Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EMMA
I sent a message to Gracie, telling her I quit my job, and asking if it was okay to stay a little longer on her sofa. I knew she’d be fine about it, but I needed to make her aware of what was going on. She didn’t text back right away like she normally did, but I figured she was busy at work. She’d reply when she had the chance.
I didn’t have a key to her apartment. Walking to her office was out of the question, too. It was about twenty miles away and in the middle of nowhere. The last place I wanted to go was my own house, after what’d happened. So, I decided I’d find a warm coffee shop to hide in until I could figure something out.
And then I remembered Alex Kingston, and my two o’clock appointment.
Good morning, Mr Kingston. I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have cancel our appointment today. Regards, Emma Belmont.
Instantly, the three dots danced to show he was responding.
Emma, that’s an awfully formal message. You know you can call me Alex. Can I ask why you have to cancel?
I debated making something up to save my bruised ego and protect my pride, which was taking an almighty battering right now.
After umming and ahhing over my reply, I went with honesty.
I no longer work for the Merivale Echo, so I wouldn’t be able to write the article for you. I can recommend someone to speak to if you’re still interested in pursuing the story.
It was starting to rain, so I huddled in the doorway of an old furniture shop that’d closed down years ago and failed to reopen. Posters discoloured by the sun were still stuck in the window, advertising a sale with seventy five percent off. I felt about as empty as this shop as I shivered in the cold. Then my phone chimed with a new message.
That happened quickly. Where do you work now?
Again, I thought about making up some bullshit story about leaving for a better opportunity. But what was the point? He’d find out the truth soon enough.
I had a few issues with the management, and I quit. I’ll take the time in between jobs to rethink my career plan.
His response came instantly.
That doesn’t surprise me. Your boss is an ass, and you have integrity. I’d still like to keep our appointment, though. Maybe I could help with your career plan?
I really didn’t want to meet anyone today, especially Alex Kingston.
The rain was coming stronger now, lashing down as I took refuge under a useless canopy that provided no shelter. My hair was wet and plastered to my head. Not a good look. I knew my mascara was probably running down my face, making me look like a panda, and a crazy one at that. And that was before I’d factored in my spiralling mental health and impending breakdown. I was not in a fit state to see anyone.
I appreciate the offer. Thank you. But I won’t be able to attend.
I thought my reply was pretty clear. That he’d leave it at that and move on.
But he didn’t.
Where are you?
I wasn’t about to tell him that I was sheltering from the rain in a filthy doorway, trying to work out how many coffee shops I’d need to visit in order to jump from one to another to stay warm and out of the wind and rain for the next five or six hours.
But he wasn’t giving up.
Tell me where you are, and I’ll come and get you.
I had to shut this down.
Honestly, I’m fine. Good luck with the article.
But it wasn’t enough.
Stay where you are. I’m on my way.
I huffed in frustration and put my phone back into my bag. Then I started walking, keeping my head down so the rain wouldn’t get in my eyes. I kept a steady pace, striding down the street, dodging the people coming towards me as they walked past with purpose. They had somewhere to be. I didn’t.
After about ten minutes of walking, I remembered the nearest coffee shop was down a side street ahead of me, and I turned down that street, ready to head inside and find some solace in my day from hell. But when I approached the building, I saw it was empty. I don’t know why I rattled the door, but it was locked. The sign on the door said closed, and inside, it looked as if they’d closed down for good. I cupped my hands against the dirty glass to peer inside. The tables had no chairs, the counter was bare, and there were piles of letters and leaflets on the other side of the door. No one had been here for a long time.
“Fuck. Why is everything closed down?” I muttered to myself, banging my fist on the glass to nobody in particular. But I knew why they were closed. There was a cost of living crisis going on, and businesses were suffering. We all were. Empty shops in a town like this wasn’t uncommon these days. If S.K.A.M. were here, he’d make a poem out of this. Then probably gouge my eyes out for working for Mr Gold and enabling the patriarchy for so long.
Just then, I heard tyres screech and turned to see a black Bentley pull into the little street I was on and come to a halt beside me.
I stood still, frozen to the spot as I stared at the car. And when the driver’s door opened and Alex Kingston got out, my jaw dropped to the floor.
“What the fuck, Emma,” he said, charging over to me as he took his suit jacket off. “You’re fucking soaked. Here. Put this on.” He draped his jacket on my shoulders and put his arm around me, rubbing the top of my arm like he was trying to warm me up. “You’re shivering. Come on. Get in the car.”
I didn’t know what to say at first. I was paralysed and stunned into silence. But I managed to pick my jaw off the floor, and ask, “How did you find me?”
“Can you get in the car first and then we can talk?” He was starting to get wet himself, the rain leaving fat, wet splodges on his crisp, white shirt. “Please?” he added, pulling me towards the passenger side of the car.
I wanted to escape the cold rain, but I didn’t want to get into the car.
“I’m heading home,” I told him. “I don’t need a lift. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Look how wet you are. And you’re shivering. Please, just get in and I can take you wherever you need to go.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” I said. Then I peered at him, flashes of the murder scene I’d witnessed that morning scorching my brain, making me feel sick with fear. “How do I know I can trust you?” I asked, because at that moment, I didn’t know who the hell this man was. Not really. For all I knew, he could be S.K.A.M.
“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” he replied, looking startled and a little hurt.
