Page 68 of One Step Behind
I think back to the feeling in the car park at the trampoline party. I thought it was just my imagination, but it felt so real. And then there is DS Church’s insistence that you were at work some of the times I was being followed. And just now, mugged in broad daylight on a quiet street. What are the chances it was random? But if someone is helping you, then who? And why?
I force myself to breathe, to calm down, to try to think.
I should report what happened to the police, but I’m sick of talking to them. It all feels so futile anyway. What can they do about it now? I still have my phone and my keys. It’s only a bank card, a worn purse I’ve had for at least ten years, a bit of make-up and some old receipts that are gone. I’ll have to cancel my bank card and get a new driving licence, but there’s nothing that can’t be replaced.
But that’s not all, I realize. My stomach knots. Hot tears burn at the edges of my eyes. My diary was in the bag. Every single thing you did, every torment, every sadistic gift you left for me to find, is written on those pages. I close my eyes, allowing the tears to fall. I know my diary isn’t crucial to my case, I know thepolice have everything stored in evidence bags and logged in statements, but my diary could’ve been the difference between prison or not, and now it’s gone.
It takes me ten minutes to calm down enough to call my bank to cancel my card and order a new one. Only then do I take a deep breath and look at Rachel’s house – a detached Victorian house with a double driveway and big bay windows – and realize I’ve seen it before. There’s a photo of this house on your phone. I remember seeing it at the hospital. You’ve been here.
I walk up the driveway, my mind still turning over what happened outside my house and the idea that you’re not working alone. And for a second I can’t remember what I want to ask Rachel. Still, I lift the brass door knocker, and tap it three times. A moment later I hear movement from inside and a man throws open the door. He’s big – the same height as Stuart, but broader; a rugby player’s physique. Handsome enough, but with a weak chin that makes his neck and face look like one.
‘We have to think about the immediate impact. It’s not all AI. EMS is crucial to stock pricing,’ he says, looking straight at me.
‘I’m sorry?’ I reply, glancing around. ‘Are you talking to me?’
He points to an earpiece sticking out of his ear. ‘Hang on one second, guys. I’ve got someone at the door.’
He taps a button and sighs. ‘Yes?’
‘Is Rachel here, please?’
‘No, she’s out at the moment. Probably collecting the kids.’ His eyes drop to my bloody knee and he raises an eyebrow but says nothing.
‘Would you mind telling her that Jenna stopped by and ask her to please call me? It’s important.’
‘Didn’t you call the house the other day?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I’d take the hint.’ He taps his phone and starts talking again as he closes the front door.
Damn it! I climb back into my car. What next? My mobile buzzes from the seat beside me. The school’s number flashes up.
‘Hello?’
‘Mrs Lawson?’
‘Yes,’ I reply, not bothering to correct my title.
‘We … er … just wondered where you were?’
My eyes shoot to the clock on the dashboard and I cringe when I see it’s gone three. I’m late.
‘Sorry. I’ve been trying to call. I … I just helped a man who collapsed on the pavement. I’m on my way now. I do apologize.’ The lie tumbles out and I feel bad for it, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.
‘Oh my. How dreadful. Of course. We’ll see you soon.’
As I drive to the school, Beth and Archie consume my thoughts, pushing aside my questions for Rachel, my fear, and what happened outside my house.
Chapter 38
From: [email protected]
Subject: Where are you?
I miss seeing you walk through the hospital. Always in such a rush, aren’t you?
