‘Jess, can you just cut to the chase,’ Justin interrupted, his gut clenching.
‘He’s had a test. Paul Radley, he’s had a paternity test, apparently, and I think you should know. I did suggest to Alicia that she should—’
‘I do know,’ Justin cut across her.
‘You do?’ Jessica sounded surprised.
‘We talked. She told me.’
‘Oh.’ Jessica went quiet. ‘Well, that’s good,’ she went on, after a second. ‘That’s she’s finally decided to talk to you, I mean. It’s a pity she didn’t years ago. She’s my sister and I love her to bits, and she’s beside herself with remorse now, but I told her she needed to tell you everything from the beginning.’
Justin ran his hand over his neck. He was too tired for repeat conversations. ‘I know, Jess. You said.’
‘She hasn’t told you everything, has she?’ Jess asked, sounding tentative.
‘No,’ Justin said tightly. However well-intentioned Jess was, ringing him several times to see if he ‘needed a shoulder’, he really didn’t want to discuss this, not now.
‘I have no idea why she saw him as many times as she did,’ Jess carried on regardless. ‘You can understand how she might have been—’
‘Jess! I don’t want to hear it,’ Justin snapped, images of his wife in bed with the bastard assailing him all over again, images that counting all the stars in the universe wouldn’t make go away. ‘I really do not want to know.’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ Jess said quickly. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted you to know that I don’t condone what Alicia did. I couldn’t tell you, I was sworn to secrecy, and I had to be there for her. I still do, but I wanted you to know I’m there for you too.’
Nodding tiredly, Justin drew in a breath. ‘I know. I just can’t deal with it right now.’
Ending the call, Justin felt the knife that had been plunged into his heart twist an inch deeper. A sharp, violent twist, made more painful by the knowledge that Alicia must have known this would all come out while he’d been burying his son. That cocksure bastard had been right there at the funeral. She must have suspected he would find out what had gone on between them, and still she’d kept the truth from him. Attempting some level of control, Justin tried to breathe through it. It didn’t work. He didn’t stand a chance of ousting the images now in his mind: Luke smiling at him on that fateful day of the accident, his little arms flailing delightedly. He’d sworn to keep his son safe. He hadn’t. Justin breathed in, kept counting.
Sophie’s words whispered on the wind as he walked. He’s nestled safe in an angel’s wings now, but he will never leave me. He’s here. He will always be.
Where was she?
Forty-Six
SOPHIE
Still feeling lethargic and majorly bored, Sophie flicked through the channels, but nothing grabbed her. She wished she had her phone. She could at least download something to read then.
Heaving herself up from the sofa, she went to the kitchen. Nothing much took her fancy when she peered into the fridge, but she pulled out the Coke. She was halfway through filling a large tumbler when she stopped, debating. Should she? Had Paul been subtly hinting that she was getting fat? No, he was just pointing out that it wasn’t very healthy to stuff herself full of sugar. He was probably right. She usually drank sugar-free. Maybe she could go and get some when she felt better. And when she had some shoes. Glancing down at her bare feet, she wiggled her toes, noticing her chipped nail polish as she did. There were a few things she needed, in actual fact – nail polish remover being one of them. She didn’t want to ask Paul to fork out though. Then again, as he kept reminding her, he was her father, and he’d been pretty cool about buying her stuff so far.
She hadn’t seen any evidence of a phone yet, but then, he had been busy looking after her. She’d remind him later – casually, though. She didn’t want him thinking she was going to milk the situation. That would be a shitty thing to do when he’d already been treated so crappily by her mum.
Opting for water instead, she grabbed an apple and mooched around the apartment. She hadn’t liked to poke into too many spaces and cupboards while he was here – not that she’d been capable of nosing around – but she needed to know where stuff was and how it worked. The music system, for one. There was a fabulous wireless multi-speaker system. She really wished she had her phone. There was a turntable too, she noticed, going over to it. Not many CDs or vinyl records to choose from though – classical stuff, mostly. She guessed he probably used his phone with Spotify or something. And it wasn’t his apartment anyway, she reminded herself.