He’d just shown up out of nowhere and tracked me down with whatever illegal means he had at his disposal, so in all honesty, I couldn’t say that I did.
“I don’t know you,” I stated. “And I’m not in the habit of getting into cars with strangers.”
Or psycho killers, for that matter.
“I’m not a stranger. You know who I am. But here,” he said, taking his watch off his wrist and handing it to me. “It’s a Patek Philippe. Worth a shitload of money. But you can hold onto it because I trust you. Do you think you can trust me enough to get in the car?”
Despite my reservations, I took hold of it, and the metal that’d been on his wrist warmed my freezing cold hands.
“I’d prefer a knife or a gun,” I replied, staring down at it.
“Why the hell would you need either of those? What do you think I’m going to do?”
“I don’t know.” I handed him the watch, and he sighed, reluctantly taking it back. “I don’t want your watch, Alex. Trust isn’t something you can buy.”
“I’m aware of that,” he said, his jaw clenching. “But I’m at a loss and I don’t know how else to get you to listen to me.”
At that moment, another car came down the road and stopped behind where Alex had parked. The street was narrow, and the car couldn’t get past, so the driver began to sound his horn.
“Emma, please,” Alex whispered, “Just get in the car. I’m not gonna hurt you. I can see you’re upset, and I want to help you.” He stood still, watching me, ignoring the other car as he waited for me to respond.
The other driver, waiting to move down the street, was holding his hand on his car horn, so it blared continuously as we stood there.
“I can call an uber,” I stated, and he threw his head back and groaned.
“Like fuck you will. I’m not leaving you here to get into an Uber. Not when you’re like this.” He took a deep breath, and in a softer voice, he added, “You’re gonna catch your death out here. I’m worried about you, Emma. Please, just get in the car and let me take you somewhere safe and warm.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” I replied. “I can look after myself. I don’t need you to take me anywhere.”
He growled, gritting his teeth as he hissed, “I am seconds away from throwing you over my shoulder and bundling you into my damn car, whether you like it or not. Either that, or we’re both gonna be stuck here in the rain all day arguing. Because I’m not leaving you. I’m going nowhere.”
Another car pulled up behind the one blaring his horn, and the driver stuck his head out of his window, shouting, “What’s the hold up, mate?”
Alex ignored them both and stared at me, waiting.
And that’s when I saw him.
Standing a short distance down the street on the opposite side to us, leaning against a wall.
He was wearing a dark hoody that was pulled low to hide his face. And when he saw that I’d noticed him, he put his hands together in the shape of a heart.
It was him.
It had to be.
Who else would make that symbol?
Fucking S.K.A.M.
Panic took over and I started to pant as I felt the street closing in around me.
He was here.
I wasn’t safe.
He’d found me.
Seeing that I’d started to hyperventilate right in front of him, Alex took my face in his hands, and pleaded with me to, “Calm the fuck down, Emma. Just breathe. You’re okay. I promise. I’m right here.” And he started to pant with me, to try and help.
I stared into his eyes as his breaths matched mine. Right now, he was the anchor that was preventing me from falling off the edge of the world into total and utter oblivion.
He’d appeared out of nowhere, like a saviour in a Bentley, wearing a designer suit.
And he could get me out of here.
I needed to get out of here.
“Fine. I’ll get in the car,” I gasped, still struggling to breathe, and he pressed his forehead against mine.
“Thank fuck for that,” he said in exasperated relief.
He let his hands fall away and turned to open the passenger door. Fearfully, I glanced down the street, but S.K.A.M. wasn’t there now. My nerves were still shredded, though. My skin crawling like a million insects were trying to burrow under it as I climbed into Alex’s car. And when he closed the door, those insects fell away.
S.K.A.M. couldn’t get to me now.
Not here.
I was safe.
The warmth of Alex’s car made me realise how cold I’d actually been, and I pulled his jacket closer around me, taking a deep breath as his expensive aftershave filled the air.
He opened the driver’s door and climbed in, turning to look at me as I stared straight ahead.
“I’m sorry I’m ruining your car seat. The leather’s getting wet,” I said, still shaking, despite the heated comfort.
He didn’t reply right away, just put his seatbelt on slowly. He wasn’t rushing himself to drive off, despite the honking horns that were blaring.
Eventually, he put the car into gear and replied, “I don’t care. It’s just a car, Emma. It doesn’t matter. What’s important is getting you off the street to somewhere warm and dry so you don’t get ill.”
I nodded, wringing my hands in my lap.
“Where do you want me to take you?” he asked, and I don’t know why, but I burst into tears.
“I don’t know. I don’t have anywhere to go,” I sobbed, and he reached over to place his hand on my knee.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispered as he drove us away. “You can come back to mine for a while. We can sort something out.”
I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, hating that I’d let everything get on top of me. I didn’t want to cry. That wasn’t who I was. But I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t go to Gracie’s. I felt like such a fucking failure.
“How did you find me?” I sniffed, asking the question he’d avoided when he first arrived.
He gave a heavy sigh, put both hands back on the steering wheel, and let his head fall back onto the headrest. “I might’ve pulled in a favour with someone I know in a certain mobile phone company. I asked him to track where your phone was.” He turned then to give me a fleeting glance before focusing forward and grimacing. “In my defence, I was worried about you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“You know that could be classed as stalking?” I replied, digging through my handbag for a tissue.
“Is it stalking if it’s for your own good?”