by Dawson, H A
‘What!’ Panic bounded through her veins, with visions of the sorrowful teenager hammering her thoughts.
‘Who’s Emma?’ he asked.
Not responding, she started away.
Josh hurried to her rear. ‘It’s already been taken control of. Jodi sent out another email apologising and claiming it was span. She told me to tell you.’
Her eyes shot to the chicken pens. ‘I thought she was outside.’
He passed her a blank look.
‘What the hell is going on Josh? Who’s doing this?’
‘I don’t know, but we will find the culprit.’ He paused and studied her heated face. ‘Maddie, there was another cut out clock in the office, and this time it’s ten minutes further on. I think it’s counting down to midnight.’
She stared voicelessly.
‘Have you spoken to Kelly?’
‘I don’t think she’s responsible. What are we going to do? I don’t want to involve the police, and besides, I doubt they’d be able to do much about it without a suspect.’
‘We’ll work something out. Come on, let’s get inside and formulate a plan.’
They were striding back to the building when an idea struck her. She would hire a private investigator. It was a perfect solution. They would be able to determine who was out to ruin her quicker than the police could, and they would be discrete.
Stopping abruptly, she pulled out her phone from her pocket.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Hiring a private investigator, Luke Adams in fact. I’ve heard he’s efficient. A friend used him a short while ago.’
‘I don’t believe that’s necessary.’
‘Why ever not?’
When he didn’t answer, she accessed the number via the Internet, strode from Josh’s view, and made the call.
Chapter 4
Still high on adrenalin, Luke waited for the office doorbell to tinkle, indicating his assistant Imogen’s arrival. He had spent part of the weekend with her, having lost a bet and having agreed to be her slave for the day. Whilst he had been embarrassed with some of the tasks she had chosen, it had turned out to be one of the most enjoyable days he had had for months.
Recounting his nervousness as he had waited for her at home, triggered an excited tingle across his body. Even though she had been chattering about her plans for days, he was apprehensive, as had no clues to what was on the agenda, especially since teasing was her favourite pastime.
Her first instruction was to call her ‘Miss Morrison,’ something that caused a stirring in his loins. Immediately, he chastised himself for his surging feelings, reminding himself they were colleagues and friends, and that nothing more could come of their relationship. Even if it could, he was a simple man with simple desires. Imogen, on the other hand, was sophisticated, beautiful and witty. Their lives and expectations were worlds apart.
After that initial and awkward introduction, she told him the day was to start with a massage. His heart pounded hard as dread formed on his face. Touching her and disguising his excitement were incompatible, and he would not be able to do one without the other. If she had requested a head massage or a foot massage, maybe he would have believed he could cope, but it had been more than that. Imogen wanted a back massage, complete with oils.
Prior to the event, terror had stiffened his torso. She would be naked from the waist up, and laid face down upon his bed; he was going to have to run his hands across her beautiful soft skin. How would he control his tremors?
‘You’re not backing out I hope. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.’
He stared voicelessly.
‘Right, I’m going to go upstairs to strip off. Give me a couple of minutes.’
‘I … I’m not sure about this. It’s …’ his voice dried. Was he making too much of her naked body? It wasn’t as though he was going to see anything other than the skin upon her back. And he had promised. ‘Imogen, I-’
She tilted her head, indicating the wrong use of her name.
‘I can’t keep calling you Miss Morrison.’
‘Why ever not? Today, you’re taking on a role.’
He averted his gaze and tried to remove perceived images of what he was about to do from his mind.
‘You’re blushing.’
‘This is not fair.’
‘Why ever not? You’re going to touch my back, that’s all. Why is that so terrible?’
He looked away, reiterating his comment in his mind. He could do this. He was only touching her skin. He forced a stabilising breath.
‘Right,’ she said, unable to hide the glint in her eye. ‘Two minutes Luke.’
He watched her leave, and then spent the intervening time trying to steady his breathing, to encourage calmness into his body, and to stop his sweating and quaking. Yet nothing helped, not even forcing dark images of death and despair eased his anxieties.
‘I’m waiting,’ she yelled.
Awkwardly, he climbed the steps, following the sound of her voice, and progressed into his bedroom. As expected, Imogen was on his bed, face down, and there was a towel draped across her back.
‘The oils are on the side,’ she said. ‘Rub a little onto your hands first. I hope they’re not cold.’
Cold? She was joking, right? Sweat was dripping for every part of his body!
‘I’m waiting.’
Forcing his action, he picked up a small bottle she had placed upon his bedside cabinet, and opened the lid. In his nervousness, he spilled more than he needed onto his hands, and aware the bottle was slipping from his greasy grip, he put it down.
‘Remove the towel Luke. I won’t bite.’
He stared apprehensively, and noticing the determination in her expression pinched the tip with his forefinger and thumb, and lowered the corner from her shoulder. Her skin was unblemished with an even tone, and looked beautifully soft to touch. Mesmerised, his hands hovered millimetres above, radiating warmth.
‘You’re going to have to remove the entire towel.’ She said, looking at him without moving her head. ‘I want a full back massage.’
