The Affair_A gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist

by Sheryl Browne

  ‘I have something urgent I need to attend at the hospital,’ Justin said, easing away from her. ‘I’ll come straight back, if that’s okay with you?’

  Alicia hesitated, and then nodded. She didn’t particularly want to go back inside, but she had her things to collect. ‘I hope you’re going to get yourself checked over while you’re there?’ She gave him an admonishing look.

  Justin managed a smile. ‘I will. I promise.’

  Alicia nodded, relieved, and then glanced back to the house. She would have to tell him she wanted nothing to do with her sister, possibly ever again, but there was another conundrum: how to explain that without seeming to be accusing him of anything or embarrassing him.

  ‘Alicia, about Jessica,’ he said apprehensively, raising the subject for her. ‘I realise this is a big ask, but do you think we could maybe not share information with her?’ He glanced awkwardly away. ‘I think we need to trust each other now. No one else.’

  Alicia scanned his eyes, as he turned back to her. His expression was definitely awkward, but it also held a warning, communicating all Alicia needed to know. He was aware, as she now was, of the hurt Jessica had caused, and still could.

  Holding his gaze, she nodded resolutely. They had an understanding. There were no words needed.

  ‘I’ll ring you,’ Justin said. ‘As soon as I’ve finished at the hospital. It shouldn’t be too long. Will you be okay until then?’

  Again, Alicia nodded. ‘I need to get my things together,’ she said. It would never be whole without her children, but it was possible her heart might have started functioning again.

  ‘One more thing, Alicia.’ Justin stopped her as she reached for her door. ‘Radley – he’s dangerous. He’s possibly a danger to Sophie, should she contact him again. I understand why you felt you couldn’t say anything before, but…’ He hesitated, studying her carefully. ‘I think Taylor needs to know everything now, for her sake.’

  Seeing the genuine fear in his eyes, Alicia felt a shudder run through her. He was right. Paul wouldn’t hurt Sophie, surely? But even the slightest threat, in whatever form… Swallowing, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I’ll ring the station,’ she said. ‘I’ll do it from my car, out of earshot of Jessica.’

  Justin sighed, clearly relieved, and then leaned towards her. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m here for you, Ali,’ he said, brushing her lips with his own. ‘Just so you know.’

  Alicia immediately did what she’d been aching to do and threw her arms around him. ‘It’s worth a lot,’ she assured him tearfully. ‘And just so you know, there was never a second I didn’t love you. I always will.’

  Justin squeezed her back. ‘I’ll call you,’ he promised, pulling away to kiss her forehead softly. ‘As soon as I can.’

  Watching him go, Alicia realised that Jessica really was a bad judge of men. Justin would never have got involved with her. Perhaps another woman, in time, possibly, if they’d had no future together, but he wouldn’t have jumped at the first available female, particularly if that female was Alicia’s sister. He just wasn’t made that way.

  Turning to the house, she was going over in her mind what she would say to DI Taylor – it was going to be one of the most difficult calls she’d made in her life – when her phone received a text. It was from Paul Radley, as if he’d known he was under discussion. Reluctantly, she checked it, and then froze, her stomach lurching violently as she stared down at the photograph: Sophie, lying asleep on her stomach, one hand resting on her pillow, her passport lying beside her. A single rose on the duvet. A significant gesture, that’s what he’d said when he’d given one to her. He’d quoted something. Something to do with a rose bush growing in the pool of blood spilled from Aphrodite’s slain lover, Adonis. He’d said it symbolised immortal love, love that would never fade, even through time or death… meaning they would be together forever.

  She read the text.

  Meet me. 8.00 p.m. Central Plaza, Apartment 153b. We need to talk about the future. Come alone.

  Sixty-Five

  SOPHIE

  Bored with the TV, Sophie wandered towards the kitchen for a drink. She quite fancied a huge glass of fizzy Coke, but guessed she’d have to settle for one of the fruit juices Paul made in his blender. The lime and cucumber was okay, but the apple, mint and spinach was foul.

  ‘Won’t be long,’ Paul said, sailing past.

