Lethal Ties

by Christmas, Helen

  Joe braced himself. This much was true.

  “I knew stuff. Let’s just say those homes were seriously dodgy. Private homes run by very nasty people.”

  “Joe,” Jess nagged him, “don’t keep me in suspense. What’s the big secret? You can tell me.”

  “A boy went missing, that’s what. Vanished without a trace... Maisie and I have never forgotten him, but she’s convinced we should talk to the cops.”

  “So why don’t you?”

  “It’s risky, Jess, and that’s why I’m scared. The man in charge of those homes was an evil fucker and there’s every chance he might be onto us.”

  The silence hung heavy, the seconds ticking. With her face masked in shadow it was hard to read her expression but as Jess nudged a little closer, the subtle feminine scent she discharged was intoxicating.

  “What are you going to do, then?”

  “Stay out of trouble and keep my head down,” he said, “but let’s drop it for now. It’s been good to offload and thanks for the coffee...”

  He shuffled his position as if to rise but Jess caught hold of his hand again.

  “You weren’t thinking of going yet, were you?” she murmured, “and just when the conversation was getting exciting...”

  He lifted his eyes, a smile playing around his mouth.

  Was she coming onto him?

  It wouldn’t have surprised him, given the hints Maisie had dropped, although he couldn’t imagine he was her type.

  “Sure, but enough about me,” he argued. “There must be other things we can talk about.”

  “Okay,” she pondered, “so let me think... I know! Social media! Did you take my advice about your Twitter handle?”

  “Joseph of Winterfell,” he pondered. “Yeah, I did.”

  Like he really wanted to talk about social media right now.

  But as if to test him, she dipped into her bag for her mobile.

  “Well excuse me, but I have got to check this out.”

  Joe watched transfixed, as she tinkered with her handset. He could not help but notice her lovely hands; pale, smooth with long tapering fingers and perfect nails. Despite her boldness, there was a delicate quality about her that reminded him of a flower. In fact, the more he got to know her, the stronger the attraction grew.

  “Ah, there you are, I’ve found you...” and turning to him with a sparkle in her eye, she raised the handset before a tell-tale ‘click’ caught him unawares.

  “Oh crap,” Joe spluttered, “what have you done?”

  “I only wanted a photo,” she simpered. “Don’t be shy!”

  An icy chill spread over him as he lowered his head. In her naivety, Jess knew nothing of the online savagery he was being subjected to.

  “At least you got my best side,” he humoured her, “you ain’t gonna post this online though, are you? Please don’t.”

  “Not if you don’t want me to,” she said. “Shame. It’s an awesome picture.”

  Joe couldn’t resist the urge to chuckle. Jess was such a flirt.

  “What about Instagram?” she kept teasing. “I’ve followed you but you don’t seem to post much.”

  She just wasn’t going to let up. Maybe he didn’t use Instagram as much as Maisie – and no sooner had he thought that, she was on his mind. It would bring an extra cheer to his world to know she had reached her destination safely.

  So he dug into his jacket for his own phone. “Dunno what to post really, unless you wanna see the walls of our warehouse, or racks of fruits and veggies.”

  This time Jess was the one who tittered as he opened the app.

  Sure enough, the first image he saw was of an idyllic half-timber house with roses around the door. Rosebrook. Could this be Sarah’s house, the place Maisie was staying? He felt a flickering glow in his heart as he read the caption.

  #English getaway. Check out this cute cottage in Rosebrook #town near #London.

  Scrolling through the images, however, the next post struck a blast of terror into him. Joe turned rigid, feeling every muscle in his body tighten.

  “What?” Jess probed.

  “Shit,” he gasped. “Not this again...”

  A familiar image flashed up. The distinctive steel hose that had taunted him earlier.

  #stainless-steel flexible shower #hosepipe #steelhose #metalhose #specialoffer. When the cat’s away the mice will play. Time to teach you another lesson JW.

