Payback

by Gemma Rogers

  This whole nightmare had taught me there was no such thing as coincidences.

  39

  October 2018

  I had a long shower, the water as hot as I could stand it, before getting ready for work. Bags were beginning to appear under my eyes and no amount of concealer was going to hide them. I brought a flask of extra strong black coffee downstairs with me that I hoped would see me through the morning.

  I left another message with both Robyn and Becca, looking for news on Mark. I could ring the hospital, but I knew they wouldn’t tell me anything. I sent my love to all in the voicemails, telling Becca how sorry I was, and that, if she needed anything, I would be there. We weren’t friends any more, acquaintances really. In fact, after what happened to Mark, she must be wishing I’d never got back in touch. All I’d brought with me was pain and suffering. It was me who’d led Hayley to Becca, Mark, Robyn and James.

  How stupid was I? Hayley always seemed to be one step ahead and the memory of a shy, introverted girl who wouldn’t harm a fly was being replaced by a vindictive, malicious and bitter woman. A woman I didn’t know or didn’t understand; one that still hadn’t made her motive clear. None of us knew what this revenge trip was about. We didn’t know who had hurt Hayley. It was a riddle and I’d exhausted myself trying to work out what it meant.

  Diane called in sick for Frank. She was curt with me; no doubt cross I was working him so hard when he was supposed to be slowing down. I asked her to wish him well and not to hurry back. Inwardly, I felt trapped. Without Frank in the office, I was tied to my desk. But it was for the best, I had to leave the investigating to the police. I had caused nothing but problems playing Nancy Drew and was no closer to finding Hayley.

  Beth had covered the front window in black bat and pumpkin decals, and we had a bowl full of sweets at the desk closest to the door. Halloween had arrived, but I didn’t have a disco to go to this year. The memory of the night still fresh in my mind. It was the last time we were all together. I didn’t feel excited about the date, if anything I was creeped out. I called Gary in after nine for a chat. I was dreading Frank retiring, but I had to face it and it was time to prepare Gary to take more on.

  ‘How are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, great, it’s such a different energy working here, no one is trying to swipe your sales out from under you. I feel much more relaxed and not on my guard.’

  ‘I’m really pleased. You’re doing a fantastic job and I value your contribution to the team. As I mentioned when you came on board, Frank is due to retire soon. We haven’t set a date yet, but I want him to start slowing down and handing over the ropes to you. I’m going to talk to Frank about setting a date to work towards, for both of you. How does that sound?’

  Gary leant back in his chair and grinned. ‘Brilliant, I’m keen to move up when Frank’s ready.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  ‘Is everything all right with you?’ Gary said gingerly.

  I was going to brush it off, tell him I was fine but on second thought, someone else keeping their eyes peeled wasn’t a bad thing. I had to learn to let my guard down and accept help.

  ‘I think me, and my friends are being stalked, well, harassed. The police are involved, but if you see anything weird at work, let me know.’

  Gary’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘Actually, one of the cards I’d received, I found a blank one in your drawer when I was searching for the Brampton file.’

  ‘And you think it’s me?’ Gary said, raising his palms towards me.

  ‘No, no I don’t.’

  Gary frowned. His expression was one of surprise and it didn’t look faked. ‘Really? Listen, if it was there, then someone else put it there. I’m not involved in any of it. The only thing I’m guilty of is being messy!’

  ‘Of course, and I’m sorry I may have been a bit erratic. It’s down to the police now, so they’ll catch them soon I’m sure.’ My eyes searched Gary’s, to detect the slightest flicker of panic in his face, but there was none. It wasn’t him; I’d known deep down it wasn’t. He was being played as much as I was. The bottom line was Hayley had been coming and going as she pleased, in the office and into my home. The new front door hadn’t made a blind bit of difference it seemed as I recalled the bright red cross over Mark’s face on our group photo. She was picking us off, one by one. Who knew what traces she had left behind to incriminate my staff and throw me off her scent?

  Gary left to check his drawer, returning a minute later with a grimace and a shake of the head. The card had gone.

