Each Day I Wake: A gripping psychological thriller: US Edition

by Seb Kirby

  I called up the SurePen site and typed in Della’s login and password. It was a strange thought. Her journal was protected by military level security but once the passwords were known, it was available to anyone anywhere in the world. A new idea of secrecy.

  It was all here, all two years of her detailed account of her life in London.

  I checked to make sure the printer had enough paper and started to print out the diary. By late afternoon I had all four hundred pages bundled together and safe in a locked drawer in my desk. I had two copies, one for myself and one for Brogan.

  There was no time to start reading it. In any case, I had a strong sense that it would be unwise to let anyone here know what I was doing. But I’d arranged for Brogan to call at the office and, right on time, the phone rang. It was a call from Reception to say that a Marshall Brogan was waiting there to meet me.

  I bundled Brogan’s copy of the diary into a file folder and made my way downstairs, trying to make this as unremarkable an exit as possible as I moved through the main newsroom. It was the hive of activity it was expected to be and I received no more than a few casual looks.

  At Reception, I greeted Brogan as if he were an expected business contact. “Thanks for coming in. I have the documents here.”

  Brogan took the file and thanked me. “Keep in touch.” I watched him as he left the building.

  Back in the office, I began work on what was held on my computer.

  If Janet and Josh Healey were right and I had knowledge of the missing girls before my accident, there should be evidence of that here.

  I searched the computer hard drive for each of the names.

  Cathy Newsome

  Rebecca French.

  Margot West

  Felicity Jenkins.

  To my surprise, the search brought up a series of hits for each of them.

  There was an image of each, looking as if it was taken from an online profile page. There were details of the reports made about their disappearances, culled from local newspapers and published police and family appeals. There were biographical details of each, brought together from online profiles and submitted CVs taken from job search sites. In short, there was no doubt that I’d been interested in them.

  I was struggling to hold onto the idea that, after all, Janet and Healey had been right. My visions of the girls being killed must be connected to the fact that I was investigating them, building a story about their disappearance. Somehow, I’d become so involved in the investigation that, in the trauma caused by the accident, I’d taken the guilt of their disappearance on myself and represented this in the visions.

  Yet something I couldn’t suppress was all the time undermining this comforting scenario. What made me make this connection between the missing girls? Of all the women who were reported missing, why had I selected these four to be interested in? And why, when I was supposed to be working on financial wrongdoing in Hamilton’s team had I been continuing the crime journalism I was supposed to have moved on from by investigating these disappearances? There was some missing factor, something leading me to concentrate on these four to the exclusion of all others. I shivered. Or else another explanation was altogether more unavoidable, one I did not want to face. I had been the one killing these girls, just as I’d seen them in my visions of them.

  I checked through the email inbox once more, searching for any recognition from anywhere else in the organization of my investigation of the disappearances and could find none.

  If I’d been working on this in any legitimate way, it must have been in secret.

  I checked again. Were these the only girls I’d been investigating? Maybe I’d been involved in a much wider enquiry and the four were just part of a much larger group? I was surprised by what I found. There was information on over fifty, mainly young, missing women. Something had been leading me to monitor them all.

  The phone rang. Evan Hamilton knew I was here. He called me into his office and asked me to sit in the chair facing him.

  “I didn’t know you were in. It will be good to have you back, Tom. I want you to know that.”

  Something about the way he made a point of saying will led me to think this was not what was on his mind. “I’m ready to come back.”

  He shook his head. “That’s just what I want you to understand, Tom. I thought I’d made myself clear in Lichfield that what you’ve been through is bound to have effects that are longer term than you’d like to think. I don’t want you to rush back in. That would be foolish. You’re bound to make mistakes. I asked you to take time and told you that we’re here to support you, every step of the way. Yet here you are, against my express advice.”

  I tried to reassure him. “You’re right, Evan. I’ve still got some way to go and I value your advice. I don’t plan to be in every day. But there are times, like today, when I need to be here.”

  He frowned. “So, what’s so important to bring you here today?”

  I told him what I’d just discovered about the girls. “I didn’t know what to say to you in Lichfield when you told me about DI Ives’ questions, Evan. Now I know the answer. I’ve been investigating them. The evidence is on my hard drive.”

  If I had expected interest and support from him, I was wrong. He rose from his chair, stood over me and struggled to contain his anger. “You were under strict instruction, Tom, when you joined my team that you should stop all your previous work and give your sole attention to the OAM investigation. No wonder we’ve failed to find the knock out punch when, against my express instruction, you’ve continued with this earlier project. You need to know that I mean to make this a disciplinary matter.”

  I wished then that I hadn’t told him. But his hostility gave one good reason why I must have been investigating the missing girls in secret. If Hamilton had found out, this is what his response would have been.

  I tried to move the conversation on. “OK, Evan, I understand why you’re taking a strong view. But if you need more results from the OAM investigation, why are you pushing me away from it?”

