See Me Not: A gripping psychological thriller with a heartbreaking twist.

by Janelle Harris

  I nod sheepishly. ‘I hate morning people, you know?’

  ‘’Really? I never noticed,’ Kim jokes, poking fun at our years of living together while we were in college. ‘You’ll take a spoon of sugar in your coffee, then?’

  I stick out my tongue. ‘Ugh. No. Are you trying to poison me?’

  ‘Okay, then, two it is. You need something to sweeten you up a bit.’ Kim giggles as she disappears behind the door, and I hear her bouncing down the stairs.

  I flop onto my belly and reach for my phone waiting under my pillow. I prop myself up on my elbows and unlock it. The light from my screen illuminates half the room. I stare at the screen, and a sting of disappointment hits me as the light goes out. I flick my finger up and down, scrolling to sync. Nothing happens. No messages, calls, or emails. David still hasn’t bothered to get in touch. I close my eyes and allow my forehead to flop onto the pillow. On the bright side, there are no more messages from that random number from last night either. I deleted all the texts last night, on Kim’s advice, and I’m glad now. I don’t need a reminder of that crap this morning. I guess it really was just some bored stranger. Weirdo.

  I dial David’s number, but it rings out. I try him a few more times, but there’s still no answer. I don’t bother to leave a voicemail. Flustered, I slide my phone back under the pillow. For a moment, I think about popping down to the train station for a cup of tea and a rant with Danny once Kim goes home. But then, I remember.

  I wipe my eyes before tears begin to fall. My legs flop over the side of the bed, and my bare feet hit the timber floorboard with a dull slap. I stand up, grab my dressing gown from the end of the bed, and slip my arms into the sleeves. The house is cold, and I need to turn on the heat. I follow Kim downstairs. I pause outside the kitchen door, hearing voices and laughing. It takes me a couple of seconds to realise that Kim has her phone on loudspeaker, and she is flirting shamelessly with a man on the other end of the line.

  I make my way to the kitchen table, tossing Kim a look that tells her I want all the juicy gossip as soon as she hangs up. Kim picks her phone up off the countertop as soon as she sees me and turns off the loud speaker. She tilts her head to one side and brings her shoulder up to meet her ear, sandwiching her phone between as she continues to potter about my kitchen. I offer to help her cook breakfast, but she dismisses my suggestion with a wave of her hand. I’m relieved. My head is throbbing, and all I want to do is sit.

  Kim places a cup of steaming coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. And despite the majority of her attention going toward whoever is on the phone, she manages to toss me a smile. She fetches another cup of coffee and a second plate of eggs and sets them on the opposite side of the table. She sits, eats, and talks. I’m not hungry, but I nibble so I don’t offend Kim and all her hard work.

  Finally, when we’re both finished eating and the coffee has cooled enough to drink, Kim hangs up. She places her phone face down on the table, and for the first time since she sat down, she makes eye contact with me.

  ‘He’s such a chatterbox.’ Kim giggles and shakes her head.

  ‘He?’

  ‘Yeah, Andy. The guy from last night?’

  ‘There was a guy last night?’

  Kim’s eyes narrow, and she pulls her head towards her chest until she has three chins. ‘Yes. You liked him. You said he was hot.’

  I shake my head and take a sip of my coffee.

  ‘Andy Taylor. Thirty-five. The cop. Jesus, Emma. You spent twenty minutes last night teasing me about guys in uniform.’

  ‘Really?’

  Kim’s whole face scrunches, and I know she’s frustrated. ‘Seriously? Were you really that wasted that you don’t remember? You told him you didn’t think he was a real cop. You said you’d bet he was a stripper.’

  ‘Oh. God.’ My eyes widen. ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Umm. Yes. You did. It was hilarious. I can’t believe you don’t remember.’

  I rest my coffee cup back on the table and stare into the black, tar-like liquid. ‘Sorry, Kim. I guess I must have had more to drink last night than I thought. But he definitely seems interested. I mean, if he’s calling you the next day. That’s good. If you like him.’

  ‘Actually,’ Kim says, her voice adopting a suddenly serious tone. ‘He was calling to check if you were okay.’

  ‘Me?’ I squeak, tapping my chest with my fingertips.

