Chapter Seven
Luke
By the time I get to the elevator, the doors have closed, and Aurelia is on her way up.
I blow out a breath and take the stairs.
She’ll be fine now she’s in the building; we have cameras on every floor, and a policy that requires all visitors to sign in and wear a badge.
She’ll probably go straight up to her office on the second floor.
I exit on the ground floor and go to the security room at the back of the building.
As soon as I enter, I can feel the change in atmosphere.
The other six security officers currently in the room—two women and four men—watch me enter, and the expression on their faces reinforces the seriousness of the message that Rick told me about.
The department head, Ella Brown, is there too.
She’s in her fifties, tall, with gray hair pulled back in a bun.
She’s somewhat stern, with thirty years of security work under her belt, and she knows her stuff.
“Let’s see it,” I tell them. Rick hasn’t yet forwarded the message to my phone, so I wait for him to pull it up on his big computer.
Instead, Ella says, “Come with me, would you?” She walks away, toward her office.
I glance at Rick, who meets my eyes but doesn’t say anything, and then follow her.
“Close the door,” she says once we’re inside, and she gestures at the chair in front of her desk.
I sit, frowning. “What’s going on?”
“I think Rick told you we received a category A message?”
I nod. We categorize emails, texts, and any other messages via social media either A, B, or C.
Cs are standard and non-threatening, maybe a comment on a picture on Instagram, something that anyone else might say, like “Love the dress!” or “Beautiful day.” Category B messages are more personal, leaning toward suggestive, and often reflect a personal knowledge of the principal or her movements.
So something like “Saw you at the Kōrero offices this morning,” or “I prefer you in the red dress with the bow,” when it’s not featured in the photo.
Category A messages are considered threatening or intimate.
They include anything relating to something that nobody else could have known unless they’d seen her personally, implying he was present and close to her.
Anything about her personal features, her hair or figure.
A also includes anything threatening, although there haven’t been any of those yet.
“Yes,” I reply. “He actually said ‘A Plus’. I wasn’t sure what that meant, because he didn’t forward it to my phone.”
“No, I asked him not to. I don’t want this photo doing the rounds—not that I’m implying you’d forward it on, but…” She makes an impatient sound in the back of her throat. “You’ll understand when you see it.”
“How was it sent?”
“By text. The message said ‘Midnight Beauty.’” She taps on her laptop, then turns it around.
It’s a photo of Aurelia lying on her front on a bed.
The duvet is draped over her lower half, but she’s bare from the waist up.
Her arms are tucked beneath the pillow, and the curve of her breast is just visible.
Her glorious red curls spill out from her like flames licking at the pillow.
Her skin is milky white, although her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes are closed.
I look at Ella, who’s waiting for my reaction.
“Fuck,” I say.
She gives a humorless smile. “This kinda changes things, don’t you think?”
“Yeah…”
“We haven’t called the police yet, although I think we should. And we should inform the family, and discuss whether it’s time to tell Aurelia. Then we need to discuss increasing the security presence at her apartment. We’ll raise the protection level to amber, obviously.”
While she’s talking, I lean forward and pull the laptop toward me.
My heart is thudding hard and fast, but I force myself to focus on the details and look at the photo critically.
I deliberately avoid looking at her body.
I don’t think about someone being there, in the room, taking such an intimate photo of her while she sleeps.
Of what might have happened if he’d chosen to touch her.
Instead, I look at the bedding, the headboard, and the wall behind her. Eventually, Ella falls quiet.
“What have you seen?” she asks.
“I don’t think this is her bedroom.”
Ella’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out for a moment. She sits up slowly. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. You instructed me to check out her apartment before letting her in each evening, so I went in last night. Her bedding was lilac with purple flowers. This one’s navy.”
“She could have changed it since this was taken.”
“True, but her walls are light-pink. This one is blue. And her headboard is padded—this one’s made from wooden slats.”
Ella flops back in her chair. “I was so shocked at the escalation that I didn’t consider it wasn’t taken in her room. Christ, talk about rookie error. I haven’t had enough time to examine it. So… where was it taken?”
“It has blue walls and navy bedding. I know women can like the color blue, but she’s a girly girl—her living room is all pinks, purple, and oranges. The mood of this room is masculine.” I lean forward again. “What’s that on her wrist?”
“I assumed it was a bracelet.”
“Can you enlarge it?”
