Two Years After ; Friends Who Lie ; No More Secrets

by Paul J. Teague

  Rosie would not typically have chosen the surly teenager as her partner in crime, but the opportunity had arisen, and it allowed her to place the final piece in her plan. The remainder depended upon James.

  The half an hour it took to nurse a cup of coffee before James arrived at the Costa store seemed interminable. Rosie was on edge, doing her best to keep everything together. She was desperate to see Sam, but she had to take this detour first, to put things in place. Whoever was making her life hell, whoever it was who’d threatened Sam, she had to get the evidence and take it to DI Fletcher. Without that, they’d think she was going crazy. At least James believed her. He would help.

  ‘Hey, Rosie! I didn’t expect to see you here today after the email Edward sent out. I knew something was up when Haylee said you were in Costa.’

  He’d brought her over a coffee, the same way she’d had it at the conference centre. She liked his attention to the small details.

  ‘Yes, I know it’s a bit of a hike from the office, but I didn’t want to risk seeing anybody from work. You’ll keep this quiet, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m intrigued by why you want to see me, to be honest.’

  ‘You know all these weird things that have been going on? You know about the horrible photos already, because I accused you of sending them.’

  ‘Thanks for reminding me about that,’ James said, giving her a wry smile.

  ‘There’s more to it,’ Rosie continued, finding her confidence. ‘Someone has been sending pornographic images. My husband’s grave has been attacked. A horrible doll was sent to Sam on his birthday.’

  ‘Damn it, Rosie - you’ve kept all this to yourself? I’m glad you trust me enough to share this stuff.’

  ‘That’s why I want your help,’ Rosie replied. ‘I have to put an end to this, but I need evidence. I’m sure I know who’s responsible. It’s been driving me crazy thinking about it.’

  ‘Who?’ James asked.

  ‘Who else?’ Rosie said. ‘Edward Logan. He’s the only suspect. He knows about my past problems, he has access to my personnel file and he knows my home address. You said yourself he’s visited your house on more than one occasion. He’s been inappropriate and threatening at work – not just with me. It has to be Edward. I’ll bet he was responsible for that rat, too. He’s trying to squeeze me out, I’m certain of it.’

  ‘I know HR people can be guilty of sharp practice at times, but surely not?’

  ‘How would you describe Edward Logan in one word?’ Rosie challenged.

  ‘Weird?’ James replied. ‘Unusual. Unsettling. Strange. Not of this world. Do you want any more?’

  ‘Weird, that’s it. That’s how we’d all describe him. That man’s not right. He’s been trying to intimidate me, and I’ve got a plan to prove it. But I need your help—’

  ‘I had a feeling that’s why you asked me here. Go on then, how do you want me to help you?’

  Rosie looked at him and, just as she’d done with Mackenzie earlier, she took a chance on her colleague. It was the only way she could put a stop to what Edward was doing. He was terrorising her. The man was a monster.

  ‘We’re breaking into his office. And we’re doing it tonight.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was a long time since Rosie had stayed at work after hours; she’d had to ask James to check up on the latest procedure for getting in and out at that time of night. Fortunately for her, many offices in London barely slept – if at all – so 24-hour access was a standard requirement for the busy, city workplace.

  It had tortured her, not going to pick up Sam directly after leaving Trinity Heights, but she had to make the detour to meet with James first. She felt like an unfit mother, leaving her child in the care of the social worker like that, but with her father out of action in the same hospital, once she picked up her son, her hands were tied. She had a plan to reveal her tormentor, and if it worked, she’d be able to hand over some compelling evidence to DI Fletcher the following day.

  After plotting with James, Rosie took an Uber directly back to the hospital, where she rushed in to pick up Sam. She gritted her teeth as she went through a humiliating series of security checks, including a call to Trinity Heights to confirm that she’d voluntarily discharged herself, rather than escaping. At last they handed Sam back to her.

