The One
Page 55
Ellie nodded but didn’t offer any outward signs that she forgave their error.
‘Details about your fiancé are scant and it’s our opinion that he has buried himself very deeply,’ Tracy continued. Already, Ellie felt her stomach knot. She dug her heels into the rug to maintain her composure. ‘But let’s tell you what we know about him so far. Timothy Hunt, real name Matthew Ward, was born in St Neots, Cambridge, to parents Samantha and Michael Ward.’
‘He told me he didn’t know his father. His parents were married?’
‘They were,’ Tracy said, and passed copies of marriage and birth certificates to Ellie across the table. ‘The couple had no further children. Matthew was educated in Cambridge until at least sixteen: an average student with mediocre GCSE results. But we cannot ascertain if he continued into further education or university. Meanwhile, his parents divorced, after twenty-six years of marriage, eight years ago. Both went on to re-marry, and his mother died three years ago in a house fire in Oundle, Northants. The coroner’s cause of death was smoke inhalation. The CV he provided you with for his job application includes a selection of fictional businesses, none of which check out. And we cannot find any current record of employment.’
‘So for almost twenty years, Tim … I mean Matthew, hasn’t existed?’ Ellie asked.
‘It appears that way. He has erased all traces of himself.’ Tracy opened a second folder and passed Ellie more printouts and photocopies. ‘Timothy appears to have made his first appearance in your life at his job interview – we can find no record of him before that date. Everything we learned upon our first investigation was created, faked or manipulated. We have spoken to his football teammates who informed us he joined them just over a year ago, but rarely attends social functions. None of them know much about him.’
‘But if he got the job with us, he must’ve known we’d discover his CV and references were faked?’
‘I’m sure he did.’
‘Which leads me to believe his sole purpose for applying was to gain access to the building, look into a camera and mouth my name in the hope that one day I’d see it.’
‘He’s playing a long game, but for what purpose, I cannot say.’
Ellie shook her head. ‘And if you can’t find a current employer, then what’s he doing when he says he’s going to work each day?’
‘I can put together a team to follow him if that’s what you decide.’
‘Can we go back to his father? Is he still alive?’
‘He is alive, but he’s now living in a home for stroke patients in Galbraith, Scotland. He’s recently been widowed. According to the manager, he can no longer converse.’
‘And you haven’t been able to discover anything else about Tim, not even from his DNA?’
‘Nothing, not even when we ran his picture though facial image recognition software. His DNA information is no longer on the company database but we ran a trace on the fingerprints we obtained from your property. They revealed nothing of interest. It’s as if he’s left behind a trail of crumbs only leading in the direction he wants you to follow.’
‘Damn it,’ she whispered, and sat back in the chair. Her back and underarms were wet with perspiration and she pressed her wrists into the leather arms of the chair to try to cool herself down. Everything she feared about her fiancé was coming true, only it was worse than she’d imagined. Tim wasn’t just her Match; he was also her enemy.
She suddenly became aware of the silence in the room and that everyone present was avoiding eye contact. She felt foolish and humiliated, and wondered if they’d all had a laugh at the gullible rich girl behind her back. She rose to her feet, slipped her sunglasses and jacket back on, and thanked Tracy and her team. She left swiftly, followed by Ula and Andrei.
As she was driven back to her office, attempting to dodge the mid-morning London traffic, Ellie’s sadness gave way to anger. She felt like someone who had been bereaved and cheated out of a future and she was furious because of it. She had lost her loving Tim to a stranger with an agenda.
By the time the car had snaked its way through traffic across London Bridge and pulled up outside her office in The Shard, Ellie had already begun to bark orders at Ula, who furiously typed them into her iPad: changing all the locks and security codes to Ellie’s home, organising a new mobile phone number and private email address, deleting all of Tim’s text messages and photographs they’d taken together, and erasing any contact there had ever been between them.
By the time the lift reached the lofty heights of the seventy-first floor, Ellie was mulling over how and when she would confront Tim. She eventually settled on that night; she would return to his home and, with Andrei and his team’s assistance, she would learn the truth, no matter what means were used to get it out of him.