‘Can’t I just do your shoulders?’
‘To whom are you referring?’
‘Miss Morrison, please can I do your shoulders only?’
‘No Luke, you can’t. My rules today. We made a deal.’
She reached to the towel and flung it onto the bed. Naked from the hips up, she was a beautiful, beautiful sight. Holding the contours of her hourglass figure in his gaze, he studied her broad hips, narrow waist, and widening upper back. He even glimpsed to the gap next to her arms, searching for the edges of her squashed breasts, but he immediately chastised himself. He wasn’t making the task any easier by admiring her figure.
He was there to do a job. Imogen was a colleague and a friend. He could do this.
He puffed out a breath of air and tentatively lowered his hands onto her skin. To his surprise and gratitude, he started to relax. He even started to enjoy it in a non-sexual way, and made rhythmical movements, starting with her shoulders, progressing down each side of her spine, before finishing in the small of her back.
Imogen’s mumbles and groans were a delight to his ears, and encouraged his efforts. Combined with the stimulating and relaxing scent of the oil, he found himself relaxing, and worked his fingertips and the palms of his hands into her back and traced her muscles and bone structure. It was very enjoyable; he loved every minute.
She must have enjoyed it too, as she decided to extend his task to her legs and her feet. It was a wonderful experience, and afterwards, and only due to Imogen’s persistence, he half-heartedly admitted his pleasure. She even said he was a natural, a compliment he gratefully received.
The sound of the office doorbell brought him from his reverie.
‘Morning Luke,’ she said, removing her pink fitted jacket.
Luke grinned. ‘Morning.’
‘Have you recovered from your ordeal yet?’
‘Just about.’
>
‘You should have seen your face when I told you about the massage. I wish I’d taken a picture. You looked terrified.’
‘I was. You’re a scary woman.’
Imogen flipped the button on the kettle and sank into her chair. ‘Seriously, did you enjoy it?’
Not caring to admit to such a thing, Luke tensed. ‘It took ages for the smell to leave my hands.’
‘That’s the idea.’ She paused, thoughtful. ‘But did you enjoy it?’
His nod was weak.
‘That pedicure you did was terrible.’
‘I wasn’t that bad.’
She leaned onto the desk. ‘Luke, you tried to exfoliate my feet away. I just wanted the dead cells removing, not everything.’
A smile crept onto his face. Yeah, sorry about that. I was getting the hang of things by then.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? Is that what you call it? They’re still bleeding.’
‘You exaggerate! They were a little pink afterwards, and that was mostly due the soak you’d had in the warm water.’
Noticing the kettle switching off, Luke strolled to the drinks area, pulled Imogen’s mug from the cupboard, and placed it alongside his own.
‘You’re still in the zone,’ she said. ‘One day, you’ll make someone a wonderful husband.’
He shot her a quick glance, expecting a derogatory quip.
‘So what are the plans for today?’ she continued.
‘Someone by the name of Maddie Watson rang. She’s willing to pay a premium price for some investigative work she wants us to do urgently. I agreed to see her this afternoon. I’d like your involvement in the case.’
‘I thought you’d be sick of me by now.’
‘I think I can cope with you for a bit longer, providing you don’t lure me into doing any more massages.’
‘I’ll try to keep myself under control.’ Her eyes misted with a dreamy expression. ‘But those hands Luke … I was dreaming of you last night. Where did you learn to massage like that?’
Aware of her sarcasm, he narrowed his eyes, placed her mug of coffee on her desk, and shook his head. ‘There really is no hope for you, is there?’
She grinned, buried her head in the coffee mug, and turned her attention to her computer.
Maddie glimpsed at the sign, ‘Luke Adams: Private Investigator’, and stepped inside and into the bright and airy reception. Welcomed by a young woman speaking amiably and articulately, she was immediately at ease. Professional in appearance and attitude, Imogen spent a little time going through the relevant paperwork, before guiding her to a room at the rear of their premises. A short while later, Maddie was introduced to Luke Adams, who insisted on being referred to by his first name, and was offered a drink. Within minutes of accepting, Imogen appeared, placed the mug onto a small unit and vacated the room, leaving them alone.
Their efficiency and easygoing manner was impressive, increasing Maddie’s confidence relating to her decision to hire them. However, she still had a concern, and raised the issue as soon as she was able.
‘Before we start,’ she said, ‘I need to be sure of your discretion. I don’t want any publicity.’
‘Of course. I can promise you that we will not reveal any confidential information. In fact, it’s in the contract. Number 14, I do believe.’
She scanned the document in her hand, and noted he was correct. ‘There are things that I did in my past that I’d like to stay there. If anything comes out it will ruin our foundation. The sponsorship could end, and new ones could be virtually impossible to find.
‘It’s a stop bullying foundation, is it not?’
‘That’s right. Its base is at my business site where I keep a range of animals and have a café and small shop.’ She continued her explanation, sharing details of the foundations mission statement, the courses they ran, their aims and desires. ‘My problems started after the awards ceremony at the weekend. At the end of the day, as I was closing up, I found this on my office desk.’ She presented the cut out clock. ‘It wasn't until the following day I realised the website had been attacked and defaced.’ She provided the details, explaining how it had been a personal attack and shared details of the text. ‘Thus far, no one has commented on the modified version, although that doesn’t mean to say it hasn’t been seen.’