  He looked none the worse after his adventure the day before. They’d taken his pushchair with him to the hospital, and the only evidence that he’d ever been gone at all was the broken arm of the toy steering wheel which looked like it had been wrenched off.

  Rosie walked along the hospital corridors, tracing her way to the neurological department where her father was being looked after. He was still in a coma. The police had been round checking, no doubt hoping to catch the scent of the person who’d attacked him. She kissed Iain and left him to the medical professionals. The next time she saw him, she was determined her life would be different.

  Leonie had been right about her front door; there was a note stuck on the chipboard which told her to call on her neighbour for access to the new key.

  ‘I see you’ve been at it again,’ her neighbour scolded. ‘It frightened the life out of me when they battered your door down last night. That poor child of yours – it’s a wonder he looks so calm.’

  Rosie’s neighbour made sure that she extracted her pound of flesh before handing over the key that the locksmiths had left with her. Much as Rosie hated to admit it, it was the safest and best option, bearing in mind the treatment her front door had been subjected to. And she had to admit that if her next-door neighbour’s door had been smashed in, she too would have complained about the neighbourhood going downhill.

  She spent the afternoon playing with Sam, ignoring three calls from Edward Logan. He might turn up at the house to check up on her, but she’d have to take that risk. She was setting a trap to catch a rat. How ironic.

  She’d felt queasy and light-headed since going into work and meeting James. Was she up to the night’s escapades? The events of the past twenty-four hours had taken a heavy toll on her. Taking the extra sleeping pills the night before had probably not been such a bright idea.

  Rosie made sure that she was up-to-date with her medication; she couldn’t afford a panic attack while carrying out the plan she and James had agreed.

  Mackenzie was early. She didn’t like having the teenager in her house, but Leonie wasn’t available that evening, and at least Mackenzie had shown some enthusiasm for the job.

  ‘I came straight here from work,’ she said as she looked at the door. ‘Hell, this is a rough area if you’ve had yer door patched up like that.’

  Sam lit up when he saw her, as if they were best buddies already. Mackenzie wasted no time; within seconds she was on the floor beside Sam, joining him at his playing.

  ‘You’re a natural,’ Rosie commented. ‘Maybe supply chains aren’t your thing, Mackenzie. Have you ever thought about working with children?’

  ‘Yeah, I love kids,’ she replied. She had gum in her mouth again, and Rosie had to stop herself from worrying that it might end up stuck underneath the kitchen table. ‘But you can’t work with kids when… Let’s put it this way: people aren’t falling over themselves to employ a person like me.’

  Rosie didn’t force the issue. Sam liked Mackenzie, and she was comfortable messing around with him. What else did she need to know for an absence of no more than two hours? She knew more about Mackenzie than she did the social worker who’d been with her son for more than half-a-day. And Sam really didn’t care about the heavy make-up, piercings and hairstyle. As far as he was concerned, it was a new playmate.

  ‘I’m off then,’ Rosie said.

  ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,’ Mackenzie said, moving a toy aeroplane in circles in front of Sam. ‘And let me tell you, that gives you considerable scope.’

  She cackled at her joke.

  ‘Just ask James, he’ll tell you.’

  Rosie hesitated a mome
nt. She’d thought Mackenzie had dropped this nonsense about James, yet here she was, repeating it. Rosie had tried her luck with James. He was entitled not to fancy her, but as far as she could see, he was a little uncomfortable with female advances and – by his own admission – he wasn’t looking for a relationship.

  Sam started to giggle, and Rosie brushed her doubts aside. For all she knew, that was what passed for a joke among the girls of Mackenzie’s generation.

  The tube was quiet at that time in the evening, and James had texted her to confirm that the coast was clear. Edward had gone home with a pile of files and his laptop. He’d even paid James a rare compliment, congratulating him on working late and letting him know it wouldn’t go unnoticed in the current job review.

  Rosie and James had agreed; no emails, no phone calls from or to the work switchboard and no texts discussing what they were about to do. Whoever was taunting her with foul images and threatening deliveries to the house had done an excellent job of covering their tracks. And now she and James would be playing the same game.

