Super Dark (Super Dark Trilogy) (13 page)

When my thoughts returned to the present, I said, “Well, should we go back inside? I think it might rain.”

***

We got to the All-Star around five. There were six of us: me, Frasier, Becky, Jermaine, Marie, and William (thankfully Hannah hadn’t been able to make it because of choir practice). We found a table in the back and Becky ordered a strawberry milkshake, pancakes, and barbequed ribs for me. I briefly wondered whether her secret plan was to get me fat. Still, it was nice of her to treat me to a huge meal, so I rolled with it.

Jermaine, Marie, and William ordered the All Star Special: a double cheeseburger with pancakes and chips. Frasier had a glass of water and an anaemic-looking veggie burger. I wondered briefly if it was fun to be a vegan. I had a pretty good relationship with most types of cuisine—except seafood, which I was violently allergic to. Once at primary school, I’d nibbled a piece of Elliot’s prawn sandwich and had ended up in hospital—not an experience I planned to repeat again.

A couple of times I caught Frasier glancing at Becky wistfully, then quickly looking away. I wondered if he would ever muster the courage to tell her.

“How are you liking St. Mary’s so far?” William asked me.

“It’s all right,” I said, licking barbeque sauce from my fingers. “Pretty much the same as every other school I’ve been to.”

“Oh? Have you been through a lot of schools?”

“A few,” I replied.

“Why do you change so often? Were you a problem child or something?”

“Jermaine, can you pass the ketchup?” Becky cut in, leaning across the table.

Frasier shot me a look and quickly changed the subject to football. Then, as the boys nattered away, I turned to Marie, who was sitting to my right, and tried to make conversation. She seemed sweet enough, but didn’t have much to say beyond what she’d watched on TV the night before.

Every now and then, I noticed Becky glancing toward the automatic doors, as if she was waiting for someone. Then it hit me. I knew exactly what she was thinking—the same thing I was thinking. We were both hoping that Lee would walk through those doors, just as he had two Fridays earlier—but he didn’t.

After a while, Becky grew restless. “I’m bored. Who wants to play a game?” she said, pointing toward the bowling alley.

William said, “You’re on!”

She turned and asked, “Sam, Marie, Jermaine, Frasier, how about you?”

“Sure,” Marie said, and Jermaine agreed.

“Let me finish my shake first,” I said. “You go ahead. We’ll join you in a bit.”

“Don’t be too long,” Becky said, smiling broadly.

At that moment, I decided that Becky was far more attractive than I’d given her credit for earlier. Her quirks and imperfections only added to her uniqueness, and I’d always liked interesting faces.

As they walked away, I reminisced about the last time I’d seen Lee. The sound of the rain on the windshield, the wipers casting exotic shadows across his face. It had been just the two of us—all alone. I thought about how delectable his lips looked and how much I’d wanted to kiss them .

“Hello? Earth to Sam,” I heard Frasier say, snapping his fingers in my face. “What is it with you girls? You’re always daydreaming.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry. I did space out there for a second.” Then I looked at him and said conspiratorially, “Anything new with Becky? Are you going to ask her out?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, taking a drink of water. “I might have to put that on hold for a while. I’ve got other things to think about.”

“Such as?”

“Such as that science exam on Wednesday. Girls are too much of a distraction. I need to focus.”

“Hey, you guys!’ shouted a voice from behind us.

I turned and saw Taffin Carter approaching the table, dressed in a white bomber jacket with drainpipe jeans and a pair of gray Nikes. His Mohawk was dyed a bombastic shade of green.

“Oh, no,” I groaned silently. “Someone save me.”

“Maybe if we pretend he’s not here, he’ll go away,” Frasier whispered, but it was too late.

“Fancy seeing you two here!” Taffin said enthusiastically. “What you up to?”

“What does it look like?” Frasier deadpanned. “We’re eating.”

Taffin laughed and pulled up a chair. “How’s your pretty friend?” he said, turning to me. “What’s your name again? Sarah, right?”

“Sam,” I replied glumly.

Taffin snickered and pushed his chair close enough for our elbows to touch. “So what are you doing after you’re done eating?” he asked. “Want to go back to my place?”

“No, thanks, maybe some other time,” I said, shaking my head.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he smirked. “I’ve got something to show you.”

I made a disappointed face. “Sorry, but I didn’t bring my magnifying glass.”

Frasier laughed so hard that he choked briefly on his drink. Blushing crimson, Taffin stood and made a hasty retreat.

“And on that note,” I said, smiling victoriously at Frasier, “I think I’ll call it a day.”

“But we just got here,” Frasier protested. “You begged me to come, and now you’re just going to leave?”

“Oh, I’m sure you can find plenty to do,” I said, glancing in the direction of the others. “Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I quickly made my way toward the exit, taking care Becky didn’t see me. I knew she’d try to convince me to stay, and I wasn’t in the mood to make excuses.

When I got outside, the sky was as gray as cast iron and there was a sinister chill in the air. I hugged my jacket tightly at the neck as I stomped along the litter-strewn sidewalk toward the bus stop. Then something stopped me in my tracks.

As I approached the crosswalk, I saw the same black Ford parked across the street, its windows as dark and impenetrable as ever. An icy terror gripped my chest. It had to be more than just a coincidence.

For what seemed like an eternity, I stood waiting for the light to change, trying to decide what to do next. Then suddenly, my fear turned to anger and I decided to face the situation head-on. I decided to confront the driver and find out what the hell was going on.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I crossed the road and strode toward the vehicle. My heart was racing and my brain was screaming, “Do you
really
want to do this?”

