Revival

by Rebecca Sherwin

  I stared off out of the window behind him at the kids running around the playground. I couldn’t remember Beth. Had we been in the same classes? Was she one of the girls who tried to befriend me out of pity? Maybe she was in one of the groups of kids who bullied me; banded together to shout things at me and laugh when I walked past them alone. I used to circle the school at break and lunch time, round and around. I was afraid to stop and watch kids hanging with their friends when I had none. I had no recollection of Beth.

  “Yeah, I might.”

  I would. I already knew I’d be there. Saturday was still four days away and I wanted to slip into a coma until then so I wouldn’t have to wait.

  “What did you want to know about Oliver?”

  “Have you got a record for him? We were good friends before he died and I’m helping Skye out with a project.”

  His suspicious gaze slid over me, but his features quickly softened. He had no good reason to deny me what I wanted, we both knew that. He rose from his chair and moved to the filing cabinet, pulling out one of the drawers and flicking through the contents. His fingers continued to flit quickly between the folders. The clock ticked, echoing around the room and intensifying my nerves. He repeated his search and then moved to the next drawer down, sighing loudly. His hand came up and scratched the back of his head.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, noticing him begin to massage the back of his neck.

  “His file isn’t here.”

  “What about Skye’s?”

  He returned to his chair and sat down with a loud exhale, then placed two empty folders in front of him.

  “That’s gone, too.”

  “Why?”

  His lips twisted. “I have no idea.”

  “Beth’s?”

  “Gone.” He scratched his head again. “That may be due to time, though. We don’t keep records forever and yours isn’t there, either. But Oliver and Skye’s should be.” He dragged his hand down his face. I squeezed the arms of my chair harder. “Hmm…hold on.”

  He picked up the phone.

  “Have we had an administration audit? Has anyone come in for ex-pupils’ files? Hmm…When?” A long pause. “Who was the representative? You should have informed me, I should have been present…Right, okay. Thanks.” He hung up and leaned toward me. “They were taken for an investigation.”

  “What investigation?”

  Panic struck. My head tightened and little black spots began to dot my vision. Had something happened to Skye?

  “Into Oliver’s death.”

  “The police have opened up a case?” My voice broke and I swallowed down the rest of my coffee, trying to relax my throat as it clammed up and refused to let air in.

  Barry shifted, his eyes dropped to the desk and his hands came together, squeezing tightly until they turned white.

  “The files were taken by a representative from Shadow Investigations.”

  I wrote down the name in the back of the journal. Shadow Investigations. My head snapped up.

  “It’s a private investigation company.” Barry said, answering my unasked question and confirming my fear.

  I barely recognised my own writing as I looked down at the two words scrawled on an empty back page. My hands were shaking. My heart was racing. My mind was a cluster-fuck of questions; questions I couldn’t even ask myself.

  “When?”

  “About three weeks ago.”

  Why only recently? What the hell was going on? Ollie died years ago, there was no one in his life who would need to investigate it. We knew the cause of death. His final moments were caught on camera. There was no foul play.

  “Thanks, Barry.”

  I stood on legs overcome with the pins and needles of fear and shoved my hands in my pockets. I couldn’t let him see my hands. I couldn’t look at them. I was ready to hit something and I had to get out before I did.

  “You okay?” He asked, eyeing me with concern.

  “Fine,” I lied. “See you Saturday.”

  “Main hall at eight.”

  “Got it. I’ll be there.”

  I left his office and shoved my earpiece in as I hauled myself into my car and peeled away from the curb.

  “Curtis.” Jesse answered almost as soon as the call connected. “What’s happening?”

  I called him when I was on my way here yesterday. We were going to do this together. If there was any hope of me finding the truth, I had to have a partner. Jesse was the only person I trusted.

  My voice was hoarse and dry as I rapidly explained what had just happened. I hoped that by saying it out loud, I’d be relieved of the weight on my shoulders that made my back hurt and the vein in my neck thump wildly with rage.