  ‘He was concerned about those weird text messages you were getting last night.’

  ‘You told him?’ My hands cover my mouth.

  ‘Yeah. I was texting him for a while last night after we got home. I had to explain why I didn’t invite him back to my place.’

  ‘And I was your excuse.’ I drag my hands down my chest and cross my arms.

  ‘Well, actually, yeah.’ Kim tosses her head to one side. ‘If I wasn’t minding your drunk ass last night, I’d have screwed his brains out. He was seriously hot, Emma. Even you thought so.’

  ‘Oh, great - thanks, blame me.’ I shrug. ‘Anyway, what did you tell him?’

  ‘Dunno. Just the usual stuff. My name, job, hobbies, blah, blah.’

  ‘I mean about the stalker, Kim. What did you say about that weirdo?’

  ‘Oh, right, yeah.’ Kim blushes. ‘Just that some stranger was sending you weird shit.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘You do see the irony here, Kim?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You told one stranger about another stranger. Don’t you think that makes us sound stupid?’

  Kim laughs. ‘Nah. Andy’s a cop. He’s probably used to hearing crazy shit like that all the time.’

  I shake my head and sit up straight. ‘Or he says he’s a cop. You just met this guy. He could be the bloody stalker, for all we know.’

  ‘Oh, seriously, Emma.’ Kim snorts. ‘And where exactly did he get your phone number?’

  ‘I dunno.’ I shrug. ‘From your phone?’

  ‘Really?’ Kim stands up and clears the plates from the table, clattering them against each other as she tosses them into the sink. ‘So you’re saying Andy managed to get his hands on my phone without me noticing, found your number, and then spent half the night texting you all while he was talking to me? And I just didn’t see any of this happen. Face it, Emma. It’s one of David’s workmates acting like an asshole. They were probably drunk and thought it was funny. And I don’t blame you for being annoyed. I would be too.’

  I stand up and bring the coffee cups over to the sink. ‘Just leave all this, Kim. I’ll wash up later.’

  Kim sways, and her stiff upper body softens. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It’s just … I like this Andy guy. I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to tell anyone about the weird texts. I wasn’t thinking. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment. He asked me questions about the taxi ride home. You know, like people do. He was just making conversation, and I needed something to say, and it all just came out. I really am sorry if I’ve overstepped a line.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ I sigh. ‘It’s just those messages freaked me out a little. I want to forget about them now. Okay?’

  ‘Did you delete them?’ Kim asks.

  ‘Yeah. All of them. You said I should, remember?’

  ‘Yeah, I know. I know.’ Kim shakes her head. ‘But did you not keep one to show David?’ Kim’s surprise registers in the contorted lines of her forehead.

  I shake my head. ‘No. I don’t think I’ll mention them to him. He’s already worried about me. I don’t want to stress him out even more.’

  ‘Have you heard from him yet?’

  My lips form a flat line, and I try to mask my disappointment. ‘Not yet. But he’s up to his eyes with this client from the States. I’d say he hasn’t had a second to himself. I’m sure he’ll get in touch as soon as he can.’

  Kim runs her hand through her hair. She’s known David as long as I have. She’s comfortable enough to call him out when he’s being an ass, but she doesn’t say anything this t
ime. I think she knows how sensitive I am right now, and she’s afraid to add fuel to the fire.

  ‘I’m supposed to meet Andy this afternoon. He suggested the cinema,’ Kim explains. ‘Will you come along too?’

  I laugh out loud. ‘And tag along on your first date? Oh. God. I’m sure Andy would love that.’

  ‘No, seriously, it’ll be fun.’

  ‘No, seriously, it won’t. Kim, I’m fine. Go enjoy your date,’ I say. ‘And if he’s as hot as you say he is, send me a photo, yeah?’

  Kim scrunches her nose. ‘No. No. I’ll cancel. We can go to the cinema some night after work instead. It’s okay.’

  ‘It’s not okay. Please, Kim. Go have fun. He sounds nice. I mean it. You’ll make me feel bad if you cancel.’

  Kim leans her back against the sink and looks me up and down. ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’

  I smack Kim on the shoulder playfully and wobble my head spasmodically. ‘Yes, silly. Of course, I’ll be fine. Actually, I have plans for this afternoon too.’

