Chapter Nineteen
Luke
It’s a beautiful morning, although the growing clouds on the horizon suggest it might rain later. We have plenty of time yet, though, and so we walk close to the shoreline, the waves washing over our feet. The water is a lot warmer than it was earlier, heated by the sun as it crept up the sand.
Aurelia looks young and beautiful, her hair in its bun like heated copper filaments in the bright sunshine. I feel bad for reminding her about the events of last night, and do my best to distract her as we walk along the beach.
Rather than talk about the company or what’s been happening, I ask her about her favorite movies. I tease her because she likes romcoms, and she teases me for liking action thrillers, then we discover we both like historical movies, and spend a while debating our top ten.
We reach the end of the beach, turn, and start walking back, this time talking about travel and places we’ve been.
She’s visited Europe with her family, and loved Rome, Venice, and Madrid, while I’ve been all over Australia and the Middle East with the army.
I joke that she’s only seen the inside of five-star hotels and first-class cabins, and she gives me a playful shove.
I have no problem with her touching me, and just laugh. She looks across at me, the corner of her mouth quirking up. She’s wearing sunglasses, and I can’t see her beautiful green eyes.
“What?” I ask, as she continues to look at me.
“You don’t laugh enough,” she says. “It completely changes your face. You’re normally so stern.”
“I’m not stern. I’m usually concentrating, that’s all.”
“I hadn’t realized how you’re always on alert. You seem so relaxed now.”
I glance at the villa complex. “I’m still aware of where the security cameras are, and the best place to exit the beach. But I know he won’t have followed us here.”
She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, and I curse myself that I’ve reminded her about him again. But she says, “Did you learn all this in the army?”
“Some.”
“What job did you do?”
“I was a sniper.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I was trained in observation and situational awareness, threat assessment, and route planning. I learned to operate under pressure, and protect my teammates.” My lips twist, memories hovering like the clouds on the horizon. “Or not,” I mumble.
I wonder whether she’s going to press me for more details. She waits a moment, then says, “What about when you came out of the army?”
“I did a close protection course. In the army you protect a unit, but as a CPO you protect one person, and usually the threats are very different. I learned about VIP protection. How to protect principals in urban environments. Threat and risk assessment, that kind of thing. I did a couple of lower-risk jobs and shadowed a couple of experienced CPOs. Then Marcus approached me. He had Ella train me for a while in company procedures. She nearly failed me.”
Her jaw drops. “Why?”
“Because I walked half a pace too far behind the principal.”
“She failed you for that?”
“It meant I couldn’t reach them quickly enough.”
“What happened?”
“She made me do it again.”
“Wow. I’m guessing it’s a lot less glamorous than it sounds. Lots of hanging around.”
“And troublesome principals.”
She sighs. “I’m sorry I was such a hassle.”
“I’m teasing. Of all the billionaire princesses I’ve had to protect, you’re my favorite.”
She pushes me again. I’m beginning to like that.
“At least you haven’t had to leap in front of a bullet for me,” she says.
“Yeah. The army taught me how to spot danger. The close protection course taught me that people don’t always need someone to fight for them. Sometimes they just need someone to get them safely home.”
“Mm. What do you think is the most important thing you’ve learned, doing the job?”
It’s an interesting question, and I think about it for a moment. “That protecting someone also means respecting their choices, listening to them, and trusting them. I didn’t get that, at the beginning.”
We’re approaching the villa, and she lifts her sunglasses on top of her head and looks at me. “Glad I could teach you something,” she says cheekily.
“I just hope my next principal is a middle-aged accountant called Bruce.”
Aurelia laughs. “Bruce?”
“Yeah. He’s married. Has three kids. Is always home by six. Likes painting toy airplanes.” I gesture for her to climb the steps in front of me.
She snorts. “You’d be bored stiff.”
“Exactly. Sounds like the perfect job.” I grin as I unlock the sliding doors, and go to walk forward, then bump into her as she does the same.
“Ladies first,” she scolds.
“I told you that I always go into a room first.”
“God, you’re so bossy.”
“And you love it.” I cross into the kitchen. “I might have an early lunch.”
“Mr. Hollow Legs hungry again, is he?”
“I haven’t had any breakfast. It’s supposed to be the most important meal of the day.”
“That’s true, and I am hungry.”