  “Joe, what’s wrong?” Jess squawked.

  Dropping the handset, he raked his fingers through his hair.

  How could he even begin to explain?

  In Maisie’s absence, only he understood the danger, and it was rolling in like a sea mist, threading its way across town.

  ******

  Scooping his phone off the carpet, Jess stared at the screen.

  Even after reading the caption, she had no idea why the picture of a steel hose would unnerve him so.

  “What is this about?” she kept bugging him. “I don’t understand.”

  He seemed incapable of speech, and she reached out and cupped his face. She tried to recapture his stare but what she saw shocked her. Two dark pools of fear.

  “You know I mentioned enemies?” he croaked. “This is down to Mortimer, the man in charge. Mr C Mortimer...”

  “So what’s with the hose?”

  Joe shook his head. She could sense the conflict wrestling in him, and wished he would just come clean. It took a few more seconds, but at last the barriers crumbled - the truth tumbling out - he was describing Mortimer’s beating in its savage detail.

  “Oh my God, Joe!” she whimpered.

  Suddenly the world turned black as she took him in her arms. For the next few seconds they clung to each other but all she could feel was the crash of his heart against his chest.

  “Maisie’s being watched and I get these shitty messages night and day,” he whispered, “but it’s all connected to that children’s home...”

  Temporarily breaking apart, their eyes locked. The urge to kiss him had never been more irresistible, and thrown back to the last time they had shared a drink at the Waverley, she sensed the same pull of magnetism.

  Only this time she was not going to let him go.

  “You can’t walk back on your own tonight, not now. Stay the night with me!”

  Her lips parted, hovering inches from his own, until at last his expression softened. Their mouths came together in a long, lingering kiss, a delicious flood of passion they could no longer fight.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Come on, Joe, pick up the phone, please,” I whined.

  Trying his mobile for the third time that morning, I felt my panic levels soaring. That hateful tweet on his mobile was a clear enough warning, and by this time I was beginning to imagine all sorts of ghastly scenarios...

  “Hello,” he mumbled sleepily.

  “Finally!” I snapped. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

  “Maisie! I didn’t expect to hear from you ‘til later.”

  “I tried to reach you last night,” I scolded him.

  The silence thickened and then I heard it; a squawking of gulls that seemed too loud and then the stifled giggle in the background.

  “You’re with Jess!” I exploded.

  “Don’t be cross. We had a drink down the Waverley and...” his voice hung with regret.

  “What?”

  “That picture,” he kept murmuring, “the one you saw on Twitter, it popped up again on Instagram. We only logged in to see if you’d posted anything and I saw your cottage. I was only thinking how nice it looked...”

  “Shit, Joe,” I breathed, feeling my throat clam up. “I’m sorry. But where does Jess fit into all this? You haven’t told her what’s going on, have you?”

  “Well, I had to explain some of it.”

  There was another beat of silence, the click of a door closing. Pressing my eyes shut, I could feel my frustration mounting by the second as I pictured her apartment.r />
  “Well?” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Look,” Joe sighed, “that post scared the shit out of me and I lost the plot, okay? I didn’t wanna talk about the care home but it kept cropping up. She’s not stupid, Maisie, she’s already sussed something went on there...”

  “So let me guess,” I finished. “You stayed the night with her.”

  “She offered, and what would you have done, eh? Risk walking home in the dark and get the crap beaten out of you or stay round at her place?”

  “Told you she had the hots for you,” I sniped.

  “Okay, so now you know I haven’t been beaten up or murdered, d’you wanna tell me what’s been happening in your neck of the woods?”

  His face flickered in my mind like a mirage, driving a spur through my heart. Try as I might, I could not suppress the desolation I was feeling, although there was little else I could say to recriminate him.

  Pushing aside my anxiety for now, I relived my conversation with Sarah.

  There was nothing conclusive yet, but she had promised to sift through the paper trail. If any documents relating to Sam’s case could be found, they might lead us to people who remembered him.

