Chapter 17
NOW
Late August
Wednesday
I turned the key and the engine fell silent.
The interior light flicked on instantly.
I cursed as I lurched forward, my hand flying up to the roof, my fingers fumbling for the switch. Finally, darkness dropped back around me.
I froze, my heart pounding as I stared through the windscreen.
Had anyone seen that?
The yard beyond remained still. No lights flicking on at the house. Just the low outline of the stables and farmhouse in the dim moonlight.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Seconds stretched, until finally my shoulders dropped and I exhaled slowly.
I should have thought about the automatic light.
I’d been so careful. Turning the headlights off and pulling off the road early; tucking the car into the verge where it was hidden from view.
I hadn’t seen another car since I left Swanage.
Not that that was surprising after midnight, not out here. But still. It was better to be careful.
I sat there a moment longer, letting my breathing settle, trying to calm the jitter running through my body.
I reached for the door handle and tugged gently. I pushed the door open slowly and slipped out.
The cool night air seeped through my black hoodie, hints of September approaching. I eased the door shut behind me, wincing slightly as it clicked into place. The noise was too loud out here in the stillness.
I turned and started walking towards the fence line. Each footstep tentative and slow on the uneven ground beneath me.
A sharp cry stilled the air.
I flinched. My eyes darted towards the sound, but nothing moved.
‘A fox,’ I whispered beneath my breath. ‘It’s just a fox.’
But that thought didn’t settle me. This wasn’t me – sneaking around in the dark, trespassing. Breaking in.
I swallowed. It wasn’t too late to turn back.
I didn’t move.
Going back now meant accepting that nothing would be resolved. No answers. No clarity. Somehow that felt worse than being out here in the darkness.
Staying close to the hedgerow, I picked up my pace. I reached the fence, hesitating momentarily, before reaching for the top rail and hauling myself up. The wood chafed against my palms, rough and splintered.
Stay where you belong. Where you can cope.
I shook my head, refusing to let Janine derail my plans now.
I swung my leg over the fence and dropped to the other side, stumbling slightly. Straightening up, I nodded. There. I could do this.
I started moving again. This wasn’t the time to dawdle. I was on their property. The stakes felt higher. The sooner I did what I came for, the sooner I could leave.
Giving the house a wide berth to avoid the sensor for the security light, I crossed the yard towards the stables. I reached the building, and moved close to the wall, listening.
Faint rustling came from inside. The sound was familiar, just the horses moving in their stalls.
I edged along the wall until I reached a small window. I curled my fingers around the edge of the frame, squeezing them into the gap, smiling slightly despite the pain.
I’d noticed it before. It had never shut properly. The warped frame stuck, preventing the latch from fully catching unless you forced it.
I’d mentioned it to Ryan.
‘Yeah, I know. I’ll get to it.’
He never did. There was always something more important. More pressing.
I gave the frame a tug. Nothing happened. With a grunt, I tried again. This time it creaked softly, rebelling against the unaccustomed movement as it shifted.
I froze. The creak had only been quiet, surely no one would have heard it?
I waited.
Nothing.
Resting my hands on the base of the window frame, I pulled myself up awkwardly, the window resting on my back as I scrambled one leg through the gap.
The smell hit me before I was even fully inside. Horses. Manure. I wrinkled my nose. I certainly hadn’t missed that in the time since I left here.
I shimmied through the window frame, and dropped to my feet in the tack room. My gaze shifted to the open door, leading to the main aisle. I crept towards it, soft snorts and gentle thuds of hooves becoming clearer.
Exhaling slowly, I edged past the long row of stalls lining each side, praying the horses wouldn’t object to my presence.
The office door ahead was slightly ajar. I pushed it carefully, the slow whine of the rusted hinges making my breath catch. As soon as the gap was wide enough, I squeezed through it.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and turned on the torch, keeping the light angled low. Even the dim light was enough to illuminate the mess that lay before me.
Papers sprawled across the desk, folders stacked precariously, the keyboard buried beneath handwritten notes.
My jaw tightened. I’d worked so hard to organise this. Introduce a filing system. Order. But they’d never appreciated it, never accepted it, because it had come from me.
I snorted softly. Then again, maybe it was a good thing. The chaos. The carelessness. It meant my presence would go unnoticed. When nothing had a place, how would they notice if I didn’t return it there?
Moving quietly, I stepped further into the room and slid into the chair. It creaked beneath me as I reached for the mouse.
The screen flickered to life immediately. A log-in box appeared.
I held my breath as I typed Ryan’s birthday. I hit enter.
The screen paused.
My stomach tightened. Had they changed it?
Then, before I could think of another number to try, it unlocked.
Pulling a USB drive from my other pocket, I inserted it into the computer. I flicked to Windows Explorer. Folders filled the screen. Accounts. Customers. Invoices. Payroll. Vet records.
My fingers moved quickly, highlighting everything, selecting ‘copy’ and pasting it onto the USB drive.
The transfer bar appeared, edging slowly across the pop-up box.
Too slowly.
‘Come on,’ I whispered, glancing towards the door.
I let out an impatient sigh and busied myself examining the papers on the desk, flicking through files, squinting at the illegible scrawled notes.
I pushed the chair back and turned to the filing cabinet.
The top drawer clunked and creaked as I eased it open.
I ran my fingers over the edges of the files, until they paused on the one I was searching for.
Vet.
I tugged it out, lay it open on the desk and reached for my phone.
I didn’t have time to study everything here.
I opened the camera app, cursing as it automatically shut off the torch, and snapped a photo of the first page, the flash lighting up the room again.
I flicked the page and took another photo.
Glancing at the transfer bar, still only at forty-five per cent, I carried on. Turn, click, turn, click.
Once every page had been photographed, I slid the file back and pushed the drawer closed.
I glanced at the screen.
Seventy-eight per cent.
I puffed out my cheeks, turned the torch back on and resumed shuffling through the papers on the desk. It wasn’t as though I expected to find a record of what had been in the mysterious envelope, but part of me still hoped I might…
A faint glow shone through the window.
I froze.
The security light outside the house had turned on.
My head snapped towards the window. A figure was approaching the stables from the house.