Only, the element of surprise had been taken away from her. As she closed the door to her office, Tim sat behind her desk, his feet resting on the top.
‘Hello, Ells, I think it’s time we talked, isn’t it?’ he said, smiling broadly.
Chapter 76
MANDY
Mandy faced an anxious thirty-minute wait while Richard was examined in private.
She couldn’t stop her imagination from working overtime, convincing herself that it was hers and the baby’s presence that had brought him back to consciousness. After an unbearable delay, his doctor finally called Mandy into Richard’s room.
‘I’m sorry,’ he began sympathetically. ‘But I can’t see any substantial signs of brain activity.’
‘I’ve heard that sometimes people come out of a coma when they hear a song they like or a familiar voice. Maybe that’s what happened to him?’
‘That can certainly be the case for some coma patients, but your friend isn’t in a coma,’ the doctor said. ‘Please, take a seat.’
As Mandy lowered herself into an armchair, Dr Jenkins perched on the edge of Richard’s bed.
‘Let me explain. Coma patients are totally unresponsive; they don’t move or react to sounds and can’t feel pain. Their brains have simply shut down to deal with the trauma they have been put through, but research shows that they are still aware of their surroundings. The severe brain injuries Mr Taylor sustained in his accident pushed him from a coma into a prolonged vegetative state, which is quite different. He’s unconscious and has no awareness of anything around him. However, parts of his body can still move like you witnessed: his arms and his eyes; he can yawn and may even utter the odd word, but it’s not him in control of it. It’s a natural reflex. If it continues much longer – which we suspect it will – the chances of him recovering are virtually nil. I’m sorry Ms Griffiths …’
Mandy dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her top. ‘There was more to it than that,’ she said. ‘You said he’s not aware of anyone around him, but I’m sure he was – is – aware of me. It was only when I held his hand to my face that this happened.’
Dr Jenkins paused and frowned. ‘I understand you are Mr Taylor’s partner. You are both Matched, I believe?’
‘Yes, but I’d never met him before today.’ Mandy felt almost embarrassed. But she was eager to impress on Dr Jenkins the uniqueness of the situation. ‘I’m also carrying his baby.’
‘Details about your fiancé are scant and it’s our opinion that he has buried himself very deeply,’ Tracy continued. Already, Ellie felt her stomach knot. She dug her heels into the rug to maintain her composure. ‘But let’s tell you what we know about him so far. Timothy Hunt, real name Matthew Ward, was born in St Neots, Cambridge, to parents Samantha and Michael Ward.’
‘He told me he didn’t know his father. His parents were married?’
‘They were,’ Tracy said, and passed copies of marriage and birth certificates to Ellie across the table. ‘The couple had no further children. Matthew was educated in Cambridge until at least sixteen: an average student with mediocre GCSE results. But we cannot ascertain if he continued into further education or university. Meanwhile, his parents divorced, after twenty-six years of marriage, eight years ago. Both went on to re-marry, and his mother died three years ago in a house fire in Oundle, Northants. The coroner’s cause of death was smoke inhalation. The CV he provided you with for his job application includes a selection of fictional businesses, none of which check out. And we cannot find any current record of employment.’
‘So for almost twenty years, Tim … I mean Matthew, hasn’t existed?’ Ellie asked.
‘It appears that way. He has erased all traces of himself.’ Tracy opened a second folder and passed Ellie more printouts and photocopies. ‘Timothy appears to have made his first appearance in your life at his job interview – we can find no record of him before that date. Everything we learned upon our first investigation was created, faked or manipulated. We have spoken to his football teammates who informed us he joined them just over a year ago, but rarely attends social functions. None of them know much about him.’
‘But if he got the job with us, he must’ve known we’d discover his CV and references were faked?’
‘I’m sure he did.’
‘Which leads me to believe his sole purpose for applying was to gain access to the building, look into a camera and mouth my name in the hope that one day I’d see it.’
‘He’s playing a long game, but for what purpose, I cannot say.’
Ellie shook her head. ‘And if you can’t find a current employer, then what’s he doing when he says he’s going to work each day?’
‘I can put together a team to follow him if that’s what you decide.’
‘Can we go back to his father? Is he still alive?’
