I was breathless. Even though I was on my own property, this room wasn’t my property. I felt like a thief, as if should I have worn gloves. Whilst I regained my composure, and calmed my breathing, I switched on the main light and looked around the room. Everything was quite clearly in its place and I knew I would have to return everything exactly as it was, or Topher would know I had been in his office. I walked to his desk and moved behind it, pulling out his desk chair and plonking myself down. Either side of the gap for his knees, Topher had a series of drawers. I leaned to my right and pulled each drawer but they were all locked.
I tried on my left hand side with the same outcome. I pushed myself away from the desk and headed to the filing cabinets. These were locked too. I pulled the keys Stephanie had acquired for me, put one in the lock, turned and the cabinet opened. I rifled through the files; they were all related to his professional work: court cases that had absolutely no interest for me.
Unusually, for someone as tidy as Topher, one file seemed out of alignment. It was only half a centimetre, but was sufficient to arouse my curiosity. I pulled out the file making a note of where I should return it. Going back to the desk I sat down to read.
Mark Brown: I discovered was a small-time thief and he’d been represented by Topher several times in the past. What was more interesting about Mr Brown though was his ability with cyber-security. As I read, I found I was puzzled why Mark Brown continued thieving rather than developing this obvious skill. Was that what drew Topher to him?
There was a dirty scrap of folded paper. Definitely not something I imagined Topher keeping. I unfolded it and laid it on the desk. Several names and mobile numbers. I took some photos of the paper and some other file contents with my smart phone, and returned the file to the cabinet.
The room was lined with bookcases as Topher had requested. Each of the books was related to the study of law and past cases. I ran my fingers along the shelves, I was surprised there was no dust, as Heather wasn’t allowed in here either, but I couldn’t see that any of the books appear to have been used more than any other.
I reached down for Topher’s laptop bag that was sitting by the side of his desk. It was disappointingly light when I picked it up and I was unsurprised to find it was empty. Of course, he would’ve taken his laptop with him for the weekend.
That left his desktop, which I knew would be password protected. The tower unit was under his desk and I bent down to switch it on. Pulling the keyboard towards me, my fingers hovered over the keys wondering what password he might have used. The monitor burst into life and I saw the permanent background photo was one of him and James. They were in a boat, together, laughing and holding up a miniscule fish. I remembered taking the photo, and how proud James was of his first fish caught on that expedition. It was Topher’s birthday that day. I typed in his birthday in numerals, and then using the shortened version of the month and then the long version.
I swore softly under my breath. I did the same with our wedding day, and tried the same with James’s birthday, with Darcy’s. Nothing worked. I leaned back in the chair sick with frustration. I just need to find some evidence. Any evidence. My eyes scanned the room looking for clues. They finally rested on the desk calendar. It was the one I’d bought him for Christmas. Beautiful photos of Danish mountains and coastlines. Then it occurred to me. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that before? With renewed energy I typed in James’ birthday using the Danish word Marts for March. It worked.
I was in.
I opened the File Explorer so I could see the most recent files he’d accessed, but they were all related to cases that he’d been working on: notes, pleas, opening arguments, proposed closing arguments. Nothing, which looked as if it would tell me what he’d been up to. I checked his browser history too. Clear. Damn him.
As I was about to give up, I took one last look at the file explorer. There was a word file called dagbog. I knew it was likely to be Danish but I had no idea what it meant. I switched back to the browser to use Google translate. I stopped myself in time. Topher would know someone else had been here. I must leave no trace that I have used his computer. I pulled out my smart phone and used the translation app on there.
Diary.
I nearly punched the air with excitement, but double clicked on the folder and had to remind myself to breathe as it opened.
I didn’t know what I’d expected but, of course, it was all in Danish. The title and the paragraphs were frequently headed by what I recognised as a date, leading me to believe this was his journal. His record of what he’d been doing to me.
I knew better than to email a copy to myself. I looked around frantically for the printer, but couldn’t see it anywhere. In desperation I opened the stationery cupboard he’d insisted upon and the printer was perched on a shelf in there. I switched it on and it bleeped at me. No paper. My hands were shaking as I took a few sheets of paper and loaded them into the tray. I returned to the desktop and pressed print.