  James was ready for her when she arrived. Rosie buzzed him from the front entrance of the building. He let her in remotely from Haylee’s console at the reception desk. She used the lift this time; the stairs had exhausted her earlier, and from the way she was feeling, drained and vague, there was no way she’d make it thirteen floors up.

  James had a coffee waiting for her; he was nothing if not attentive. She wondered again why he’d knocked her back the other night. He seemed interested, and he was giving out all the right signals.

  ‘Okay, so I’m going to give Mike, the man who never retires, a call. Did you leave your keys in Edward’s office like we discussed?’

  James nodded.

  ‘Yes, I dropped them under his desk when I told him I needed to work late. He was so pleased with me that I thought he was about to give me a commendation medal there and then. What a twerp!’

  Rosie took a sip of coffee and picked up the handset of one of the office phones. She dialled 8 for maintenance services.

  ‘Hi Mike, it’s Rosie on floor 13. I know you’ll be about to clock off, but we’re in a bit of a fix up here. Can you bring up your keys for the offices? We need to get in to retrieve my colleague’s house keys.’

  ‘Did he fall for it?’

  ‘Yes, he’s on his way. As soon as he opens up Edward’s office, call the emergency maintenance line from your mobile phone. I want him distracted.’

  The plan worked well. Mike turned up with a long chain of keys which opened up every door on floor 13. Rosie pointed to James’ key through the glass of Edward’s office door, and Mike started searching for the correct key before she’d even finished her sentence.

  ‘Strictly speaking, I should get you to sign for this, but I want to be home to catch the football on TV, so I’ll let you off this time as I trust you. I’ll need to monitor you going into the office though.’

  Mike’s mobile phone rang as they’d planned.

  ‘Damn, I’m never going to get away at this rate.’

  Rosie darted into Edward’s office, grabbed James’ key and moved towards the door.

  ‘All done here!’ she smiled, ‘You’d best get that call.’

  As Mike turned away to pick up the call, Rosie stuck a piece of card in between the door and the frame to stop it closing fully. James ended the call to Mike before he could answer it, then turned towards him and started talking, to distract him further. All it took was a bit of sports banter, and Mike completely forgot to check that Edward’s door was secure.

  By the time James got back from seeing Mike out of the building, Rosie had finished her coffee and was working her way through Edward’s filing cabinets.

  ‘He’s gone – I saw him out the front door,’ James confirmed. ‘Have you found anything?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Rosie replied. ‘They haven’t moved the personnel files onto the computer system yet – at least, they still have the paper back-ups. Look, here’s yours!’

  James’ face whitened.

  ‘Don’t read that,’ he said. ‘I’ll die of embarrassment.’

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s not yours I’m after. It’s Edward’s I want to look at. Here it is.’

  She held up a blue file as if it were a trophy, then set it on his desk to start reading.

  ‘Anything I can do?’ James asked.

  ‘Yes. Check for photo paper, his camera or any SD cards. He has a camera in here somewhere. He took my staff picture using it. See if he leaves his PC on overnight too; I want you to look at his search history and see what he’s been ordering.’

  ‘You know this all looks paranoid, don’t you?’ James said.

  ‘It’s made me paranoid,’ Rosie replied.

  ‘His PC is still on. I can’t see anything in his search history. It’s all boring stuff about HR and redundancies. What have you got?’

  ‘There’s nothing in here, just his career history,’ Rosie said, looking over at James. ‘It’s as boring as the man himself. He does seem to move around a bit, though. He never sticks around in one place for very long.’

  They carried on with their respective tasks, then Rosie spoke again.

  ‘That’s interesting, there’s another file got caught in Edward’s. Damn, I feel strange, I think I’m still suffering from last night’s sleeping pills. Have you got any of your coffee left? I feel like I could fall asleep on the spot.’

  ‘Sorry, mine’s all gone,’ he replied.

