Obesssion (10 page)

I flicked through the photographs, noting the captions. Jon with Anita and Mindy. Anita with Nathan Miller, her business partner. Nathan Miller with his girlfriend Beck.

Apart from one image of Anita hugging Nathan Miller, there was little value in any of this. I felt tempted to dump it in the nearest rubbish bin. Then again… I gazed more closely at the image of Beck, noting her superficial resemblance to Anita. They were both tall, slim and blonde. If Beck’s hair was a shade darker, from the back they could be mistaken. A fuzzy thought started to form in the back of my mind. I glanced up at Alan, a smile forming on my face.

“
Thanks. You’re right, it’s good news.” Alan would have stayed to chat but I feigned another appointment, and headed straight for the Geek’s office.

He stared at the pictures, squinting as he examined them.
“You have the digital images as well?”

“
Yes, on this stick.”

“
It won’t be easy. I’ll need to go down to individual pixel-level to maintain the clarity of resolution.” I just nodded; I had no idea what he was talking about.

“
I’ve only got two questions. How much will it cost, and how quickly can you deliver?”

The feral smile again. One of these days, when he’d outgrown his usefulness, I would wipe that smile off his face. But, regretfully, not today.
“I have to ask, for legal reasons—you don’t intend to use this for extortion or any illegal purposes?”

“
No and no. How much and how quickly? You
are
capable of doing this?” I left my question hanging in the air. He nodded, most likely greedy at the thought of the extra lucrative work. He named a figure that made me scowl, but I nodded anyway.

Rubbing his hands in glee, he spoke confidently.
“How about tomorrow lunchtime? I’ll start on it later.”

I stared back, made my face hard.
“How about tonight?”

“
Let me check the quality first.” He accessed the data on the memory stick, glancing up at me. “You know there’s video footage here as well? Do you want that manipulated, too?”

I’d forgotten the video files.
“I’ve not watched them yet. Can you play them now?”

“
Sure.” He rattled away at his keyboard, swivelled the screen towards me and disappeared to fetch coffee. There were two files. The first showed Nathan Miller with his girlfriend, the second was in a house, presumably Craigowan’s. I watched the short pieces of footage. Craigowan with his pathetic little wife and baby, chatting and laughing. The happy family personified, and the complete opposite of what I’d hoped for. As I reached out to press the END button, I frowned, grabbed the mouse and rapidly backtracked a few seconds, then clicked PAUSE. The image blurred and froze on the screen. I leaned closer.
What the fuck
?

A large mirror hung on the wall close to Anita’s head and crystal clear in the reflection was Suki. She smiled, the same happy, confident smile I’d seen when she came home last night. I waited for the Geek to come back, my head spinning.

“Can you tell me
when
this video was taken?”

“
Sure.” He sounded surprised. Clicking a few buttons, he turned back to me. “Yesterday afternoon. It’s bang up to date.”

I’d swear the earth shifted beneath my feet. For the second time in one day, I reassessed my wife and wondered what the hell she was doing, before another piece of the puzzle slipped into place. Now I knew where she’d been yesterday, and I had a good idea who she’d been thinking of. I felt sick.

Ignoring the mug of coffee, I snarled something at the Geek. Right now I wasn’t capable of coherent thought, at least not much beyond a murderous rage. Stalking back to my car, I slammed his office door for good measure. Next time I wanted something done, I had no intention of negotiating. Either he would provide it when I asked, or I’d go elsewhere.

Craigowan. I’d put money on her having a fling with Jon Craigowan. The
bitch
. They’d both pay for this. I’d see to it personally.

5.4 Josh

“
Sorry, we’re just here on holiday. Have you tried the owners of the village shop?”

I’d lost count of how many times I’d heard that sentence today. I’d tried the shop, but the owners had only lived here a few years and knew little of the local history. I’d have to wait for the estate agencies to complete their enquiries, all in the hope of learning something about Castle Greyskull. Had it changed hands recently? Was it currently on the market? Was it available as a rental?

Giving up for the day, I returned to stare at the house some more. It drew me like a magnet. Clearly empty, the roof had gaps in the slates and the windows were filthy with dirt and cobwebs, but I still longed to go inside. I even got as far as trying the gate, to see if I could get onto the grounds. It was locked. Would anyone notice if I scrambled over it? How quickly would I be stopped if I tried to look through those grimy windows? Tempting. But I’d wait to see if the legitimate lines of enquiry turned up anything first.

It hadn’t taken long to compile my report for Alan, emailing it from the little café that I’d found with a WiFi connection. Tomorrow I’d head back to London.

When I got up the next morning, I confirmed I’d be checking out and went to pack my overnight bag. Coming back downstairs, I was surprised, and a little worried, to see Anita waiting for me, Jon by her side. She looked fierce. Her lips were a thin, tight line, eyes flashing fire with little spots of colour in her cheeks. This was a girl on the warpath. Jon’s face darkened when he saw me, while Anita’s scowl grew deeper. Striding across Reception, she grabbed the front of my shirt with one hand, staring furiously at my face.

“
It was
you
, wasn’t it? What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

Fury, pure and intense, emanated from her. Disgust in equal measure. Her mind screamed at me.
How could you?
Behind her, Jon stepped up, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. “Neeta,” he murmured, but she shrugged him off. Trembling with rage, she slapped a bundle of papers against my chest.

“
Who are you? Give me one very good reason why I don’t call the police now. Are you a journalist?”
How dare you!

I met her gaze and she must have seen the surprise in my eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“
Look at them.
You
took these didn’t you? You
tampered
with these.”

“
Neeta.” Jon’s voice sharpened as he took her hand. “Not here. Not in front of the guests.”