  “Sounds promising,” Joe commented.

  Lost in my reverie, I had almost forgotten he was hanging on the other end of the line, listening. I stood up, startled.

  “Yes, but it could be weeks before we hear anything, which brings me back to the threats. Even Sarah suggested we should report them.”

  “I’m not sure,” he protested. “How is that gonna help?”

  I chewed my nail, knowing the time had come to creep down darker avenues because in truth, he had no idea how worried I’d been with every unanswered call.

  “Tell me about this latest threat on Instagram,” I pressed him. “You mentioned the same hose image but who would have posted such a thing?”

  “Does the name Silver Fox ring any bells?”

  “A new follower,” I gasped. “I saw! But why did you follow them back?”

  “I assumed it was one of yours,” he answered, “posting the same sort of photos. One that sprung out was them blue and yellow beach huts in Felpham.”

  I felt a sudden chill snake down my arms. “Felpham. That proves they’ve been in our area, and there’s something about that name that bothers me...”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have followed ‘The Watchman’ or anyone to do with ‘Orchard Grange,’ would I?” he grunted. “Just how many accounts has this bastard got? Unless of course there’s more than one of ‘em.”

  “Well, I expect so,” I said. “Whoever’s trying to intimidate you, I doubt if they’re operating alone, which surely gives us even more reason to report this.”

  I didn’t want to voice what I was really thinking but that name, Silver-Fox. It called to mind the silver-haired gentleman we had seen in the care home. Lord Thomas Parker-Smythe. Could he be one of them?

  “Think about it, Joe. Even Sarah said those parties sounded dodgy, and if we tell the police, don’t you think others might come forward? We can’t be the only ones who remember them.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he murmured, as a jangle of mugs pricked my senses, “but let me think about it... I don’t wanna do anything too hasty.”

  By the time the call ended, I felt a knot in my stomach that had nothing to do with the trolls any more. Frozen in Sarah’s kitchen, I could not shift that last lingering image of Joe lounging in Jess’s bed.

  “Everything okay?” Sarah asked. “I take it you got through to him at last.”

  Drifting over to the work surface where I was standing, she opened a pack of filter coffee. At first all I could do was nod, my thoughts a confused tangle.

  “He spent the night with my best friend,” I mumbled, finally.

  “Oh,” she commented. “What’s the matter? You can tell me. Is there more between you two than just friendship?”

  “No,” I croaked, “but there could have been. We shared a kiss. That I could handle, I just didn’t want to leap into bed with him straight away. I panicked.”

  Switching on the coffee machine, she gave me the gentlest of smiles.

  “So what were you scared of? Joe, or intimacy? Given your state of mind, I can’t imagine he’d harbour a grudge, though. He sounds like a nice guy.”

  “He is,” I said. Tears stung my eyes. “But it’s too late, he’s with Jess now.”

  “Oh, Maisie,” she soothed. “It’s not the end of the world...”

  “You don’t understand,” I kept flapping. “What I feel for Joe is stronger than love and it goes right back to Orchard Grange. We’re soul mates, Sarah. He makes me feel so safe, I can’t bear the thought of losing him again...” A tear rolled down my cheek, a warm salty stream seeping between my lips.

  Sarah cast me a look that extinguished any lingering trace of doubt. “Of course you like him! You sang his praises when he was a boy! Mandy told me, and I doubt if anything’s changed. His troubles have made him harder and thornier, but I bet he’s soft as marshmallow underneath.”

  “If only I hadn’t rejected him,” I blubbered.

  “How was he next morning?”

  “Gutted. He swore it wouldn’t happen again.”

  “Then at least he’s patient,” she placated me. “He’s giving you time to discover your own feelings, so why not leave things be. Let him enjoy a relationship, it’ll run its course, and once it’s over, you’ll be there for him. Strikes me you’ve got far more important things to worry about right now.”

  I could have hugged her, despite the anxiety tunnelling through me.

