Unfaithful (The Complete Trilogy)

by Clancy, Joanne

  “That's my girl.” Then he turned and shook Mark's hand firmly. “Take care of her,” he said, making it sound like a warning.

  “I'm sorry about my father,” Rebecca apologised when he had driven away in his Range Rover.

  “He's quite an extraordinary man, rather ferocious.”

  “He's very protective of me.”

  “He’s protective towards you and ferocious towards me. I felt as if he were looking right through me. It was quite unsettling.”

  Mark hated feeling inferior and he'd always felt that way around people with money. It didn't matter to Rebecca because she'd always had money, but it mattered to him. One day I'll be rich, he promised himself silently. One day I'll have more money than I'll know what to do with. He was tired of always having to measure up to people. The feelings of want surged up within him. He wanted a perfect wife and a huge house full of expensive, luxurious things, things that belonged to him. Everything would belong to him one day.

  Chapter 20

  “Someone’s been here,” Rebecca said, her eyes frantically scanning the room.

  “What are you talking about?” Shona stared at her, unable to keep the quiver out of her voice. She stood paralysed, rooted to the spot.

  “Everything seems fine, nothing’s been disturbed,” Penelope followed Rebecca’s gaze.

  “I can sense it,” Rebecca insisted, quickly going from room to room. That was the problem with living in such an isolated house; there were no neighbours to keep an inquisitive eye on the place. Anyone could wander up the lonely road, jump the wall and access the house without anyone seeing them.

  “I think you’re letting your imagination run away with you,” Penelope insisted.

  “Maybe, I don’t know. I’ve had so many journalists camped at the gate and prowling around the grounds I suppose they’ve made me paranoid,” Rebecca sighed, sinking on to the couch. “I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me.”

  “That’s creepy,” Shona’s face was pale. “Maybe you should call the police.”

  “And say what exactly? Tell them I think someone is watching me, that I’ve got a bad feeling? They’d laugh at me.”

  “I think you should report it, just in case something happens, at least you’ll have it on record,” Shona insisted.

  “That might be a good idea, and I'm sure the police won’t laugh at you, especially after everything that’s happened,” Rebecca agreed. She poured some red wine into three glasses and dished up the Chinese takeaway they were having for dinner. “Here, drink up, this will help you unwind.”

  They sat in silence for a while, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Then the doorbell rang, making them jump. Penelope sprang to her feet and rushed to the front door. She unlocked the bolt and pulled the heavy door open. She stared out into the twilight but there was nobody there and no sound of anyone’s footsteps retreating.

  “Nobody was there,” Penelope said, coming back into the living room. “Were you expecting company, Rebecca?”

  “No, my parents are minding Ethan tonight, and they would have called first if anything was wrong.”

  “I don’t like this,” Shona said. “I'm scared.”

  “Get a grip!” Penelope glared at her. “It was probably some teenage pranksters with nothing better to do on a Friday evening. You’ve been in the newspapers so much I suppose they thought it would be funny to come and scare you.”

  “The locals have been acting differently towards me since the fiasco with Mark. They hate the fact that we’ve brought so much negative media attention to the area. I’ve heard grumblings that we’re bad for business.”

  “It’s very unfair, none of this is your fault,” Shona objected. “Why should you be persecuted for Mark’s sins?”

  Rebecca shrugged. “I get the feeling the locals would prefer I sell up and move away. They barely speak to me anymore.” She paused for a moment, as if debating whether or not to continue. “This isn’t the first strange incident. I’ve had random doorbell ringing at all hours of the day and night and someone has been calling the landline and hanging up. I think someone is doing their best to drive me away, but I won’t let them. I love this house. I'm happy here. It’s my home and I won’t be bullied into leaving.”

  “Maybe someone’s trying to warn you,” Shona suggested. “Maybe someone knows something that you don’t, and they want you to leave for your own safety.”

  Penelope burst out laughing. “You do let your imagination run away with you, don’t you? It’s isolated up here among the trees, easy to imagine things.

  “You should definitely file a report with the police,” Shona repeated.

  “I don’t want to make a big drama out of it. Whoever it is would soon find out about the report and probably become even more antagonistic towards me.”

  “They have to be stopped,” Shona said. “Otherwise it will get worse, not better.”

  “Let’s forget about it,” Rebecca interrupted. “I don’t want to ruin our evening. I’ve been looking forward to chatting and unwinding.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Penelope said, raising her glass. “Cheers.”

  The rest of the evening passed uneventfully but there was a shadow cast over them. Later, Shona shivered involuntarily as she and Penelope got into their taxi to take them home.

  “This place gives me the creeps,” she said, peering out the window at the looming trees which lined both sides of the narrow road.

  “Don’t be daft,” Penelope teased, leaning back against the seat and closing her eyes.

  Shona glanced at her, unable to understand how dismissive and uncaring her friend seemed to be about Rebecca’s predicament.