  Someone had stepped into Skye’s broken past three weeks ago, and they had no right to be there.

  “Want me to find the company?” Jesse asked.

  “Yes.” My answer left as a breathless growl. “Find me a number before Saturday.”

  “I’m on it.”

  I mumbled a thanks and hung up, hitting the accelerator and flying through the rural streets.

  Thirty Two

  I learned the alphabet, like a good little boy, about thirty years ago.

  And now it was haunting me…

  April 26th, 2012

  I’d been staring at my phone for three days, waiting for Jesse to call with information, or for Charlie to give me a hard time about keeping her in the dark. I was stuck, relying on Jesse and his father’s contacts to get me what I needed to move forward. I spent time with Lois and she cheered up almost instantly. I felt marginal comfort that I’d been a part of the return of her light, carefree smile. She was playing music, singing, dancing. She was happy. Except I knew that would change back the minute the wheels of Phil’s plane touched down on the tarmac.

  I was staring through the TV, the bright colours of a daytime chat show making my eyes dry, when my phone rang. Jesse.

  “Please tell me you’ve found something.”

  “Would I ever let you down? My father’s people tracked Shadow down. They’re paper hoarders, bouncing IPs and we can't find the proxy server.”

  “So nothing.”

  “Now, now.” He was far too playful for my sour mood. I hated feeling helpless. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Get to the point.”

  “My father has two of the country’s top internet security guys working for him.”

  “So…?”

  “So there was a slip up. One little mistake that gave my guys their IP. There’s a hair salon on Baker Street. It may not be the main base, they’re working on finding that. But it’s something.”

  “A hair salon?” I huffed.

  “Yeah, they’re unlikely to stick a sign on the front of a shop advertising their services.” He laughed, then stopped abruptly when I didn’t respond. “Anyway, they got you a number. Their advice is to make an unrelated call, see what you can scope out. Don’t storm in there with the big guns out. Most of these guys are ex-military.”

  “Got it, thanks, Jesse.”

  I took the number from him, refusing the address; I didn’t know if I could fight the temptation to storm in there and pin someone to the wall by their throat until they talked. And I couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t earn me a gun to the head. So I made the call instead, using one of Charlie’s old SIM cards so I couldn’t be traced. I dialled the number, anxiety making my heart hammer against my ribs.

  “Hello, Hair with Flare.”

  “Who’s this?”

  Fuck. I felt the edge in my voice and the gasp from the woman on the other end told me she felt it, too.

  “Who’s this?” She was defensive. I knew I was in the right place.

  “I know what you do here,” I rasped. “I need a file.”

  “I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

  “Oh, I think you do.” No going back now. “Unless you want an army in that salon of yours with a warrant to search everything you’ve got, you’re going
to help me. One investigator to another.”

  “Okay, sir,” her voice rose to adopt a professional tone. “Let me see if we can fit you in. What was it you wanted?”

  I tried not to convey my relief. If I had her compliance because she was afraid, it had to stay that way.

  “Some files were taken from Eppingwood Secondary three weeks ago. I need to know who ordered them and why.”

  “One moment, please.” The connection quietened and I heard her call out that she couldn’t hear over the hairdryers. The sounds in the background dulled until I heard silence. And then the sound of a key in a lock, a metal drawer being pulled out and the rusting of papers.

  “I’m doing this because I hate my job,” she whispered, barely audible. “I don’t want to walk out of here tonight and wonder if my lack of co-operation has stopped you protecting a child or woman, or someone in a vulnerable position. I’ll give you what you want and then you must never call this office again. Okay?”

  “You have my word.”

  She groaned an incoherent mumble of frustration.

  “There’s nothing here. I have a folder in my hands but the only thing in it is the letter P written on the inside cover. I hope that means something to you. I was here when the files were brought in so either the case is closed, or it’s in progress now. If it is, it will only be accessible to the investigator working on it.”

