Isla wraps her arms around herself, as she reads the same two sentences over and over.
‘I know nobody will believe me. Julian is perfect, a philanthropist and I am barely out of college, but I have to put this out there. I don’t care what happens, but if I can warn one woman, then I will feel like something good came out of all of this.’
The comments are brutal. The online trolls found the blog post and showed no mercy.
You’re delusional – you wish Julian was interested in you.
What makes you think you have the right to drag Julian Cox’s name through the mud? You are nothing, and after this, you will continue to be nothing.
There is also the more subtle:
Are you sure you didn’t do anything to make him think you were interested? A man doesn’t just hit on a woman out of nowhere.
Isla laughs out loud at that one. She has been hit on in the doctor’s waiting room, in the grocery store, while taking out the trash and at a late-night pizza joint. Men are experts at hitting on women out of nowhere.
She clicks on the ‘About Me’ page. The woman’s name is Jess Fisher. She describes herself as an ‘Internet junkie, cupcake addict and general busybody’. Her earlier blog posts are excited reviews of new online gaming products and coding trends. General wide-eyed, innocent geekery. This was an enthusiast, someone who took pleasure in working hard and toeing the line, unless something forced her not to.
Isla opens a new search window. Types in the name Jess Fisher. The website was last updated three years ago, at the time of her sexual harassment post. A part of her hopes that Jess has excelled since then, and risen through the ranks at another tech company. Hell, she needs a good news story right now. Hopefully, Isla can pay her a visit and hear the truth about Julian firsthand. But, as she clicks through page after page, another fear in her is confirmed.
Apart from the old entries on her blog, there is no other mention of Jess. According to the Internet, she no longer exists.
Chapter 74
Freya
Twenty-one days after the murder
Tuesday morning and Jay is back, walking around the office as if nothing has happened at all. Freya can’t look at him, but she can hear his voice bellowing a greeting to others. At least she has her own office to protect her. But sometime in the near future she is going to have to face him, and explain why she hasn’t replied to any of his messages.
Virginie knocks on the door. ‘Want a cookie?’ Ever since she warned Freya about Jay, she has been overly sweet, as if trying to make up for her strong words about him. Even though Freya pressed her further, she still doesn’t quite understand the animosity she feels toward Jay. ‘I made them myself last night. I may have put too many choc chips inside.’
‘You say that like it wasn’t intentional.’
‘You know me too well, Freya.’ She holds a cookie in her direction. ‘So, would you like one?’ The sugar grazes the inside of Freya’s nostrils, she’s unable to bear the smell of it.
‘No thanks, I’m fine at the moment.’
Virginie cocks her head in the direction of the boardroom. ‘And are you fine about Jay being back?’
‘Of course not, but I’m trying to just focus on my work and stay out of his way.’
‘After what he’s done, he should stay out of my way,’ Virginie says.
Freya swallows slowly and turns her focus back to her screen. She doesn’t have morning sickness as such, but more an all-day queasiness. She can’t stomach anything solid. Even if she wanted to deny the fact that she is pregnant, her body won’t let her forget.
Kate hasn’t eased up on her campaign to ‘take care of it’. She has found every opportunity to confront her. ‘It’s the wrong time, Freya, and it’s definitely the wrong guy. Who knows, you probably conceived the same night he slept with Nicole.’
The final jibe was humiliating and unnecessary. Freya bristles just thinking about it. She thought that nothing could come between her and Kate, but the atmosphere in the house is prickly. They now share their meals in loaded silence.
Jasmin’s assurances, slightly softer, circle her thoughts too. ‘You will be an incredible mother, when you are ready. But there is nothing wrong with opting out of a future you are not prepared for. It is OK to say, “not yet”.’
But she can’t bring herself to leave the office and take the bus to the clinic. There is a strange comfort in not deciding, in being caught between two worlds.
She paces quickly through the office to the bathroom, and splashes her face with water. Anything to feel a little less queasy. She applies and reapplies her lip-gloss in the mirror, wondering if anyone can see in her face that she is keeping a secret.
‘You’re hiding from him, aren’t you?’ It’s Melanie, Nicole’s closest friend. Since Nicole’s death, she has spent most of her working days staring Freya down. This is the longest sentence she has ever spoken to her, and it catches Freya off guard.
‘Uh . . . excuse me?’
For the first time, Freya notices that Melanie is showing signs of strain. Her lips are chapped, and a tight, strained bun draws attention to her bloodshot eyes. There is a fragility present that Freya has never encountered before.
Melanie reaches out and touches her arm. ‘It’s OK. You must be really hurting right now. You’re so young – how were you to know that Jay was such a cheat?’
It’s not rational, but Freya feels angry. After all these women have done to her and now they try and reach out? Melanie stood back and watched every day while Nicole victimized her, she is just as guilty as Nicole was. She has no time for her smugness disguised as empathy.
‘I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine,’ she says bitterly. ‘I don’t need anyone’s pity.’
Melanie doesn’t look shocked or surprised, but calm. Kind even. ‘This is not pity, Freya. It’s simply one woman reaching out to another.’