  Chapter 21

  It never failed to amaze Mark how very few things in life turned out the way he'd planned. He'd moved into his new apartment which he thought would be his sanctuary, a place for him to get away from everyone. Of course, he hadn't really escaped from anyone. It was worse than being in prison. His whole life seemed to be imploding. He felt even more hounded than ever. Story-hungry journalists were a constant presence. They were like vultures outside his door. Now he had Savannah on his trail, bothering him, tormenting him and threatening to blackmail him. Well, he'd deal with her, the hard way, if necessary.

  There was no way he was going to put up with her demands. He'd had enough, and it was time to stop her, but he had to be clever about it. He didn't want her anywhere near him and he hated the idea of her being around, but he had to pretend otherwise for now. He was prepared to bide his time and to fill her head with empty promises, whatever it took to get his own way. She had made various crooked, fraudulent proposals to him but he had dismissed them. Savannah was trouble, there was no doubt about it, and she needed to be handled with care. She was full of sinister threats and innuendo but he knew it was important to let her think she was getting her own way, for now.

  Savannah seemed happy enough to wait for her money. She seemed to have plenty of cash at her disposal, even though she didn't have a job and no obvious source of income. She'd been very forthcoming about her personal information; even telling him where she lived. He'd waited outside one evening to verify. Her new apartment was in an exclusive part of the city which he knew cost a fortune on rent every month. It puzzled him how she managed to fund it.

  They'd reached a sort of truce. He told her about the book deals and money he expected to make from the publicity about his case, and that it was only a matter of time before he was able to start paying her. She accepted what he said but she seemed to get a sick thrill out of pestering him. She'd developed an annoying habit of showing up unexpectedly at various meetings he'd arranged. She was always lurking somewhere in the crowd, and even when she wasn't he kept imagining that he'd seen her. He was becoming more and more paranoid, afraid of what she'd do next or who she might talk to or what she really knew about his situation. Maybe she wanted to drive him over the edge. Maybe that would be more satisfactory to her than the money.

>   “I need a cup of tea,” he sighed and wandered into the kitchen where he poured water into the kettle and put it on the cooker to boil. Then he opened the balcony door and looked out at the city’s skyline which was bright with street lights. The sky glowed a deep red-orange. He could tell there’d be frost that night; a sixth sense which was left over from growing up in the countryside. He was still attuned to the change in the seasons and could forecast the next day’s weather by a subtle change in light. He rarely got it wrong, much to Rebecca’s amazement. It was bitterly cold. He rubbed his hands together for warmth and headed back inside.

  There was a scratching noise at his door. He assumed it was Rex, the most spoilt dog on the planet! Rex belonged to his neighbour, a little old lady named Hilda, who treated the Labrador like a child. She often let him roam around the corridors of the apartment complex where he scratched and sniffed at doors, begging for treats. He was a very cute, lovable dog and Mark always made sure to have a regular supply of biscuits in stock for him. “I'm coming, I'm coming,” he called out, before rummaging about in the cupboard for the treats which he knew Rex loved. He smiled to himself as he swung open the door but was surprised that Rex wasn’t in sight. He stepped into the hall and looked up and down, but there was nobody around. “Strange,” he muttered.

  A piece of paper just inside the door caught his attention. He bent to pick it up. “I know” was written on the large white sheet. He turned the page over, but that was it, just two simple words; “I know.” Whoever had left the note had only delivered it minutes previously. He glanced at the elevator, but it was located on his floor. The stranger must have taken the stairs. He ran to the stairwell and stared over the banister. A door crashed below. He took off down the stairs as fast as he could, his heart pounding in his chest. What the hell was going on?

  He never saw it coming, barely had a second to register the quick bolt of movement. There was no time to react as his attacker slammed him against the wall. Excruciating, mind-numbing pain seared through him, heightened by the crippling fear which gripped him. The attacker rammed his head hard against the concrete and his vision blurred. He tried swinging his fist but there was no connection. He was too disorientated to move properly.

  A sneering laugh filled his ears as his legs buckled and he slumped to the ground. Pain radiated through his entire body. Fight! Fight! His brain roared at him. He tried to summon his energy, to catch a glimpse of his attacker. He turned his head but he only caught the dark outline of a hooded figure. He kicked out, which brought another mocking laugh from his attacker. Why was this happening to him? Attacked in his own home? It was insane.

  He welcomed the blackness which began to descend on him. The attack was over as suddenly as it had started. He heard hurried footsteps. Was someone coming or leaving? Help, please help me! He tried to call out but his voice was nothing more than a low croak in his throat. His attacker was leaving. It was over. He was alive. He willed himself to get up but he could barely move. He tried to roll, to get to his knees and back on to his feet. He had to be careful. One false move could result in a fatal fall. Slowly, he forced himself into a sitting position. His breath was coming in short, ragged breaths. Every bone and muscle in his body was screaming in agony. He’d never known pain like it. He clung on to the hand-rail and forced himself up. His legs were shaking. He kept a tight grip on the rail and took a tentative step forward.

  The sight of his own blood dotted across the wall made his stomach turn. He could taste blood in his mouth. None of it mattered. He was still alive. It had been a narrow escape. He had to focus on getting upstairs to his apartment. He needed help. Another few steps, not far to go, he could do it. He had to find the strength to keep moving. The pain in his head was agonising. Blood dripped down his face. He stopped and clung to the hand-rail as light-headedness and nausea washed over him. It was too much. He could feel himself going, succumbing. His grip on the railing weakened. He reached out, grasping wildly and then he slipped. He was falling, falling into a deep abyss. The darkness overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes and surrendered. A warm sense of peace coursed through him. It was over, everything was over at last.

