Shattering the Trust

by Sofia Grey

  Dear God, that was even worse than it being a stranger. When Daisy started working for Alex and Sylvie, they warned her that the fans could be weird, but she didn’t expect anything like this.

  “There are a few things that spring to mind immediately,” said Aiden. “Callum is never referred to by name, so perhaps the stalker doesn’t know it. Then, the emails were addressed to Dearest AJ, so it seems more likely that the sender is a woman. You haven’t received any text messages, so she probably doesn’t have your phone number. And yes, it’s likely that she knows you well enough to know about the details of Sam’s funeral. Or she was there.”

  He turned to Daisy. “Let’s consider how she got your phone number. Who knows that you work for Alex? Do you keep a Facebook or Instagram account or a blog somewhere?”

  She’d been expecting this and managed to talk confidently, without her voice disappearing into a squeak. “I’ve got a Facebook account that I use to keep in touch with my friends, but I don’t tell anyone that I work for Alex. As far as my friends and family are concerned, I work for a businessman who travels abroad a lot. Something in import-export.”

  All eyes were on her. She hated that. “My friends and family have my phone number. I don’t give it out routinely, and it most definitely isn’t listed anywhere on Facebook. You can check.”

  Aiden nodded. “I’ll do that anyway, but I’m sure it’s fine.” He turned to Alex next. “So, Alex, who has your email address?”

  “Hardly anyone. Syl and I use this as a shared account, but we’ve already gone through a list of everyone with Jack and Tanner, and I’m confident the names are secure.”

  “In that case, can you give me a list of names of everyone that attended Sam’s funeral?”

  Alex flinched. “I’ll need to talk to Frankie. He made all the arrangements. I wasn’t in the best shape when Sam died. To be blunt, I was completely off my head at the funeral. I can hardly remember it.”

  “Do you recall anyone there? As a starting point?” Aiden’s voice was gentle.

  Daisy had seen the headlines about Sam’s death, the accidental overdose in a hotel room while on tour. It was amazing Alex had been strong enough to carry on playing, without his brother. In his shoes, Daisy would have wanted nothing to do with the music biz after that.

  “Charlie and Mick, obviously,” Alex continued. “Frankie. Some of the roadies—they were Sam’s drinking buddies—and Celia, his now dead girlfriend. Hang on,” he frowned, and turned to Jordan. “Do you hear anything of Marianne these days?”

  Huh? “Marianne who?” Daisy didn’t realise she’d spoken aloud until Alex replied.

  He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Frankie’s got two daughters, Marianne and Joni. We had a complicated history, the two of them, Sam and I. The point is, Marianne had my phone number. We had a brief fling again before I got together with Sylvie. She may also have my email address.”

  Jordan shook his head. “Marianne is happily settled with Marcus, my oldest friend. They’re moving to London next month, when he resumes as VP for TM-Tech Europe. I may not like her as a person, but I can’t see any reason why she’d do this.”

  “What about Joni? Her sister? Didn’t she have an affair with Sam too?” Sylvie’s voice was quiet.

  “Christ, this is digging up ancient history,” said Alex. “I was engaged to Joni for a short while, until she had an abortion. She claimed it was my baby, though I was sure it wasn’t, and I only found out much later that it’d been Sam’s child. She’d been seeing him while we were engaged. Anyway, the last I heard of Joni, she was happily married, with a couple of kids. We’ve had no contact since the funeral, and prior to that, not for years.”

  Aiden looked interested. “I hate leaping to conclusions, but they have to be possibilities, both of them. And if their father is your manager, that’s how they keep track of your whereabouts.”

  “No,” said Alex. “It’s too obvious. Frankie knows about our history. And as far as I know, Joni and Marianne haven’t spoken for years. They’re not even friends, let alone close. Isn’t it more likely that this Yanni has something to do with things? It seems a bit too much of a coincidence that he appears just when we get bombarded with threats against Callum.”

  “Let’s call Frankie now,” said Sylvie. “Ask him if he gave Joni your number.”

  Alex put the call on speaker. He kept the small talk to a minimum, and then asked about Marianne.