‘I understand your concern.’
‘I’m sure you do, being in business and all. It could ruin both the business and the reputation of the foundation. It’s unacceptable behaviour.’
‘Was the computer locked with a password?’
‘It was. Very few people know what it is. In fact, I can probably count about four people, max. Although I must admit I have been a bit lax, it’s been ages since I’ve changed it.’
‘Who are the people who know it?’
‘There’s a lady, Jemima, who is off on extended leave, Earl, my groundsman has done a few bits, and Jodi.’ Maddie explained she was a friend of nearly twenty years, and that she had a part share in the business. ‘I trust them all unreservedly. They won’t be involved.’
‘Have any of them any reason to do this to you?’
She swallowed a lump in her throat. Placing any kind of blame upon any of her staff did not rest easy; nevertheless, given the seriousness of the matter, and that she wanted quick results, she decided to be honest and tell him about the argument with Jodi. Luke made notes. He wasn’t judgemental and maintained a sympathetic expression, allowing her guilt to subside.
‘I must add that a second incident has occurred,’ she said. ‘Hence, the second clock, which is ten minutes further along.’ She handed it across. ‘Evidently, someone is counting down.’
‘What happened?’
‘Someone sent an email to everyone on our lists, from our suppliers to our main customers. It’s very embarrassing and the fallout has been massive.’ Her eyes drifted as she considered the work she had left Jodi to handle.
‘Can you send me a copy?’ Luke asked.
‘Sure. Basically it says they were all stupid for being involved with me, and that I am untrustworthy, a liar, and malevolent.’ Her pulse quickened, her heat rising. ‘It also mentioned a girl I was involved with at school. Emma Anderson. I … I did some things I wasn’t proud of.’
Even though he was recording the interview, he still made notes, and did not lift his gaze nor did he notice Maddie’s explicit shame and anxiety. It alleviated her trauma, and not wanting to dwell on something so upsetting, moved the conversation on.
‘I have a suspect. Josh, my partner, saw one of my staff, Kelly Matterson, exit the office on Saturday afternoon. He didn’t realise it at the time, but it was after the website had been uploaded.’ She continued to explain her thoughts, including how her suspicions had been aroused, and that she was the only member of her staff who knew of the modified website. ‘I also know at least some of the details on her application form are inaccurate. She told me she met her partner when she worked at Braithwaites, the food supplies, two years ago. It wasn’t listed as a place she worked at.’
‘Her work history is something we should be able to track.’
‘I hoped you would. I suspect she spent time at the same school as me, Oakton Comprehensive in Doncaster. It’s the only explanation.’
‘Okay. It’s something we’ll investigate, but we must also look at other people too.’
‘It has to be her. Aside from anything else, she’s trying too hard to impress me. I get that she works for me, but what she’s doing is beyond what I’d normally consider acceptable.’
‘You mentioned a girl, Emma Anderson. Can you tell me what happened?’
Maddie gulped and knotted her hands. She had dreaded this moment, and even though she had rehearsed her speech in her mind tens of times, the words wouldn’t form, sweat coated her skin and she started to tremble. However, when she noticed Luke sitting patiently, she found an inner strength and started to speak.
‘It’s important I give you a reason for what happened.
I was bullied by my father.’
Speaking to Josh about him on Sunday had opened something inside of her, and for the first time since her abusive childhood, she spoke about the events fluidly and calmly, and without displaying an excessive amount of emotion. However, what followed was far more troublesome. Even though she stuttered and jumbled her sentences, she still managed to tell him of Emma Anderson, the traumatised girl, the bullying incidents and the outcome.
Luke remained non-judgemental. Maybe, if he had been outwardly more sympathetic, her task would have been easier; but he said very little, and it caused her defences to rise.
‘What happened wasn’t my fault. I refuse to take the blame for the actions of someone else. Emma handled my bullying badly.’
‘Do other people close to you blame you?’
‘No one knows except Jodi. I’ve known her a long time, and once, many years ago, I was going through a bad spell and broke down. She happened to be there and I told her everything.’
‘How did she react?’
‘She was great … supportive. We don’t talk about it much - there’s been no reason to. Having said that she does tell me some of what I do with the foundation is down to my conscience. I don’t agree. As I said, I’ve no reason to feel guilty.’
Even as she said it, she felt she spoke hollow words. Try as she had to remove the incident from her conscience, it was an impossible task, and she sensed her expression displayed her guilt. To her gratitude, Luke did not react.
‘Does your partner know?’
‘No. It happened a long time ago and I’ve had no reason to tell him. Plus, we’ve only been together a short while, so it’s not come up.’
‘Did you say his name is Josh?’
A smile slid to her face. ‘That’s right. Josh Smithson. Before he moved in with me, he lived in a small place outside Hull. We happened upon each other by chance. He was collecting something locally, called in, and we hit it off. He moved in after just a few weeks.’
