Book Two: Thirty Days, Book 2

by Bibi Paterson

  I decide to be systematic and do what Detective Stanton did…start at the beginning. It takes me a few hours to get through most of the posts, and I can definitely see the pattern she was talking about. I finally get to the posts that feature me, and I have to give myself a fortifying talking-to before I start going through them. I pay close attention to the photographs, desperately trying to remember when they may have been taken and who I was with at the time, to see if I can get any closer to the identity of the blogger. When I get to the posts from the last couple of weeks, I can definitely understand why the detective was so concerned. None of the posts contains any reference to Taylor at all; they are all about me.

  As I read the posts, certain words jump out at me. If I didn’t know better and was not looking so carefully, I would never think twice about what has been written. What appears to be a veneer of concern is actually a complete strip-down of my character. Apparently I am fat, lazy and obnoxious, and can’t cook. There are candid shots that look like they have been taken on a camera phone where I look puffy and exhausted, as well as pictures of some of ‘my’ cakes, which I know for a fact are not mine.

  All in all, by the end of my reading, I feel violated. I see the comments at the bottom of the page by the ‘sugar haters’, as they call themselves, and some are just downright nasty. I will not cry, I tell myself; these are simply people who have nothing better to do with their lives and they don’t know me at all. What worries me more than anything is, when I look at the most recent pictures, I can see that they have been taken in close quarters to me, which means whoever took them could have only been a couple of feet away and I never even noticed my picture being taken.

  Determined that I am not going to let this crap—and that is what it is—get to me, I shut down my computer and ring Michelle to quiz her about her mystery plus one. She met him at the gym but assures me that they are just friends, though from the way she is talking about him, it does make me wonder if she would like there to be more. I resolve to watch them on Thursday night and make my own mind up and, if necessary, play Cupid.

  The Twenty-Eighth

  I blame my Internet time last night for the reason that I am feeling so jittery. Any sudden noises make me jump, and I am hyper-aware of everyone around me. By lunchtime, I still can’t shake the feeling of dread that has settled over me, and I take myself out into the alleyway to give myself a talking-to.

  I am aware that I probably look a little unhinged telling myself to get it together, but I know my odd behaviour has been noticed by my colleagues and I don’t want them to be worried about me. A movement in my peripheral vision startles me, and my body immediately goes into fight/flight mode. As a guy steps forward, I realise it is actually one of my security detail. They have been so good at their jobs, I have not had a clue where they hang out whilst keeping an eye on me.

  “Are you okay, Abby?” he asks as he makes his way over to me.

  “It’s Ben, isn’t it?” I ask, and when he nods, I feel stupidly pleased with myself that I actually remembered his name. “I don’t know, Ben. I was looking at the blog last night…” I pause as he grimaces, and I know I should have been a good girl and listened when everyone told me not to look at the blog. But just like car crash TV, you just can’t help yourself. “But today I have woken up feeling like something is wrong, really wrong. Maybe I am completely overreacting, but my gut is telling me something is not right.”

  Suddenly a thought strikes me and my body starts to shake. “Is Taylor okay? Has anyone heard from him?” My voice is barely above a whisper. “Maybe that is what this is all about?” Out of nowhere, Henry suddenly appears and takes my arm, guiding me to my front door. I open up and allow myself to be led up to my kitchen, where Henry takes over my kitchen and makes me a cup of hot sweet tea.

  “Abby, there is nothing to worry about where Taylor is concerned. I had a message this morning that he is heading back.” The relief I feel is palpable at this news. “So tell me what’s made you feel this way.”

  “I don’t know. Obviously my visit with Detective Stanton made me more aware of what’s been going on, and since then I have been getting these flashes of unease when I am downstairs in the shop. I have no idea who or what has triggered it. Last night I checked out the blog…” Henry gives me the same look as Ben did as I continue. “I know I should have let sleeping dogs lie, but to be honest, I wanted to get an idea of what I am up against. Then this morning it is like I am on red alert. But there is nothing definite I can pin it on.”