  Dressed in his gym clothes, Sophie noticed. He’d offered to get her a membership, but Sophie wasn’t all that into gyms. She’d said she’d try it. Despite all this healthy eating, though, she’d been so exhausted lately, she wasn’t sure she could be bothered to drag herself as far as the lift.

  ‘Did my phone arrive yet?’ she asked him, coming back with her juice and trying hard not to wince as she swallowed a mouthful.

  ‘Afraid not.’ Paul smiled regretfully. ‘We’ll see about chasing it later.’

  He still didn’t trust her to use his laptop or his phone in his absence. He turned down her requests nicely, pointing out the importance of client confidentiality and all that crap, but it rankled that he didn’t trust her enough not to poke around in his files. Like he’d got more to hide than boring old financial reports.

  ‘Why don’t you have a browse through the new Florida brochures I bought,’ he suggested. ‘We’ll be going in a few days.’

  That was a little vague, Sophie thought. He’d said he hadn’t confirmed the flights when she’d asked him, and, while she realised it would be him forking out for them, she still had to have some clothes if she was going on holiday. ‘I might,’ she said, yawning.

  ‘Manners, Sophie,’ Paul reminded her, with a tolerant smile.

  ‘Sorry,’ Sophie said, pressing a hand to her mouth as she yawned again, and then watching with interest as Paul checked his jacket pocket for his phone, bringing out his study keys as he did and then plopping them back in his jacket.

  ‘Half an hour,’ he said, heading for the front door. ‘Don’t forget to take your vitamins.’

  ‘I already did,’ Sophie assured him, yawning widely again.

  Waiting until he’d gone, Sophie stopped yawning, nipped to the loo, flushed the vitamin tablets away – she was sure the bloody things were making her sleepy – and then flew over to his jacket to retrieve the keys. It was now or never. He’d kept that door locked religiously since the one time she’d been in there, even coming back an hour after he’d gone out once. He’d made some other excuse, but he’d come back to make sure he’d locked the study, Sophie was sure of it. Plus, she hadn’t been able to get the photo on his desk out of her mind, and the fact that Justin had been cropped out of it. Then there was the envelope. Sophie had glimpsed more photos in there.

  She’d bet those were of his family. She was hoping they were. He’d been okay to her – generous – but despite being under the same roof as him, she still didn’t know that much about him. He didn’t talk about his family, didn’t have a single photo of them anywhere around the apartment, and to Sophie, who’d lived in a home where family photos were dotted about everywhere, that just seemed odd.

  Two minutes later, she was in the study, fumbling to find the right key for the drawer in which she’d seen the envelope. Bingo! Finally, she unlocked it, hurriedly extracting the envelope and peering inside. She squinted and tipped the contents out. These weren’t photos of his family. Furrowing her brow, Sophie splayed them out on top of the desk. They were their family photos. Photographs taken mostly by Justin, of her and her mum. She recognised some of the backgrounds. Their bloody back garden, for one. Their lounge at Christmas. The holiday chalet they’d had in France. The boat they’d hired to tour Ireland. There were some later ones, as well, that she’d taken herself, of Justin and her mum, and Justin had been crudely cropped out of every one of them. Chopped out, with scissors. He hadn’t even cut the photos in straight lines.

  Why had he done that? How had he got them? Surely her mum hadn’t given them to him?

  H
er heart like a big bass drum in her chest, Sophie shuffled through a few more and then stopped, a knot of apprehension tightening her tummy as she noticed that there were also much more recent photographs. Photographs that Luke should have been in – a family portrait, in particular. Sophie remembered that one so clearly. Her mum had had it framed for the hall wall. Justin had a copy of it in his office. In the photo, Sophie was sitting next to her mum on the sofa, her arm around her shoulders. Luke had been in her mum’s arms, but now he was gone. Cropped out. Like he didn’t exist.

  There were more photographs in another drawer, all exclusively of her mum. Not posed, these photos hadn’t been taken by Justin or her. They’d been taken by Paul, Sophie realised. Photos from over the years: Alicia walking along the street; loading her shopping into the car; coming out of the office where she worked. There was one of her painting their house, for fuck’s sake. Hadn’t he been in Dubai, time slipping by while he worked himself to death trying to get over the loss of his family?