The motorised shutters at the windows were something else. You really had to be making serious money to afford one of these places, Sophie surmised. Bored with opening and shutting them after a while, she ambled towards Paul’s bedroom. Nothing much to see in there. Sophie hadn’t thought there would be. Having noted his obsession with having everything in its right place, she guessed he’d have all his stuff put away in drawers and cupboards. She inched open the top dresser drawer. Yup, all neatly folded.
Feeling guilty being in his personal space, Sophie closed the drawer and then had a quick peek in the wardrobe, where his suits and shirts were all pressed and hanging with military precision, like soldiers on parade. His bed was made up with the meticulousness of a hospital. Fastidious, definitely. Still, if his obsession with tidiness was his most annoying habit, Sophie could live with it. She’d just have to remember to clear up after herself. It was no biggie.
Heading back out, she wandered towards the door furthest from the lounge area – his study – where she hesitated. But then, curiosity getting the better of her, she squeaked the door handle down and went on in. She wasn’t really spying on him, she was just curious to know more about him, as anyone would be, having just learned that a complete stranger was their father.
Nodding righteously to herself, Sophie walked across to his desk, and then stopped as her eyes fell on the framed photograph there. It was of her mum, Sophie realised, astonished. She was less surprised by its presence than by the fact that it was a recent-ish photograph, taken by her at a hotel they’d stayed at in London early last year. Sophie remembered it distinctly. The London Eye had been lit up in the background. And wasn’t Justin supposed to be in the photo, too?
How had Paul got it?
Plonking herself moodily down in his office chair, Sophie yanked open the top desk drawer and pulled out an envelope folder she found there. Her mum had sent him the photo, she supposed. Paul had been married in Dubai, and he was still grieving, Sophie had assumed. It might have been that her mum and him had started corresponding after he’d lost his family, which is why Justin might have suspected something. Her mum might have sent the photo and…
And Sophie had absolutely no clue why she was bothering to think it through. There was no point asking her mum about it – she hadn’t been honest with anybody. Not that Sophie intended to speak to her anyway. She’d ask Paul about it. At least he seemed to think she had feelings worth considering.
Peering into the folder, Sophie knitted her brow, and then… Shit! Hearing the front door open, she almost died on the spot.
‘Sophie?’ Paul called.
Shit, shit, shit! Hurriedly cramming the folder back in the drawer, she shot to her feet, scrambling to think of an explanation as to why she was in here that would sound remotely feasible.
‘Sophie?’
‘Coming!’ she shouted. She had no way of not being caught snooping. There was nowhere to go but out of the door, where she’d be on full view before she had a chance to nip back to her bedroom.
She snatched up a pen just before Paul came through the door. ‘Looking for something?’ he asked her, his gaze travelling warily from her to the desk.
‘Yes. I, um…’ Crikey. Sophie’s eyes grew wide. Had he been in some sort of fight? ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
Paul’s fingers went gingerly to the definite blue-black bruise for
ming under his eye. ‘Fine. I had a fall, at the gym. Did you find it? Whatever you were looking for?’
‘Paper,’ Sophie ad-libbed, holding up the pen.
Paul frowned, clearly not buying it.
‘I thought I’d write to her, my mum,’ Sophie elaborated, her face, she hoped, the picture of innocence, though her heart was beating a rat-a-tat-tat in her chest. ‘I didn’t want to text her or ring her,’ she went on. ‘I thought a letter might be better. You know, more personal. What do you think?’
Paul studied her for a second, then, nodding slowly, he walked towards her, and then past her, his gaze lingering on the desk drawers as he did.
Pulling a filing cabinet drawer open, he retrieved what she’d supposedly been looking for. ‘Paper,’ he said, handing her a sheaf of printer paper.
‘Brilliant. Thanks.’ Sophie took it and beamed him a smile.
‘No problem,’ Pushing one hand into his pocket, his other going to the bruise on his face, Paul considered her thoughtfully for a second. ‘Don’t come in here again without asking, Sophie – please. I have client information in here. Data protection rules require me to keep that information confidential.’