  He sat back in the chair, seeking to regain his composure. “As I told you, Tom. You’re just not ready. OK, if you need to come into the office, do it if you must. But stay away from the OAM investigation and, in addition, stay away from having anything more to do with those missing girls. You’re not one hundred per cent, anyone can see that. Until you are, you can only do harm to what we’re doing here. Take the time. Make a complete recovery.”

  I straightened in the chair. “Look, Evan. I don’t need that sort of protection. I need to get back to the story. Get fully involved. Please don’t deny me that.”

  “I’m sorry, the decision’s been taken. There’s no going back on it. I’m stepping out of line to allow you any time at all here, you must understand that.”

  “Might as well put me on gardening leave.”

  “I can arrange it. You know that’s what I’d prefer.”

  “There’s a reason you don’t want me back on investigative work, isn’t there? Why don’t you come clean and tell me what it is?”

  He waved me towards the door. “I’ve told you. It’s for your own good. Until you’re sufficiently recovered.”

  I left his office wondering why he wouldn’t level with me.

  I knew I should call Janet. It had been too long since I’d left Lichfield and, apart from a brief call to let her know I’d arrived at Brogan’s, I hadn’t kept in touch. I’d been too caught up with what was happening here in London. It had taken longer than I expected to print out the diary and I was sure by now she would be worried about me.

  When I dialed, she picked up straight away. “I thought you’d never call. Where are you?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And I said we’d never be parted again. I thought something must have happened to you again.”

  “I’m safe. Don’t worry. I’m at the office. I promise I won’t leave you out of the picture as long as this again.”

  She didn’t
respond as I thought she would. “You’ve heard about Cathy Newsome?”

  “I heard on the radio that her body’s been found.”

  “Where do you think that leaves you, Tom?”

  “Doesn’t it make sense of what I’ve been saying all along about the girls?”

  “And that’s what worries me.” She paused. “Come home, Tom. We can talk about this much better here.”

  Her voice was strained in a way I’d never heard it before. For the first time since the accident I had the feeling that there was something false in what she was saying. “Is there someone there with you, Jan?”

  She hesitated. “It’s DI Ives. He’s patched in on a conference call line. He wants to talk to you again about Cathy Newsome. I’m putting him on.”

  It was Ives. “We need talk, Mr. Markland. This is not a request.”

  I tried to stall him. “I’ve told you everything I know about Cathy Newsome.”

  He lowered his voice. “What if I told you that might not be the case, Mr. Markland?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “So stay where you are.”

  There was no time to say goodbye to Janet.

  I closed the line.

  I’d told Janet where I was. Ives would not need to trace the call. Since he was based in London, he would be with me soon.

  I was surprised that I thought of running.

  Something I couldn’t quite understand told me that I had to be sure of what was written in Della’s diary before Ives interviewed me again. It was the best chance I had of knowing enough about what had been happening to me and those around me, essential to answer the inevitable questions that Ives had for me that would, I was sure, all point in the same direction – that he suspected me of Cathy Newsome’s killing. I could hear the change in his voice.

  Yet why should I run?

  What had I got to hide?

  I made sure that my copy of Della’s diary was hidden from view and waited for Ives to arrive.

  CHAPTER 58

  It shouldn’t be like this. That was the main thing on the mind of Tim Mason as he made his way along the corridor to Evan Hamilton’s office.

  He was the longest serving member of the team investigating the OAM story and yet he’d been expected to take a back seat while newcomers like Markland were given pride of place. No wonder the investigation had faltered when the full talents of the team were not being used.

  It was a shame that Markland had been indisposed these last weeks. Not that much had changed. The same game was being played, making Mason appear odd, old fashioned and out of date because he was particular about what he did and said, about keeping accurate notes of his investigations and not being afraid to refer to them when needed. A professionalism that Hamilton was all too reluctant to value in this age of the instant access to information through email and social media where so much was ill conceived and the standard of grammar used pointed to the absence of organized thought. Journalism was all about truth, after all, and to be truthful you needed to be accurate. Not that any of the newcomers understood much about that. Standards were in decline and this was the reason.

  Now, Markland was back in his office even though Hamilton had made a point of informing them that he would not be rejoining the team in the foreseeable future.

  Mason entered Hamilton’s office without knocking. “We need to talk, Evan.”

  The editor looked up from his work. “What is it now?”

  “I’m unclear about where we’re going with the investigation. I need you to clarify my role.”

  Hamilton asked him to sit down. “You know you’re a valued member of the team, Tim.”

  Flattery. He hadn’t expected that. But that didn’t change anything. “That’s good to hear, Evan, but you’ve had me investigating the tax affairs of OAM for months now. When can I expect to get back to the real meat of the story?”