  I am grateful that Henry seems to be taking me seriously as he makes some notes. “Some of those pictures from the last couple of days are really close up. They had to be only a few feet from me.”

  “Yeah, we have been concerned by that as well,” Henry says. “I have brought in a couple of extra guys, but we can’t seem to see who this person is. We know it is definitely not Richard as we have other guys watching him as well. Whoever this person is, he or she is aware of the cameras and extra security that has been installed and is making sure not to be caught.”

  “Right…So what now?” I ask, trying to hide the tremble in my voice.

  “Well, you just need to carry on as normal, and hopefully we will figure out who is behind this,” says Henry.

  “Hmm, that makes me feel like I am like shark bait,” I say, trying to dissolve some of the tension in the room.

  Henry grins at me. “Yeah, kind of…But as long as you have your panic button, we will only be seconds away.”

  I inwardly roll my eyes and think to myself that seconds are all it would take to kill me if someone was really serious about it, but I restrain myself from saying anything out loud. “Okay,” I reply simply.

  Henry continues with his assurances that everything will be fine and that his team can handle anything thrown at them. I show Henry and Ben, who has been pretty much silent throughout, out, aware that I need to be getting back to the café as Emma is due a break. While my unease has been lessened slightly by Henry’s words, it still lingers and several times I find the hair on my neck standing on end only to turn around and find nothing there. Cursing my completely haywire instincts, I do my best to block everything out and focus on the here and now.

  .........................

  I am suddenly awake. My heart is pounding, and I open my eyes slowly, waiting as they adjust to the darkness of my bedroom. I can’t remember if it was a bad dream that woke me up or a strange noise, but I am lying here trying to still my rapid breathing as I survey the room. My eyes pick up a shadow in the corner, but I am quick to dismiss it. Inwardly cursing my overactive imagination, I reach out and flick on the lamp beside the bed.

  My eyes adjust to the sudden light, and as I scan the room, the shadow I so easily dismissed steps forward. I let out a gasp as realisation dawns as to the identity of the person standing in front of me. “Anna,” I say, staring as she slowly moves forward until she is standing at the foot of the bed. “What are you doing here?” She doesn’t say a word, and for a moment I think I am maybe dreaming, that is, until I see the knife she is holding in her hand.

  My body starts to tremble, but I will myself to be calm. Now is not the time to turn into a complete mess. I run my eyes over Anna once again and realise something is off. Well, this whole situation is off, but then it takes a moment for me to understand the cause of my disconcertion. Staring at me is a pair of startlingly blue eyes, not the normal brown ones I associate with Anna. In a flash, chills race down my spine and I gasp, “Hannah.”

  “Bravo, she finally gets it.” Hannah mock applauds. My mind is racing, and I look for the nearest exit, but Hannah is standing in my way. I grope for my phone, but all my hand hits is empty space, and I jump when Hannah lets out a laugh and waves my phone in her hand. Battling the rising panic, I try to think where my panic button is, but then I remember I left my bag in the living room. I am stranded with no way out except trying to reason with the woman standing in front of me.

  “Why are yo
u here, Hannah?” I ask, doing my best to seem calm and in control of the situation when I am anything but.

  “Smart girl like you, Abby, you should know why I am here.” I see the malevolence in Hannah’s eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if there is any way I am going to get out of here alive.

  “Taylor,” I say quietly.

  “Got it in one. Taylor is mine, has been from the start. There is no way I am going to let some little bitch like you sink her claws into him.” Her voice drips with disdain, and I feel like I have been slapped.

  “But you died. How can Taylor be yours if you faked your own death?” I ask, feeling incredulous over this woman’s claim.

  “Shut up. You know nothing. Taylor and I are soul mates. He was going to find me again, and we would pick up where we left off.”

  I can’t help myself. “Are you crazy, Hannah? You left Taylor for Richard, and then he thought you committed suicide. In what universe do you think Taylor would be able to deal with you back from the dead? He blames himself…” I realise I need to stop shooting off my mouth as her grim expression hardens, and I notice her grip on the knife tightening.