  Liar!

  Scraping the photos together and furiously shoving them back in their envelope, Sophie put it back, slammed the drawer shut and moved to the last drawer.

  It was stuck. Shit! Checking the time on the desk clock, she glanced worriedly towards the door and then yanked at the drawer. It was definitely jammed, not locked. Crouching down, pressing one hand against the desk for leverage, she tugged harder, and then fell back on her haunches as it gave.

  Scrambling back, Sophie peered into it, and her heart skittered to a stop inside her. It was fairly obvious what had caused it to jam. Swallowing back a sick taste in her throat, Sophie reached for it: Luke’s pink elephant toy. One of its floppy ears had got caught between the desk and the drawer and been torn clean off. He’d stuffed it in there as if it didn’t matter. As if it wasn’t the most important thing Sophie had ever, or would ever, possess in her life.

  He’d taken it. Taken it from her.

  A huge lump in her throat, Sophie lifted it to her face and sniffed it. His scent was still there – barely. Her little baby brother. Choking back the tears that stung the backs of her eyes, she delved further into the drawer. Feeling something smooth and cold towards the back of it, something with a chain attached, she fished it out. It was a locket. A gold locket, decorated with a flower motif.

  Her mum’s?

  Sophie stopped breathing. With trembling fingers, she prised it open. Luke’s little face looked back at her. His perfect cupid lips were curved into a delighted, gummy smile. His beautiful blue eyes, wide with the innocence of childhood, were dancing with glee.

  Oh God, Luke.

  Her mum hadn’t given him this. She hadn’t given him any of this. He’d taken these, too. Feeling the room shift around her, Sophie tried to breathe slowly, like Justin had once taught her, when she’d had a major panic about her part in the school play. Calm – he’d always been that. Calm and measured. Suddenly, Sophie wanted very much to go home.

  Having a final check in the drawer, she wasn’t surprised, somehow, to find her old phone as well as the new one.

  Breathe. Doing what Justin would, Sophie tried to focus. Sliding the phone into her back pocket, she fastened the locket shakily around her neck, making sure it dropped below her neckline. Then, resting pink Ephalump, as they’d christened him, on the desk, she used her foot to shove the stuck drawer back into place and then relocked the other drawers.

  Checking everything looked as it should at first glance, her gaze snagged on something she hadn’t previously noticed on the top of his in tray. Seeing the letter was from The DNA People, she snatched it up, quickly pulling the contents out.

  It was a paternity test. The report included all sorts of indecipherable tables – Genetic System Table, Combined Paternity Index – and figures relating to ‘case number’, ‘child, mother’, ‘alleged father’. Nausea almost choking her, Sophie hurriedly scanned it. She couldn’t digest the information enough to understand it. It made no sense – until she reached the Paternity Test Conclusions, which clearly stated that ‘Paul Radley is excluded as the biological father.’

  Shaking, Sophie blinked at it, uncomprehending for a second, and then froze.

  ‘Do you not understand basic instructions, Sophie?’ Paul said, his face white with anger as he walked quietly through the study door and saw the letter in her hand.

  Sixty-Six

  JUSTIN

  Justin had parked as close as he could to the apartment block he’d previously followed Radley to, and was now walking away from his car, his intention to have a quiet word with the piece of scum that walked around in the guise of a man. He thought of Alicia, his chest constricting as he pictured what she might have gone through, even without knowing the details. It still hurt that she had lied to him, but now he was pained because she’d felt she’d had to. That was on him, not her. He needed to put it right – or try to. To listen to her, if she wanted to talk. To be there, if she didn’t. Assuming Radley didn’t report him, that was. Justin had an idea he wouldn’t, given the implications for himself. He wasn’t quite sure how this would go yet, what he would do to him, though the temptation to give in to his anger was overwhelming – show the bastard what it was like to be raped with a very intrusive object and then castrate him and render him truly powerless.

  Possibly not a good idea if he did want to be there for Alicia and find Sophie. But the threat might be sufficient. The knowledge that Justin could render him helpless any time he wanted to might give Radley an inkling of how he’d made Alicia feel. Had there been other women? Probably. It wouldn’t be enough – not nearly enough – to quash the burning rage inside him, but Justin supposed it would have to do.

