needs his kidneys. Both of them.
Jo won't be alone. There's a vigilante looking for the teenager too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: South Branch Scribbler
• Release date: Nov 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781988291314

Allan Hudson

Allan Hudson was born in Saint John, New Brunswick now living in Dieppe, NB. Growing up in South Branch he was encouraged to read from an early age by his mother who was a school teacher.His short story, The Ship Breakers, received Honourable Mention in the New Brunswick Writer’s Federation short story competition. Recently, his short story, The Abyss, recieved the same award. Other short stories have been published on commuterlit.com, The Golden Ratio and his blog, South Branch Scribbler.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The shrill of the phone snaps Jo from a dream of when she was a little girl wandering in a field of wildflowers. Happier times. She doesn't want to wake up. Pulling the pillow over her head, she tries to ignore the muffled trill. Under the darkness of the pillow, she blinks but decides she has to answer the call. Only one person has her number so it must be important.

Chucking the pillow to the foot of the bed, she sits up and squints at the red numerals of her clock. It's not even six yet. Only the sun gets up earlier than this on a Wednesday she thinks. She snatches the phone from its cradle. Her voice has an unpleasant edge.

Hello.

Hey, sleepy head. Did I wake you up? You sound grumpy. No coffee yet?

Jo's frown disappears, and a happy sheen spreads across her face.

Adam. How nice to hear from you! And yes, you did wake me up, you silly bugger. This better be good.

Adam Thorne is a dear friend, her former partner at the police department back in Canada. He's the only one who knows the whole story, the one person she trusts with her whereabouts. She's not ready to go home yet.

Yeah, it's good, Jo. Or are you still going by Jane?

Is your phone safe?

Yeah, it's my neighbour's. Told him it was a cop thing. He's good.

Still Jane.

Right, Jane, Jane Taylor. Your alias. Which is weird. But first, are you in any kind of trouble yet?

Ha! Trouble doesn't follow me everywhere you know.

Well, it did in Thailand, and then Paris. I just want to know you're safe.

She sits on the edge of the bed, sticks her feet into slippers and grabs a silk housecoat from the chair by the end of the bed.

Don't you worry. I'm keeping to myself here in Christchurch. I started taking pottery lessons. I'm not too bad at it. I love New Zealand. The mountains and the people. Just give me a minute to go to the other phone.

She lays the phone down on the nightstand and goes to the kitchen where she grabs the portable and starts making coffee.

Now tell me the good news.

Erica and I are going to be parents.

Oh, wow Adam. So cool, but I thought… you know.

She remembers her and Adam on an all-night stakeout about a year ago.

He was despondent the whole evening, which was totally unlike his usual jovial self. She eventually found out that Erica couldn't bear children. They were told earlier in the afternoon before he came to work. She wonders what changed.

We're going to adopt. It's an arrangement through friends. We're so lucky. And excited! Erica is walking on clouds. The young lady is due any day.

After pouring a coffee, she crawls onto the bar stool by the kitchen island with her full cup while she listens to the glee in her friend's voice and relaxes in a cloud of happiness for him.

Is it a boy or a girl?

We don't know. This girl, she's only sixteen, Jo - I mean Jane. She didn't want to know the sex so there would be less attachment, as she knew she was giving the baby up because she couldn't give it a home. We're good with that. It doesn't matter.

Well, congratulations. Keep me posted when he or she arrives.

His voice changes, becomes clearer. Adam has cop business.

There's a warrant out for your arrest. A judge issued it yesterday, and I thought you should know. I think you need to come home.

Adam waits out the long pause. He can almost hear her thinking.

What am I being accused of?

Aiding and abetting.

Not yet, Adam. I can't go back yet. The scars are too deep.

You can't run forever, Jo.

I understand Adam. Not just yet.

He knows he won't get anywhere by nagging. After another pause, neither of them knows what to say next, an awkward moment between friends.

Ok, Jo. I'm here if you need me.

Thank you, Adam. You are the truest of friends. Give my best to Erica.

Jo hangs up and leaves the phone on the counter. She refills her coffee, pondering the bad news. Her mind automatically goes back to the days of her father's shameful legacy, but she quickly shakes it off.

I'm not going back there, she whispers to the empty kitchen.

She picks up a book lying on the end of the counter. She discovered a new Canadian author, Suzanne Bourgeois-Casey. She really liked MJ & Danny, the story she finished the previous night. Reading it made her yearn for Bertrand. She thinks of him often. She absently opens the book to the first page. A white slip of paper is stuck between the first pages.

New Brighton Library. Due: Tuesday, February 15.

Damn, I forgot about you. Oh well, I only have to pay for one day overdue. It shouldn't break the bank.

She decides to have breakfast and head over to the library. It's not far from the apartment she is renting in the Wiamairi Beach area. She's lucky to have found one furnished but it's only a four-month sublet. Since Jo arrived from Paris, she's been keeping to herself, hanging at the beach, taking pottery lessons, visiting the library and doing lots of reading. Her heart still aches for the man she left behind in France. She tells herself over and over that he's much safer without her around. She's been busy enough, settling in, her mind working to forget her mistakes.

Right now she needs groceries and has to return the book, and find another. She hopes Julie Filmore is working today. She usually works Wednesdays. They've become friends in the short time they've known each other. It's a mutual attraction which started with book suggestions, and Julie's intrigue with Jo's Canadian accent. They've had lunch together a couple of times and Jo sticks with her story of travelling on her inheritance. Julie has been after Jo get some beach time with her. As Jo checks the weather through the kitchen window, all she sees is a clear azure sky. She thinks out loud again.