  “Shut up. When Taylor sees me, he is not going to want anything to do with a stupid bitch like you, even if you are pregnant. It probably isn’t even his, you whore!” Hannah is getting more and more agitated, moving on the balls of her feet like she is ready to lunge at me at any moment.

  “And you came here, got me to hire you. Was that just a ploy to get close to Taylor, then?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.

  “That and get rid of you. I thought that when he fired you, you would be out of the picture. And then you went and tried to commit suicide, and for a moment, I thought at last he would be free of you. Couldn’t see what he saw in you before, and then afterwards, all I could see was this whiny bitch begging for his attention. I knew then I had to get you out of his life for good.” I try to keep her talking while I slowly edge my way across the bed.

  “I trusted you, Hannah. I thought we were friends.” I hear the pleading tone in my voice and curse the weakness it shows.

  “Ha. No, I saw a way in and I have to admit it has been fun watching you. Plenty of fodder for my blog…” The confirmation that Hannah is our mystery blogger leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

  “You are crazy, Hannah,” I shout. “You have somehow convinced yourself that you are the only one supposed to be in Taylor’s life…You sound just like Richard. Both of you are completely delusional.”

  “I. Am. Not. Crazy!” Hannah yells as she lunges for me. I twist off the bed, scrambling to get to my feet as she comes after me with a demented look in her eyes. I try to keep the bed between us as I start to work my way around to the door, but sensing my plan, she moves with an unexpected speed, blocking my path. I realise now that Hannah is completely unhinged but smart and fast. Flight is not going to work, but fight might give me the element of surprise.

  Summoning a burst of energy, I rush at Hannah, hoping to knock her off her feet and get to the door. Instead, it feels like I have hit a brick wall. I don’t even see her fist go back, and then it is connecting with my chin with a loud crack. The pain is excruciating, and I find myself dropping to the floor as I see stars. The next thing I know is the feeling of a boot connecting with my ribs whilst Hannah continues to scream obscenities above me. In this moment, all I can do is curl up into the foetal position and do my best to protect Bean from the blows raining down on me. My only consolation is that at least if she is kicking me she isn’t using the knife. And then it stops. I risk a look up at her and see her holding the knife above me, panting hard. I close my eyes, not wanting to watch the inevitable, and in that moment, all I can think about is Taylor. I can’t stand the idea of what this will do to him when he gets back, so I just send out a prayer to whoever is listening to keep him safe from this mad woman.

  I brace myself for the pain, but instead I hear the sound of the door being flung open and a roar as someone bodily tackles Hannah off me, pinning her to the wall. I feel like I am watching everything in slow motion as the knife drops out of her hand. I look up from my position on the floor to try and identify my saviour, but the pounding in my head is making me see things; I swear it is Taylor with his arm across Hannah’s neck, but that can’t be right. He is supposed to be on a plane.

  Another moment passes, and I watch as realisation dawns on Hannah’s face. “Hi, Taylor,” she gasps, struggling for breath in Taylor’s grip. Taylor’s stance goes rigid as he takes in exactly who he has got in his grip.

  “Hannah?” Taylor’s voice is full of shock, and I see his grip slacken. But before she can wriggle free, a stampede of feet passes my head, and I see several men, including Henry, manhandling Hannah out of Taylor’s grasp. A moment later, Taylor is at my side, cradling my head as I stare up at him in shock. “Taylor, are you really here?” I whisper.

  “Yes, baby, I am here,” Taylor answers, and I finally let go, knowing that I am safe in his arms. As the blackness descends, I hear Henry confirming with Taylor that an ambulance and the police are on their way.

  .........................

  A surreal sense of déjà vu hits me as I wake to the sound of beeping. I open my eyes to find Taylor staring down at me with tears in his eyes. “Bean?” I gasp, scared of what those tears might mean.

  “Bean is fine,” Taylor soothes, stroking my hair back off my face. “The doctor should be back any minute, but everyone is confident from the scans and tests that Bean is okay.”

  I reach up to stroke Taylor’s face, still reluctant to believe that Taylor is actually here with me. I wince at the pain that shoots across my ribs, and Taylor immediately brings his face down to mine in the gentlest of kisses.