  Chapter 22

  “Good morning everyone,” Rebecca beamed.

  “Good morning,” Shona, Penelope and Adrian replied in unison.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” Rebecca announced as she started her computer and checked her diary.

  “You’re in a good mood,” Shona said.

  “I had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time and I woke up in a happy mood. It makes a welcome change. I’ve been going to bed worried about Ethan and Christopher and people creeping around the house and a million other things, and for some reason, this morning I woke up refreshed and happy.”

  “Shakespeare said it best,” Adrian interjected. ““Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, the death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, chief nourisher in life’s feast.””

  “I didn’t know you read Shakespeare,” Shona said.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Ms. Morgan.”

  “Not just a pretty face after all,” Penelope rolled her eyes. Adrian glared at her. She was the first woman he’d encountered who hadn’t fallen for his charms. He’d never forget the day in the canteen when she’d stopped him in his tracks. He’d been making a special effort to get friendlier with her and had made several attempts at conversation. Anyway, that particular afternoon, she’d turned to him and said in her forthright manner; “listen, Adrian, I'm not interested. I never have been and I never will be, so you’re wasting your time. Stick with Shona, she really likes you. Besides, blondes don’t do it for me.” She’d given him a quick once over and left him in stunned silence. It was the first time in his life that he’d been completely speechless. From that day on, he’d avoided her but she still couldn’t resist sending the odd jibe his way.

  “I wonder where we go when we sleep,” Shona mused. “It’s a total mystery. We’re taken away to faraway lands where our stresses and strains are erased and we wake up to a better world.”

  “That’s how I feel today,” Rebecca nodded. She went into the canteen and boiled the kettle for coffee, humming tunelessly to herself.

  “Rebecca, there’s a phone call for you,” Shona called from the main office.

  “Hang on, just a second.”

  “They said it’s urgent.”

  “Okay, okay, I'm coming.” Rebecca grabbed the phone from her. “Hello. Yes, this is Rebecca McNamara. Pardon? Yes, I’ll be right there.”

  “Is everything alright?” Adrian asked in concern. The colour had drained from Rebecca’s face.

  “I don’t know. Someone just called to say Mark’s been seriously injured. I have to go.” She grabbed her coat and bag.

  “I'm coming with you,” he said decisively, not giving her a chance to argue. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

  They arrived at Mark’s apartment in next to no time. Adrian drove through several traffic lights on the way and Rebecca didn’t have the energy to protest.

  “Who called you?” Adrian asked as they parked the car illegally outside the apartment building.

  “I can’t say for sure. I recognised the voice but I can’t quite place it.”

  “Never mind that for now. Let’s make sure he’s alright. What number is his apartment?” He scanned the doorbells on the wall.

  “It’s number nine.”

  He rang the bell impatiently but there was no answer. Luckily, another resident was on his way out. They pushed past him into the foyer and the elevator took them quickly to Mark’s floor. Adrian raced down the corridor and pounded on the door. There was no answer. He pushed against the door but it didn’t budge.

  “Maybe he passed out and can’t hear us,” Rebecca suggested anxiously.

  “Mark! Mark!” Adrian continued banging on the door but still there was no response.

  “Mark! I
t’s Rebecca!” She knocked frantically on the door. “Let me in!”

  There was silence. Adrian pressed his ear against the door but there was no movement from inside. He glanced at Rebecca. “I'm going to break the door down.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “What if it was a prank call? I’ve been getting a lot of hang-ups lately. It’s probably some idiot who read about us in the newspaper and thinks it’s funny to scare people. Maybe Mark is out. I don’t think he’d be too impressed to arrive home and find his door kicked in.”

  “Call his mobile,” Adrian suggested.

  “Good idea.” Rebecca dialled his number. They heard the phone ringing inside the apartment.

  Adrian kicked the door once, twice and finally on the third blow it opened and he stumbled into the apartment. They glanced around but there was no sign of Mark. Nothing seemed to be out of place and there was no sign of any disturbance.

  “What’s going on?” a voice behind them made them jump. They turned to see an elderly lady standing in the doorway. She was petite, a tiny bird of a woman, with a thick shock of snow-white hair and huge, black glasses framing her thin face. “Sorry to startle you, but there was such a commotion I had to see what was going on.”

  “Have you seen my husband?” Rebecca asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

  “Do you mean Mr. McNamara?” She stared at Rebecca as if she’d taken leave of her senses.

  “Yes!”

  “I haven’t seen him since yesterday. He seemed to be quite upset about something. I was just coming home from the shops and he brushed right past me as if he hadn’t even seen me, which is not like him. He usually stops for a chat. He’s a very pleasant man, a perfect neighbour, not like that noisy couple who used to live next door.”

  “Do you have any idea what might have upset him?” Adrian interrupted. He got the impression that she would happily stay chatting for hours. They needed to find Mark. “Was there anyone with him?”