  Hearing his phone ring, he checked the number. Not Alicia. Jessica. She’d already called once, leaving him a message: an attempt at an apology for misreading the signs. He’d rung her back and told her it wasn’t a good idea to call him again, as reasonably as he could. And now here she was, doing just that. Sighing, Justin hesitated, and then thinking that it might actually have something to do with Alicia, he took the call.

  ‘Justin, you need to do something. She’s going to meet him,’ Jessica said immediately.

  ‘What?’ His stomach turning over, Justin stopped in his tracks.

  ‘She’s going to meet him,’ Jessica repeated frantically. ‘He said she should go alone. I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried to convince her to let me go with her, to call you, but she won’t. Justin, he has her.’

  Reeling on his feet, Justin told her to slow down. He couldn’t keep up with her. Couldn’t make sense of it. Couldn’t breathe.

  ‘Sophie!’ Jessica cried. ‘Paul Radley has her! He has her passport, too. Alicia thinks he must have taken it from the house when he was there. You have to do something, Justin.’

  Sophie? Justin’s heart careered to a stop in his chest – and then kicked back hard. ‘Where?’ he asked, his emotions colliding, his adrenaline pumping, his mind focussing.

  Breathe, he commanded himself, sucking air deep into his lungs. Ignoring the pain that seared through his chest.

  ‘At his apartment – Central Plaza, 153b. Eight o’clock. He sent Alicia a photo of Sophie. It could only have been taken by him.’

  Justin’s gut twisted violently. ‘What kind of photo?’

  ‘Nothing explicit,’ Jessica said quickly, clearly understanding his meaning. ‘She was sleeping. He’d placed her passport next to her. He’s obviously trying to tell to Alicia that he’ll take her away if she doesn’t turn up. Oh God, Justin, I have no idea what to—’

  ‘How do you know where he lives?’ Justin demanded.

  ‘I… don’t. I saw it… on the text,’ Jessica stuttered. ‘The address, I—’

  Right, and she’d just reeled it straight off. Bullshit! ‘How long have you been in contact with him, Jessica?’ he asked her, barely controlling his temper. ‘How long have you been feeding information to the man who raped your sister?’

  ‘I haven’t!’ Jessic
a denied vehemently. ‘I would never do that. I—’

  ‘You’re full of shit, do you know that, Jessica?’

  ‘He’s an old friend,’ Jessica said. ‘I could hardly lie to him if he asked me something outright.’

  Justin laughed, astounded that she was trying to justify what she’d done. ‘No, you couldn’t lie to save your life, could you, Jess?’

  ‘Justin, this isn’t about me.’ Jessica tried a new tack. ‘What do you want me to do? Should I call the police?’

  ‘I think you’ve done enough, Jessica,’ Justin pointed out contemptuously. ‘Stay out of it. As in, stay away from my family, full stop.’

  Attempting to regulate his breathing as he ended the call, Justin tried to think with the mind of an animal intent on its prey. Radley had dangled the bait: a photo of a lost daughter sent to her mother. Bastard! Justin clamped his jaw hard. Would he have Sophie with him, knowing there was even a chance Alicia might call the police? Possibly, but wasn’t it more likely he would be holding her somewhere else? That he would want to get Alicia in that apartment alone?

  That thought slicing through him like a knife, Justin made his decision. The police might do something; they might do nothing. Either way, they were unlikely to turn up here and arrest the bastard. They might ask Radley some questions, might even ask him to go to the station. Would he admit to having Sophie though? To his perverse fucking intentions, which Justin had no doubt he had? Would he tell them where she was?

  Not likely. At least not immediately.

  And that, as far as Justin was concerned, was the critical factor. Assuming the police would even take any action, did Sophie have time on her side?

  Justin checked his watch, calculating how long it might take Alicia to get here. It was the tail end of rush hour. Luck on his side, it might take her a while. He was already in situ. He needed to move. He needed to move now. Get to the bastard before Alicia arrived.