Maybe today, or tomorrow, if she's off. The weather's perfect. I'll take my bike.

After cleaning up her dishes and making her bed, she glances out the window to see nothing but sunshine. The weather station said a high of seventy-five. So she changes into a pair of beige denim shorts, a black T-shirt with the white feather logo of the All-Blacks rugby team, and her black and pink running shoes. After applying a little blush, mascara and some lipstick, she slings the strap of her satchel over her shoulder, and checks herself in the mirror. She likes the few pounds she's lost around her tummy but frowns at her hips which never seem to diminish. She shrugs and talks to the image.

"Guys seem to like the hips, Miss Naylor, or I should say Miss Taylor. So, like the Beatles say, let it be."

She bought a used bicycle at a second hand shop a couple of days after she arrived. It is a ladies Schwinn with a baby blue frame and wide white-wall tires. A pannier over the back wheel, and a basket attached to the handlebars, allows her to carry mostly everything she needs. It's roughly two kilometers to the library so it won't take her long. She's still not used to driving on the left like in England, and grimaces at the memory of the few unfortunate close encounters with her rented vehicle when she first arrived.

She loves the library, not only for its collection of books, but for the unique Avant Garde architecture of the two-story building. What's more it is situated right next to the Pacific Ocean with a fabulous pier, a book lover's paradise as far as she's concerned. She bikes down Aston Drive and hangs a left onto Beach Road until it swings onto Marine Parade and a bit farther on to the library. The flat drive follows the ocean. It's a peaceful jaunt, even with the sporadic traffic. As she passes the golf course, she thinks about taking lessons someday. When she arrives at the library, she parks and locks her bike. With the small satchel over her shoulder, she hurries along to the main entrance.

There is a lot of activity for the middle of the week. A small flock of children are climbing the stairs. Their tittering is hush-hushed by parents. Jo thinks it's perhaps a birthday party. Library patrons with arm loads of books wait to be served by two librarians sitting in front of their computers and scanners. Others circle, strolling and searching through the rows of books. In the fiction section, following the rows starting with A - B - C, she finds Julie in the K - L -Mc row. An elderly lady and a teenager are sampling the first pages from whatever spine that has caught their eye.

Behind them Jo sees the downcast look on Julie's face as she sorts through books stacked on a cart. It looks like her hands are working remotely while the mind is somewhere else. Large hoop earrings show through Julie's short ash blond hair. It is razored on the sides and back, but long and straight on the top, brushed to the right with wispy bangs falling to her brow. She has an angular face with clear tawny skin, and a delicate flow from her high cheekbones to a strong chin. She's a bit slimmer than Jo and an inch or two shorter. She normally possesses a chipper demeanor, but Jo detects something's bothering her. She steps around the two browsing people.

Hi there.

Julie jerks out of her contemplation, and the book she was holding plunks to the floor with a loud splat. The old lady gives a scolding look, but the teenager thinks it funny. Jo picks it up with a foolish grin.

Sorry, Julie. I didn't mean to scare you.

I'm sorry, Jane. I didn't notice you approach. My mind was occupied.

Jo looks at Julie as she passes the book to her. She's struck by the sadness in her eyes.

What's wrong, Julie?

It's nothing, Jane. I… I'm just not feeling well…I…

Jo sees a tear escape and get wiped away.

It's… it's my sister, I think she's in trouble. And I don't know what to do.

Jo takes her hand and steps closer.

Do you want to talk about it? When do you take your lunch?

Checking her watch, she nods.

"Yeah, I'd like that, Jane. I've asked my supervisor for some time off. I have to wait until ten when Zachary, my replacement, comes in. I can meet you in a half hour at the Lunch Box across the street, the café on the corner."

I'll be there. I want to drop off this book, and I'm going to see if there are any more by this author I haven't read. Talk to you later.

Jo playfully knocks her on the shoulder and winks.

Hang in there.

Chapter 2

Julie comes in the front door looking around for Jo. When she spots her midway toward the back in a booth by the window, she waves and holds up a finger. She places an order with the barista and joins Jo. She changed before leaving the library and looks overdressed for such warm weather in her heavy jeans, hiking boots, and a flannel shirt with lace trim that hangs to her hips, knotted in the front.

Thanks for meeting me, Jane. I really don't have many close friends I would want to share this with, and my family is all back in Wellington. I broke up with my boyfriend a few months ago but he didn't know my sister very well. I feel I can trust you.

"I'm happy to hear you feel that way Julie. I'm not sure what I can do but I'm here to listen. Just let me get another coffee."

Jo returns and Julie tells her about her sister Anita.

"She met a young man at the Roundhill Ski Club where she works from July until September. He's a Canadian actually. That's one of the reasons I'm comfortable sharing this with you. His name is Sebastien Green, goes by Seb. From the east coast of New Brunswick. He's a bit of a drifter I think, but he's only eighteen. I guess he's still trying to figure things out.

"Anita called me this morning, just a little after eight. It had to be from her cell phone as it was cutting in and out. Too much noise. She wasn't making any sense. She seemed frantic, maybe hyperventilating. There was so much static. When she was ranting all that I could make out were random words: doorman or road man and Seb and diamond bars and no Polish. Before I could respond, the line went dead. I've tried calling her over and over but there's no answer. And it's not like her; she's glued to that phone."

Julie is overcome. She catches a tear with the cuff of her blouse. Jo reaches over and pats Julie's hand.