A flush of guilt softened her temper as she glanced back at her mother, standing pale and shocked by the reception desk. I strove for control.
“May we use your office, Mrs. Cartwright?”

She nodded. Anita all but shoved me through the doorway, Jon following. He watched, grim-faced as his wife backed me against the wall.
“You told Suki you write for computer magazines. You’re a journalist. Who’s paying you for this crap?”

“
Neeta
. That’s enough, sweetheart. Don’t give him cause for any more muck raking.” Jon pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her while he stared at me. “
Did
you take these pictures?
Did
you manipulate them?”

Anita threw the pages at me and I caught the rolled up sheets before they hit the floor.

I had a bad feeling before I even looked at them. Smoothing out the printed pages, I sucked in my breath. There was my photo of Anita hugging Nathan, happy smiles on both their faces. The photo I’d emailed to Alan Houghton yesterday. The second page showed Nathan again with Anita, but he held her close, kissing her cheek, while Beck looked on. It hadn’t happened like that—he’d been kissing Beck with Anita watching. I raised the page to the light, examined it closely. The manipulation had been cleverly done. It certainly looked like Anita in Nathan’s arms.

I had to make a rapid decision. Tell the truth and suffer the open disgust from them… or lie my way out of it. Either way, I had to speak to Alan immediately. The work I did was sensitive enough without it being used for this kind of trick. I didn’t want any more referrals from him. He could get someone else to do his dirty work.

Anita and Jon were waiting for me to speak. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen these photos before.” I looked at Jon. Met his angry stare head on. “I remember seeing Anita and Nathan in this first picture, but I didn’t take it. Why me?”

“
Because you were the only stranger there.” Anita had subsided, Jon’s hands soothing her. I could feel her stress, tinged with fear. “I know everyone else. It had to be you.”

O-kay, this was difficult. I ran a little deflection while I tried to figure out what to tell them, if anything.
“I don’t understand what’s happened. Where did you get these pictures?”

“
They were emailed to me first thing this morning, from an anonymous Hotmail account.” Jon’s voice was cold, light years from the friendly guy whose hospitality I’d enjoyed the other day.

I winced.
“Is someone trying to blackmail you? Did they make any threats?”

“
No, there wasn’t a message. Just the pictures.” He flashed a reassuring look at his wife. “Blatantly false pictures.”

I shrugged, at a loss for words.
“Why would someone do that?”

“
Stirring up filth.” Anita again. “It’s been done before.” She turned to press her face into Jon’s chest and to my alarm I heard a sob emerging. His arms tightened as he continued to glare at me.

What could I do? I held out my hands and tried to look honest.
“I’m shocked that you think it was me. I don’t know anything about this. It’s awful.”

“
I think you’d better leave, Mr. Summers. And we’d both appreciate it if you didn’t come back.” Jon dropped a kiss on top of Anita’s head. “If we see you hanging around the stable yard again, rest assured, I will call the police.”

I couldn’t blame his attitude, I felt the same about Alan Houghton and his mysterious client. I held on to the offending printouts and spoke carefully, thinking rapidly as I went.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to try and sort this out—it’s my reputation on the line here.” Jon opened his mouth, already shaking his head, but I ploughed on. “I’m a writer, not a journalist, but I do have contacts in IT. I might be able to find out who sent the email.”

He paused. I let him think for a moment, and then carried on.
“I mean, what have you got to lose by letting me help? You don’t trust me, but that’s okay, you don’t know me. But while you’re busy assuming I’m behind this, the real culprit is getting away with it.” I crossed my arms and looked stroppy. Jon narrowed his eyes as he stared at me. I could feel the waves of hostility receding from Anita and I waited.

“
What do you need to know—apart from the email address?”

Good question. I wanted this to look realistic, as though I put in some effort to find the culprit. It had to be Alan or his client, but I couldn’t say that.
“Why don’t you forward me the email. I’ll ask my friends to take a look.”

It seemed we had a truce. One way or the other, I’d get to the bottom of this.

5.5 Suki

Gabe had reverted back to his cold, angry mood. He avoided me when I came in from work and stayed in his den all evening. Again. I lay awake in bed, thinking first about Joe Summers. How kind and funny he’d been, how he made me feel instantly better. I contemplated Anita and Jon, their darling little daughter and how much they loved her, and knew I could never go through that. As much as Gabe said he wanted children—demanded that we didn’t use any contraception—I knew I couldn’t. I kept a regular supply of birth control pills hidden in my underwear drawer. Just another lie I maintained.

My thoughts turned to Gabe. Should I go downstairs to see him?  Something was clearly wrong, but much as I wanted to make sure he was okay, I shrank at the thought of going back into his den. If he was glued to his porn, I didn’t want to have to watch it again.

***

By the next day, he seemed more normal and he phoned me in the afternoon.
“Well, are you ready?” There was an exasperated tone in his voice.

I gazed at my Outlook calendar. My office appointments were done for the day. We’d been preparing for tomorrow’s show and, technically, I could leave now.
“Ready for what?”

An amused sigh.
“We’re waiting for you.”

I was lost now.
“For me? Sorry Gabe, you’ll have to remind me…”

“
We’re in the Rose Garden. I’ve ordered tea and cakes. Are you going to be long?”

I flicked through the calendar on my mobile phone. Nothing either. What the hell was Gabe talking about? The Rose Garden was a local teashop, famous for its Devon-style cream teas. I hadn’t arranged to meet him there. And who was he with? A shaft of anxiety pierced my brain.
“I can, ah, be there in fifteen minutes. But Gabe, darling, I don’t have this in my diary.”