PALE AND BREATHLESS, Emily entered the newsroom just after 7 p.m. She was surprised to see a few employees still at their desks, but although the journalists were hard at work, she instantly sensed something was wrong. Her fears were confirmed when she approached the man at the nearest desk and asked for Helen.
“We don’t know where she is,” he said. Other colleagues turned their heads in Emily’s direction. “She went out to do an interview, and. . .”
His voice trailed off. He glanced across the room at a stocky, middle-aged woman with cropped hair.
“And what?” Emily said, following his gaze. The woman was marching over.
She introduced herself as Christine Gates, the editor-in-chief for London Truth. Emily shook her hand. She didn’t know whether Helen had told Christine about Valence Industries, so for now, she kept the story to herself.
“Helen’s not here,” Christine said. She had a brusque manner, but she shared the same worried expression as her colleagues.
“Do you know where I can find her?” Emily asked.
“Helen’s car was found outside an hour ago,” the editor-in-chief said. “Looks like there was some sort of accident.”
Emily froze. “Is she all right?”
“We don’t know. Helen wasn’t in her car and she’s not answering her phone.”
The room stretched away from Emily as Christine’s voice echoed around her. “The police are on the way. We think she might be hurt. There was blood on the ground.”
They had her. Valence Industries had taken Helen. Emily’s legs grew weak. She tried to speak, but nothing came out.
Christine whispered something to the man at the desk, who jumped up and hurried from the room. She turned back to Emily and regarded her with a hardened expression.
“I know who you are,” she said. “You were at Meadow Pines with Helen. You’re the one she wrote about.”
Emily’s mouth hung open. She nodded.
“Is this a social call, or are you two colluding on something I don’t know about?”
“I—”
Christine leaned in closer and dropped her voice to a hush. “Because let’s not waste time here. The driver window of Helen’s car was smashed in. Bill found a clump of her hair, for God’s sake!”
Emily wanted to vomit. Had they killed her already? Or did they have her locked up somewhere, preparing her for interrogation? Torturous images attacked Emily’s mind. Then Helen’s voice echoed in her memory. What had she said on the phone? Something about Evan Holt. . .
Christine was growing impatient. “Well? Is there something you want to tell me or not?”
Did you tell anyone about Evan Holt being in Max’s diary? Was that what she’d said before the call had been cut off? Emily raced through the events of the past week. Besides Helen, who had she spoken to about Evan Holt? She’d told Jerome, who would have more than likely told Daniel. Then there was Lucy Dobbs. Then Anya Copeland.
Another thought entered Emily’s mind. Her conversation with Anya had revealed something—that Valence Industries had known Max’s every move. It was like the company had inside knowledge—as if someone close to him had been watching and reporting back.
Emily’s intuition began to spark. Why were these thoughts converging?
The spark became a fire. Suddenly she knew why.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to go.”
Before Christine could say another word, Emily bolted through the doors and headed back to the street. If Helen wasn’t already dead, there was one person who could lead Emily to where she was being held.
Exiting the building, she paused to look both ways down the street. Safe for now, she pulled out her phone and headed back toward the station.
Jerome answered after a few seconds. “I’ve been worried about you. Where are you? What’s going on?”
“No time to talk,” Emily said, glancing over her shoulder. “Listen, what are the chances of me borrowing Daniel’s car?”
Jerome laughed. “Are you serious? I’d say slim to none. What do you need it for?”
“To follow someone.”
The line was quiet. “On a scale of one to people-are-trying-to-kill-me, how much trouble are you in right now?”
“It’s not me who’s in trouble. But right now, I’d say Helen was about an eleven—Valence have her.”
Emily quickened her pace, pushing her way through the crowds.
“Christ. Have you called the police?”
“They’re on their way to London Truth right now. Please, Jerome! Can you ask Daniel? It’s urgent.”
Jerome’s voice was frantic in her ear. “I don’t think you should be chasing after these people, Em. They’re dangerous. The police will—”
“I’m coming to Daniel’s right now. I’ll ask him myself.”
Anxiety gnawed at her gut. Evan Holt was dead. Anya and Josh were currently on a train to Bristol after she’d promised them safety. And now Helen was missing. Emily was running out of time.
“Fine, I’ll ask,” Jerome said at last. “But you can’t go after these people on your own.”
“Helen could die. You can’t stop me.”
Emily hung up. Then she broke into a run.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
TIM MARSDEN PULLED into the quiet suburban street on the outskirts of Dartford at 8:48 p.m. Climbing out of his silver Audi coupe, he stopped to erase a greasy smear from the driver window, then strolled up the drive to his four-bedroom detached house. At the door, he fumbled for his keys, almost dropped them, then turned to glance back down the drive. He seemed nervous; as if he expected someone to be standing there. Shrugging off his paranoia, he slid the key into the lock and quickly disappeared inside.
But Tim had been right to look over his shoulder—because he was being watched. Sat behind the wheel of a blue Mazda, Emily watched the windows of the Marsden house. Tim’s address had been easy to obtain. The use of Daniel’s car had been less so—with him setting a number of conditions that Emily had to agree to before getting her hands on the keys. One of those conditions was currently sitting beside her in the passenger seat.
