Cold Hearts

by Malcolm Richards

  A cold sweat dampened the back of her neck. She was now in possession of knowledge that had resulted in the murder of at least three people, that had ruined a young life, and stood to ruin millions more. But without physical proof that knowledge meant nothing. To whom had Max Edwards sent the envelope? As Emily continued to count her breaths in and out, she hoped that she and Helen would come up with an answer. If not, how long would it be before Valence Industries decided to end their lives too? She guessed not very long at all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  It was just after seven when, pale and breathless, Emily entered the London Truth newsroom. She was surprised to see a number of employees still at their desks. But although the journalists were hard at work, Emily could immediately sense something was wrong. Her fears were confirmed when she approached the man sitting at the nearest desk and asked for Helen.

  “We don’t know where she is,” he said. Other colleagues turned their heads in Emily’s direction. “She went out to do an interview, and...”

  His voice trailed off. He looked across the room at a stocky, well-built woman with cropped hair.

  “And what?” Emily said, following his gaze. The woman was marching over.

  She introduced herself as Christine Gates, the editor-in-chief for London Truth. Emily shook her hand and told her she was here to meet Helen. She didn’t know whether Helen had informed Christine about the Valence story, so for now, she kept quiet about it.

  “Helen’s not here,” Christine said. She had a brusque manner that Emily would have found rude had she not been so preoccupied with Helen’s current whereabouts.

  “Do you know where I can find her?”

  Now, the editor-in-chief was sharing the same worried expression as her colleagues.

  “Helen’s car was found in the staff car park an hour ago. It looks like there was some sort of accident.”

  Emily froze. “Is she all right?”

  “We don’t know. Helen wasn’t in her car. We can’t get hold of her.”

  The room stretched away from Emily. Christine’s voice became an echo.

  “The police are on the way.” The woman hesitated before she spoke again. “We think she might be hurt. There was blood on the ground.”

  They had her. Valence Industries had taken Helen. Emily’s legs grew weak. She tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  Christine whispered something to the man at the desk, who leapt up and hurried out of the room. She turned back to Emily and regarded her with a hardened expression.

  “I know who you are,” she said. “You were at Meadow Pines with Helen. You were the one who she wrote about.”

  Emily’s mouth hung open. She nodded.

  “So is this a social call, or are you two colluding on something that I don’t know about?”

  “I–”

  Christine leaned in closer and dropped her voice to a hush. “Because let’s not waste time here. The driver window of Helen’s car was smashed in. Bill found a clump of her fucking hair, for God’s sake!”

  Emily wanted to vomit. Had they killed her already? Or did they have her locked up somewhere, preparing her for interrogation? Torturous images attacked Emily’s mind. And then, amidst them all, came Helen’s voice. What had she said on the phone? Something about Evan Holt.

  Christine was growing impatient. “Well? Do you have something to say to me or not?”

  Did you tell anyone about Evan Holt being in Max’s diary? Was that what she’d said before the call had been cut off? Emily raced through the events of the past week. Besides Helen, who had she spoken to about Evan Holt? She’d told Jerome, who would have more than likely told Daniel. Then there was Lucy Dobbs. And, finally, Anya Copeland. Why had Helen been asking that?

  Another thought passed through her mind. This afternoon’s conversation with Anya Copeland had revealed that Valence Industries seemed to know about Max’s every move—almost as if they’d had inside knowledge. As if someone close to him had been watching and reporting back. Emily’s intuition began to spark. Why were these two thoughts converging?

  The spark became a fire. Suddenly, she knew why. Before Christine could say another word, Emily said, “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  She bolted through the doors and headed back towards the street. If Valence Industries hadn’t already killed Helen, there was one person who might be able to take Emily to where she was being held.

  Leaving the building, she paused to look both ways down the street. Then, pulling out her phone, she hurried back towards the station.

  Jerome answered after a few seconds.

  “There you are. I’ve been worried about you. What’s going on?”

  “No time to talk,” Emily said, glancing over her shoulder. “Listen, what are the chances of me borrowing Daniel’s car?”

  Jerome laughed. “Are you serious? I’d say slim to none. What do you want it for?”

  “I need to follow someone.”

  The line was quiet. “On a scale of one to people-are-trying-to-kill-me, how much trouble are you in right now?”

  “It’s not me who’s in trouble. But right now, I’d say Helen was about an eleven. I think Valence have her.”

  She quickened her pace, pushing her way through the crowds.

  “Christ. Have you called the police?”

  “They’re on their way to the magazine. Please, Jerome! Can you ask Daniel? It’s urgent.”

  “I don’t think you should be chasing after these people, Em. They’re dangerous. The police will–”

  “I’m coming to Daniel’s right now. I’ll ask him myself.”

  Anxiety gnawed at her gut. Evan Holt was dead. Anya and Josh were currently on a train to Bristol after she’d promised them safety. And now Helen was missing. Emily was running out of time.

  “Fine, I’ll ask,” Jerome said at last. “But you can’t go after these people on your own.”

