They both took sips from their coffee, glancing over at the entrance as a mother and baby entered.
Sally broke the silence. ‘I’m still confused, Will, about why you’ve come to see me. You’ve got every right not to want to remember that I even exist.’
Will laughed, shaking his head at the thought. ‘Believe me, I’ve tried.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ Will said, struggling for words. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.’
‘You said back at my flat that you wanted to know if the girl you thought you knew was really me. What do you mean?’
Again Will shook his head, ruing the feelings that he had tried but failed to suppress. ‘I . . . I fell in love with that girl . . . with Amy. I fell totally in love with her. She made me feel alive. I want to know, are you Amy?’
Will had thought this was going to be extremely difficult, but now he’d started, the words were coming freely; he felt emboldened. ‘Are you the girl that I fell in love with?’
Sally seemed taken aback. ‘I’m not Amy, Will.’
‘But how much of Amy was you?’
‘I’m not sure how to answer that.’
‘Her personality, character, her likes and dislikes, sense of humour, her attitude and outlook on life – live for the moment, challenge your fears. Is that you, or was it just an act?’
‘No, that’s me.’
‘Then it is you that I’m in love with.’ Will sat back in his chair and looked at her, wonderingly.
Sally shook her head. ‘You don’t mean that. You can’t be in love with me, Will.’
‘Do you really think I’d be here if I wasn’t?’
‘It doesn’t matter, anyway,’ she said. ‘After what’s happened.’
Will wasn’t giving up. ‘I’m okay with being friends, if that’s all you want. I’ll accept that. I promise I will never pressure you for anything more than you’re comfortable with.’
‘Friendship requires trust, Will. How can you ever trust me, after what I did to you?’
‘I do trust you,’ he replied. ‘Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but now that I’ve seen you again, spoken to you . . . I know that I can trust you.’
‘And what about your family, Will? Will Emma trust me? Does she know that you’re here, wanting to be my friend?’
‘She’ll understand.’
‘And if she doesn’t?’
Will didn’t know the answer to that one.
Sally watched as Will turned the corner of the street, after their brief but friendly goodbye. She waited until she got back to the privacy of her flat before dialling the number. ‘Hi. There’s a problem. It’s Will Holden. I think he was following me, and if he was, then he probably saw you.’
Chapter 4
‘So, you wanted to speak to me,’ Adrian Spencer said, unsmiling, as he approached Lizzy on Saturday afternoon just down from Westminster Bridge, by the Thames. It was a halfway meeting point between the offices of Firework Films and the theatre Lizzy was working at.
Adrian, his balding hair shaved short, looked up at the darkening sky. ‘Looks like it’s going to rain.’
Lizzy nodded, noticing how his slate-grey eyes matched the sky. Following the events of yesterday, she’d thought of cancelling the meeting: concerns over the item left by the mysterious, capped individual were weighing heavily on her mind. But part of her wondered whether this would be her only chance; her only opportunity to try and convince Firework Films to drop the idea of the docudrama that they were planning to make about Emma.
Part of her also wondered whether she was crazy to even countenance the idea that she would be able to change their minds. They were a commercial company, with commercial concerns. They obviously thought that the programme had the potential to be lucrative. But surely it was worth a try? And what better present to give Emma on her return from honeymoon than the news that they had dropped the idea?
Lizzy tried a smile. ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me.’
Adrian Spencer had been curt but professional on the phone. In truth, Lizzy hadn’t really expected him to agree to the request. After all, the last time they had met, he had been ambushed by Lizzy, Emma and Dan and faced uncomfortable accusations – that he was a researcher for Firework Films, not the newspaper journalist he had purported to be. Then he had seemed defeated, and deflated. On the run. But today, was that a hint of bitterness in his eyes?
‘You’ve not got your friends with you today, then?’ he said, looking over his shoulder pointedly. ‘Dan Carlton isn’t waiting in the wings, is he? Your knight in shining armour?’
Maybe the meeting had been a mistake. ‘You know why we had to do that.’
Adrian surprised her by nodding. ‘Of course I do.’
Spots of rain began to fall, and the clouds were thickening.
‘Do you want to go for a coffee?’ Lizzy said. ‘There’s the outdoor place just over there. It’s got cover, and heaters.’
He shrugged. ‘Whatever you want.’
The place was protected by a canopy, draped with bright, multi-coloured fairy lights. Not the sturdiest of structures, it was enough to keep out the light drizzle, and the outdoor heater was doing its job. They both ordered a drink.
‘So, you didn’t explain what you wanted to talk to me about,’ he said, placing his gloves on the table between them.
‘It’s about the docudrama. I wanted to ask you if there was any chance that it might not go ahead.’
Adrian Spencer just looked at her.
Lizzy tried again, undaunted by the lack of reaction on his part. ‘Is it definitely going ahead?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Because it’s about us – me and my friends. And it’s going to be very upsetting, for everyone involved, if it goes ahead. Why wouldn’t we want to know what’s happening with it? We have a right to know.’
‘No, you don’t,’ he replied. ‘You don’t have any rights about it, not really.’