  “I haven’t seen her for months,” Frankie said. “Not since the U.S. tour last summer.”

  “What about Joni? What’s she doing these days?” Alex sounded casual.

  There was a brief hesitation. “She’s not so good. She’s been suffering from depression. Her husband checked her into a clinic a few weeks ago.”

  Aiden made a go-on motion with his fingers, and Alex nodded.

  “Can you tell us which clinic it is?” he asked.

  “It’s Halligans, in Buckinghamshire. You know how exclusive it is. There’s no contact with the outside world, without prior arrangement. Joni isn’t allowed to use the telephone or even read the papers.”

  “Have you spoken to her since she was admitted?”

  Frankie cleared his throat. “No. Last time I saw her was before Christmas. Her husband asked me to recommend somewhere, and I called in to see her for myself.”

  “I don’t suppose she borrowed your phone while you were there?”

  “How did you know that? Her charger wasn’t working, and she needed to make some calls, so I lent her my phone. Is there a problem?”

  “We’ve had more threatening messages about Callum.”

  “You’re talking about my daughters. I can’t believe either of them would wish you harm.”

  “We’re trying to eliminate possibilities. That’s all.”

  He finished the call, and Aiden stood up to leave. “I’ll check the clinic, make sure that she is there, and confirm if it really is zero contact.”

  “I know Halligans,” said Alex. He looked uncomfortable with the admission. “I stayed there myself, a few years ago. They run a severe programme of rehab. That’s probably why Frankie recommended it. If she’s there, we can cross her off the list.”

  *

  After the stress of the day, Jack hoped to spend some quality time with Juli. Getting naked was optional but no longer his main reason to see her. He’d think about that later.

  To Jack’s dismay, Aiden had scheduled a late meeting with the local security services in Wellington, and wanted both Jack and Tanner to attend.

  The prospect of another meeting with Casey didn’t appeal, but if it moved the search forward, Jack would suck it up.

  He grabbed five minutes with Juli before they left. She was visibly disappointed, but she was made of stern stuff. “Should I wait for you in your room again?” she asked. “You won’t be out all night, will you?”

  “Even if I don’t make it back, I can think about you lying there, waiting for me.”

  She stretched up and stole a brief kiss. “Go get ’em, tiger. I know you can do it.”

  Her faith bolstered his confidence, and he set off with the others, his mood optimistic.

  Jordan’s people had narrowed the list of delegates down to around thirty whose identities they couldn’t confirm. Aiden had arranged a meeting with one of the New Zealand Intelligence Services, in hopes of refining the list further.

  It took several hours of cross-referencing details, but they finally reduced it to a shortlist of four potential names.

  Leaning back from his laptop, Jack rubbed his eyes and stretched. He was due a break. He went to the kitchen area, to make fresh coffee, leaving Aiden and Tanner hunched together over another screen, working with Casey and one of his colleagues.

  It was only ten o’clock. Should he call Juli? Would she be in bed yet? A mental image of her hair cascading across the pillows flooded his head. Damn, but she was too much of a distraction.

  While he waited for the coffee to brew, he
sent her a text message.

  Hey. Probably going to be late. Why don’t you have an early night? Catch up on yr sleep? I might be keeping you busy later... J

  To his delight, she replied immediately.

  Hiya. Already in bed and thinking about you. Hope you come back soon. J x

  What was it about women? They dropped little x’s on their texts and emails without even thinking about it. And was she in his bed after all?

  You in my room again? Or do I need to come and find you?

  Tanner appeared silently in the doorway. “Any sign of that coffee? We’ve found something, when you’re ready.” He grinned. Hopefully it would be good news.

  Jack read Juli’s newest message.

  Don’t need to look very far. Hurry up! J x

  He sent one final text before gathering up the coffee pot and a handful of little milk cartons.

  Gotta go. Work calls. Sleep well.

  Jack poured coffee for everyone, dumped the milk on the desktop, and pulled out a chair to sit in. “What have you got?”