  “And who is that?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “So that’s all you can give me? A letter?” I spat. “A goddamn letter of the alphabet?”

  “That’s all I have here, I’m sorry. It’s possible that P is the initial of the person who hired us, but I can't be sure.”

  I hung up and launched the burner across the room, watching it break against the wall. I was back at square one again, with nothing but a letter. The same letter I found at the factory. I had to go back there. I picked up my usual phone and called Jesse.

  “What happened?” he asked when the call connected.

  “Nothing.” I tore into my hair. “Fucking nothing! The goddamn letter P is haunting me!”

  “I thought that might happen.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got the guys on it. They’re monitoring activity and I’ve given them the letter P as priority. They’ll be alerted to anything that contains the letter alone and dig deeper into the content, see what they can find.”

  “And their access is untraceable?”

  “Of course. We’ll get them, Cut Throat. We’ll find something.”

  “How do I pay your guys?”

  “It’s done. They work for my father, which means they work for me.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “There’s something else,” he stated. It wasn’t a question. He knew.

  “Can you be here Saturday?”

  “Yeah, what do you need?”

  “Bring one of your guys. I need you to get into the factory.” I heard the key in the front door and Lois called out a cheerful hello. “I’ll text you details.”

  “See you Saturday.”

  Lois and I had just finished clearing up after dinner when my phone rang from the living room. I ran through to answer it, stepping outside when I saw Charlie’s name and picture on the screen.

  “Where are you?!” She screeched. “I’m at your place and you’re not here.”

  “I’m in Kent,” I answered.

  “Why the hell are you in Kent again?”

  She didn’t know I was from Kent. She didn’t care enough to ask questions about my life before her, and I didn’t want her to know. I had to protect Lois.

  “Working on my project.” I jumped in the back of the car, in case Lois was spying like she used to when I was a kid. “Listen, get yourself a pretty dress and keep Saturday free. I’ve got a plan.”

  “And why does that involve me?”

  “You’re my cover, baby. It’s your turn to be my dirty little secret.”

  “Mmm,” she purred. “I like the sound of that. What’s the plan?”

  “I’ll text you details. Bring a burner phone.”

  I hung up before she could answer. She’d be curious enough to make sure she was there. I knew her; as much as she tried to keep me out, I was in her head. I slid my phone into the pocket of my sweats and went back inside.

  Thirty Three

  Fear and loss of control.

  Loss of control and arousal.

  Arousal and physical punishment.

  Mental punishment guaranteed.

  April 28th, 2012

  I paced the hotel room, nervously waiting for Charlie. I was terrified. I was about to make my first hit. Scratch that, I’d taken a leaf out of Charlie’s book and hired someone to help. I’d bought a new suit for tonight and got my hair cut, when all I wanted to do was throw on some lounge clothes and sit at home with a certain brunette snuggled up to me. Yet here I was, stalking her sister and getting a cover in place to provide me with an alibi, should things go tits up. I had to rely on Jesse and his hacker to protect themselves, and to get what I needed. He’d gotten them an untraceable phone and left the number at the front desk of the bed and breakfast where I was meeting Charlie at.

  There was a quiet rap on the door and I crossed the room slowly to answer it. Charlie was standing on the other side when the cheap plastic door opened with a creak and, of course, she was dressed in white – her trademark colour. It made her stand out in a crowd and emphasised her icy blue eyes; they were always the first thing people noticed and they were captivated instantly.

  “Mr Mason.” She placed her dainty hands on my shoulders and pressed a light kiss to each cheek.

  “Ms Tattersell.” I sidestepped to let her in.

  She grimaced when she looked around the rented room. I hadn’t actually slept in the room that looked like the seventies had thrown up in it, she just had to believe I had so I could keep her away from Lois. Those worlds could never collide. I knew my uncle would grab her interest and as much as I wanted Phil to suffer, for what, I hadn’t worked out yet, my aunt, my precious aunt, was off-limits. She would become collateral damage and I refused to entertain that possibility.