  “I wish I had your wisdom,” I said. “You’re right, though, in the grander scheme of things it doesn’t matter. I mentioned the police too but he wasn’t very keen. So maybe I should concentrate on what I remember about those parties...”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Hannah Adams. Registered Psychotherapist and Counsellor. West Sussex.

  Client: Maisie Bell

  16th April 2015

  “Now let’s see...” Hannah began, sifting through her notes. “Looking over your last five sessions, these memories are beginning to tell a story. Has anything else come to light you want to talk to me about?”

  “I guess so,” I faltered, hearing the uncertainty fill my voice. “Joe and I need to get to the bottom of all this, but there are so many loose ends.”

  “How do you feel since you’ve been reunited? Has it changed anything in your life?”

  “Definitely. Having Joe around has brought some stability back and even the nightmares have stopped. But ever since we’ve been talking, I’ve been wondering how much we really know... and is it enough to launch an investigation?”

  The brush of her fingers turning the pages ceased so abruptly, you could have heard a pin drop.

  “An investigation,” she repeated. “Do you think you’re ready?”

  “No, but I think we’re getting close.”

  I didn’t want to tell her what was really on my mind; the disturbing online images that directly linked Joe’s abusers to Orchard Grange. If I could just dig a little deeper. Unravel those last twisted knots.

  “Joe’s got a job now, and he’s settling down in Bognor very nicely. But a whole new can of worms was opened when we recognised a face in the paper - a man we remember seeing in the care home.”

  “Then why not focus on him?” she said. “Just let go of your thoughts.”

  Lapsing into a trance, I felt a creeping coldness. Saw the men lingering in the corridor. One of them was Mortimer, but a silver-haired stranger accompanied him.

  Yes, he was the one I wanted to concentrate on, the day his crystal blue eyes had latched onto me. A moth of a memory fluttered...

  ‘Hello, where have you been hiding?’

  ‘Quite lovely, isn’t she?’ I heard Mortimer drawl. ‘Flitting around like a little mouse, but I’m glad you’re here, Maisie. There’s a very special party coming up for some of the new girls and that includ
es you...”

  ‘Me?’ I whispered aloud. ‘I-I haven’t got a party dress.’

  The smug looks they exchanged held the hint of something conspiratorial.

  ‘I’ve ordered some,’ Mortimer kept smiling. ‘Lovely new party dresses, which will be delivered tomorrow with ribbons and new shoes.’

  His voice thickened, sending an unpleasant roll of fear through my stomach.

  ‘Ramona is invited too...’

  As if the company of my roommate would put my mind at rest.

  Yet all the while this stranger was lingering, his smile stayed with me, drifting in and out of my thoughts long after his departure.

  “Joe warned me not to go,” I shivered.

  My limbs turned to ice as the scene morphed into the laundry room.

  “Yes,” Hannah muttered, “I know, but I want to guide you a little further. Joe locked you in. Yet someone let you out. That ‘someone’ wanted to make absolutely sure you went to the party. So where did they take you? Try to imagine the car and the other girls. Tell me about the journey.”

  Deeper into the past I tunnelled, my eyes closed. Soft leather cushions embraced me as I sank into the car. The purr of an engine rising.

  “It was a posh car. There were two girls in the back already, and they picked up two more. We were about the same age and wearing the exact same dresses.”

  Oh, the coolness of red satin slipping through my fingers...

  “I remember them chattering. I wasn’t even sure what they were talking about, only I was too nervous to join in. So I listened. Stared out of the car window...”

  I glimpsed the flash of a motorway before the car turned off. Snapshots drifted back to me; a country lane, grassy banks exploding with white cow parsley.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  My voice sounded high and girlish.

  One of the girls tittered before the voice of the driver interrupted.

  ‘Wait and see.’

  Was that the hint of a foreign accent I detected? German, perhaps. The sound echoed like a train swallowed into a tunnel, and I kept my eyes glued to that road... until something else flickered in the mist.