Freya can’t hold it in anymore. ‘Well, I could have used that a few months ago when Nicole made every moment of my time here a living hell.’ She’s surprised at how ragged her voice sounds.
‘Listen, I’m sorry about all of that, OK? Nicole was so, so angry at Jay, and we were angry too. How would you feel if someone screwed over one of your best friends so much that they were never the same afterwards?’
Freya thinks back to that time Jasmin was so in love with a man who turned out to be sleeping with a woman working the bar at their local club. They called her a man-eater behind her back, and listed with vitriol all the ways she had lured him into her bed. That was easier, somehow, than admitting that he had never truly loved Jasmin all along.
‘I get that. But it doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong, or it didn’t hurt. I’m a good person, Melanie. I’d only been here a few minutes before she decided to bully me.’
Melanie moves closer to Freya now, close enough for her to smell the sweetness of chamomile tea on her breath.
‘I know it’s hard to see right now, but Nicole was a good person too, the best. You two were quite similar, and might have been friends in another life. What she did to you was completely out of character and it spun out of control. You know what that feels like, surely?’
The last sentence catches at Freya like a sharp thorn.
‘Did she love him?’ she asks, voice shaking.
Melanie looks at her frankly. ‘More than she ever loved anyone. They shared a deep relationship and a workplace. She was convinced that she had met her soulmate. There was a plan, you know? When they broke up after two years together, she couldn’t get a hold of herself again, she was devastated.’
Freya does the math. Nicole worked at Atypical for three years, Jay, just under two and a half. If they were together for two years, it means that Freya arrived on the scene mere months after their breakup.
The lights in the bathroom suddenly seem too bright, the smell of disinfectant harsh. Here she thought that the dinners, long-winding walks and impassioned discussions were adding up to something. Naïvely, she i
magined herself to be the protagonist in this story, the great love that Jay had been looking for all along. Nicole was supposed to be the other woman, the unfortunate diversion before he met the real thing. But Kate had been right about him.
Shame wracks her like a fever as she remembers how self-righteous she’d felt, how justified she’d thought she was in meddling with Nicole’s life that night.
Then, she recalls meeting Jay’s eyes after they played the prank. They were wild with the adrenaline of a man who had just pulled the trigger, excited at the chain reaction that had been set off. What kind of man would deliberately hurt the woman he had once loved, and still have sex with her after he had done it? Did the betrayal turn him on?
Her phone buzzes inside her coat.
I want to push you down, and make you scream.
Chapter 75
Freya
Twenty-two days after the murder
A slim, discreet black box tied with a red ribbon is delivered to her office.
‘Someone got lucky,’ the spectacled receptionist quips. Freya turns to see if Jay is watching her. Of course he is watching her. Ever since he returned to the office, he won’t stop emailing her and asking her to meet.
Freya goes to the quiet of her desk. She feels his gaze follow her. She tugs the ribbon loose, and unpeels the wrapping paper. Inside the cardboard box is a set of handcuffs, a velvet blindfold and something she can’t quite identify. She calls Virginie to her desk. ‘What are these?’
‘They’re nipple clamps, what else!’ she says, ‘Ooh la la, Freya, I like this new side of you. I’m glad you’re moving on from Jay and getting the attention you deserve.’
‘I . . .’ She pauses, and decides not to voice the thought pounding at the edge of her skull. ‘I’ve decided to experiment with my sexuality.’
‘Good for you!’ But she never ordered anything of the sort. There is no new boyfriend who has bought the gift for her. There was only a note that said, ‘You think you can stop us from being together, but you can’t’ attached to the box.
Then, another message on her cellphone: I’m standing outside the window of your office waiting to see your reaction. Hope you like them xx
She runs to the fire escape, her phone pressed hot against her cheek. She needs the privacy for this.
‘Detective Cohen? I’ve received a package at work now.’
‘OK. Who other than you has handled it?’
‘Just me and our receptionist.’
‘Don’t touch it again, I may be able to pull some prints. I’ll be at your office shortly to collect it.’
No place is safe. She now knows that the messages are coming from one anonymous man only, a man who knows where she works. When Detective Cohen arrives to collect the package she feel’s Ruth’s eyes on her.
‘Everything OK?’ she asks.
‘Yes,’ Freya says. ‘It is now. I’ve been having some trouble with harassment, but the police are looking into it.’
‘That’s good to hear. You really have had a rough time lately, haven’t you?’
Ruth is right. She’s being stalked by a stranger, and the place where she works is swimming with sharks. If Jay closing in on her wasn’t enough, Julian’s behavior has only got more odd. She needs help.
*
The Head of HR, Mathilda, has bright red hair and the constantly flushed cheeks of someone under relentless stress. This is further accentuated by the unlikely pop of neon pink lipstick. Her child-like voice and gentle demeanor make her seem on the verge of reaching across and hugging Freya, or bursting into tears.
‘I’m glad things are going better for you here. I heard that Nicole made your life a bit of a misery when you started a few months ago.’
