Chapter Twelve
Ten minutes later, Paddy phoned. Aster rolled her eyes and pushed away from her keyboard.
‘Hello, you. What’s up?’
Aster could hear children’s music in the background and could imagine Paddy had grabbed a quick break whilst Eleanor and Alice were being entertained.
‘Really! You’re always the same. What’s up. No time to just chat, see how life is going.’
Aster laughed.
‘Has the sun started to rise in the west, Pads? You know I don’t do phone chats.’ She smiled, making sure there was no sting in her words, but she had work to do and no inclination to natter.
‘I was just thinking of you.’
‘Funny that, Nick texted me a few minutes back about counterfeit cloth.’
‘Typical Nick, always working. You and her are hewn from the same rock.’
‘You’re not exactly a slouch yourself.’
‘Have you ever wondered why that is?’
Aster said she hadn’t, introspection wasn’t something that she had much time for.
‘I think it’s because we watched Clem and Ari sacrificing everything and busting a gut every day to keep us together. I think it taught us to try to live up to them or repay them.’
Aster thought about it and could see no fault with the theory. Although she chaffed at the lack of free will.
‘I think I would have always been driven, even if Mum and Da hadn’t died.’
‘Maybe,’ suggested Paddy, ‘but look, I didn’t phone to talk about them. I phoned to see how you are?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Yes, of course you are. That’s what you said at Easter, when you practically ripped Ari’s head off. You’d be fine if your leg was hanging off. But I still thought I’d check. Because I can’t stop thinking about it, and I keep thinking about all those other girls.’
‘What other girls?’
‘The ones before you, the ones after you.’
‘No. I sent him a message telling him to stop, or I’d expose him.’
Paddy didn’t reply.
‘Hello, are you there?’
‘Yes, I’m-’ She paused, feeling uncomfortable. Had she missed something?
‘What is it?’
‘It’s just this isn’t like you,’ said Paddy slowly. ‘You told him not to do it again and you left it at that? Am I missing something? Are the police involved?’
‘Like they cared.’
‘No, but you do. You hate seeing crimes go unpunished. Especially against the vulnerable.’
‘But you told me to leave it. To let the police handle it. When they didn’t, I sent that piece of scum a warning e-mail. You said that was a good move.’
Now Aster fell silent. She had threatened him and he had stopped. And then she had blocked the incident out of her mind. Every time she thought of waking up alone and unaware she panicked and blocked the incident. Thinking of the man who had saved her, she freaked out. She had spent her time studying old masters and then had rushed up to Norfolk for Easter and the family meeting.
‘Aster?’
‘Yes?’
‘Are you okay? Only, I know I said the e-mail was a good idea. But honestly, I thought you’d do more.’
‘Like what?’ A thousand scenarios ran through her mind, each more violent than the last.
‘I don’t know. It’s just this sort of passivity doesn’t feel like you. Plus, you’re looking tired and you lost your temper with Ari and I wondered. Are you actually handling things?’
‘I-’ Aster coughed and cleared her throat. ‘I’m fine. At least,’ she paused before rushing on. ‘I think I’ve been avoiding the issue.’
‘Oh darling. That’s completely understandable. What happened was-’
‘What happened was nothing. To me, at least. But you are right. It happened to others as well and in trying to block this out I forgot that.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Right. I have work to do.’
‘Would you like me to-’
‘No. Genuinely, I am fine. Thank you. If it helps, that’s down to you. I was hiding and that’s not me.’
‘But Aster…’
‘No. Stop it. I know you mean well, but you’ve done enough, you’ve woken me up.’
‘But-’
Aster laughed. ‘Patricia Byrne, will you stop going on? I love you. How about I phone you for the next few days? Will that reassure you?’
‘Oh, yes. But if you fail to call even once, I’m on my way up. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Mum. Now go, I can hear the children squabbling.’
Sitting back down at her desk, Aster took a deep breath and gathered evidence. How could she have ignored all those other girls? In her desperation to bury this moment in her life, she had forgotten the real victims of Marcus Barrie. Good God, no wonder she hadn’t been sleeping. Her subconscious must have been screaming at her for weeks.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she cross-referenced names, addresses, and club locations. She mapped out all the late-night bars and clubs within a five-mile radius of Barrie’s known address, highlighting those with CCTV circuits she could tap into and those with records she could access. She built a timeline, compiling reports of drugged victims and matching them to nights and venues.
In the past three months alone, Barrie had drugged and walked out the door with at least ten women. Each victim’s account painted a chillingly similar picture: a night out with friends, a few drinks, and then darkness. The pattern was clear — Friday and Saturday nights, never the same venue two nights in a row. Though the sample size was too small to be definitive, it was obvious he was well-versed in his methods.
Aster’s concentration was absolute, her focus unbroken even as the hours ticked by. Her neck and back grew stiff from sitting in the same position, her head pounded, and her eyes felt gritty from staring at the screen. She barely noticed the time slipping away until a glance at the clock showed it was four a.m. Stretching her neck, she rubbed her temples and tried to ease the growing tension.
Getting up, she stretched, feeling her muscles protest from the long hours of inactivity. Aster yawned, the exhaustion hitting her in waves. Two hours ago, she had been running on empty; now she was running on fumes. She swore she would rest for just a few minutes, heading towards the sofa.
The sunlight poured in through the living room window and Aster blinked in dismay. For half a second, she had the familiar grip of panic that she had woken up somewhere strange. She could still remember the cold sweat, the disorientation, and the sheer terror of those moments. The fear had lingered, an undercurrent to her daily life, and she had spent all her energy in suppressing those memories.