  The day passed without a hitch, I called James at lunchtime, but he sounded groggy as though I’d just woken him up. I had a feeling he needed to go back to the doctors and get some more antibiotics. He wasn’t healing as fast as I’d thought he would.

  I offered to take the team to the pub after work, to get back to normality and although I was disappointed Detective Wren hadn’t been in touch, I reasoned that no news was good news. It wasn’t until we were all sat around the table at The Boar later, which had been decorated with cobwebs, I had a text from Mum.

  Can you come over tonight? Dad wants to see you.

  It made my stomach lurch, which was ridiculous. I was thirty-six but still felt like that child whose mum said ‘wait ’til your father gets home’. The sense of dread made me abandon my wine ten minutes later to get whatever grilling that was coming over and done with. I bought Gary, Hope, Lucy and Beth another round before I went. They were deep in conversation discussing the latest Netflix American drama the girls were binge-watching, Haunting of Hill House. I didn’t even have satellite TV; I was practically living in the dark ages, according to Beth. No doubt, being in her late teens, she thought I was a relic.

  ‘Hi Mum,’ I called as I came through the door. I always announced myself, so I didn’t sneak up on them. Dad’s hearing was slowly fading, I could tell by the volume the television had risen to. They were both in the kitchen, sat at the table looking grave.

  ‘I’ve been trying to call you.’

  ‘My phones died, what’s happened?’ I asked, panic rising as I dumped my bag and shook off my coat.

  ‘You and that phone! Sit down. We’ve had a call from Diane.’

  I rolled my eyes, knowing where this was going.

  ‘I know he’s supposed to be slowing down, it’s just that we’ve been really busy.’ I sank into the chair like a petulant teenager and Mum tutted.

  ‘That’s not what this is about. Not exactly,’ Dad continued, clenching his jaw.

  ‘Frank’s had a heart attack.’

  My mouth dropped open.

  ‘Oh no! Will he be okay?’ I whispered, frightened to tempt fate with my words. I managed to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill.

  ‘Yes, they got to him quickly, Diane knew when he started clutching his arm, he had shooting pains, so she called the ambulance and gave him an aspirin to chew.’

  ‘Thank God,’ I sighed, reaching for a tissue to blow my nose, a tear slipping down my cheek.

  ‘So that’s it now, no more work. He’s officially retired,’ Mum said firmly.

  ‘Well, Diane says anyway,’ Dad countered.

  ‘Yes, and Sophie will make sure of it, won’t you, Soph?’

  I nodded. Did my Dad think I wouldn’t manage without Frank? It stung like a slap in the face but doubt crept in. Could I cope without Frank? I would have to.

  Mum told me that Frank was in hospital but would likely be home in a day or two with medication and prescribed rest.

  I stayed for a late dinner after texting James to say I wouldn’t be round. Mum rustled up some leftover chicken kebabs and noodles, but the mood was sombre. We all adored Frank and Diane, they were part of the family. The seriousness of his condition hung in the air and my appetite evaporated. I was devastated that Frank wouldn’t be back, but I couldn’t put my own selfish needs above his health.

  ‘He’s going to be sixty next month,’ Mum said to no one in particular. My
parents were both already in their sixties and I saw them glance at each other. Were they questioning their own mortality, the circle of life?

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s as strong as an ox,’ I said, as brightly as I could manage, scraping the uneaten food from my plate into the bin. Trying to lift the atmosphere but to no avail. It wasn’t long after that I made my excuses and left. I could sit around and question my own existence at home, preferably with a glass of wine in my hand. I hugged both my parents that extra bit tighter before leaving, hoping they hadn’t noticed.

  Once outside my thoughts turned to Mark and I rang Becca again. This time she answered, sounding like a whirlwind.

  ‘Hi, Sophie, I’m just on the way back to the ward. Sorry I haven’t texted back. Mark’s awake, he’s going to be okay. They don’t think there’s any brain damage, just some swelling which they need to watch. Oh, and a broken collarbone.’ Becca sounded exhausted but happy.