  “How are you here?” I ask. “I thought you weren’t due until tomorrow.”

  “I wanted to surprise you for your birthday. I’d always planned on being back early,” Taylor says with a little smirk on his face, though the cockiness he would have usually exhibited over his surprise is gone under the circumstances. “And thank fuck I did….Oh my god, Abby, I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if I hadn’t turned up when I did…” I have no answer and simply blink in response.

  “Where’s Hannah?” I ask.

  A dark look passes across Taylor’s face, and I can see his hands clenching my bed sheets. “Stanton’s crew came and picked her up and took her up to London for questioning.” I am grateful that she is no longer in Brighton; that woman terrified the life out of me. “How the hell did she get in, Abs?”

  I grimace, unsure of how much Taylor is aware of. “She’s Anna,” I say.

  I see the realisation dawn on Taylor’s face. “You mean the girl you hired a few weeks ago?” Taylor whispers in horror. “Shit, this is my entire fault,” says Taylor flatly, running his hands through his hair.

  “How? You never even met her,” I murmur.

  “I got Henry to run background checks on all the new staff but told him not to bother with Bea, Andreas and Anna as I figured that whoever the threat was would only have tried to get near in the last week or so. Fuck!” Taylor’s jaw is working hard, and I can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

  “I didn’t even know it, Taylor. Henry gave me a photo of you and her from when you were in Costa Rica, and I didn’t make the connection even though I saw her every day. She was good…She had dyed her hair blonde and was wearing brown contacts. Plus the fact it’s been like six years and everyone thought she was dead.” I let out a hollow laugh. “Taylor, she was bloody scary; raving about how you were soul mates and that nothing was going to stand in her way to get you back. She has basically been stalking you since she faked her own death.”

  Taylor is pale, and I can tell he is struggling to take everything in. “You need to speak to Henry and Detective Stanton. There is probably a lot you need to be brought up to speed on,” I say quietly.

  “I am not leaving you,” Taylor growls, and for once I am grat
eful for his stubbornness. I really don’t want to be left alone at the moment.

  The doctor appears and runs over my injuries, which, despite the pain I am in, are relatively mild, mostly just swelling and bruising. I am just grateful that I was able to take the majority of the punishment to keep Bean safe. The doctor insists on keeping me in overnight for observation but lets me know with a small smile that if everything is fine, I will be able to go home in the morning. Taylor thanks the doctor and then we are left alone.

  I try to fight the exhaustion. I desperately want to talk to Taylor more, but my body has other ideas and I sink back into darkness, the sound of Taylor’s voice providing solace after my extraordinarily terrifying ordeal.

  The Twenty-Ninth

  I wake up and for a moment confusion clouds my brain until the memories of last night start filtering back. My whole body aches, and I briefly wonder why I can’t seem to move my arm, that is, until I glance down to find Taylor asleep beside me, his head resting in the palm of my hand. My movements wake him, and I see his eyes open slowly. For a moment neither of us says anything.

  With a soft smile, Taylor strokes the inside of my wrist with his thumb and says, “So what is this all about, hey?”

  “Baby we’re fate,” I murmur back at him, repeating the words I said when Taylor proposed to me. “I wanted it to be permanent, but apparently they don’t tattoo pregnant chicks, so instead Fred did it in henna for me. I wanted it to be a surprise for you…” I trail off, unsure of how Taylor is going to respond.

  “It’s beautiful, Abby. I love the design. And I am glad you didn’t just cover your scars up.” I stiffen at his words. “They are a part of you, and if not for them, maybe you and I would not be here together now. We have been through so much, but we are still here, together, just like these penguins.”

  I feel the tears running down my face in a silent trail as I absorb the beauty of Taylor’s words, and I am reminded a little of Mark Darcy’s words from Bridget Jones's Diary about liking Bridget just the way she is. Very gently Taylor wipes away my tears and says, “Today is a happy day, Abs. Today we celebrate your birthday and try to put all the other shit behind us. I love you, beautiful.”