Chapter 17
Apart Together
“I’ve brought cream soda.”
A tall mug in either hand, Daniel stood in the workroom door as if he waited for permission to enter. Nico straightened and stretched. “Home-made?”
“Of course it’s home-made. Here. Cream, strawberry syrup, fluffy water.” He handed over a pint-sized mug and set the other on his own desk. “Is now a good time to come help you? Or shall I grab you something to eat first? I have warm sausage rolls with chilli jam.”
Nico’s face lit up. “That sounds fab.”
“Yeah, because you skipped lunch. You don’t have to imitate Jack in everything you do, you know?”
“I’m not imitating Jack. I was busy.”
“Okay, then. I’ll get your lunch, then you can show me what I can do.”
Nico didn’t know how that would go. The food would be epic, but Daniel didn’t like to poke around in people’s lives.
He read food blogs and watched cookery videos, and Nico didn’t want to spoil that for him.
Jack had warned him long ago that watching—even to keep others safe—would change the way he saw people.
Nico hadn’t understood that until he’d joined Jack in keeping an eye on their friends’ social media posts.
“Here.” A plate holding four sausage rolls landed in front of him and interrupted his musings. Daniel had added a handful of crisps, too, and a few strawberries.
“Thank you.” The sausage rolls were fab, and Nico missed Jack all over again. Jack loved Daniel’s spicy sausage rolls and often asked for them when he was working late. “Who’s making me imitate Jack now?”
“I thought it might help.”
“It’s making me miss him more. I’ve been fighting all morning not to text him.”
Daniel pulled up his chair and leaned against Nico’s shoulder. “I never noticed how often I text him, either.”
“I think it’s because we’re aware of the time difference. Either we’re asleep, or he is.”
“Hm. Now tell me what you’re doing?”
Nico set the plate aside and shuffled the pages on his desk.
“I’m trying to build up a picture of Mrs McTavish’s life and the people in it,” he said.
“First, I googled her name and read her LinkedIn page—she was a biochemist and environmental scientist. From LinkedIn, I got her jobs and a list of published papers. She was a member of various societies, too, and they have articles and photos. Then I did the same for her husband.” He pointed to another stack of notes.
“These are the names of people connected to her: co-authors of her papers, people mentioned in articles, or in the photos with her.”
Daniel’s glance swept the stacks of paper. “What if I put all your notes into a spreadsheet—the way we did for the database project? That way, you can see what you don’t know yet.”
“I should have thought of that,” Nico said, feeling like an idiot.
“Why? You’re more comfortable thinking on paper.”
“Truth.” And it was. He had a tablet to read on, but he bought far more paperbacks. And when it came to designing databases or escape routes, the first thing he reached for was a notepad.
“Besides.” Daniel gathered the notes and settled at his own desk. “Rachel called. I have the middle shift at the deli tomorrow. If I tidy your notes, I’m helping, but it won’t interrupt you.”
Nico recognised the tone Daniel used in the kitchen, the one he’d learned from Gareth. He had a plan that made sense to him, and now he was done talking and would go to work. Jack would find this funny. His hand twitched towards his phone… and stopped. Time difference. Damn it!
He raised his head, found Daniel’s eyes on his and returned the grin. “I’ll text him when we go to bed. Then he gets it when he wakes. And I’ll tell him you’re helping.”
The lunch rush was in full swing. The line of office workers in need of sandwiches, cakes, and salad boxes snaked almost out of the door. Daniel dived into the back to fetch another bowl of potato salad, then added a fresh tray of ready-made sandwiches to the depleted shelf.
“Pasta salad,” Rachel said between customers. “And olives.”
“Got it.” Daniel grabbed the empty bowls and went to refill them. At least the plates of sliced ham and roast beef were still more than half full. He hated having to slice meat in a hurry.
He was carrying in two dishes of olives when the back of his neck grew tight. Turning, he let his gaze quarter the room, but not a single person in the store paid him more than the usual attention.
His danger sense knew better.
Someone was watching him.
Daniel dropped the olive dishes into their empty slots on the counter and grabbed the next lot of empty bowls, lining them up on the worktable in the back. He shook from head to foot and ended up grabbing the table to steady himself.
Nothing will happen, he told himself over and over, trying to calm his racing heart and stuttering breath. I’m surrounded by people. Rachel is here. Nothing will happen.
“Daniel?”
Rachel’s voice pushed the panic aside. “Coming.” He topped up bowls and dishes and brought them outside, snatched the bottle of salad dressing and went back to refill that, too.
He gritted his teeth and hung on. Made coffee, sliced cake, bagged pastries.