She pulls the laptop toward her and clicks her mouse a few times. I get up and walk around the desk to look over her shoulder.
She moves the photo to focus on Aurelia’s wrist. It shows a navy-and-white striped band.
I take the mouse from Ella and move the photo to the right, examining the pillow.
“What are you looking for?”
I’m starting to feel nauseous. “Gut feeling.” I follow the line of the pillow up, past her curls, then move the photo back to examine the top of the pillow. It takes me two goes, but eventually I stop and zoom in further.
There, at the top, is a very faint strip of striped material, barely visible when the photo is zoomed out.
Ella leans forward. “What is it?”
“I think it’s a man’s tie. It’s knotted around her wrist and slotted through one of the slats of the headboard. I’m guessing the other end is tied to her other wrist, but it’s out of shot.”
She stares at it. Then she looks at me. “This is a sex photo?”
I look at Aurelia’s flushed face, her limp form, and grit my teeth. “I think so, yeah.”
“Then how…”
“It means it wasn’t taken by someone creeping into her room at night.
I’m guessing Dominic took it.” A deep, dark rage builds inside me.
“Their lunch didn’t go well. I couldn’t hear all of it, but I think he wanted to get back together, and she refused.
He tried to physically restrain her at the end, and I…
” I scratch my forehead. “I manhandled him off her. Shit… did he send her this because of what I did? Am I to blame?”
“Stop,” she says, pointing her pen at me. “This is not your fault. For a start, I don’t think he sent it.”
My eyebrows rise. “What do you mean?”
“It didn’t come from his phone. Obviously, he could have any number of burner phones. But the message that came with the photo said ‘Midnight Beauty.’”
I try to calm my racing heart and force my brain to think. “The stalker often calls her Beauty.”
“Exactly. I think it’s from the same person who sent the rest of the messages. And we have no evidence to tie him to them.”
“So… how’d he get the photo?”
“He could have tapped into Dominic’s phone.
Maybe even today, at the restaurant, as it was sent shortly after you left.
Perhaps sending the photo was a veiled threat to both Aurelia and Dominic.
A comment about their relationship. Anyway, I don’t think we can leap to the conclusion that he sent it.
But we need to talk to him, find out if he took it at least.”
“I’ll do it.”
She lifts a brow. “Are you sure? This needs delicacy, Luke, not brute force.”
“I can be delicate.”
“I can’t actually think of anyone less delicate than you.”
“I want to talk to him,” I say firmly.
“He’ll probably be resentful after what happened today. He might not want to talk to you.”
“Let me try,” I ask her. “Please.”
She meets my eyes. Then she nods. “Okay. Hold on. Take a seat.” She taps into her laptop, then picks up her phone and dials.
After a few moments, she says, “I wonder whether I could speak to Mr. Blackthorne’s secretary, please.
” She waits for ten seconds, then continues, “Oh, hello. I’m just enquiring whether Mr. Blackthorne is in this afternoon?
Would he have ten minutes available for a client of mine?
He just wants to ask a quick question. Yes, that’ll be fine.
Mr. Grayson. Yes, he’ll be there. Thank you.
” She ends the call. “He’s got a space at 3:15 p.m.”
I check my watch. It’s nearly 2:15, so I have plenty of time to get there. “Great.”
“We’ll hold off on telling the police for now,” Ella says. “Once we have an idea whether Dominic was involved, I’ll submit a report.”
“Okay.” I get to my feet.
“Luke,” she says, and I glance over at her. “Technically, if all Dominic did was take the photo, he’s done nothing wrong.”
“He kept the photo after they broke up.”
“Yes… again, it’s technically not a crime. He might not even have remembered it was on his phone.”
“It’s unethical and violates her ongoing consent.”
“Morally, not legally.” She smiles. “But I appreciate your indignation. You’re a good lad.”
I snort. “I’m twenty-nine.”
“Even so. I’m glad you’re looking after her. We have to catch this guy.”
“And we will.” I speak firmly. “He’ll make a mistake eventually, and then we’ll have him.”
“I hope so. She’s a nice girl. I don’t like this.” She gestures at her laptop. “It’s nobody else’s business.”
“No.” I hesitate. “Can you forward it to my phone, though? I want to show Dominic and see his reaction.”
She frowns. “If he didn’t send it, I’m not sure of the ethics behind that.”