Feverishly, she went back to the top of the inbox page where the search box was and typed in the words ‘Remote Models’. Twenty pages came back, full of emails. She opened the first two and shook her head, understanding nothing of what they referred to, but as she looked through more, it became clear that Adam was indeed running a model agency and running it recently. A model agency she knew nothing about.
She methodically went through the emails in date order, looking at the oldest first. Tracing the progress of Adam's model agency, confused as to why he’d never told her about it. There was correspondence about web design and numerous emails about hosting and domain names along with advertising invoices from companies specialising in web traffic. The cost of it was staggering, there were emails from search engine optimisation agencies and design companies promoting his site. The price they charged was unbelievable. It seemed Adam was paying for the services of several on a weekly basis to keep his website in top ranking.
‘What the…?’ she murmured as she opened one from a week ago, and found it was an email from the web hosting company. Adam had asked for more space, more bandwidth and the terms and conditions regarding uploading images of ‘artistic nudes’. Reading it, it seemed Adam wanted to show body parts but was unclear if it would mean his site would be regarded as pornography and result in suspension.
She went back to the search bar, ready to go to the Remote Models website and see exactly what type of photographs Adam was taking, when she noticed a small notification at the side of the search bar, next to the icon of the magnifying glass.
It had a small blue tick against a red box and the words, ‘All photographs up to date’ written alongside in a small typeface.
‘Photographs?’ Suzie asked and clicked on the tick.
A separate window sprang open. An online database. Adam's online database. His private storage area for his photographs, ones downloaded from his phone as well as from his camera disc.
She used something similar in the studio, it was the first thing Adam had taught her, once you've taken the photographs, back them up. Back them up on email, on cloud, on something that's outside of your computer and is private and safe should anything happen to your hard drive, but this wasn't the backup that she was used to. This was something different and as she waited for the screen to load, she saw it was in the name of Adam's password. Sugar Daddy.
A few thumbnail images loaded and Suzie frowned. They were blurred. One had clearly been taken from his phone, too low of an exposure, completely amateur. Why would Adam be taking shots like this? Then as the other image loaded Suzie realised they were taken on location. They were hand-held and looked like they'd been taken in a rush. They were shaky, blurred images. Others began to load and these were of a different quality. These were taken in a room, in dim light. There was a bed and Suzie leaned forward to see but it was too unclear. The thumbnail too small, only showing the outline of shadowy figures. Suzie clicked on an image that wasn't as dark as the rest.
She looked at the picture. Suzie leaned in and looked again, adjusting her glasses. Then she screamed.
The laptop fell from her knees as she jumped back. It landed on the floor, the screen facing up. She stood on the sofa in horror, looking down at the laptop.
After a moment, she went back to it.
It couldn’t be, not possible, not him. Not that. Not that.
But it was.
The shadowy outlines quite clear now she knew what she was looking at.
The photograph was of Adam, taken by Adam. A horrific selfie, taken with his hand outstretched so the viewer was looking down at the scene. He was naked. They both were, and he was holding her tight.
A horrid wretched sound escaped her, animal like. The face beside Adam’s was semi in the light, her eyes were looking up at the camera, her mouth open. It wasn't anyone that Suzie recognised. Her small body was curled underneath her; she was completely naked. Small hands on Adam's bare thighs as they both looked up directly into the camera, his face one of pure delight. Suzie picked up the laptop, collapsing on the sofa with it. She clutched her sides and stared in complete shock.
The other person in the photograph with Adam wasn't a woman.
It was a girl. With small underdeveloped breasts, milky white skin and the chubby face of adolescence.
Friday
Snow showers expected.
25
Suzie
For a moment when she awoke, she felt nothing. She stretched out her legs and vaguely wondered why her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, why her eyes felt like pingpong balls and why her stomach felt like she'd done a hundred sit-ups.
It hit her like a bowling ball falling on her chest.
Adam. Young girls. Website.
She sat up abruptly, head spinning, and made it to the bathroom just in time to retch into the toilet. Greenish bile hit the bowl and her stomach cramped in pain. She wiped her mouth and slumped on the floor. She didn't cry. She had cried for hours last night, on and off. Every time she remembered something, his voice or her hopes for the future, a fresh wave of tears would engulf her.
In parts the fear, the terror of the whole thing would momentarily paralyse her, she'd be motionless, heart rapid and limbs stiff. And then there were periods where a memory would strike her like a knife She would suddenly remember his touch, how he used to move the hair from her forehead. How he used to kiss the back of her neck, and then she'd look at the horror presenting itself and have to blot her mind to the Adam she thought she knew and it would hit her all afresh.
At first, she'd thought the extent of it was the four images of Adam and the girl. Each had been taken at the same place and Adam had taken all the pictures, an array of arrogant selfies. In each one his face wore a satisfied, proud expression. As if he were doing something very accomplished, undertaking some special achievement, not molesting a young girl in a dark hotel room.
She'd wailed, the kind where the weeping reverberated throughout her body. She'd thrown up, twice. She'd gone to ring her mother, her old friends, Rachel, but had cancelled all calls before she'd even made them.
