This Man Confessed
Page 119
I can’t speak. There is a certain level of maliciousness linked to these sorts of letters and as I stare down at the message, assembled with various newspaper and magazine cuttings, my casual disregard of my previous warning seems quite reckless.
‘It’s another warning.’ I manage to splutter through my racing breath. I feel sick.
‘Another?’
‘Yes, I had one with some half dead flowers. I just chucked it in the bin and put it down to a jilted ex-sexual conquest.’ I open the window to get some needed fresh air.
‘What does it say?’ John keeps flicking his sunglass covered eyes over to the piece of card that I’ve dropped in my lap. I read the message to him.
‘I told you to leave him.’
A frustrated curse shoots into the air. ‘What did the other one say? Was it like that one?’
I try and collect my scattered thoughts and attempt to recall the exact wording of the other message. ‘Something along the lines of me not knowing him. They said they did.’ I shake my head in frustration. ‘I can’t remember. The other was handwritten.’ I’m furious with myself for getting rid of it when I should have been sensible and told Jesse. He’s got Steve investigating the car incident and my drugging and, stupidly, I kept something from him that could’ve assisted in dealing with this. It may have sent him off the deep end initially, but the long term benefits to him knowing far outweigh the meltdown that would be guaranteed—the meltdown he’s going to have very soon because now he will know, and I’m going to be facing a seriously pissed off male. I’ve been so stupid.
‘Why haven’t you told Jesse?’ John sounds concerned, only heightening my own worrying thoughts.
‘Why do you think, John?’ He can’t be so unwise to ask that question, and the deep breath and brief look of understanding that travel across his annoyed face tells me he’s not.
‘Okay, girl.’ He doesn’t say I’ve been foolish, but I know he’s thinking it.
‘I thought it was Coral.’ I say quietly.
‘Even after the dressing down that you gave her this morning?’ He’s restraining a small smile, I can tell.
‘No, I thought it was Coral before. Not now.’
‘Do you want to tell him, or should I?’ John asks seriously. I know what he means. No further elaboration is required and when he looks at me and nods at my pleading face, I know he understands. ‘I’ll tell him, girl.’
‘Can you try to calm him down, too?’
‘If we were talking about anything else, I’d say yes. But this is you. I’m not promising anything.’
I sigh, but I appreciate his frankness. ‘Thank you. Are you going back to The Manor?’
‘No, girl. I’ll call him. You just get done at work, and I’ll be waiting for you.’
‘Okay.’ I agree, feeling anxious, stupid and way too vulnerable. Once again, I’ve underestimated something that I really shouldn’t have.
* * *
The office is still uncomfortably silent when John drops me off at work. All three of my colleagues heads are firmly down, Sally still looks suicidal, and Patrick’s office door is still closed. No one acknowledges me when I pass through and Sally doesn’t offer me a coffee, so I dump my bag and head through to the kitchen to make myself one.
I’m just tipping my third sugar into the mug when my shoulders rise and tense at the sound of my beloved husband’s ringtone. If I could get away with it, I’d ignore him, but he’ll be calling the landline and failing that, charging into the office. Abandoning my coffee, I take deep breaths of courage as I go in search of my phone. This isn’t going to be a call that I can take in the openness of my office, so I hurry to the conference room and close the door behind me before connecting myself to what will be a raging mass of angry male.
‘Please don’t shout at me!’ I blurt down the line, immediately holding the phone away from my ear once I’ve made my plea.
I was right. ‘What the fucking hell were you thinking?’ he yells. ‘You stupid, stupid woman!’
My eyes close, and I quietly accept his rant, keeping my phone at a safe distance.
He’s breathing erratically between scorns. ‘I’ve been pulling my fucking hair out, trying to work with Steve and figure this shit out, and all along you had a handwritten threat?’ I hear a door slam. ‘And you tore it up? Evidence, Ava. Fucking evidence!’
‘I’m sorry!’ I’m close to tears. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. I thought it was harmless.’