  “Helen could die. You can’t stop me.”

  “A bear couldn’t stop you.”

  Emily hung up. She broke into a run.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Tim Marsden pulled into the quiet suburban street on the outskirts of Dartford at 8.48 p.m. Climbing out of his silver Audi coupe, he stopped to erase a greasy smear from the driver window, then strolled up the drive to his four-bedroom detached house. At the door, he fumbled for his keys, almost dropped them, then turned to look back down the drive. He seemed nervous; as if he expected someone to be standing there. Then, shrugging off his suspicions, he slid the key into the lock, and quickly disappeared inside.

  Tim had been right to look over his shoulder. He was being watched from a blue Mazda parked across the road. Emily sat behind the wheel, watching the windows of the Marsden house. She couldn’t see much from here, but she wasn’t planning on staying still. Tim’s address had been easy to find online. She’d headed straight to it as soon as Daniel had finished laying out the conditions that warranted the use of his car. One of those conditions was currently sitting beside her in the passenger seat.

  “For the record, I’m deeply unhappy you’re here,” Emily said, unpeeling her gaze from the Marsden house for a second.

  Jerome shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not happy I’m here either, but as I said, you can’t go after these people alone. Besides, Daniel is very protective of his car.”

  “Somehow I think you being here wasn’t Daniel’s idea.”

  Emily looked back at the house. Jerome followed her gaze.

  “So what do we do now?” he said. “Do we just walk up to the door and demand answers? Want me to rough him up a bit?”

  Emily narrowed her eyes. Now was not the time for jokes. Helen had been missing for almost two hours. Every attempt to call her had gone straight to voicemail. Now, as Emily spied on Tim Marsden’s home, she wondered if she should have said something more to Christine Gates. But what could the police do except put Helen’s life at further risk? If she was still alive.

  “You’re not going to do
anything apart from sit here and stay safe,” she told Jerome.

  He didn’t protest.

  Emily pushed open the door. “Watch the road. If you see any signs of trouble, let me know about it.”

  She stepped onto the tarmac. Jerome appeared at the window.

  “Be careful.”

  Crossing the quiet, suburban street, Emily headed for Tim Marsden’s house. He was all she had now. Valence Industries had known Meryl Silkwood did not exist, and that Emily Swanson did. Marsden was the only person who could have told them. And now, Emily knew why Helen had asked her about Evan Holt. The speed in which Valence had struck meant that they’d already known about his involvement before they’d stolen Max’s diary. And Emily had been wrong—there had been another person she’d talked to about Evan Holt. She was standing at his front door.

  Expelling a shaky breath, Emily pressed the doorbell.

  A few seconds later, the door opened and a young girl, no older than five, stared up at her with round, blue eyes.

  “Is your daddy home?” Emily asked. She had not considered the possibility of Tim Marsden having children. Suddenly, she felt guilty for being here, for the threats she was about to make.

  The girl continued to mutely stare. Her father’s voice rang out from inside the house.

  “Megan, how many times have I told you not to open the door? You wait for an adult.”

  He appeared behind her, his hand reaching out to pull her back. Spotting Emily, he froze in mid-movement.

  “Go inside to Mummy.”

  Giving the woman on the doorstep one last look, the girl tiptoed away. As soon as she was gone, Marsden stepped out of the house and advanced towards Emily. They stood, glaring at each other under the halo of porchlight.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “You know why. Where’s Helen Carlson?”

  As he answered, Emily examined every inch of the man’s face.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Helen Carlson—the journalist you saw me with at the plant. You recognised me. You told Jonathan Hunt. Now Helen is missing. Where is she?”

  She was surprised by the sudden anger firing from her mouth. But she was angry. All of the lives that Valence had ruined, all of the lives that would be ruined in the future—Emily felt their fury burning through her veins.

  Tim Marsden flinched. He glanced back at the house.

  “I don’t know where she is, I swear. Whatever’s happened to her has nothing to do with me.”

  “And what about Evan Holt? I told you about him and now he’s dead. And what about your good friend, Max Edwards? And Jason Dobbs? Their blood is on your hands!” She paused, afraid of the rage boiling inside her.

  Tim Marsden took a step back towards his home. “I don’t know anything.”

  “Well, I do.” Emily advanced towards him. “For instance, I know that Valence are poisoning millions of children through the sale of TEL.”

  Tim’s face paled. “Exporting TEL isn’t breaking any laws.”

  “No, but bribing government officials to destroy the competition is.” She glared at him, fires burning in her eyes. “That’s why Max was killed. Jason Dobbs, too. That’s why Anya’s son was poisoned, his life ruined. Because they found out the truth. Valence would be finished. Jonathan Hunt, and whoever else is involved would spend years in prison. Well, they may think they’re going to stop it from happening this time, but how long before someone else finds out what they’re doing? They can’t kill everyone, Tim. The people at the top will already be planning their way out of this. And you can bet your life that way out requires a scapegoat. When it comes down to it, who do you think they’ll choose?”

  Tim stared at Emily through frightened eyes. “What did they do to Anya’s son?”