  Kim raises a patronising eyebrow, and I know she doesn’t believe me.

  ‘Kim,’ I say sternly. ‘I’m calling around to my parents’ house for lunch. And even if I wasn’t, I’m a big girl. I am perfectly capable of being left alone for a few hours.’

  ‘You’re grieving, Emma. I’m just worried.’

  ‘I know.’ I smile. ‘And I love you for it, but I really am okay. I’m not a silly seventeen-year-old anymore. I can handle grief now, you know.’

  Kim swallows so hard I can actually see her throat flinch. ‘Okay. Okay. But promise you’ll call me if you need me. And let me know if you get a hold of your hubby.’

  I don’t tell her that as soon as she leaves, I’m going to text my mother to cancel. I’ve no intention of getting a shower or even changing out of my pyjamas. I plan to bring a box of paracetamol and a bottle of wine to bed with me.

  Chapter Nine

  DAVID

  My feet hurt as I walk down the busy streets of Kilkenny City. Despite the temperature being close to freezing, the place is thronged with tourists and locals. A group of drunken women staggers up the street in front of me. Their skirts are too short, and their voices are too loud as they chant some made-up mantra about being the World’s Best Hen party. Young families are dotted all around, enjoying a winter morning in the city. A man, about my age, wrestles a screaming toddler as he tries to prevent the youngster from dashing into traffic. A woman and a man I’m guessing is her husband or boyfriend scream and shout at each other mid-argument. It’s a stereotypical Saturday in the lively city; it’s noisy and crowded, and I don’t want to be here.

  I throw the paper cup in my hand into the first bin I find. I’ve had my fill of cheap, takeaway coffee. I can’t tolerate any more mindless chitchat about accounts and budget projections with the client. I’m cold, tired, and beyond pissed off that everyone around me is enjoying downtime this weekend while I’m working. I can’t stop thinking about the knickers I found in my bedroom this morning. My stomach heaves every time the image parades across my mind. Where the hell did they come from? Do I even want to know?

  Amber is marching about five paces in front of me as we walk back to our hotel. I’ve noticed she won’t stand directly next to me today. She has been icy all morning. She mumbled something incoherent earlier at breakfast, and when I asked her to repeat herself, she glared at me like she wanted to slice my face in half with her eyes. She ignored me the whole time we were taking a boring, guided tour of the castle. I hope I wasn’t a drunken asshole last night and maybe said something offensive to piss her off. But I wish she’d just tell me instead of giving me the cold shoulder since the Boston guys are picking up on it. It looks unprofessional, and I know if Amber’s sulk costs us their business, I’ll be the one who gets the blame.

  The hotel comes into view as I round the next street corner, and I can’t wait to pack my bags and tell Amber I’m leaving. I just want to get home to my wife.

  *

  Two hours later, I’m sitting in the front passenger seat of Amber’s Audi A4 as we drive back to Dublin. We’ve been together in the confined space of the car for a strong hour, and besides a quick, pointless discussion on the weather, we haven’t conversed.

  ‘I really appreciate the lift, Amber,’ I say, unable to take the silence any longer.

  Amber nods, and her grip on the steering wheel tightens until her knuckles whiten.

  ‘Umm, you can just let me out when we get into town,’ I suggest. ‘I’ll get the train the rest of the way home. I don’t want to drag you all the way over to the far side of the city.’

  ‘I don’t mind dropping you home.’

  ‘Honestly, Amber. There’s no need. I wouldn’t feel right taking you so far out of your way.’

  ‘David. I said it’s fine, okay,’ Amber snaps.

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ I agree reluctantly.

  I stare out the window as we whizz down the motorway. I really don’t want Amber to chaperone me to the front door like a lost puppy. I’ll feel obliged to invite her in, then. With conversation this stilted, it would be a nightmare if she accepted. I know Emma wouldn’t appreciate spending her Sunday afternoon entertaining my boss. And without my phone, I can’t even text ahead to warn her it might be a possibility. I roll my eyes, disappointed in myself. If I had any balls, I’d insist Amber drop me in town so I could go shopping and pick up jewellery and flowers for Emma. But whatever was pissing Amber off this morning was only made worse when I suggested going home early. The Boston boys overheard and were delighted to give the rest of the tourist sights a miss. They planned to flitter away the rest of the afternoon sampling Guinness in the hotel bar. I got a thumbs-up from the rest of the team, too, who were all relieved to get home early, but Amber’s face was puce, and she did a terrible job hiding her irritation. She quickly suggested I travel home with her. It would have been rude to refuse, even though I was certain I was in for a lecture. This damn silent treatment is worse.