A few moments later, I was standing on the passenger side of the Ford. Drawing a deep breath, I lightly tapped on the heavily-tinted glass. The instant my knuckles touched the car, an ear-splitting alarm went off. I sprang back, my eyes darting around self-consciously. Across the street, several people outside the grocery store gave me a curious look.

As I stepped away from the car, the engine started and the Ford began to move. Picking up speed, it was soon gone, leaving me alone and frustrated. I hadn’t even managed to get the license plate number. Cursing under my breath, I turned and started toward the bus stop.

When I got home, I found Mum on the sofa in the living room watching an old movie on TV. As soon as she saw me, she knew something was wrong.

“Darling, what is it? Did you have a bad day?”

“You could say that,” I sighed, collapsing on the sofa. “I think someone’s stalking me.”

She picked up the remote and switched off the TV. “What?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. “Start from the beginning. I want to know everything.”

I took a deep breath, then plunged into my story. “I’ve seen the same car twice now—a black Ford. The first time I didn’t think much of it, but today I saw it again outside the All-Star, so I’m sure someone is following me.”

“Whoa, sweetheart, slow down,” Mum said. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Okay, Mum,” I said. “On Sunday, I went out with this guy. We went to the Saatchi Gallery and then had lunch at the Winchester.”

“You had lunch at the Winchester?” Mum said, her eyes wide with surprise. “You never told me about that! With who?”

“Just some guy.”

“Frasier?”

“No, Mum, it was just some guy I know. His name is Lee. He’s not exactly a friend. He’s more of an acquaintance—but that’s not the point. The
point
is that when he was driving me home, we noticed a car following us. Lee pulled over and tried to speak to the driver but the car sped before we get to see who it was. It had very darkly-tinted windows.”

I took another breath, then added, “I saw that same car today as I was walking to the bus stop, and this time I went over to see who it was, but the car just drove away again.”

“Do you think it’s someone from the press?” Mum asked. “You know, someone from the tabloids, looking for a story?”

I chided myself silently. Why hadn’t I considered that possibility? My mind wandered back ten years to when Elliot disappeared. Reporters had descended on our house like vultures and camped outside, making us prisoners in our own home. After a couple weeks, the buzz died down and the mob finally dispersed. Was it possible that after all these years somebody had decided to seek me out for a story?

“Why would a journalist want to talk me after all this time?” I said thoughtfully. “I’m not newsworthy anymore. All I do is go to school and come home, and there’s been no breakthrough with Elliot, so what would be the point of following me?”

“No breakthrough we know of, darling, but do we know for sure?” Mum asked. “I think we should give Cliff a call and find out the latest. If one of the newspapers has decided to reopen the case, Cliff would be the first to know about it.”

I nodded approvingly. Clifford Maxwell had been our publicist throughout the media frenzy. He was also Britain’s best-known PR man and had given us endless support over the years. Dad and Neil had first recruited him to help with their fundraising activities, then later, when the police suspended their investigation, Cliff had worked tirelessly to keep the story in the media. This was important because Anne and Neil relied on public donations to continue funding the search for Elliot.

Mum went to her bedroom and came back with an address book, then sat on the sofa and flicked through the well-thumbed pages till she found what she was looking for.

As she dialed, she muttered, “I hope he hasn’t changed his number.” There was an agonizing pause, then her face lit up. “Cliff? Hi, it’s Lisa Harper, Sam’s mother. I’m great, thanks. I know it’s been a long time. What have you been up to? Monaco, huh? Wow! That sounds lovely.”

Mum rolled her eyes theatrically. We both knew how Cliff could talk once he got started. I stood up and began pacing the room. Knowing Mum was involved made me feel a little better. I listened as she outlined the situation and then asked Cliff if he could do some checking.

Mum set the phone back on the table. “Cliff says he hasn’t heard anything, but he’ll keep his ear to ground.”

“Well, that leaves us right back where we started,” I sighed.

“Darling, are you sure the car was actually following you?” Mum asked carefully.

“Of course I’m sure!” I said firmly. “It followed us halfway across London.”

“Did you manage to get the license plate number?”

“No,” I replied glumly. “I wish I had.”

“Well, try not to worry too much. There has to be a logical explanation. Let’s wait to hear back from Cliff, okay? In the meantime, if you see it again, call the police.”

I nodded as I ran my fingers through my hair.

Mum had a way of making everything sound so simple. It was a quality I admired.

“I think we could both use a strong cup of tea,” she said, getting up and heading toward the kitchen while I sat and thought about the events of the day.

When she returned she was carrying two mugs of tea. For a while we sat in silence, then Mum smiled and asked matter-of-factly, “So, apart from the stalking, how was your day?”

“Okay, I guess,” I said, smiling for the first time that night. “How was work?”

“Fine,” she replied, then hesitated before adding, “Darling, what are you doing on the twenty-fifth?”

“That’s a Saturday, isn’t it?” I frowned, thinking for a second. “I’m not doing anything, as far as I know. Why?”

“I’ve invited Greg for dinner. I’m going to make a roast, nothing too fancy, and I’d love it if you could be here.”

I shook my head. “Oh, Mum, I don’t know.”

“Sam, it’s been a month now. I think it’s time the two of you met. I’ve told him so much about you.”

“Does Dad know about this?” I asked.

Mum’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Why on earth should that make a difference? We’re divorced. Your father has no say over how I live my life, and it’s time you accepted that.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, taking a sip of tea. “You’re right. I guess if you really want me to meet this Greg, I can do the twenty-fifth.”

“Excellent!” she said, leaning over and kissing my cheek.

Then I asked, “Oh, and by the way, did you say you’re going to
cook
?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You’re
really
going to cook?” I asked again. “You mean, like actually making something that doesn’t involve a microwave?”