‘He is alive, but he’s now living in a home for stroke patients in Galbraith, Scotland. He’s recently been widowed. According to the manager, he can no longer converse.’
‘And you haven’t been able to discover anything else about Tim, not even from his DNA?’
‘Nothing, not even when we ran his picture though facial image recognition software. His DNA information is no longer on the company database but we ran a trace on the fingerprints we obtained from your property. They revealed nothing of interest. It’s as if he’s left behind a trail of crumbs only leading in the direction he wants you to follow.’
‘Damn it,’ she whispered, and sat back in the chair. Her back and underarms were wet with perspiration and she pressed her wrists into the leather arms of the chair to try to cool herself down. Everything she feared about her fiancé was coming true, only it was worse than she’d imagined. Tim wasn’t just her Match; he was also her enemy.
She suddenly became aware of the silence in the room and that everyone present was avoiding eye contact. She felt foolish and humiliated, and wondered if they’d all had a laugh at the gullible rich girl behind her back. She rose to her feet, slipped her sunglasses and jacket back on, and thanked Tracy and her team. She left swiftly, followed by Ula and Andrei.
As she was driven back to her office, attempting to dodge the mid-morning London traffic, Ellie’s sadness gave way to anger. She felt like someone who had been bereaved and cheated out of a future and she was furious because of it. She had lost her loving Tim to a stranger with an agenda.
By the time the car had snaked its way through traffic across London Bridge and pulled up outside her office in The Shard, Ellie had already begun to bark orders at Ula, who furiously typed them into her iPad: changing all the locks and security codes to Ellie’s home, organising a new mobile phone number and private email address, deleting all of Tim’s text messages and photographs they’d taken together, and erasing any contact there had ever been between them.
By the time the lift reached the lofty heights of the seventy-first floor, Ellie was mulling over how and when she would confront Tim. She eventually settled on that night; she would return to his home and, with Andrei and his team’s assistance, she would learn the truth, no matter what means were used to get it out of him.
Only, the element of surprise had been taken away from her. As she closed the door to her office, Tim sat behind her desk, his feet resting on the top.
‘Hello, Ells, I think it’s time we talked, isn’t it?’ he said, smiling broadly.
Chapter 76
MANDY
Mandy faced an anxious thirty-minute wait while Richard was examined in private.
She couldn’t stop her imagination from working overtime, convincing herself that it was hers and the baby’s presence that had brought him back to consciousness. After an unbearable delay, his doctor finally called Mandy into Richard’s room.
‘I’m sorry,’ he began sympathetically. ‘But I can’t see any substantial signs of brain activity.’
‘I’ve heard that sometimes people come out of a coma when they hear a song they like or a familiar voice. Maybe that’s what happened to him?’
‘That can certainly be the case for some coma patients, but your friend isn’t in a coma,’ the doctor said. ‘Please, take a seat.’
As Mandy lowered herself into an armchair, Dr Jenkins perched on the edge of Richard’s bed.
‘Let me explain. Coma patients are totally unresponsive; they don’t move or react to sounds and can’t feel pain. Their brains have simply shut down to deal with the trauma they have been put through, but research shows that they are still aware of their surroundings. The severe brain injuries Mr Taylor sustained in his accident pushed him from a coma into a prolonged vegetative state, which is quite different. He’s unconscious and has no awareness of anything around him. However, parts of his body can still move like you witnessed: his arms and his eyes; he can yawn and may even utter the odd word, but it’s not him in control of it. It’s a natural reflex. If it continues much longer – which we suspect it will – the chances of him recovering are virtually nil. I’m sorry Ms Griffiths …’
Mandy dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her top. ‘There was more to it than that,’ she said. ‘You said he’s not aware of anyone around him, but I’m sure he was – is – aware of me. It was only when I held his hand to my face that this happened.’
Dr Jenkins paused and frowned. ‘I understand you are Mr Taylor’s partner. You are both Matched, I believe?’
‘Yes, but I’d never met him before today.’ Mandy felt almost embarrassed. But she was eager to impress on Dr Jenkins the uniqueness of the situation. ‘I’m also carrying his baby.’