‘Harmless, even after you were drugged? And did you still think it was harmless after you got rammed from the road?’ He’s so mad, but I know it’s because he’s not in control. He can’t control what’s happening, and it’s sending him crazy mad.
‘I should have told you.’
‘Fuck!’ Silence falls after his curse, and I can see a clear mental image of him slumped in his office chair, rubbing a furious circle on his temple with his fingertips. ‘Tell me you’re not leaving that office this afternoon.’
‘I have a meeting with Patrick. I’ll speak to him about Mikael.’ I’m trying to tell him what I know he wants to hear. I can’t work with Mikael, even if I don’t think it’s him anymore.
‘This isn’t the work of Mikael, Ava.’ he says more calmly than I know he’s feeling. I knew that, but what has convinced Jesse? ‘Steve confirmed that Mikael was on the flight to Denmark. He’s been back and forth to London over the last few weeks, but completely legit. He couldn’t have drugged you and he couldn’t have been driving my car because both of those times it’s confirmed that he was in Denmark. And why the hell would he say that he knows me?’ Jesse’s tone gets sharper as he finishes the sentence. It’s a reference to the first threat.
‘What about the man in the CCTV footage?’ I ask tentatively?
‘I don’t know, Ava.’ he sighs. ‘My car was found yesterday. Steve’s looking into it. The tracker’s been deactivated.’
‘Oh.’ I rest my tired arse down on one of the plush chairs surrounding the conference table. I could point out to him that I’m not the only one who’s been withholding information, but I won’t. I know he’s been pulling strings, calling in favours and generally doing everything other than using the police in the way they should be, whereas I have just been plain dumb.
‘Should I come to The Manor after work?’ I ask.
‘No, John will take you home as soon as you’ve spoken to Patrick. I’ll meet you there. Given this new information I’ve just found out, I’ve got Steve swinging by.’ His sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed and neither does the edge of anger. I’ve made a huge mistake. I don’t point out that my working day may not be over after I’ve spoken to Patrick because it will serve no purpose other than instigating further growling down the phone. I really do need to play by his rules this time. ‘Don’t leave that office, and once John’s taken you home, you stay put. Do you understand me?’
‘It’s another warning.’ I manage to splutter through my racing breath. I feel sick.
‘Another?’
‘Yes, I had one with some half dead flowers. I just chucked it in the bin and put it down to a jilted ex-sexual conquest.’ I open the window to get some needed fresh air.
‘What does it say?’ John keeps flicking his sunglass covered eyes over to the piece of card that I’ve dropped in my lap. I read the message to him.
‘I told you to leave him.’
A frustrated curse shoots into the air. ‘What did the other one say? Was it like that one?’
I try and collect my scattered thoughts and attempt to recall the exact wording of the other message. ‘Something along the lines of me not knowing him. They said they did.’ I shake my head in frustration. ‘I can’t remember. The other was handwritten.’ I’m furious with myself for getting rid of it when I should have been sensible and told Jesse. He’s got Steve investigating the car incident and my drugging and, stupidly, I kept something from him that could’ve assisted in dealing with this. It may have sent him off the deep end initially, but the long term benefits to him knowing far outweigh the meltdown that would be guaranteed—the meltdown he’s going to have very soon because now he will know, and I’m going to be facing a seriously pissed off male. I’ve been so stupid.
‘Why haven’t you told Jesse?’ John sounds concerned, only heightening my own worrying thoughts.
‘Why do you think, John?’ He can’t be so unwise to ask that question, and the deep breath and brief look of understanding that travel across his annoyed face tells me he’s not.
‘Okay, girl.’ He doesn’t say I’ve been foolish, but I know he’s thinking it.
‘I thought it was Coral.’ I say quietly.
‘Even after the dressing down that you gave her this morning?’ He’s restraining a small smile, I can tell.
‘No, I thought it was Coral before. Not now.’
‘Do you want to tell him, or should I?’ John asks seriously. I know what he means. No further elaboration is required and when he looks at me and nods at my pleading face, I know he understands. ‘I’ll tell him, girl.’