Lizzy bristled, and fought to keep her cool. Is this why he agreed to the meeting, so that he could play games with me? ‘Just answer my question, please.’
Adrian laughed to himself. ‘You’ve got this all wrong, you know,’ he said, finally. ‘You’ve got this all very wrong.’
‘I don’t understand what you mean.’
‘I know you don’t. And that’s the problem, Lizzy.’
‘Look,’ Lizzy said, ‘don’t play games with me. Don’t speak in riddles.’
‘Okay, okay’ he replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. ‘I’ll tell it to you straight.’ He paused, gathering his thoughts. ‘First of all, do you really think that I’ve got any control over what goes on at Firework Films? Do you really think I’ve got any influence?’
‘Well, I thought . . .’
‘Look, I’m a researcher. I was working for Firework. I was the hired hand. I don’t have any control whatsoever.’
‘But you must have some—’
‘I have zero influence,’ he interrupted. ‘I was following orders, doing my job, trying to earn some money.’
‘You were pestering us, refusing to leave us alone.’
‘I was following orders,’ he repeated. ‘And because of your actions, because of what you did, the company fired me. I don’t work for them any more.’
Lizzy kept quiet. She couldn’t lie and say that she was sorry. And she was sure that he wouldn’t want to hear that, either.
‘So, you see, Lizzy, I have no influence whatsoever on what Firework Films do or don’t do. And, frankly, I don’t care. I really don’t. All I care about is finding another job, so I can pay my bills.’
She had wasted her time. He’d be no help at all. But then she remembered something that Adrian had said. ‘You said that we’d got this all wrong. What did you mean?’
‘I mean just what I said.’ He looked at her. ‘You’re worrying about the wrong things. You’ve got your eyes on what you perceive to be the threat,
but creeping up behind your back is the real thing to worry about, the real danger.’
‘You’re threatening me?’
He paused. Whether it was to consider his response, or just for dramatic effect, Lizzy didn’t know, but he certainly seemed to be enjoying casting out the bait and reeling her in. ‘The reality, Lizzy, is that there’s someone you should all be worried about, especially Emma.’
‘And that is?’
‘Peter Myers.’
Lizzy blinked. ‘Peter Myers is in jail. He can’t do anything to us any more.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ came the ominous reply.
‘I don’t understand what you mean.’ Lizzy was starting to feel breathless.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘through the research I’ve done, my dealings with Peter Myers, looking into his background, I’d be very worried about that man. I really would be very worried.’
‘But as I said, he’s behind bars.’
‘For now.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? You can’t think he’ll get off, can you? There’s no way they could find him not guilty, no way.’
‘Of course not,’ Adrian Spencer said. ‘He’s already pleaded guilty. The evidence is unequivocal. He will be found guilty, that’s for certain. You don’t need to worry about that.’
‘Then what?’
‘What about when he’s released?’
‘Well, that will be a long time off.’ Lizzy suddenly realised that she hadn’t, until that moment, actually considered that Peter Myers would one day be free again. Of course none of them had thought he’d be locked away for life, but it was still a shock to have this reality brought home.
‘The sentence might not be as long as you think,’ he said. ‘As I said, he has pleaded guilty, and shown remorse, plus there are mitigating circumstances that the judge will take into account.’
Lizzy paused. ‘What mitigating circumstances?’ For a moment she nearly said it: His son was murdered. Stephen Myers was killed by Stuart Harris, and his body dumped in a canal by Stuart, aided by Will Holden. The realisation of what had happened had been the reason he had come after them; it had been the explanation behind it all, a justification even, for his extreme actions. But for some inexplicable reason, Peter Myers had kept the secret. She wondered whether he would choose to reveal it as the sentencing approached. Would it result in a lesser prison term?
‘My research for the documentary revealed that he’d been under a lot of stress over a number of years,’ Adrian explained. ‘His wife, Margaret, had been mentally unwell for some time and, as he was the sole carer, trying to keep his own business going, still dealing with the death of his son, it really took its toll. He’d been on antidepressants, among other things.’
Lizzy breathed an inward sigh of relief. Thank God he hadn’t been referring to Stephen’s murder. ‘How long do you think he’ll serve?’
‘I have no idea. But one day, they will let him out. And if he behaves himself, then it will be sooner than you would want to believe.’
‘And you think we should be worried when that happens?’
He nodded. ‘Emma, in particular.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he’s never offered an explanation for what he did.’ Adrian took a sip of his coffee. ‘He’s never admitted that he is obsessed with Emma. That he wanted to make the connection with her, to be close to her, control her. And that kidnapping Dan, and later you, was part of this – at least, in his eyes.’
‘But the police are sure that was the motive,’ Lizzy said, hoping that he couldn’t see her discomfort. Indeed, they had all stuck to that narrative when interviewed by the police: to suggest that wasn’t the real motivation would potentially have placed the spotlight on Will and Stuart. So it had suited the group for Peter Myers to be labelled as the obsessive stalker – like father, like son, after all.