The printer churned out sheets of paper. My heart was in my mouth, hoping that nothing else would go wrong. When it finished the job, I switched it off and remembered to return the paper to the packet. As I closed the door, I saw a few familiar looking envelopes. I picked one up and it was the same heavy paper that I had held before. I turned it over and saw the crest and the address. I wasn’t mistaken, but why had he done this? Did he honestly believe that I was too stupid to work this out for myself? I gritted my teeth, breathing noisily through my nose. My heart was pounding again. Anger caused my blood to race through my veins. I was no longer scared.
I returned to the computer to switch it off, when I saw an icon I’d never seen before. Wondering what the app was, I double-clicked on it. The application burst into life but it didn’t seem to be working. On the left hand side, however, there were some numbered buttons and I clicked on each one in turn. Then I saw it. My kitchen. Brilliantly lit. I scrolled through the other images. Most were in darkness except where I could see the child light on the children’s landing. So, that’s how he knew everything I’d been doing? Sickened, I didn’t look to see if he spied on me in the bathroom too. I logged off and tried to return everything as it was. I turned off the light, raised the blind and locked the door behind me.
When I got back to the house I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. It was Stephanie. Her messages chilled me more than my excursion into the garden office had.
Cameras everywhere.
I sank to the tiled floor, heart pounding.
I replied to her text. I know, just found out myself. It became clear why Topher was so interested in Mark Brown. Leaning back against a kitchen cabinet, I sat elbows on my knees – head in hands. Under my warm clothing, my skin prickled as hairs on my forearms rose. What if he had cameras in his own office? But no. Surely not. As far as he knew there was only one key to his office. Unless he knew about the spare? Could he know? I wasn’t sure but Topher was a very prudent person and I wondered if he could have filmed what I had just been careful to do so discretely?
I sent Stephanie another text. Please be careful.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
‘Just in time,’ she said flinging the door wide open. ‘Dinner’s nearly ready. Though it’s not looking quite how it does in the recipe book.’
I shrugged. ‘Cooking never was your strong point, Stephanie. I don’t know why you don’t just get a takeaway instead. At least that would be edible.’
She pouted and, for a moment, I thought she was going to shut the door in my face.
‘Are you going to let me in?’ I said. ‘It’s gloomy out here. I see the lights aren’t working again.’
She stepped back to allow me to cross the threshold. ‘The CCTV isn’t working either. I keep complaining to the landlord. I think he’s screening my calls now.’
I kissed on her on the cheek, thinking that I’d do the same if she were constantly nagging me. I followed her to the kitchenette and placed the wine and flowers on the worksurface.
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br /> ‘Thank you,’ she took a bottle of champagne from the fridge, opened the bottle, and took a glass off the draining board and poured the wine into the damp glass.
I shuddered, hoping she wouldn’t do the same to the red I brought over. Then I chastised myself. Don’t be such a wine snob.
‘What are you cooking?’
‘Beef,’ she said. ‘It’s called culottesteg, a top sirloin roast. I thought you’d be pleased.’ Her brow furrowed as she arranged the flowers in an old vase. I had much nicer ones at home. Perhaps I should buy her a new one? But then it wouldn’t make her any better at flower arranging. Why am I here, I thought to myself. I wandered over to the sofa and opened up my Dell.
‘Here’s your drink,’ she said, raising her glass to me. ‘I’ve got some smoked oysters for you too.’
I slammed the lid of my laptop shut as she walked towards me with a glass of champagne in her hand. She stumbled on the edge of the rug spilling some of the wine on my jeans.
‘Look what you’ve done,’ I shouted, holding the laptop up and shaking wine off it. ‘I’ll have to change now.’
Stephanie shrugged her apology and sipped from the glass she had brought over for me. ‘You brought spare clothes didn’t you?’ she asked.
I nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Then go change. Problem solved.’