  “Nice,” she said, her voice thick with disgust.

  “It’s just a room, Charlie.”

  She brushed some invisible dirt off the foot of the bed and perched on the edge.

  “So what’s our plan?” She beckoned me towards her.

  “Attention,” was my reply as I took a step forward and she ran her hands down my stomach to smooth out my shirt. I clenched my jaw and tried to think of anything but her body, soft and smooth, tight and responsive, pressed against mine. The Queen. Naked. That did it. “We make sure people see us. And remember us.”

  “You brought me all this way to go to a school party?”

  “Yes, I did.” I stood my ground.

  “Why?” Slowly, she pinched my zip and eased it down.

  “No.” I smacked her hand away and zipped myself back up, the responsive rod of flesh between my legs twitching in protest. “I don’t have a reason, Cat, but I'm doing it. You can either come with me, or get in your car and go back to London.”

  She stood up, her heels lifting her to meet me at eye-level, and we exchanged a stubborn glare of fire. She tilted her head first to the right, then the left as she studied my face. I knew she’d only see my determination. She wasn’t penetrating the armour I’d put on to protect me from her manipulation. I’d found myself again, dug in deep to locate my fight, which, finally, gave me the strength to rival Charlie’s steel superiority.

  He tongue dipped out and swiped the seam of her red lips, leaving them glistening. Her breath surrounded me slowly, warmly, leaving me intoxicated.

  “I’m in.”

  “Name,” the woman at the door with a clipboard lodged in the crease of her elbow said.

  Did I remember her? No. Her mousy brown hair and equally dreary brown eyes would never leave a lasting impression. Still, I was ready to have so
me fun. I didn’t respond, waiting for her to look up and when she did, I watched her pupils dilate and her lips part to accommodate her shortening breath.

  “Curtis,” she breathed.

  “Hi, Caitlin.”

  Her eyes brightened; I was sure her stomach tightened at the thought of me recognising her. I guessed she’d forgotten about the name sticker covering her nipple, which had hardened beneath the thin paper.

  She was shocked. I knew she expected me to be in prison, or dead. She wasn’t far off.

  “Doesn’t he just take a badge and we go in?” Charlie stepped between Caitlin and me, hitting Caitlin with a stab of icy possession. I smirked.

  “Sticker,” Caitlin bit back. Standing up and leaning past Charlie, to stick an address label to my chest. She turned to Charlie, leaving her hand on me a little too long. “And you are?”

  “Not in need of a sticker.” She grabbed my hand. “Come on, baby.”

  I let her lead me away, glancing over my shoulder. “Good to see you, Caitlin.”

  My gaze slid over her slowly before I turned again, hearing her sigh and drop back into her seat.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Charlie seethed. I could almost see the smoke shooting out of her ears.

  “I am, actually. Jealous, Ms Tattersell?”

  “Get over yourself.”

  I caught her wrist as she raised her hand to flick her hair behind her ear and shoved her back against the wall. She lost her breath to an unexpected whimper.

  “I’ll be getting over you later. If you be a good little plaything.”

  “Fuck you.” She pretended she was offended, but I knew better. I could smell the erotic scent of arousal radiating from her as she ducked under my arm and we continued along the hallway. “Who was she?”

  “I went to school with her. It’s a school reunion, Charlie.”

  “I don’t like her.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know.” I had to keep her on my side. I softened my tone and took hold of her hand. “But we need to be seen tonight. Keep your jealousy under control.”

  “This better be worth you bringing me here.”

  “I’ll make it worth it.”

  I pushed the door for the main hall open. Eighties music played from the old speakers, disco lights flashed and slid over the ceiling and walls. The guests stood around talking, until all eyes fell on us when we stepped inside. I placed my hand on the small of Charlie’s back and she stood tall, comfortable and in her element.