Free Blood Ransom by Sophie McKenzie

invasive.’
    I stared at him. ‘You brought me all the way to this island just to do some blood tests on me?’
    I didn’t believe it, but Elijah stared back at me, his dark eyes steady.
    ‘Yes.’
     
    26
Theo
    Monday morning. Nine a.m. Lewis and I were standing outside McRae’s college, waiting for him to arrive.
    We’d already checked and there was a lecture on his subject that morning at 10.30. We kept our eyes peeled as a steady stream of male students wandered past us.
    At about 9.45, it started raining. There was still no sign of McRae. If he didn’t show up we were going to have to ask around, find out where he lived . . . track him down some other way.
We were closing in, I knew, but I couldn’t help but feel impatient. Rachel had last been seen on Saturday afternoon – over thirty-six hours ago. Anything could have happened to her
since then . . . be happening to her.
    The rain drizzled down. Rachel hadn’t exaggerated how wet it was here. I pulled my hood up and huddled back against the wall. More time passed. Ten a.m. . . . 10.15 . . . 10.25 . . . Most
students had arrived. The rain stopped, though the sky stayed iron grey.
    And then I saw him. Dean McRae – complete with close-cropped red hair and squashed-in nose. He was sauntering across the pavement, a bag of books slung over his back, chatting to the guy
next to him. I caught Lewis’s eye across the doorway. He nodded, then set off towards McRae.
    I hung back for a second, watching.
    Lewis reached McRae. He flipped open a wallet, showing what I knew was a fake press ID card.
    ‘I’m a reporter from the Gazette ,’ he said, in an English accent. ‘I’d like to ask you some questions about the suicide you witnessed at the
weekend.’
    McRae frowned. ‘I’m not supposed to talk to any—’
    ‘It’s all off the record.’
    McRae hesitated. He whispered something to the guy he’d been walking with, who chuckled and hurried on inside.
    ‘Off the record?’ McRae said. ‘That means you won’t quote my name or say I’m the eyewitness?’
    ‘Absolutely.’ Lewis held up his wallet again: this time a line of twenty-pound notes poked out of the top. ‘I can make it worth your while.’
    Another pause. McRae glanced at his watch, clearly wondering if the conversation Lewis wanted to have was worth ditching his lecture for.
    ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But not inside the college.’
    ‘Sure,’ Lewis said. ‘It won’t take long. Why don’t we just go round the corner, out of the rain?’
    They set off. I followed at a short distance.
    Round the corner, out of sight, Lewis darted forward. He shoved McRae against the wall. The man’s eyes widened.
    ‘What the . . .?’ McRae raised his hand, turning sideways to aim a kick. But Lewis was too fast. He skipped past McRae’s leg, grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back.
With his other hand he made a fist and pushed it against McRae’s throat. McRae gasped, straining to breathe.
    For a second I thought he was going to crush McRae’s windpipe. That same furious-bitter look was in his eyes from earlier, when he’d talked about Elijah.
    ‘Hey!’ I shouted.
    Lewis released his grip on McRae’s throat slightly. McRae turned his head away and Lewis pressed his cheek against the brick. McRae’s squashed nose went white at the tip.
    ‘What do you want?’ he said, his voice shaking.
    I was suddenly sure this was no trained RAGE operative. McRae might look tough, but underneath he was just an ordinary student – a guy with no criminal record, who’d been paid to lie
to the police.
    ‘You lied about that girl’s suicide,’ I said walking over. ‘What really happened?’
    ‘Happened?’ McRae was trying to twist his face round, to look at me, but Lewis kept his cheek pressed against the wall. ‘It was like I told the cops. She put her purse down on
the beach, then walked into the water.’
    ‘That’s not true.’ Lewis twisted McRae’s arm.
    McRae winced with pain.
    ‘Tell