‘Oh.’ Sophie looked suitably apologetic. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think.’
Again, Paul nodded and offered her a smile.
Not an overly effusive one, Sophie noted. There was something in his body language that made her feel uneasy, along with the wary look in his eyes as his gaze went once again to the desk drawers, the contents of which Sophie was now exceedingly curious about.
Come to think of it, she pondered, as she took her leave, why wasn’t there a photograph of his family on that desk? His wife and his children. Why would he have picture of Alicia instead?
Forty-Seven
JUSTIN
‘Can I leave now?’ Justin looked up from his bruised fist as Taylor came back into the interview room. He had been left there while they waited for the officer in charge to report back on whether ‘Mr Radley’ was going to file charges. He’d obviously hit him harder than he’d realised. Should have hit the fucker harder.
At least he wasn’t being held in a cell, Justin supposed, though that was where he might well end up, Taylor had warned him, if he didn’t get his emotions under control. Justin wanted to challenge him to do the same, to remain perfectly calm while some bastard was using his missing daughter as leverage over his wife.
‘Tell me something.’ Folding his arms across his chest, Taylor studied him curiously. ‘Did it make you feel better? Punching the man, did it solve anything?’
Justin noted the edge to his tone. ‘Not much, no,’ he admitted. He hadn’t felt very proud of the fact that he’d given in to his base instincts. As to whether it had solved anything, that remained to be seen. If Alicia didn’t want Radley contacting her, then the man needed to understand that. He also needed to know that if he even spoke Sophie’s name, then Justin was very close to making sure he wouldn’t ever again.
‘Just so you know,’ Taylor said, ‘I get why you did it. I’d probably have done the same myself, to be honest.’
Justin glanced at him.
‘I have kids.’ Taylor shrugged, now looking sympathetic, at least. ‘I also have a wife. Ex, that is. I’ll leave it to your imagination as to why’
Surveying him thoughtfully, Justin nodded, supposing that he would have some inkling of how he felt. It didn’t really help.
‘Look, Justin…’ Taylor dragged out a chair and sat down opposite him. ‘I understand your frustration. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a child so young under such tragic circumstances, to then to have your teenage daughter go missing. I promise you, we’re doing all that we can.’
Rubbing his eyes in exhaustion, Justin declined to answer. As far as he could see, that still amounted to nothing.
‘He’s not filing charges,’ Taylor went on. ‘I’m not majorly surprised, under the circumstances.’ He smiled wryly, and then drew in a breath. ‘In regard to your certainty that he may have had some contact with Sophie, we asked him the question, obviously.’
Justin looked sharply back at him. ‘And?’
Taylor’s expression held a warning. ‘He has.’
What? Justin’s first reaction was bewilderment. His second – gut-clenching fury that the bastard hadn’t said. His third was overwhelming relief. She was alive. He’d known it. He could feel her. ‘When?’ he asked throatily.
‘Two days ago,’ Taylor said.
Justin sucked in a breath, buried his head in his hands and suppressed an overwhelming urge to cry.
‘He phoned her,’ Taylor continued, as Justin struggled to formulate any words. ‘He didn’t know she was missing, so he says. He was, and I quote, “simply initiating contact with his daughter”.’
‘My daughter,’ Justin managed to sputter.
Taylor didn’t comment on that. ‘She said she was staying with a friend.’
Justin nodded, trying very hard to do the simplest thing in the world and breathe. ‘She didn’t say where?’ he asked, and then coughed, attempting to clear the hard knot in his throat.
Shaking his head regretfully, Taylor sat back in his chair. ‘Apparently not.’ He paused while Justin attempted to compose himself. ‘I know this is painful, Justin,’ he said, after a second, ‘but possibly less painful than the alternative you were imagining, yes?’
Swiping a hand across his eyes, Justin nodded, vigorously this time.