  Casey looked smug. “Our strongest lead yet, and a link to an existing case.” He took one of the coffees, dumped four cartons of milk into it, and swirled it with his pen. “Right,” he continued. “Six months ago, two Kiwi students backpacking across Europe on their OE—Overseas Experience—were murdered, and their passports stolen. The kids weren’t reported as missing for a few weeks, and by the time the bodies were ID-ed, one of the passports, that of John Calder, had already been used, to arrive here, in God’s Own Country. And by a strange coincidence, John Calder is one of the names on your shortlist.”

  Casey winked at Aiden. “Now then, your boy here doesn’t believe in coincidence, so let’s just call it a happy accident that John Calder is registered to a PO Box in Wellington and supposedly working for a tech start-up called X-Cloud.” There was a note of triumph in his voice, and Jack sat up straighter, energized.

  “Well done,” he said, his mind zipping ahead.

  “There’s more.” Casey’s colleague spoke now. Jack couldn’t recall his name. “The second stolen passport is on the way into Wellington as we speak.”

  Wait. What?

  “If it was stolen six months ago, how come it hasn’t been cancelled?” Aiden asked the question first.

  Casey replied. “There’s a growing trade in stolen Kiwi passports. Did you know they’re one of the most desirable passports in the world?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You didn’t? You have heard of New Zealand, I hope. Tiny little country, full of sheep. And no nukes.”

  Oh good, hostile locals. How helpful. Jack glanced at Tanner and saw him roll his eyes.

  The Kiwi took a swig of his coffee and pulled a face. “Yanks,” he muttered loudly. “Can’t make a brew, to save their lives. Anyway. We’ve been tracking it on a hotlist, waiting for it to come home so we can catch the gang responsible. It’s due tonight, on a 2 a.m. flight from Sydney.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlie slept late and badly, and woke in a cranky mood, wondering what the hell he was going to do with himself today. Mum had a houseful of people surrounding her, Charlie’s cousins, aunts and uncles, and various hangers-on who’d crawled out of the woodwork, to see their famous relative. Most of those people had no interest in him prior to Event Horizon’s becoming a household name.

  It made him feel old, and that made no sense. He checked his phone. Three new messages, but none from Daisy. Why was he thinking about her so much?

  She was scared yesterday. Did he like the way she turned to him for comfort? Maybe he should check in with her.

  She might be asleep. He focused on the phone and noted the time. Ten-thirty. Was the time difference ten hours or eleven? A text wouldn’t disturb her if she was already in bed.

  Before he could change his mind, he tapped out a message.

  Hi Daisy. You ok? Any more freaky messages? I hope not. C

  He rolled and smoked a joint, while he waited for her reply. To keep Mum at bay, he opened the bedroom window and sat next to it, freezing his arse off as he smoked.

  Daisy replied just as he finished.

  Hi. Alex had another email today. He’s thinking the stalker is someone who went to Sam’s funeral. Were you there? D x

  Another email? Charlie thought back to Sam’s funeral, and struggled to recall who’d been there. He’d been badly hungover and not paying much attention to anything. Much like AJ.

  Yeah, I was there, but couldn’t tell u much about it. Soz. Seems weird, thinking about Sam’s funeral when I’m going to another tomorrow.

  This time, she replied immediately.

  Is your mum ok? Did you sleep much last night? Are you very jetlagged? D x

  He laughed aloud, feeling mellower now that he’d had a cannabis hit.

  Yes, no, and not much. What time is it there? Are u in bed?

  As hard as he tried to resist it, he fuckin’ missed Daisy. She cared about him. Not his name or his reputation, but him. That was unsettling. He waited for her reply, and thought about funerals instead.

  Almost midnite. Just off to bed. Night night. D x

  He closed the window, dug out clean clothes, and headed for a shower. When he came back, it was to find another text from her.

  PS - do you know someone called Joni? She was the hot suspect, but apparently she’s in rehab, so no go. D x

  Joni? He didn’t know if he was more surprised that she was the suspected stalker or that she was in rehab. Charlie hadn’t seen her in years, apart from Sam’s funeral. They hadn’t spoken.