Once the initial shock had passed she began to examine the images. She became an amateur detective, searching for clues and signs that might offer up some explanation. She brought them up on the screen, enlarged them and looked at the backgrounds. Was that a bottle of wine? What time did it say on the clock?
She studied the girl's face, the wide eyes and half smile. Could she be older? Was she one of those people who looked deceptively young for her age?
Was Adam drugged? High? Why was he doing this, why?
She'd gone back to his emails, to his secret model agency and the truth dawned like an unfolding torturous realisation.
She almost didn't.
It was tempting to close the laptop, go to bed and pretend the girl in the picture was older and Adam was high, off his face and unaware of how young she was. A one-night stand, a moment of madness. But that option was impossible. A quick internet search brought up the site.
Remote Models was basic. A straightforward portfolio of someone named ‘Rob’. It seemed Adam was calling himself Rob and presenting himself as a photographer who specialised in supplying models to various agencies for work in the fashion and beauty industry.
There was no mention of what agencies, or what modelling work these girls got, only photographs of them posing. Location shots, carefully lit, carefully posed. Black and white images of them smiling, looking thoughtful or full-length pictures of them sitting in various positions. And all the models were girls. Young girls.
Suzie raced through page after page of them. She recognised Adam's photography, the way he framed the shots, the way he had them standing, and then she saw her. The girl from the photograph with Adam, the one who was naked with him. She was smiling at the camera in black and white. A variety of headshots done as though she were an actress. A young girl, a very young girl and Suzie's throat closed in at the sight of her, squeezed i
n on itself so it was almost choking her. She went to click on the small icon for more information about this young girl who Adam had got naked in a hotel room, when a pop up sprang open asking for a password.
It was addressed to ‘admin’. Adam used this laptop to upload his photographs to the website and it had remembered and stored his details. It was already filled in, eight small black dots in the password box.
‘Please,’ she whispered as she clicked on the box to take her to where Adam controlled everything. ‘Please, please, please.’
When the next screen loaded it was clear that her pleas to the unknown had gone unanswered. A series of posts that Adam had uploaded lay on the right side of the screen and Suzie clicked on his most recent one. An image loaded.
UNPUBLISHED was written in large letters over the post and Suzie gagged as she saw it. This was no model. This was no artful black and white image of the like that she'd just seen, no full-length shot of someone standing beside a tree. This was a girl, twelve or thirteen at most with overdone make-up sitting on a barstool. She was wearing lacy knickers and nothing else. Her face, unsure and frightened stared at the camera. Her immature body on full display. Quickly, she pressed the ‘back’ button, needing to get the image off the screen and then she saw it; a long list of unpublished pages. Each with a name.
‘Lucy, Rebecca, Leah, Phoebe…’
‘ARGH!’ she'd slapped herself hard across her face as she read the names, at how long this had been going on. Her cheek stung.
Each unpublished post was of a girl that Adam had got to pose naked. They were all done in full make-up with ridiculous props around them, all studio shots. And they were all young.
Just when she thought she'd seen the extent of it, she found a folder marked ‘films’. Suzie only looked at one. It was labelled ‘Becky’ and it was in a hotel room. It had been filmed on a tripod, from a distance but it was enough for her to see Adam having sex with Becky. It was enough for her to see Becky's frightened face, to hear Adam's voice instructing her what to do, enough to understand.
And there was another folder. This one marked ‘finished’, but she dared not click on that, she didn't want to know. She wanted someone else to see it, someone other than her to decide what to do. And then, just when she thought she'd discovered it all, she saw the social media icons at the top of the screen. Clicking on one, she was logged in automatically and here she saw his private messages, his Remote Models Twitter account, Facebook, Instagram, as well as others she wasn't aware of, calling himself ‘Rob’ and telling girl after girl how ‘photogenic’ they were. How they had ‘talent’.
She learned he’d been sending out presents to them, showering them with expensive things, perfume, watches, designer clothes, the kind of things that made young girls feel grown up and valued. She saw his texts about meeting up in hotels across the country, the meals and alcohol he’d bought them. The outfits he’d made them wear, the places he’d taken them to. Adam had given the impression that he was some kind of successful businessman, but as Suzie went through the messages, tracing Adam’s movements and purchases, it became clear that Adam hadn’t worked in a very long time, and she suddenly realised where all her money had gone. There was nothing hidden in a safety deposit box somewhere, there was no hidden stash waiting to be found, Adam had spent everything on creating his illusion of a wealthy businessman to fool these poor girls and when Suzie’s money ran out, he’d taken loan after loan to keep up the pretence.
She then found his other social media accounts, the ones where Adam was pretending to be a teenage girl himself, luring them in as if they were finding a new friend and something about it seemed familiar. Something about the name he'd called himself, Shutterbug, and it bothered her. Had he called himself that when he was with her? Had Suzie used that name with him, like when he asked her to call him Sugar Daddy and she'd had to stop then, saliva had filled her mouth, making her retch and she felt faint.