  They worked in silence for a few moments, James exploring Edward’s drawers and Rosie reading the file. It had Mackenzie’s name written on it, but the name had been changed from what was on the original file. There was an internal note from David Willis noting the reason for the change. Mackenzie has requested to be known by her paternal surname as of 24/01.

  Rosie’s eyes scanned the document, interested to see what her original name had been. Philpot. That was an unusual name. By coincidence, it was Vera’s surname too. Rosie thought nothing of it. But there was a handwritten note paper-clipped to David’s memo, and there was something about the writing that made Rosie go back and check. She’d seen that handwriting before – on her medical notes at Trinity Heights. It was Vera’s handwriting.

  Incredulous, she read the letter. It was nothing remarkable, just a confirmation that Vera was Mackenzie’s mother and confirming that her married name had been Devereux. Was this the paranoia again? How come Vera’s daughter was working in the same company as her? That was too much of a coincidence, surely?

  As Rosie stood there, reading the file, she saw how it all joined up. David Willis knew Vera from the visits to Trinity Heights after the accident. Of course, he’d have met Vera. She was always around the ward. They must have got talking while Rosie was spaced out and on her meds. That figured – she wasn’t much of a conversationalist when she was sedated. So why hadn’t Mackenzie thought to mention it to Rosie? She’d had plenty of opportunities.

  As James finished searching Edward’s drawers and declared him innocent of all allegations, Rosie realised that she’d got it wrong. Edward’s only crime was one of being socially inept. It wasn’t him who’d been taunting her.

  Rosie was more concerned about Mackenzie Devereux – Mackenzie Philpot – the mysterious young woman who was currently looking after her only child.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‘What are you doing?’ James asked, looking up from Edward’s desk.

  ‘I’m calling Mackenzie,’ Rosie replied, pulling her mobile phone out from her pocket like she was drawing a gun.

  ‘You look poorly,’ James told her. ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll call Mackenzie for you? Do you want a glass of water from the kitchen?’

  ‘No, I’m calling her,’ Rosie insisted. ‘But I would like that glass of water.’

  She dialled her home phone number, kept only for her dad’s convenience. He preferred the landline to his mobile and still used the same heavy telephone in his house that he’d had since s
he was a child. It was a miracle it was still working.

  She listened anxiously as the dial tone sounded, letting it ring fifteen times – sufficient for even Mackenzie to realise what it was – before ending the call. After a moment’s panic, she figured that Mackenzie probably didn’t even know what a landline was. She pictured her wandering around the house, trying to work out where the alien sound was coming from.

  James entered Edward’s office with a glass of water.

  ‘You look like you’re over-heating,’ he said. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

  ‘I feel terrible,’ Rosie replied. ‘But it can wait. It’s probably just the events of the last 24 hours catching up with me. Besides, I did take more sleeping pills than I should have last night. I think it’s just my body telling me to stick to the recommended dose.’

  She took the glass from James and sipped the water.

  ‘That tastes pretty horrible,’ she commented. ‘The water quality in this part of the city is terrible, but thanks, I needed that.’

  She gulped down the entire glass and placed it on Edward’s desk.

  ‘Any luck with Mackenzie?’ James asked. ‘Why do you need to call her?’

  ‘Take a look at this,’ said Rosie, picking up the papers.

  As she held up Mackenzie’s file, she realised that her mobile number would be on the personnel records. She hadn’t thought to jot down that information before she exited the house, instead leaving her details scribbled on a sticky note in case Mackenzie needed to reach her in an emergency. She tapped the number into her phone, then handed James the file. As he studied it, she listened to the sound of Mackenzie’s ringtone. It went to voicemail.

  Hey, it’s Mackenzie! If you insist on leaving a message, do it after the stupid beep sound. I probably won’t call you back unless you’re offering me money. Or a free holiday. Or if you’re a looker.

  ‘I don’t see anything here,’ James said, handing back the file. ‘Besides, I thought it was Edward you suspected was bothering you?’