Did it with a smile even though deep inside his mind, he was screaming.
After too long, the lunch rush wound down and Daniel slumped onto a stool. “I… I can’t go out there. Not again.” His words came in drips, as if he expected reprisals.
Rachel didn’t argue. “You haven’t said that in a long time, Daniel, honey. Do you know what spooked you?”
Daniel shook his head. “I feel as if… as if someone’s watching me. But when I check, there’s nobody there.”
“Do you want me to call Gareth?”
“No. He’s at work. I don’t want to distract him.”
“I’m sure he’d rather know if something bothers you.”
Rachel put an arm around his shoulders, and Daniel didn’t shrug her off. She’d always been the touchy kind, convinced he and Nico needed hugs.
“Gareth will come if you need him.”
“I know. I just—” He had no evidence, not even an illegal video like Nico had taken of Manville. All he had was… dread. “No.”
“You’re off camping, aren’t you?”
“Friday, yes. It’s Gareth’s birthday tomorrow.” And Jack was still in Japan.
“Then why don’t you go home now and take tomorrow off?
I’ll call you a taxi. Peter will get you tomorrow, so you have fresh ingredients for the birthday dinner.
Or you can text me, and I’ll pack it up for you.
” She lowered the phone she’d just lifted to her ear.
“You are having a birthday dinner, right?”
Daniel stared at her, mind whirling. “Of course, I’ll cook. But I can’t just run out on you. I said I’m going to help and—”
“Daniel, honey, you’ve been working your socks off here every weekend. You’re coming in every time I’m shorthanded. You can totally take a day off, okay?” She pulled him close, picked up her phone, and called a cab.
And Daniel was too shaken to argue.
The crunch of tyres on gravel drew Nico from his desk and down the stairs. Instead of the doorbell, keys turned in the lock, and then Daniel blew in as if he had someone on his tail.
Nico rushed to meet him, wrapped his arms around him, and held tight. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone was watching me. At the deli,” Daniel said. “I didn’t see who. Not a customer in the shop, I don’t think. But I knew.”
Nico believed him. Their radar for danger had stayed sharp, even living with Gareth and Jack. He let go just long enough to lock the front door and set the alarm. “How did you get home?”
“Rachel called a taxi for me, and I watched, but nobody followed.”
“That’s good. Come on. You’re shaking. You need a hot drink and then we’ll hide upstairs.
” He pushed Daniel towards the kitchen where—to Nico’s relief—Daniel switched on the kettle and reached for the tin of expensive Spanish hot chocolate.
He mixed their biggest mugs, heaping his own with extra sugar, then a crown of vanilla cream.
Over-the-top extravagant, but it soothed them both.
Safe in their workroom behind another locked door, Daniel slumped into his chair like a puppet with its strings cut. “That was… shit! I don’t need this.” He buried his face in his mug.
“Could it have been Manville?” Nico asked. “He lives just outside Richmond, I think. He could have been passing, and he would give you the creeps.”
“If it was him, I didn’t see him. Nobody looked familiar.” He took another sip of hot chocolate. “Rachel’s given me tomorrow off. Her husband will pick us up at lunchtime, so we can get stuff for Gareth’s birthday dinner.”
“I do like Rachel. She gets it, even if I don’t know how.”
“Yeah.” Daniel set his mug down and shook out his hands. “What have you been doing all day? More of Aidan’s job?”
“Yeah. I’m on her social media now. If you want to help, she had a Pinterest account.”
“Oh?” Daniel moved to his desk and booted up his laptop. “What’s her page?”
Nico grinned. They were both cagey with social media, using alias accounts Jack had set up for them.
They didn’t post, but Nico kept watch on their friends’ and schoolmates’ posts, and Daniel liked to browse Pinterest when he was tired.
Asking him to explore Margot McTavish’s account would be a soothing distraction.
He went back to his own search—and his own hot chocolate—when Daniel had settled into scrolling through the Pinterest feed.
Making note of every person who’d interacted with any of Mrs McTavish’s posts was tedious work, but now and then he found a name that wasn’t her husband or niece.
He was thinking about adding the names he already had to the spreadsheet Daniel had started at the weekend, when Daniel stirred.
“Nico…” Daniel’s voice was higher than Nico had ever heard it.
“What?”
“I’ve found something. I think it’s Mrs McTavish’s personal blog.”
“Really? I didn’t realise she had a blog.”
“She’s sharing it on her Pinterest feed. Some photos are the same as yours. But…”
“But what?”
“There’s one post here, and it’s… she’s talking about a twin sister.”