“For the record, I’m deeply unhappy you’re here,” Emily said, peeling her gaze from the Marsden house for a second.
Jerome shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not happy I’m here either, but as I said, you can’t go after these people alone. Besides, Daniel is very protective of his car.”
“Somehow I think you being here wasn’t Daniel’s idea.”
Emily looked back at the house. Jerome followed her gaze.
“What do we do now?” he said. “Do we just walk up to the door and demand answers? Want me to rough him up a bit?”
Emily narrowed her eyes. Now was not the time for jokes. Helen had been missing for almost two hours. Every attempt to call her had gone straight to voicemail. As Emily spied on Tim Marsden’s home, she wondered if she should have said something more to Christine Gates. But what could the police do except put Helen’s life at further risk? If she was still alive.
“You’re not going to do anything apart from sit here and stay safe,” she told Jerome as she pushed open the door. He didn’t protest. “Watch the road. If you see any signs of trouble, let me know.”
Jerome’s face appeared at the window and he stared at her with worried eyes.
“Be careful, okay?”
Crossing the quiet, suburban street, Emily headed for Tim Marsden’s house. He was all she had now. Valence Industries knew Meryl Silkwood did not exist, but that Emily Swanson did. Marsden was the only person who could have told Jonathan Hunt the truth. And now Emily understood why Helen had asked her about Evan Holt—the speed in which Valence had struck meant that it had already known about his involvement before discovering Max’s diary. And Emily had been wrong—there had been another person she’d talked to about Evan Holt—and now she was standing at his front door.
Expelling a shaky breath, Emily pressed the buzzer.
A few seconds lat
er, the door opened and a young girl, no older than five, stared up at her with round, blue eyes.
“Is your daddy home?” Emily asked. She had not considered the possibility of Tim Marsden having children. Suddenly she felt guilty for being here, for the threats she was about to make.
The girl continued to mutely stare. Her father’s voice rang out from inside the house.
“Megan, how many times have I told you not to open the door? You wait for an adult.”
He appeared behind her, his hand reaching out to pull her back. Spotting Emily, he froze in mid-movement.
“Go inside to Mummy,” Marsden whispered.
Giving the woman on the doorstep one last look, the girl tiptoed away. As soon as she was gone, Marsden stepped out of the house and advanced toward Emily. They stood, glaring at each other under the halo of porchlight.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed.
“You know why. Where’s Helen Carlson?”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Emily examined every centimetre of the man’s face. “Helen Carlson—the journalist you saw me with at the plant—she’s missing. I know you recognized me. I know you told Jonathan Hunt. Now you’re going to tell me where they’ve taken Helen.”
She was surprised by the sudden anger firing from her mouth. But she was angry. All the lives that Valence had ruined, all the lives that would be ruined in the future—Emily felt their fury burning through her veins.
Tim Marsden flinched then glanced back at the house. “I don’t know where she is, I swear. Whatever’s happened to her has nothing to do with me.”
“And what about Evan Holt? I told you about him and now he’s dead. And what about your good friend, Max Edwards? And Jason Dobbs? Their blood is on your hands!” Emily paused, afraid of the rage boiling inside her.
Tim Marsden stepped back toward his home. “I don’t know anything.”
“Well, I do.” Emily said, closing the gap between them. “For instance, I know that Valence is poisoning millions of children through the sale of TEL.”
Tim’s face paled. “Exporting TEL isn’t breaking any laws.”
“But bribing government officials to destroy the competition is.” She glared at him, fires burning in her eyes. “That’s why Max was killed. Jason Dobbs, too. That’s why Anya’s son was poisoned, his life ruined—because they found out the truth. And if it got out, Valence would be finished. Jonathan Hunt and whoever else is involved would spend years in prison. Well, they may think they’re going to stop it from getting out this time, but how long before someone else finds out what they’re doing? They can’t kill everyone, Tim. The people at the top will already be planning their way out of this. And you can bet your life that way out requires a scapegoat. When it comes down to it, who do you think they’ll choose?”
Tim stared at Emily through frightened eyes. “What did they do to Anya’s son?”
He doesn’t know. The terror on his face was genuine enough to make her believe it. “They poisoned him with lead, left him with irreparable damage that will mark him for the rest of his life. He’s five years old, Tim. How old is your daughter?”
Marsden shook his head. He opened his mouth but Emily interrupted him.
“If Valence can harm a five-year-old without blinking an eye, believe me, it will have no qualms in doing what needs to be done to make this whole situation go away—including hurting its own people.”
Tim was staring back at the house again, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Emily held her breath. He turned back to her, suddenly aged and defeated.
“Do you have a car?” he asked.
Emily nodded.
Tim was trembling now. “I’ll be five minutes. Keep the engine running.”
Giving her one last frightened look, he darted inside the house. Emily returned to the car and ushered Jerome into the back seat.
“What happened?” he asked.