Giving her head a shake, she went to pour a coffee and swore as she remembered she was out. Tapping in a quick delivery request, she went upstairs for a shower and then headed back downstairs. On her printer were the faces of ten women. Each image was before she was drugged and robbed of even her own natural expression. Here they were smiling, laughing, chatting to friends, dancing. Aster had no wish to look at them after they had been drugged. Like herself, they all wore the same slack face she was all too familiar with.
These ten women needed an answer to what had happened to them. And who knew how many others?
Heading back to the keyboard, she hunted them down across social media profiles and found the same story again and again. Gregarious girls went from posting regularly to a sudden absence of posts. She dug into employment records and found patterns of sickness, verbal warnings, poor performance. Students failed to complete assignments; one girl dropped out altogether. Aster couldn’t access police or medical records, but she hadn’t found any positive proof that any of them had reported the attack.
Over the course of the day, she had got to know the girls and had a sense of which girls might have tried to take things further. Finally, choosing one girl, she decided to go and talk to her before she took any further action against Barrie. She already had a plan in mind, but enacting it could involve placing people who were already traumatised into the public eye, and she didn’t wish to inflict any further harm.
As her coffee arrived, she all but snatched the pods from the delivery driver and five minutes later sighed in relief as she got her caffeine hit. As she sat back, she looked at those ten faces and wondered how many others were out there that she hadn’t found. The ones before her. Paddy’s words suddenly flashed across her mind. The ones before you, the ones after you . Would a man this relentless have really stopped? She had spent the following week checking the security footage of the club she had been at, but now she knew he was hunting in lots of venues.
Aster jumped up and almost stabbed at the keyboard, her fingers furiously racing as she widened her search to dates after she had sent him her warning. She expanded her surveillance to the other clubs and venues in a ten-mile radius of his home.
Two hours later, she spotted him. He was in a nightclub, nine miles from his home. He walked up to the bar and then Aster watched in horror as he leant against the bar and ordered a drink. As he waved his hand to summon the barkeeper’s attention, she saw the familiar movement of his left hand dropping something into a drink of a girl walking away from the bar. As gooseflesh crept over Aster’s skin, she watched as half an hour later he and the girl walked out of the club.
He hadn’t stopped.
Aster leapt up, howling, and flung her coffee across the room. As it smashed against the wall, she broke down into huge wracking sobs. The realisation hit her like a physical blow, driving the air from her lungs.
She moaned as the weight of her decision crashed down upon her. She had assumed that a simple threat from the mighty Aster would be enough. Now, because of her hesitation, her desire to put the whole thing behind her, more victims had fallen into his trap.
Aster's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging crescents into her palms. The pain was a welcome distraction from the tsunami of guilt threatening to drown her. She had failed. She, who prided herself on always being one step ahead, on protecting others, had allowed this predator to continue his hunt.
Her tears gave way to a cold, hard rage as she flung herself back into her seat. The time for half-measures was over.
‘Hey.’
‘You rang!’ said Paddy, smiling.
‘You said you’d come up to London if I didn’t. I believed you.’
‘Well, that’s a start. And how are you? Getting anywhere with the fabric?’
‘I’ve put that on hold. I need your advice and I don’t want you to talk to the others. Can you do that?’
‘Nick?’ The twins had no secrets, but Aster hoped that if she stressed the situation Paddy may keep this to herself.
‘None of them. I want your opinion.’
‘You want my opinion?’ She could hear the astonishment in Paddy’s voice. ‘Scratch that, you want anyone’s opinion?’
‘Paddy, I’m serious.’
‘Okay. I’m listening.’
Aster explained what she had discovered over the past twenty-four hours.
‘I thought I’d stopped him. Oh God. That’s not it. I hoped I’d stopped him. I didn’t follow up because I didn’t want to face what had happened to me.’
‘Oh, Aster. I wish I was with you.’
‘Me too. I’ve been such an idiot, I’ve behaved like a kid, but I have a plan.’
As Aster spelt it out, Paddy listened on in silence.
‘What do you think?’
‘I like it. But I think you’re right. You need to speak to the girls and warn them.’
‘What if they say no?’
‘You can’t help that. He has to be stopped. At least you are giving them a warning and maybe you can delete their footage. Are you able to do that?’
‘I am, but what about the other girls who I haven’t traced?’
‘That’s down to them and the police.’
‘And you really think this is okay?’
‘Aster, if you had suggested castrating him with a rusty blade and then shoving his balls down his throat until he choked to death, I would still think it was a good plan.’
Since becoming a mother, Paddy had become fierce. Aster laughed weakly.
‘Well, if plan A doesn’t work, I’ll consider that as a back-up. Now, I’ll call you again tomorrow. Do not come to London.’
‘I won’t, I’d only get in your way and you have work to do. If the others chase you for a fabric update, let me know. I’ll keep them off your back.’
‘I appreciate that.’
‘But I think there’s something else you have to do.’
‘Yes?’
‘You need to find the man that took you home. You’re giving those girls closure, but you need it as well.’
‘He didn’t hurt me.’
‘I know. I saw that. But it’s a time when you had no control. That must be eating you up. Find him, get some answers.’
Hanging up, Aster grabbed her coat and headed outdoors. She had not been hurt, others had, they were her priority, but she needed to step carefully. She had made the mistake of moving too slowly, she would not compound it by moving too quickly.
Whilst she moved things into place, she would work on the Hiverton muslin issue and with the approaching auction she could also focus on that. By the time she got back to the house she had three plans in place and by the following morning she had her first night’s peaceful sleep since the nightclub.