We survey the contents of the fridge and decide on an egg and bacon sandwich.
Aurelia takes charge, and I let her, sensing that she wants to do something for me.
I lean on the counter and chat to her while she cooks, and then when she’s done, we take them out onto the deck with a cup of tea and sit and eat them, looking out over the ocean.
“I wonder how Ella’s doing with the police,” she says after a while.
“She’ll let us know if they find out anything.”
She sighs. “I have a job to do. And it’s really important right now, with the new division opening.”
“You can still hold interviews here by Zoom, if you wanted. You brought your laptop, didn’t you?”
“Yes… but what if he sees them? The interviews, I mean? And works out where I am?”
“You can hold them in a room with a plain background.” I frown. That’s addressing the symptom, not the cause. “Don’t be frightened,” I murmur. “He can’t get to you here.”
“But what if they can’t find him? I can’t stay here forever.”
“One step at a time. Try not to worry about it.” I know that’s impossible, though.
One thing Ella taught me that the close protection course didn’t mention was that men don’t understand how vulnerable women often feel.
Ella’s tall for a woman, maybe five-nine; she works out, and she knows how to handle herself, having worked in self-defense for many years.
But even so, she explained, her stomach still flips if she’s out alone at night and she thinks someone’s following her.
I hadn’t understood then that it’s not just about being afraid of a physical attack for women.
Stalkers prey on women’s insecurities. Being watched.
Being alone, and thinking someone is in their house.
She taught me that having someone go through your things can cause sheer terror, even if nothing is taken, because it’s personal and invasive.
The stalker didn’t just rifle through Aurelia’s clothes.
He chose the lacy teddy purposefully, because it was the kind of underwear a woman often wears for a partner.
The garter belt and stockings also suggest seduction and intimacy.
And as for the vibrator… Why did he pick that?
He obviously knows I check the place first. So, to humiliate her?
To make her feel vulnerable? Fucking bastard.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out and see Ella’s number. “This is her now,” I tell Aurelia, and answer it, “Hello?”
“It’s me,” Ella says. “I have the head of the police investigation here, and he would like to go over a few details with you both.”
“Yes, of course.” I put the phone on speaker and rest it between us.
“This is Detective Inspector Swinton,” Ella advises.
A male voice says, “Good afternoon.”
“Afternoon,” I say. “I’m Luke Grayson, the close protection officer, and this is Aurelia Ashford.”
“Hello,” she says.
“I’m from the Criminal Investigation Branch in Auckland,” Swinton tells us. “We’re investigating the break-in, and looking at the case as a whole. I’d just like to ask a few questions if that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Aurelia says clearly, “anything we can do to help.” She has switched into professional mode, reminding me she’s the company’s public relations representative.
Swinton runs briefly through the information Ella has given him. It’s nothing new to me, and I’ve already told Aurelia most of it, but I can see her posture change as he talks about the messages, photos, and gifts; her spine stiffens, her jaw knots, and her hands clench in her lap.
He asks some questions about the in-house investigations I’ve done, which mainly involved checking local florists, questioning delivery personnel, and analyzing and comparing the messages to look for any clues.
“You did good work,” he says. “Saved us a lot of time.”
I almost blush. “Thank you.”
“Can I ask you,” Swinton says, “what does your gut feeling tell you about this guy?”
“Male, white, mid-to-late twenties,” I reply. “He works in the security field, possibly ex-forces, like me. He’s smart, intense, and focused. But quiet, reserved, socially awkward. Maybe has trouble getting girls.”
“You’ve done work on criminal profiling?”
“No, sir, just what I’ve put together from the evidence.”
“I think you’re completely right on all accounts,” Swinton states. “Give us a day or two to work through the evidence, and see what emerges. We’ll keep in touch.”
“Okay,” I reply, “thank you.”
“Ms. Ashford, do you have any questions?”
“No,” she says. “Thank you.”
“Please, try not to worry,” he says. “I know the fact that he entered your apartment must feel incredibly intrusive and scary. But it revealed more than I’m guessing he expected, and I’m hopeful it will lead to a conviction.”
“Thank you,” she says.
We say goodbye, and I end the call.
Aurelia shivers. The sea breeze is growing, whipping the ocean into white horses.
I don’t want to talk about the case. I want to take her mind off it. “Let’s go inside,” I suggest. “Watch some TV or something.”