  What did he know about her? Beautiful, but cold and remote. Married to a loaded banker-type, two or three teenage kids. He never understood why AJ was so attracted to her or her little sister, Marianne. They were both man-eating control freaks.

  Charlie couldn’t procrastinate any longer. With a huge amount of reluctance, he headed downstairs to find some breakfast and face the family.

  As expected, there was a fair level of interrogation. Most of it centred on his lack of a wife and children, his lack of stability, and his well-documented substance-abuse history. He managed to smile and—with much gritting of teeth—be reasonably polite.

  The only chance he had for some alone time with Mum, was by enticing her away with the promise of a trip to the shops, so he called a taxi to take them both to the Trafford Centre. He hoped to escape unnoticed. Unshaven and with his beanie in place, he’d look like another shopper.

  One more day to get through. He’d be heading right back to the sunshine as soon as he could escape from the funeral, tomorrow afternoon.

  As the taxi pulled away, Mum turned to him, a serious look on her face. “I have a letter for you, love. It’s from your dad.”

  His words came without thinking. “You can keep it. I don’t think there’s anything he could say that I’d want to hear. I hated him, and the feeling was mutual.”

  Fuck. That was the wrong thing to say. His dad was an utter prick, but Mum loved him.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Thing is,” she said, her voice cracking, “you have to read it. You really do.”

  “Why?”

  She let out a breath and seemed to compose herself. Lifting her chin, she gazed him in the eyes. “You see”—she hesitated for the longest time—“he wasn’t really your dad.”

  *

  The Kiwis were relaxed about Jack, Tanner, and Aiden going to the airport with them, to meet the flight. It would be a low-key operation, they said. They’d arranged extra airport security and planned to simply whisk the guy away as he came onto the concourse.

  Increasing cross-winds meant that all incoming flights were delayed, and Jack found himself kicking his heels in the deserted Arrivals Hall and watching the clock. 2 a.m. was a godawful time to be hanging around, doing nothing. The coffee carts were closed, and he couldn’t even get a decent hit of caffeine.

  This was a waste of time. He’d rather be in bed with Juli.

  He gazed out over the night-lit
runway, Tanner and Aiden by his side, while the Kiwi agents sat around cracking loud—and increasingly coarse—jokes about Yanks and Poms. It took Jack a minute to make the connection. Poms were Brits.

  “Remind me,” Jack murmured in an undertone. “Just what is it they like so much about this backwater?”

  Aiden snorted with laughter. “Don’t let them rile you. They need us. They just don’t like to admit it.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Eventually, after they’d watched in amazement as a 737 landed virtually sideways on the runway, there was a flurry of activity as they made their way to the gate. The Kiwis went ahead, while Jack and the others were relegated to observation only.

  The travellers straggled through, yawning and pale faced. Arriving anywhere in the dead of night was exhausting, but circling for an extra hour or so before a rough landing added to the experience.

  The Kiwi agents and airport security moved in for the pickup.

  Casey and two other agents walked through the gate, flanking a young, short guy. Olive skinned, he had shoulder-length greasy hair, and carried a sports bag over one shoulder. He looked every inch a typical student, complete with earbuds dangling from his ears. Airport security moved up to escort them, and Jack followed. So far, so normal.

  The kid stumbled. He crashed into one of the security guards, grabbed his Glock pistol, and twisted it out of his hands.

  It happened in the blink of an eye. The weapon fired, and the guard slumped to the ground, blood spurting from his stomach.

  Fuck. Jack was suddenly very much awake.

  “Take cover,” yelled Tanner, but Jack was already diving behind a partition.

  The kid was fast. Now he had a flight attendant as hostage, the pistol shoved into her side. Casey and his agents had their weapons drawn, and two guys were approaching the target, while a third tried to get some dialogue going.

  Passengers ran in random directions. Airport staff tried to usher them to a safe distance. Police swarmed everywhere. Chaos didn’t begin to describe it.

  Years of training kicked in. Jack analysed the scene unfolding before him. Which way would the guy run? Could Jack intercept him? Tanner was a medic in the field. He needed to attend to the fallen security guard before he bled out.