‘Oh, I’m sure that was his motive. It’s just that if he doesn’t admit to why he did this, he won’t get the right treatment and support in prison. He needs to face up to how he feels and what he’s thinking, and talk to trained specialists. I think that’s highly unlikely, though.’
‘In which case . . .’
‘He will leave prison still obsessed with Emma. And there’s every likelihood that he will come looking for her.’
Just the thought of him being free again was frightening.
‘What I still can’t quite understand,’ Adrian Spencer continued, ‘is why now? After, what, four years? Why did Peter Myers reappear now?’
‘I don’t know.’
Adrian Spencer looked incredulous. ‘You must have a theory. You must have talked about it between yourselves.’
‘We have discussed it. But we don’t have any answers,’ Lizzy said, hoping that he couldn’t see through the lie.
‘Well, I have a theory.’
‘Go on . . .’
‘Something triggered it, I don’t know what. Maybe a chance sighting of Emma, maybe he’d read about her in the newspaper – she’d just accepted that film role, so it’s possible that he’d seen a story about it.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s just a theory.’
Lizzy was impressed by Adrian Spencer’s thought process. Without knowing the truth about Stephen’s death, it was an understandable route for him to go down.
‘Is all this going to be in the programme?’
‘I don’t know. As I said, I’m not part of that any more. It’s just my theory, and I fed that back – before I was sacked. So they might choose to follow that idea, or they might focus on the others.’
‘Others?’ Lizzy looked up, alarmed. Did they know about Stuart and Will after all?
‘Other theories.’
Lizzy fought to hide her true feelings. ‘Like what?’
‘There are other theories.’
‘But you’re not going to tell me?’
‘You’ll have to wait for the programme,’ he said. ‘But I’m just telling you what I think the explanation is, and what the implications of that are for you and your friends.’
‘But you haven’t offered any solutions.’ Lizzy looked at him, eyes wide.
‘Because I don’t have any.’
‘So why even tell me this? Are you just trying to scare us? To take revenge for us getting you sacked?’
‘You really don’t think much of me, do you?’
‘I’m just going on past form.’
He laughed. ‘Lizzy, have you ever considered that you might not be as good a judge of character as you think you are?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He stood up to leave, picking up his gloves. ‘I mean, be careful who you trust.’
Trust. That word again. Who do you trust, Lizzy? The message in the note. She blocked his path with her arm. ‘The man sending the letters, is that you?’
He looked genuinely confused. ‘I have no idea what you mean. Now, please, I need to leave.’
‘If it is you—’
‘Remember what I said, Lizzy. You’re at risk of missing the real danger. Now, please, I have to go.’
Reluctantly she conceded, and watched as he walked away through the rain.
As Adrian Spencer’s words resonated in her mind, she pulled the envelope that the capped individual had hand-delivered out of her bag.
You’re at risk of missing the real danger.
She thought about the contents of the packet.
Was the real danger much closer to home?
Just considering that possibility was the most terrifying thought of all.
Chapter 5
David Sherborn looked at his watch again. It was mid-afternoon, half an hour after the scheduled arrival time of a mother and baby group at his studios. He’d tried to call the girl who had coordinated the group for the photography session, but there had been no reply.
‘You okay?’ His wife, Helen, stuck her head around the door that separated the purpose-built studio annex from the rest of the house.
He glanced at
his watch again. ‘They’re probably not going to turn up.’
‘Maybe they’re running late?’
He shook his head. ‘One person being late I can imagine, but a group of seven mothers and babies? At least one or two of them would have been here by now.’
She nodded her agreement. ‘Sorry. What a pain – it’s so annoying when people just let you down like that. Are you still okay if I pop out to the shops for a bit? You don’t fancy coming along?’
‘I’d better wait here.’
‘I’ll be back soon,’ Helen said. ‘See you in a bit.’
Just after Helen had left, David tried to call the woman again. This time she answered.
‘Hi, is that Angie? It’s David Sherborn here, from Sherborn Photography. You’ve got a session booked for this afternoon, and I was just . . . right, okay, yes, I understand . . . Well, maybe you’d like to rearrange? . . . Okay, I’ll wait to hear from you.’ He ended the call.
She’d apologised profusely, saying that her son had been unwell for the past few days, and although she’d called the rest of the group to say they shouldn’t go ahead, she’d forgotten to cancel the appointment with him.
This kind of thing had happened before – it was an inevitable consequence of his policy not to charge any money up-front for his studio-based photography sessions. But it was particularly annoying on a Saturday – his busiest day by far, where a wasted appointment slot cost him hundreds of pounds.
At least he could make good use of the time, now he knew for certain that they weren’t going to show up. He decided to do some housekeeping.
He powered up his computer, a top-of-the-range Apple Mac with a 17-inch screen. The machine was expensive, but cost-effective – it was amazing for taking clients through their images. Parents especially drooled at the sight of their children on the big screen, in stunning high resolution. The photographs sold themselves.
He decided to catalogue some images from the previous week, and then back up some older images from the computer onto a portable hard drive. It was tedious work, but it had to be done. To lose any of the images would be a disaster, both financially and from a professional point of view.
The One You Trust: Emma Holden Trilogy: Book Three Page 3