  ‘That’s great news. I’ll let you go. Give him my love, okay, James’s too. We’re all thinking of him.’

  ‘Thanks, I hope you’re all okay too.’

  The knot in my stomach loosened slightly, thank goodness Mark was going to be okay. I had so many questions, but now wasn’t the time.

  On the way home, I drove past 32 Park Lane, stopping outside to watch for movement. Detective Wren hadn’t been in touch after his visit to the property and I craned my neck to see it through my windscreen, but the house was dark and there was nothing to see. Could Hayley be waiting, watching from the shadows? I put my foot on the accelerator, visions of her jumping in the back of my car gave me the jitters. I’d never been a scaredy-cat before, but it was funny how quick that changed when you were being stalked by a murderer. It was like the plot of a movie and here I was in the starring role, unable to connect the dots. I imagined there’d be thousands of people shouting at the screen at my stupidity. I couldn’t sleuth my way out of a paper bag.

  My stomach fizzed as I approached home, as it always did now. Driving past hordes of trick-or-treaters dressed in their ghoulish costumes. It gave me the shivers. The flat hadn’t been my place of sanctuary for some time. But, again, there was nothing waiting for me. Not this time. It wasn’t enough to let my guard down and I wouldn’t be opening my door to anyone seeking sweets or otherwise tonight. Something was coming, someone. It was only a case of where and when.

  40

  November 2018

  We had a team meeting the following day, where I broke the news about Frank. Beth got a bit teary, which almost started me off, she was midway through taking down the decorations. November already, it wouldn’t be long before she’d be putting up the tinsel as I used to for Dad years ago.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ Beth’s voice wavered.

  Frank was the heart of Whites Estate Agents and had been for over thirty years. Everyone was sad to hear of his heart attack and looking forward to visiting him when he was home. I ordered an obscenely large fruit basket and bunch of flowers to be delivered to him and Diane the following day, from all of us. I let Gary know it was unlikely Frank would return to work and I would change his role to Office Manager at the end of the month. I could tell he was pleased, but he was restrained, respectful of the circumstances that had preceded his promotion.

  Business continued as normal; Gary left the office to take on a new instruction –a townhouse near the train station which would be lucrative on commission and an easy sell. Minutes after he left, I heard someone come in and Hope escorted Detective Wren through to my office.

  ‘Miss White,’ he said, extending his hand, which allowed his mac to part and a flash of red braces over his shirt caught my eye. I stifled a smile.

  ‘Detective Wren, please take a seat. Can I get you a tea?’

  ‘No thank you. I was passing, so I just thought I’d pop in. Give you an update.’

  I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to continue. He took his time to sit down, shuffling in the chair that was slightly too small for him, until he was comfortable.

  ‘We’ve searched for Miss Keeble but haven’t found any trace of her after the hostel her mother told us she was at in 1997.’

  ‘You’ve been to see her parents?’

  ‘I’ve had a colleague visit her mother, yes. We also found no records of an abortion at the clinic she was taken to; no records of her at all.’

  ‘That’s strange. Her mum said she took her there. What about the house? Was there nothing at Park Lane?’

  ‘No. There was no sign of forced entry, but we’ve dusted for prints and removed the takeaway cartons as evidence.’

  ‘It’s like she disappeared into thin air.’ I sighed. We were back to square one.

  ‘Yes, and it’s extremely unusual to leave no trace of where you’ve been. I think we must assume some harm has befallen Miss Keeble.’

  ‘She’s the one doing harm, not the victim of it,’ I spluttered.

  Wren waved his hand to temper my impeding outrage before continuing. ‘Also, I visited Mark. He’d not long woken up when I got there, but he has no recollection currently of being pushed in front of the bus.’ He pursed his lips and gave a slight shake of the head.

  ‘He wouldn’t just jump in front of a moving bus,’ I countered.

  ‘Well, that as maybe, but with no evidence we cannot pursue it at the moment. In regard to Mr Miller, even after an extensive search, we haven’t been able to recover the knife used in the stabbing.’