It doesn’t seem right to harp on about that now. ‘Yes, I suppose she did.’ She still bears the scars – a raised heartbeat whenever she sees Nicole’s desk, a relentless number of mouth ulcers and a cynicism she didn’t have six months ago.
Mathilda plays with the Hello Kitty stress ball on her desk. ‘If anything like that happens again, please tell me, OK? Every person should feel comfortable here. This is so important to me.’
‘Well, there is actually something I came to speak to you about. I’ve been having some trouble . . .’
What if Mathilda judges her, and asks how she got in this situation? But it could work out for the best. Mathilda could have some solutions. If Detective Cohen is working on the outside and Mathilda from the inside, she may finally feel safe.
‘Go on. I’m here for you, Freya.’
A sigh of relief. ‘Gosh, this is so awkward. I sometimes feel as if Julian gets a bit too close for comfort? I love how friendly he is and I appreciate our management structure, but there have been a few occasions where I have felt uncomfortable.’
The atmosphere in the room changes. Mathilda’s eyes harden. ‘Julian? Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Listen, I don’t want this to be true as much as you do.’
‘Julian is a feminist. He fights for women’s rights! Explain to me a bit about what happened.’
It is embarrassing to say it out loud. She explains his hand travelling below her waist, and the lingering hugs. The unasked-for massage in the boardroom.
Mathilda leans forward and gives her a hug. ‘Freya, it has been such a hard time for you. From Nicole’s bullying, to her death, to Jay’s arrest. You have been working yourself to the bone as well. I honestly think your mind is playing tricks on you. He didn’t force himself on you, did he?’
‘I know what I felt . . .’
‘A sexual assault allegation is very serious, Freya.’
She feels terrible. This is not how the conversation was meant to go. ‘I just needed to tell someone . . .’
‘Nobody else has complained about this the entire time Atypical has been in operation, but these things do happen. I’ll make a formal note of it. Will you promise to report any more incidents directly to me, as soon as they happen?’
‘Yes . . .’
‘For now, go home and rest, Freya. Give yourself some time to recuperate. You are too hard on yourself.’
‘But—’
And with that, the door is shut. But her unease around Julian has not been resolved, Jay walks free in the office, the messages keep lighting up her phone, and she can feel Mathilda’s eyes watching her closely, carefully, as she packs up for the day and goes home.
Chapter 76
Isla
Twenty-three days after the murder
Everybody is innocent, everybody is guilty. Something has got to break through the cracks.
Freya has agreed to meet again. Her striking jacket detracts from the dark circles under her eyes.
‘Nice jacket.’
‘Thanks!’
‘I think I’ve seen you in something similar before?’
She fiddles with the sleeves. ‘It’s the same one. I had sewed some lace in here before, but then I had to pick it out after an incident with Nicole. That’s why there is some loose stitching still. The lace was ruined beyond repair.’
‘Well, it looks great on you, brings out the color of your eyes.’
‘Thank you.’
‘How are you feeling about the case?’
‘I don’t know what to believe anymore,’ she says, pouring various sauces over a large toasted burrito.
‘You’re still certain it wasn’t Jay?’
‘Yes, but some days I second-guess myself.’ She crosses her arms and hugs herself protectively. ‘You should have seen his face after we played that prank. He got off on it. But then my mind goes back to him lying in bed with me in the early hours of the next morning. It had to have been someone else.’
‘Like the person sending you those messages . . .’
‘He has been coming to my house, and now my office. The threats have got violent. Since I changed my number, I don’t think there’s a lot of men still responding to this advert; I think it is one man who is stalking me.’
‘Have you told the police?’
‘Yes,’ says Freya, between bites of her burrito, ‘I reported it to Detective Cohen, and gave him a package that was dropped off at my office. He’s hoping to pull some fingerprints off it.’
Isla touches her hair, self-consciously. ‘I know him. He’s one of the good guys.’
‘He’s been great, so helpful.’ She says it with a neutral expression, as if this is simply a fact. But Isla’s heart won’t stop pounding at the mention of his name.
Focus on the story. Could a murderer be summoned from the depths of the Internet and kill for no reason at all? Isla doesn’t mention the details she has seen in the case file, or the witness accounts of that night and Nicole’s laughter. The man Freya is describing sounds too strange to elicit that sort of reaction from Nicole, so late at night. She returns to the sequence of events, in order to make sense of things.
‘How do you think Jay managed to sleep with Nicole that night?’
Freya looks close to tears. ‘I have no idea. He came to find me at the office party, we drank together and he walked me home but dropped me around the corner, saying he had left something at the office, so he must have gone straight to Nicole’s then. Later on, he returned to mine.’
Isla thinks back to ten years before, to the shock of waking up, bruised and covered in her own blood, reaching desperately for lost time. She was a party girl then, she was used to getting blackout drunk. But the feeling after the attack was different. While it took a few months for all the memories to return, she was consumed with an animal-like agony and unnamed despair, the sense that something terrible had happened.
The Pact Page 23