I glared at her, picked up my overnight bag and stomped across the room to where the bedroom and bathroom were located. I left the door slightly ajar and watched as she lifted the lid of my Dell. Damn, the application was still running. It should have shut down when I closed the lid.
I saw she was puzzled by what she saw. I knew it was a series of cameras placed carefully around someone’s home, but would she realise whose home it was? I crept towards her, but I’d forgotten the loose floorboard in the bedroom. It creaked and she slammed the laptop shut, placing it back on the sofa where I’d left it.
She raced to the kitchen area and opened her handbag. She sent a text to someone. Who was she texting? She slipped the phone back in the bag just as I strolled back into the room. I’d changed into fresh jeans and wandering towards her, I took the half empty glass and refilled it. I sipped the wine as I prowled towards her.
‘Did you see everything you wanted to?’ I purred.
‘What you talking about?’ she said.
‘My laptop,’ I said pacing towards her.
‘What about it?’
‘You were looking at my laptop,’ I whispered, stroking her upper arm.
‘I was just mopping around; making sure that there was no wine on it. That was all,’
I gripped her arm tightly making her squeal. ‘Liar.’
Stephanie stepped backwards, trying to release my grasp on her arm. She was wedged against the kitchen countertop, unable to back away any further. Reaching behind her with her free hand, she was feeling for something, anything, she grabbed it, and pulled it around in front of her. It was the vegetable knife: a simple three-inch blade.
I looked at the knife in her hand. Stepping closer, I released her arm, and pressed the knife into my stomach. ‘Go on then. Kill me.’
‘You bastard,’ Stephanie hissed.
I dropped the knife and pressed my mouth roughly on hers, parting her lips with my tongue and probing her mouth. She relaxed and I ran my hands up her arms and until I was holding either side of her head and kissed her deeply. As she started to return the kiss, I slid my hands down to her neck, beginning to squeeze. I felt her body freeze, as she realised what was happening and I pressed harder.
‘I always knew you were a plant,’ I whispered. ‘You and Lily thought you could trick me. I knew your plan from the start, but I remembered what you were like in bed. I wondered if you’d learnt any new tricks and it seemed a shame to pass up the opportunity.’
She struggled, long red fingernails scratching at my hands. I increased the pressure. Feeling her wriggling around, her hands patting the counter-top behind her. Going for the knife again? With a strong grip around her neck I simply edged her away from the worktop. As her body started to go limp, I eased myself back and stared at her.
Her beautiful face was transformed. Ugly. Her eyes bulged. Her purple tongue protruded from her mouth. It was obvious she was dead. I released her and let her fall to the floor. I stepped away, went to the bedroom, packed my overnight bag. I flung my laptop on top of the clothes inside the case. I put these beside the main door, went into the kitchen, grabbed rubber gloves, a cloth, and an all-purpose cleaner, and went to the bathroom. I scrubbed the bathroom, top to bottom, wiping all my prints away. I did the same in the bedroom and repeated the process in the lounge and in the kitchen area. I rinsed out the cloth and put it back in its place by the sink. The bottle of all-purpose cleaner I put back in the cupboard under the kitchen sink. The gloves I kept. Looking around I was pleased at what I’d achieved, and opening the door to leave I stopped when I heard a phone beep. I took Stephanie’s mobile from her handbag and read the message with a grim smile. Lily was right. Stephanie should have been careful.
A light came on outside. The neighbours? On their balcony. Not sure if it was coincidence or if they had heard something. I held my breath until the light went out again. I gulped, patted my pocket, and took out the phone I’d hidden there. Scooting to the centre of the room, I dropped the phone on the rug in front of the sofa. With my toe, I carefully drove the phone under the sofa, then I popped Stephanie’s phone in my pocket, picked up my bag, and opened the door, shutting it quietly. I strolled down the steps to the front door, unlocked it, letting it slam shut behind. I removed the gloves, slipping them into my pocket, and then strode to my car, where it was parked in the street. I took one last look to make sure no one had seen me. Then I drove slowly down the street.