Struggling, she'd dragged herself away at that point. She'd planned to take it to the police, hand the whole thing to them in the morning, but as she moved her hands away, the page of the website moved, she had hit the scroll bar and it was now showing the bottom of the site. She'd sat panting, a stale vomit taste in her mouth, her eyes stinging and her cheek sore from where she had slapped it, looking at a small thumbnail of a model that had just been uploaded to an unpublished part of the site. There was something about the small face, the brown eyes and long black hair that made Suzie catch her breath.
‘No,’ she breathed. ‘For fuck’s sake, no.’ Suzie looked at the name below, Katie, and a splinter of ice pierced her stomach. She slowly clicked on the thumbnail to make the image bigger and a low moan escaped her.
It was Rachel's daughter.
Adam had got Katie, Rachel's daughter, her friend and business partner's daughter to pose naked for him. To sit on a barstool with a painted face and show him her bare body. She thought to his films, to his folders, and she began to shake then, violently shake and she'd had to close the laptop. Had to push it away from her as she curled herself up in a ball. She brought her knees up to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut and tried to make the horror of it disappear.
‘Rachel,’ she moaned as she cried into her hands. ‘Rachel, I'm so sorry.’
* * *
Suzie dressed slowly that morning. She wore a black outfit consisting of a shirt and jacket with wide pants. She looked like she was going to a funeral.
On her dresser were two memory sticks.
One contained it all. Everything. She'd downloaded the full website, all his correspondence, the contact details, the pictures, films, everything. A small little thing ready to give to the police.
The other memory stick contained Katie. It was the last thing she did before going to bed. It was the one thing she could do for Rachel. She did a search of the site and two files came up marked ‘Katie’, a folder with images, and a folder with a short film. A short film of Katie and Suzie had wept at the sight of it. It had taken fifteen minutes before she was able to transfer that video clip to the memory stick. Fifteen minutes whilst her hands shook and she retched. She didn't open it. Didn't want to see what Adam had made Katie do, what he'd filmed of her. She would give it to Rachel and tell her that she'd not watched, that she didn't know what it contained. That she wasn't, even at this stage, aware of the full extent of it. Whatever was on that film was for Rachel and Phil, not her.
Sitting heavily on the bed she looked up to the ceiling, tears fell and she blinked them away. Before she went to the police she would go to Rachel and a great dragging feeling swept through her entire body at the thought.
How do you tell someone that? How do you tell your oldest friend that your fiancé has been grooming their daughter? Give them a memory stick containing something vile. Tell them that their life is shattered?
For the last fourteen years, Rachel had been a mother to Katie but Suzie could only remember seeing her a handful of times until eighteen months ago when she’d become friendly with Rachel again.
When Rachel first became a mother, it had been a shock because they were young and it was the last thing that everyone thought Rachel would do. She'd seen her after Jessica was born, pushing a huge pink and white pram around the streets, her face set in a tired expression. Suzie had been walking home from Chester, she’d been shopping and her arms were full of carrier bags containing a new outfit, make-up and other nonsense. Rachel had moved back and was living with her odd mother and they'd stopped to chat, Suzie had peered into the pram and seen the most adorable face. Fat and sleeping, her chubby hands raised either side of her face. Jessica had seemed like something unreal at the time. Something that Rachel had borrowed. They talked briefly but it was clear that they no longer had anything in common. Rachel was going home to nappies and making up bottles whereas Suzie was going clubbing. Meeting a gaggle of girls for drinks and dancing.
The next time she could remember seeing Rachel it was years later and by then, Kat
ie had been born. Suzie had heard that she’d got married, had another daughter. She had a vague recollection of sending a gift and card, but the clearest memory she had is when she drove past them one evening. She was with Carl then and they’d been on their way to a party or concert, somewhere that Suzie wasn’t too happy about going and she’d seen them come out of a restaurant. It looked like they'd just had a family meal. Jessica had been running fast, holding a balloon with some restaurant name on it. Rachel and Phil were shouting for her to slow down as they walked each holding the hand of another child between them. It had been Katie, her dark hair swinging and she skipped along, and Suzie had gasped at the sight of her. There was Rachel, her family around her, Katie now old enough to be starting school and they'd all looked so happy. It had given Suzie a pang of envy.
Then, when Katie was about eight, Suzie had seen them coming out of the cinema. She was still with Carl and Katie had looked so grown up, so tall. It made her realise how old she was, and that she still wasn’t a mother. Whenever Suzie saw Rachel over the years, whenever their lives crossed or they had a sporadic meeting for a ‘catch up’ Katie had always been talked about along with Jessica. But it was Katie that Suzie used as a kind of barometer against her own life, a measure that she used to mark time. Katie leaving primary school and she still wasn’t pregnant, Katie in her second year at high school and Carl had left her. Katie getting excellent grades and she was still single.
Then, when she was at her lowest ebb, Rachel had invited Suzie around for coffee and Katie had answered the door. She must’ve been about twelve at the time and she was a different girl. Long hair down to her waist, her eyebrows plucked and shaped, her slim figure dressed in a tight fitting top and Suzie had joked about how old she made her feel. Said the clichés of how much she'd grown and Katie had laughed, she had the same laugh as Rachel and it moved Suzie.
If He Wakes Page 20