  Do you think Hayley could have changed her name?’

  ‘It’s a possibility, but unfortunately there’s no requirement to officially record a change of name in the United Kingdom. It’s only recorded if you choose it to be enrolled. We have looked at that, but it’s not turned up anything.’

  I slumped back in my seat.

  Detective Wren frowned and ran his thumb underneath his red brace, stretching the elastic. The brass connector hidden by the overhang of his belly. ‘All is not lost. We’ve looked again at Mr Dixon’s fatal accident and there were reports of him spending most of the evening drinking with a young lady, one that none of the regulars recognised. It’s not widely known, but we recovered DNA from the accident that isn’t a match for Mr Dixon. If we can find a match, then it proves your theory and we are looking at all angles.’ My eyes widened.

  ‘She found him,’ I whispered.

  ‘Well, we don’t know that for certain, but we’re trying to establish a link between these incidents.’

  ‘What about the calls and texts, anything from the number? Also, I forgot to say, an “Anonymous Amy” posted on Gareth’s wall that he was a rapist. Surely that has to be connected to this?’

  ‘I’ll take a look at the Facebook page, we should be able to track that. Regarding the mobile, it’s an unregistered pay-as-you-go SIM card, so it’s unable to be traced as to who is using it. Triangulation gives us this area but nothing much to narrow it further. I’ve got someone looking at the mobile phone shops to see if we can see where it was bought.’

  Detective Wren got up to leave, his update delivered, as I remained in my chair, reeling from the new developments. Had Hayley found Gareth? It sounded like she had. Maybe she pretended they’d bumped into each other, a coincidental meeting of two old friends. She could have encouraged him to get drunk or even spiked his drink before he got behind the wheel. It was anyone’s guess, but at least the police were taking my claims seriously. I was under no illusion my story sounded crazy.

  I tried to focus back on work, but it was hard. I resumed trawling through my emails, collating documents I needed when Beth came in with the post, placing it on my desk. I almost winced, jumping on it immediately but stopped myself, leaving it where it was.

  ‘Can you ask Hope to email over the land registry search for 11 Highland Grove please, Beth?’

  ‘She’s gone out, had a viewing apparently. Think she forgot about it.’ Beth rolled her eyes and good-naturedly turned on her heels. ‘Tea?’ she called back over her shoulder.
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br />   ‘Please.’ A niggling sensation prompted me to check the online office calendar as there was a viewing schedule that Beth had inputted. She kept the diary for the office and always knew the whereabouts of everyone. More so than I did, but I didn’t need to micromanage. It was why I was so insistent on only employing staff I could trust, which was why I was surprised to see the calendar empty for Hope on Thursday 1 November.

  My mobile rang, skittering across the table, distracting me. It was James.

  ‘Hiya, how are you feeling?’ I asked.

  ‘Rubbish, I’m going to the doctors today. It’s healing but very slowly, the skin feels weird and tight. I’m worried I’m going to roll over in bed and tear my stitches.’ James laughed half-heartedly. ‘But otherwise I’m okay. I’ve had your detective come and see me.’

  ‘Detective Wren? He’s been here too; they are going to look at connecting everything to one person. They’ve got DNA, they just need to find a match.’

  The line went dead. Had James hung up?

  ‘James you still there?’

  ‘Yep, yep, still here. Dropped the phone. Reflexes aren’t what they used to be.’

  ‘It can only be a good thing, right?’ I pushed.

  ‘Sure. When can I see you?’

  ‘I was thinking, why don’t you move in here, just until all this is over. I can look after you and you know, safety in numbers.’ I felt my cheeks flush.

  The pause was drawn out and I was sure I’d just made a fool of myself.

  ‘Okay, if you don’t think I’ll get under your feet? Mum’s going to run me to the doctor later and I’ll get her to drop me over after, shall I?’

  ‘Sure,’ I replied, beaming. My palms beginning to sweat. Was this the beginning of us moving in together? Or would it be temporary? All I knew is that I felt safer with James around.