John Maitland stepped out of the shadows. He looked up at Stephanie’s windows. The flat was in darkness, but he knew at last for whom he’d been dumped. He thrust his hands into his coat pocket and started to walk away. He stopped suddenly. His coat had caught on something. He tried to turn around but was prevented by a large hand squeezing his shoulder blade.
‘This stops tonight,’ said a voice in his ear. ‘You leave the lady alone now. Understand?’
‘Who the hell are you?’ John said trying to twist around to see his attacker.
‘Just a friend of the lady. Leave her alone and you won’t get hurt. Keep annoying her and well… we know where you work and we know where you live. Tell me that you understand.’
John drew in a sharp breath as the pressure on his shoulder increased. He nodded. ‘I understand,’ he grunted.
‘Good.’
The pressure on his shoulder released and John whirled around to face his attacker, but he was alone in the street. Only the sound of footsteps walking away let him know that he hadn’t imagined the entire encounter.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lily
I kept looking at my phone, expecting a reply to the text I’d sent to Stephanie. Now, although I’d uncovered how Topher had known everything all along. I wasn’t sure how to react. I felt sick, realising that everywhere I went in the house, there was a camera watching me. But I still had to know what else he’d been doing. I locked the back door and ran upstairs to the master suite. I scrabbled in the bedside cabinet and dug out my laptop, sat on the edge of the bed and slid to the floor, resting my back against the bed. I switched on my laptop and got the papers out of my pocket. I started copy typing some of the diary into Google translate. I put a hand to my mouth. No. This couldn’t be true? At least I’d been right about the juice and milk cartons. It was all part of the gaslighting which Topher had inflicted on me. I read how he relished it when he’d hidden my keys, my ID card, and my glasses. The journal listed all of the hiding places he’d thought of to make me think that I was going out of my mind. I knew why he was doing this. He was terrified we’d leave him. Scared of being alone again as he was after his parents died. If only he could see that controlling wasn’
t the same as loving and protecting. However, at least now I had an idea of where all the cameras were, now I knew, I could reposition them so I had some blind spots to work in. I leaned my head against the bed feeling, for the first time in a long time, as if I were fully in control of my mental capacity. My heart pounded as I heard Topher’s key in the lock and his footsteps on the tiles in the hallway downstairs. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and called up to me, but I was too scared to reply. I texted Stephanie a quick note. He’s come home! Why has he come home? I sat looking at the phone, waiting for an answer but none came.
After a while, Topher came upstairs and I saw he was pleased with himself. By the time he’d got into the bedroom I was in a nightdress. My laptop was tucked away and I had a book in my hand. I even made sure it wasn’t upside down.
‘Did you have a good evening?’ he said.
I bit my lip before replying; surely he could see I was trembling? ‘Yes,’ I said finally. ‘I came to bed early so I could finish my book.’
‘You’ve left quite a mess downstairs. You know I don’t like an untidy house, Lily.’
I sensed him staring at me. I tried hard to appear as if I was reading intently. He didn’t appear angry, but that was usually the worst time of all. I felt like a rabbit caught by bright lights. I saw suspicion on every feature of his face. Presumably, he already knew what I’d done. Has he checked the cameras before coming upstairs? I didn’t know. I was just waiting for the bomb to drop
Topher stripped, put all his clothes in the washing basket and strode to the wet room. Even as I heard him in the shower, I felt his eyes boring through the wall. It was as if he knew I was watching him. I heard the shower turn off and him drying himself briskly. He came to bed and I wondered if he’d washed the smell of Stephanie off himself. I also wondered if they had made love that evening. As he settled the duvet around himself, he leaned over to kiss me. He lay down and turned off his light. I felt him edging towards me. He placed his hand between my legs and, feeling that I put underwear on, he eased the material aside and pushed his fingers inside me. I tensed, holding my breath, fingers digging into my book. Frustrated, he removed his hand from inside my knickers and took the book and threw it on the floor. He pulled me down the bed so I was reclining. He took my right hand and placed it on his shaft.
The Love Trap: an unputdownable psychological thriller Page 14