‘We’re keeping our ears to the ground, Justin. We’re still pursuing any leads we can in regard to the hit-and-run that took your boy away. What you need to do now, if you care to take some advice from someone who knows, is be there for each other. You and Alicia. Right now, you need each other.’
Justin didn’t respond. He doubted he could get the words past the fractured pieces of his heart, which still seemed to be lodged in his windpipe.
‘You can leave as soon as you’re ready,’ Taylor said kindly. ‘Just promise me you’ll seek counselling if you need it,’ he added, as Justin got to his feet. ‘I would offer you some numbers, but I imagine you have access to people of your own. Think about it, Justin. You and your wife both.’
Answering with another short nod, Justin swallowed and turned towards the door. What kind of counselling would best help Alicia, he wondered, bereavement or marriage counselling? His chest constricted.
What wasn’t she telling him? How did Radley get Sophie’s number? From Alicia? Was it possible he’d accessed it from Alicia’s phone? Did she know he’d been in touch with Sophie?
Forty-Eight
ALICIA
‘He’s leaving! Going back to Dubai,’ Alicia said, turning in disbelief to Jessica, having worriedly read her incoming text from Paul Radley.
Her wine glass halfway to her mouth, Jessica eyed her with surprise. ‘Really?’
‘Apparently.’ Joining her at the kitchen table, Alicia hesitated, then said, ‘He suggested we should meet before he goes.’ She inhaled a tight breath.
Jessica furrowed her brow. ‘Why?’
‘He has some things he wants me to give to Sophie, so he says. I have no idea what things.’
‘And are you going to meet him? Jessica searched her face, her expression curious. She was probably wondering why she’d even read the text.
Alicia had almost deleted it, but as she’d actually been expecting threats in regard to Sophie, she’d thought better of it, thinking she needed to prepare herself as to what those threats might be. Some attempt at custody, or at the very least access rights, she’d thought. Now, she wasn’t sure what to think. She felt utterly bewildered. And very wary. Would he really just go?
‘I think I’ve said all I have to say to him.’ She sighed wearily. ‘I can’t help wondering what the catch is. Why he would just decide to leave, after going to such great lengths to tear my marriage apart?’
‘You don’t know that he’s done that yet, Ali.’ Looking at her sympathetically, Jess downed her glass
and reached for her hand. ‘If you are thinking of meeting him, though, you should really let Justin know. If he finds out—’ She stopped as Alicia’s phone rang.
It was Justin’s ringtone, as if he knew he was under discussion. Realising it was much later than he would normally call, Alicia immediately jumped up to snatch it up from the work surface. ‘Justin?’ she said, glancing nervously back at Jess. ‘Has something happened?’
‘Sorry,’ Justin said quickly, ‘I should have thought. Calling you at a different time was bound to worry you.’
‘It’s fine,’ Alicia said, her eyes filling up. Only a truly special man would worry about her at all under the circumstances. ‘Are you all right?’
Topping up her glass, Jessica picked up her own phone and made a face at her, indicating she was off to make one of the many calls she preferred to do in private. Vaguely, Alicia wondered whether there might be a new man in her life. A man she was possibly avoiding bringing home, thanks to her sister moving in with baggage by the trunkful.
‘As all right as I can be,’ Justin answered. ‘I just wanted to check you were.’
Now Alicia was definitely taken aback. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Ish. Why?’
‘No specific reason. It’s just…’ Justin faltered. ‘The things I see when I’m out walking – homeless people, young people,’ he went on tiredly. ‘It gets to me sometimes, to be honest.’
Immediately empathising, Alicia’s stomach wrenched as she imagined how affected he must be, the things that must inevitably go through his mind. Witnessing such things in her job, they went through hers too, causing her to tear herself from the warm bed in which she lay sleeplessly every night. And then, for fear of waking Jess, she would end up standing silently, gazing uselessly out of the window, where the images would only be starker. Justin was in the thick of it. She doubted he would even bother to lie down at night half the time. ‘Do you want to talk?’ she asked him, tentatively, wondering whether there was anything specific troubling him.
The Affair_A gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist Page 17