  ‘So do you think the Boston boys like us?’ I ask, desperate for her to say something. ‘They seemed really interested, didn’t they?’

  Amber’s response is a barely noticeable twitch. This is torture.

  ‘Do you want to run over the pitch for tomorrow’s meeting? I’d be happy to listen. Might help you work the nerves out?’ I say.

  The car slows, and Amber turns to glare at me. Her eyes are only off the road for a few seconds, but it’s long enough to unnerve me.

  ‘The pitch?’ She snorts, finally turning her head back to look out the windscreen. ‘You think that’s my problem. Work stuff. You think I’m nervous about the goddamn fucking pitch.’

  ‘Amber, I don’t know. You’re just not yourself today.’ I run my thumb up and down the edge of my seat belt. ‘I know there’s a lot resting on winning this business. All our futures depend on it. It’s understandable to feel pressure. I do.’

  Amber cackles. I’ve never heard her laugh like that before. It’s as ridiculous and forced as a Disney villain, and it pisses me right off. We speed up and weave in and out between motorway traffic. Amber’s grip on the steering wheel looks painfully tight. My arms fall rigidly by my sides, and I clutch the edges of the leather seat in my fists.

  After a mile or two, Amber swerves to the left without slowing and pulls onto the hard shoulder. The passenger-side wheel rumbles loudly as we roll over cats eyes. The rear of the car skids as it attempts to cope with car’s sudden change of direction.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Amber. Stop the car. Stop the fucking car,’ I shout.

  My body flies forward, and the seat belt compresses my ribs as we come to a sudden, jerky stop. I pant. I sit statue-like for a few seconds. My heart is racing so fiercely I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears. I jump suddenly and reach across Amber to grab the keys out of the ignition.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ I growl.

  Amber sits thrashing her head from side to side. She’s pale. Even her lips are lacking col
our. She opens her door, swings her body as if she’s about to get out, but she stills again and closes the door.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ she says, throwing her hands in the air. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Keep up this act.’

  ‘Amber, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. I know you’re pissed off with me. You’ve been in weird humour all day. But you’re talking in riddles. You’ve lost me.’

  ‘Oh, c’mon, David. Don’t pretend like you don’t feel guilty,’ Amber mumbles. ‘You’ve been sucking up to me all day. Trying to be my best friend. Trying to pretend like nothing happened. Oh, David. What have we done?’

  The pounding of my heart in my ears turns to ringing, and I’m certain if I could see myself, I’m now as pale as Amber. An image of the knickers I found in my hotel room this morning shoots around my head. Thoughts of the silky black lace smack off my skull, punching me from the inside out. I drag my hand over and back across my jaw, pulling my skin so roughly it stings.

  ‘I don’t remember,’ I stutter.

  Amber throws her head back and snorts. ‘Huh, well, that’s convenient.’

  ‘No. Honestly.’ I undo my seat belt and twist in my seat so I can face her. ‘I don’t remember much after losing my phone. I had too much to drink, I know. But I don’t remember us …’ I pause and swallow the bile that’s creeping up the back of my throat. ‘I don’t even remember us kissing or anything like that.’

  Ambers folds her arms across her chest and rocks back and forth as much as the limited space behind the steering wheel will allow. ‘And I can’t forget.’

  ‘Forget what, Amber. Say it?’

  ‘I could lose my job, David. If people find out about this.’

  ‘How?’ I sigh, my head sinking into my shoulders as I reluctantly accept what Amber is insinuating.

  ‘Soliciting a junior member of staff. It’s very serious.’

  ‘Christ, Amber, you make it sound like I’m a child. I’m a grown man, for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘Yes, David. And a married man. Oh, this is bad. So bad.’