“He’s coming to talk to us.” Emily peered into the rear-view mirror, checking the road behind. It was a typical middle-class suburban street—whitewashed houses, manicured lawns—the kind of street where children played safely, where nothing terrible ever happened. But Emily did not feel safe here.
Jerome squinted at her from the shadows. “Does he know where Helen is?”
“I don’t think he does.”
“Then why is he coming to talk to us?”
“I guess we’re about to find out.”
They were quiet then, both watching the street. Two minutes passed. Emily slid the key into the ignition and started the engine, then pulled away from the kerb, positioning the car in front of the Marsden house. For a moment, she wondered if Tim had made a run for it through the back. Then he appeared on the drive, dressed in more casual attire. As he reached the car, he stared into the backseat and froze.
Emily rolled down the window. “It’s all right, he’s a friend.”
Jerome waved a hand. Marsden eyed him, then checked both sides of the street, before climbing in.
“Where am I driving?” Emily asked him.
Marsden shot one more glance toward his home. “Around.”
*
Emily did as she was instructed, reaching the end of the road and heading left onto another identical suburban street. The roads were maze-like, easy enough to get lost in if you didn’t know where you were going. They drove in silence. When several streets lay between the car and Tim Marsden’s family, he let out a shuddering breath.
“What exactly do you know?” he asked.
Emily wasted no time. “Max found out Valence Industries was bribing government officials to discredit its unleaded competitors, thereby prolonging the legality of TEL and allowing Valence to continue making a fortune while destroying the health of millions of children. He knew Valence was onto him, that he was in trouble. He told Anya Copeland what he’d learned. He had proof—emails, documents—that would incriminate Valence. He was going to expose them. Valence stopped him before he could. Valence took back what he’d found and silenced everyone involved.” She paused, taking her eyes off the road for a second. “Someone betrayed Max. It’s the only way they could have known what he was planning.”
Tim sank into the shadows and cocked his head toward the wing mirror. The road ended in a T-junction. Emily spun the wheel, heading left onto yet another leafy, suburban street.
“Jonathan Hunt came to me.” Tim stared out the window, watching houses whip by. “He told me there’d been a breach in security, that someone had hacked the system and potentially accessed sensitive information. I assumed he’d meant one of our competitors. But then I wondered why he was telling me about it. I was a nobody in the company, nothing to do with computer systems or security. Then Jonathan told me Max was a suspect, and that given his background, it was possible he’d deceived Valence Industries and was working from the inside to bring the company down.
“At first, I didn’t believe it. Max seemed completely dedicated to helping Valence become a much greener company, and he was passionate about the Clean Water Project. But Jonathan Hunt insisted Max was up to no good. That’s why he came to me. They needed proof that Max was behind the breach.”
“So, they asked you to spy on him?” Emily tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “To spy on your friend?”
“Yes, they did. And I agreed.”
“Because they promised you his job once he was gone?”
Tim shook his head. “No. Because I wanted to prove them wrong.”
Emily had had enough of driving in circles. She pulled into the kerb, found a space, and parked. In the passenger seat, Marsden swivelled his head from left to right. “What’s going on? Why have we stopped?”
Emily unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him. “You could have told him. If you’d been a real friend to Max, you could have told him what Hunt asked you to do.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Because you wanted his job.”
“
Because Jonathan Hunt made it very clear that if I didn’t do as he asked, there would be consequences.”
Emily paused, narrowing her eyes. “He threatened you?”
“You don’t understand how a company as powerful as Valence Industries operates.” Marsden shot a nervous glance at the street, then let out a trembling breath. “If it wants something, it takes it—with or without consent—and you’d better not get in the way if you don’t like it. If I’d refused, Hunt would have made damn sure I never worked in the chemicals industry again. I couldn’t afford to lose my job—I have a kid, a mortgage. . . So I agreed to watch Max. I honestly believed Hunt was wrong about him. And it was looking that way, too—until a few days before the Clean Water gala.”
“What happened to change your mind?”
“We’d been working at E.C.G., ironing out the finer details of the launch. It was the end of the day, but Max and Anya decided to stay behind. I’d got all the way to my car before realizing I’d left my jacket behind. I went back. They were alone in the office with the door open. They were talking.”
“About TEL?”
“About me.” Tim hung his head and was quiet for a moment. “They were discussing whether I could be trusted. Anya didn’t think so. But Max did. He told her he’d trusted me about his alcoholism and I’d never told anyone about it, that we’d worked side by side for years. They must have heard me then, but I left before they could see who it was. The next day, I went straight to Max and told him what I’d heard. That was when he told me about TEL, about the bribery. He said he’d been working with that Jason guy, that they had evidence and they were going to the press. He said he wanted to give me a heads up before the shit hit the fan. That was what they’d disagreed about—whether they should warn me.”
“He was an idiot to trust you,” Emily said, clenching her jaw.
Marsden ignored the comment. “When Max showed me what they’d found, I was horrified. As a parent, I couldn’t believe what was happening—what they were willingly allowing to happen.”
Jerome’s face appeared between the front seats. “You don’t need to be a parent to see how fucked up this company is. Just human.”
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