‘Can you try to calm him down, too?’
‘If we were talking about anything else, I’d say yes. But this is you. I’m not promising anything.’
I sigh, but I appreciate his frankness. ‘Thank you. Are you going back to The Manor?’
‘No, girl. I’ll call him. You just get done at work, and I’ll be waiting for you.’
‘Okay.’ I agree, feeling anxious, stupid and way too vulnerable. Once again, I’ve underestimated something that I really shouldn’t have.
* * *
The office is still uncomfortably silent when John drops me off at work. All three of my colleagues heads are firmly down, Sally still looks suicidal, and Patrick’s office door is still closed. No one acknowledges me when I pass through and Sally doesn’t offer me a coffee, so I dump my bag and head through to the kitchen to make myself one.
I’m just tipping my third sugar into the mug when my shoulders rise and tense at the sound of my beloved husband’s ringtone. If I could get away with it, I’d ignore him, but he’ll be calling the landline and failing that, charging into the office. Abandoning my coffee, I take deep breaths of courage as I go in search of my phone. This isn’t going to be a call that I can take in the openness of my office, so I hurry to the conference room and close the door behind me before connecting myself to what will be a raging mass of angry male.
‘Please don’t shout at me!’ I blurt down the line, immediately holding the phone away from my ear once I’ve made my plea.
I was right. ‘What the fucking hell were you thinking?’ he yells. ‘You stupid, stupid woman!’
My eyes close, and I quietly accept his rant, keeping my phone at a safe distance.
He’s breathing erratically between scorns. ‘I’ve been pulling my fucking hair out, trying to work with Steve and figure this shit out, and all along you had a handwritten threat?’ I hear a door slam. ‘And you tore it up? Evidence, Ava. Fucking evidence!’
‘I’m sorry!’ I’m close to tears. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. I thought it was harmless.’
‘Harmless, even after you were drugged? And did you still think it was harmless after you got rammed from the road?’ He’s so mad, but I know it’s because he’s not in control. He can’t control what’s happening, and it’s sending him crazy mad.
‘I should have told you.’
‘Fuck!’ Silence falls after his curse, and I can see a clear mental image of him slumped in his office chair, rubbing a furious circle on his temple with his fingertips. ‘Tell me you’re not leaving that office this afternoon.’
‘I have a meeting with Patrick. I’ll speak to him about Mikael.’ I’m trying to tell him what I know he wants to hear. I can’t work with Mikael, even if I don’t think it’s him anymore.
‘This isn’t the work of Mikael, Ava.’ he says more calmly than I know he’s feeling. I knew that, but what has convinced Jesse? ‘Steve confirmed that Mikael was on the flight to Denmark. He’s been back and forth to London over the last few weeks, but completely legit. He couldn’t have drugged you and he couldn’t have been driving my car because both of those times it’s confirmed that he was in Denmark. And why the hell would he say that he knows me?’ Jesse’s tone gets sharper as he finishes the sentence. It’s a reference to the first threat.
‘What about the man in the CCTV footage?’ I ask tentatively?
‘I don’t know, Ava.’ he sighs. ‘My car was found yesterday. Steve’s looking into it. The tracker’s been deactivated.’
‘Oh.’ I rest my tired arse down on one of the plush chairs surrounding the conference table. I could point out to him that I’m not the only one who’s been withholding information, but I won’t. I know he’s been pulling strings, calling in favours and generally doing everything other than using the police in the way they should be, whereas I have just been plain dumb.
‘Should I come to The Manor after work?’ I ask.
‘No, John will take you home as soon as you’ve spoken to Patrick. I’ll meet you there. Given this new information I’ve just found out, I’ve got Steve swinging by.’ His sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed and neither does the edge of anger. I’ve made a huge mistake. I don’t point out that my working day may not be over after I’ve spoken to Patrick because it will serve no purpose other than instigating further growling down the phone. I really do need to play by his rules this time. ‘Don’t leave that office, and once John’s taken you home, you stay put. Do you understand me?’