  Hamilton again offered him a seat and this time he accepted. “That’s better, Tim. Let me tell you something in confidence. We have to be careful where we tread with Montague. He’s as litigious as ever. If anything, he’s been worse since his recent acquisitions have been approved and he’s been growing the company. One false move and we’ll have his lawyers on our backs again. And that’s where we need the kind of rigor you bring to the investigation. We have to be sure of every fact.”

  Mason could feel his concern for his status in the team lessening. But why was Hamilton being so determined to offer so much? Why was he so content to slow the investigation when the management was putting on so much pressure for results? “So, we back pedal?”

  “No, we make sure we’re getting it right. So there are no comebacks. You of all people must see the sense of that.”

  “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

  “OK, Tim. You’re right. I should give you a more central role.”

  “I thought that was going to Tom Markland. Don’t try to tell me he’s not back. He’s in his office right now.”

  Hamilton smiled. “I meant what I said about him not returning to the team in the foreseeable future. You should know, I tried to tell him to stay away until he was fully recovered, until the issues he has are resolved. So, he came back against my express wishes. But don’t concern yourself. He won’t be here for long.”

  Hamilton took him through the new tasks he was assigning him to. Front line investigation. Key interviews. A guarantee of a byline once the story was published.

  “Thanks, Evan, that’s very reassuring.”

  Mason felt better than when he came in. But why was Hamilton giving away so much so easily? It wasn’t that Hamilton was humoring him, was it? That would be intolerable. Unless he wanted something.

  Hamilton drew a deep breath. “I have something important I’d like to say to you, Tim. Something I need to trust you with.”

  Mason leaned forward. “Evan, you know you can depend on me.”

  “It’s about Geoff Tunny. The information he gathered for the OAM investigation. As you can tell, we need to find this or the story is going nowhere.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Find what Geoff had. Find where he kept it. But be discreet. You knew Geoff well, didn’t you? He didn’t do things by the book. When you find what he had, I need you to bring the information to me and no one else. As far as anyone out there is concerned, this doesn’t exist.”

  Mason smiled. “You can trust me, Evan.”

  As he walked away, back to his desk, he congratulated himself. He’d discovered what he needed to know about Markland without having to show undue concern about him, without having to ask.

  And Hamilton had placed his trust in him.

  CHAPTER 59

  Waiting for Ives to arrive, I tried to concentrate on the email stream that loomed so large on my screen.

  Reading through the messages, it became clear that I’d been carrying my full weight in the OAM investigation, despite Hamilton’s claims to the contrary. Yet it was difficult to piece together all the detail. I was hoping that the more I read of the memos the team sent to each other and the minutes of the meetings we attended, the more my real memory of events would be triggered in full detail. That the dam would break and a full working knowledge of the investigation that is all my own would return. But it was a slow process. Not so much the rush of water through a broken dam as a slow trickle with scenes, ideas, people coming back into consciousness.

  Given enough time, given thorough immersion in all this material, I knew the full picture would emerge.

  But I was not granted that luxury.

  The knock on the office door I’d been waiting for had an auspicious sound. When I opened it, DI Ives was standing there with DS Lesley for company.

  They’d been shown here by Hamilton who looked at me with a told you so expression as he ushered them in.

  Ives began. “You’ll excuse me troubling you like this, Mr. Markland, but, as I said, we need to talk.”

  I tried to
stay calm. “You have a good reason, Inspector?”

  “I could do this by making an arrest but I’m sure you’d much rather do this here.”

  He turned and looked at Hamilton who understood this was his cue to leave.

  While Lesley stood near the closed door, Ives sat opposite me and referred to his notebook. “Tell me, Mr. Markland, how long you’ve been registered with Orion.”

  I was taken by surprise. “I’ve never heard of them. I’ve no idea what they do.”

  “It’s a dating agency. But you don’t recall any contact with them?”

  “How would I know?’

  “You mean you’ve conveniently forgotten or you know you’ve never been with them?”

  I didn’t like the way he said conveniently. “That’s not it, Inspector. You should be aware of that by now. I really don’t recall. But I can honestly tell you that as far as I know I’ve had nothing to do with them.”

  He made a note of that. “You’re sure, as far as you can recall?”

  I nodded. “Look, Inspector, what would I want with a dating agency. I have Janet. We’re happily married. She’s all I want.”

  “You sure? When I say dating agency, I think you should know that’s something of a euphemism as far as Orion is concerned.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It’s more of what you’d call a hook up site. None of the usual stuff about compatibility and common interests. It’s for people who just want to connect.”

  “So, what does this have to do with me?”

  He leaned forward. “You’ve heard we’ve found Cathy Newsome.”

  I nodded. “Her parents must be distraught.”

  “You wouldn’t want to tell us anything about that, sir?”

  “Nothing that you don’t already know.”

  “What if I told you that we’ve established that Cathy Newsome and the other missing girls you told us about, the ones you identified from the photos I showed you, have something in common – they’re all active on Orion. All made dates through the site.”