  He doesn’t know. The terror on his face was genuine enough to make her believe it.

  “They poisoned him with lead, left him with irreparable damage that will mark him for the rest of his life. He’s five years old, Tim. How old is your daughter?”

  Marsden shook his head. He tried to speak, but Emily got there first.

  “If Valence are capable of harming a five-year-old without blinking an eye, believe me, they will have no qualms in doing what needs to be done to make this whole situation go away—including hurting their own people.”

  Tim was staring back at the house again, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Emily held her breath. He turned back towards her, suddenly aged and defeated.

  “Do you have a car?”

  Emily nodded.

  He was trembling now. “I’ll be five minutes. Keep the engine running.”

  Tim gave her one last frightened look, then darted inside the house.

  Emily returned to the car and ushered Jerome into the back seat.

  “What happened?”

  “He’s coming to talk to us.”

  She peered into the rear view mirror, checking the road behind. It was a typical middle-class suburban street—whitewashed houses, manicured lawns—the kind of street where children played safely, where nothing terrible ever happened. But Emily did not feel safe here.

  “Does he know where Helen is?”

  Emily turned and scanned the road in front. “I don’t think he does.”

  “Then what is he coming to talk to us about?”

  “I suppose we’re about to find out.”

  They were quiet then, both watching the street. Two minutes passed. Emily slid the key into the ignition and started the engine. She pulled away from the kerb and positioned the car in front of the Marsden house. For a moment, she wondered if Tim had made a run for it through the back. Then, he appeared on the drive, dressed in more casual attire. As he reached the car, he stared into the backseat and froze.

  Emily rolled down the window. “It’s all right, he’s a friend.”

  Jerome waved a hand. Marsden eyed him, then checked both sides of the street. He climbed in.

  “Where am I driving?” Emily asked him.

  “Around.”

  She did as she was instructed, reaching the end of the road and heading left onto another identical suburban street. The roads were maze-like, easy enough to get lost in if you didn’t know where you were going. They drove in silence. When several streets lay between the car and Tim Marsden’s family, he let out a shuddering breath.

  “What exactly do you know?” he asked.

  Emily wasted no time. “Max found out Valence Industries were bribing government officials to discredit their unleaded competitors, thereby prolonging the legality of TEL and allowing Valence to continue making a fortune while destroying the health of millions of children. He knew Valence were onto him, that he was in trouble. He told Anya Copeland what he’d learned. He had proof—emails, documents—that would incriminate Valence. He was going to expose them. They stopped him before he could. Valence took back what he’d found, and silenced everyone involved.” She paused, taking her eyes off the road for a second. “Someone betrayed Max. It’s the only way they could have known what he was planning. Now, he’s dead.”

  Tim sank into the shadows and cocked his head towards the wing mirror. The road ended in a T-junction. Emily spun the wheel, heading left onto yet another leafy, suburban street.

  “Jonathan Hunt came to me.” Tim stared out of the window, watching houses whip by. “He told me there’d been a breach in security, that someone had hacked into the system and perhaps accessed sensitive information. I assumed he’d meant one of our competitors. But then I wondered why he was telling me about it. I was a nobody in the company, nothing to do with computer systems or security. Jonathan told me that Max was a suspect. That, given his background, it was possible he’d deceived Valence and was working from the inside to cause them harm. I didn’t believe it at first. If anything, Max seemed completely dedicated to helping Valence become a much greener company. He was passionate about the Clean Water Project. There was no way he was working against them. And I told Jo
nathan Hunt as much, as well. But he insisted. Said there was evidence to suggest otherwise. That was why they came to me. They needed more than a suggestion to prove Max was behind the breach.”

  “So they asked you to spy on him? To spy on your friend.”

  “Yes, they did. And I agreed.”

  Emily tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Because they promised you his job once he was gone?”

  “Because I wanted to prove them wrong.”

  Emily had had enough of driving in circles. She pulled into the kerb, found a space, and parked. In the passenger seat, Marsden swivelled his head from left to right. “Why have we stopped?”

  “What do you mean, you wanted to prove them wrong?” Emily unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him. “If you’d been a real friend to Max, you would have told him what Hunt asked you to do.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Jonathan Hunt made it very clear that if I didn’t do as he asked, there would be consequences.”

  “He threatened you?”

  “Indirectly.” Marsden eyed the street, then turned back to Emily. “You don’t understand how a company as powerful as Valence Industries operates, do you? If they want something, they take it. They make it happen with or without anyone’s permission, and you’d better not get in their way. If I’d refused, Hunt would have made damn sure I never worked in the chemicals industry again. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. So, I agreed to watch Max. I honestly believed they were wrong. And it was looking that way until a few days before the Clean Water gala.”

  “What happened to change your mind?”

  “We’d been working at ECG, ironing out the finer details of the launch. It was the end of the day, but Max and Anya decided to stay behind for another hour. I’d got all the way to my car before realising I’d left my jacket behind. I went back. They were alone in the office with the door open. They were talking.”