Authors: Elle Wynne
“No, but it’s really important,” I persist, looking at her and smiling. She doesn’t look impressed.
“I’m very sorry, but without an appointment I’m unable to let you see Mr. Reid,” she says in a singsong voice. She doesn’t look at all sorry.
“Can you please call him and tell him that Lauren needs to see him as a matter of urgency?” I try, a tiny note of desperation seeping into my voice. She shows no flicker of recognition at the mention of my name.
“No. Mr. Reid has explicitly asked not to be disturbed until his next meeting.” She turns to a pile of papers and begins to flick through them in an attempt to make me go away. Well, I’m sorry but that’s simply not going to happen. I take out my phone and try Sebastian’s mobile. To my dismay it goes straight to answer phone. I call his work number and the phone in front of me rings. Damn. Right, lets try again with Miss Bitch then.
“Look, I’m Sebastian’s girlfriend. I really need to speak to him. I’ve ran up fourteen flights of stairs and I’m not going anywhere until you’ve at least told him I’m here.”
She fixes me with an icy glare, a small smile forming on her lips.
“For future reference, we have a lift.” She lowers her voice and leans in conspiratorially, “But between us girls, I don’t think the exercise would have done you any harm.”
Sitting up straight she continues as if she hadn’t just made a supremely rude comment. “If you refuse to leave then I’ll have no other option than to call security.”
Her attitude renders me temporarily speechless, which for me is virtually unheard of. My mind desperately races for a way to try and convince her to help me. As I draw a blank, something strikes me. Why am I standing for this? I spend, or rather spent, the entire of my working life being assertive, cross-examining seasoned criminals until they cracked, so why am I putting up with this from her? I stand up straighter and fix her with a stare I normally reserve for lying witnesses.
“You have two choices,” I say carefully and deliberately, “One, you call Sebastian and tell him I’m here. If you do that, you’ll hear no more about this. Two, I walk in to his office right now and tell him how you’ve treated me. If that happens then I expect you and your copy of Heat which you’re reading whilst pretending to work will find yourself at the job centre tomorrow. Your choice.” I pause, tempted to leave it there. I don’t. “And in future, keep your delusions of adequacy to yourself.”
To my supreme satisfaction, the receptionist has gone rather pale and I’m about to give myself a mental pat on the back when I hear a low laugh coming from behind me. I swivel on my heels and could weep in relief when I realise that Sebastian is standing behind me. He steps past me to stand at the desk. In a voice that sounds wholly unfamiliar to me he addresses my tormentor.
“I think you need to apologise Carly,” he says, his voice laden with authority.
She scowls and narrows her eyes at me.
“Sorry,” she spits in a tone that indicates she is not at all apologetic.
I turn to walk away and Sebastian puts his hand gently on my shoulder.
“One moment Lauren,” he instructs before turning back to Carly. “Please collect your belongings and leave. You may return tomorrow when I have decided what your future at my company is.” Sebastian winks at me and strides to the nearby water cooler to grab me a drink.
Carly gasps and looks at me with an odd expression I can’t immediately place.
“I thought I recognised you. Aren’t you supposed to be in prison?” she hisses in a barely audible voice.
I step back, shocked at her the hatred in her voice and the reminder of my current status. Behind me is something large, solid and human.
“Out!” a loud voice booms.
I jump in fright. I turn to see who I’ve stepped on and why they are shouting at me then realise that it’s Sebastian. He looks very angry and is pointing at bitch face.
“You have one minute before security will be here to escort you out. After I’ve contacted your temp agency, please rest assured that no-one will employ you again.”
In a softer voice, he turns to me and puts his arm across my shoulders. “Come on Lauren, let’s go have a chat.”
I try not to laugh as I see Carly looking daggers at both of us. I give a cheery wave for good measure and we make our way across the room into Sebastian’s office.
We go through the large wooden door and he shuts the door behind me. “So, what do I owe this pleasure to?” he enquires, giving me a tight hug.
I look at him and desperately wonder where to start. He instantly recognises my distress and pulls me down onto the chaise longue.
“What’s the matter? If it’s Carly, then don’t worry, she’ll get a proper bollocking from the agency.”
“No, no, it’s not. Although she was a total bitch,” I add. “It’s Serena.”
“Oh, of course, you had the dress thing today didn’t you?” he remembers. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”
“You could say that!” I cry. “I found out that not only has she been shagging someone who isn’t her fiancé, it was her that set me up!”
At this, I burst into hopeless tears. It takes me a while to regain my composure and when I am eventually able to focus on Sebastian, his expression is unreadable.
“Tell me everything,” he says in a serious tone.
I do. I tell him about my suspicions, about the hen do, about Facebook, about the texts and finally about the cheque book.
“Ok, lets think laterally. Is there any other explanation? Maybe she found your cheque book and was trying to return it to you?” he suggests, running his hand through his hair whilst pacing up and down his office.
“No. She knew why I was arrested and the significance of it. She’d have mentioned it straightaway.” I exclaim. “She’s suddenly acting like she’s won the lottery too. It’s bloody obvious, isn’t it?”
Sebastian doesn’t make any assertion to the contrary and I know he’s struggling to think of another explanation for all of the circumstantial evidence.
“What about your signature? How could that have been forged?”
“Easily, it’s on every brief I’ve been on. Serena, or anyone in Chambers would have had no problem in getting hold of it.” I reply, the reality of the situation becoming instantly clear.
Sebastian picks up the cheque book and walks over to his desk. He rummages through the drawers and produces a pencil from an expensive looking tin.
“What are you doing?” I ask, “If I have to take that to the police then I don’t think you should graffiti on it!”
“Well we need proof before you do go to the police. They could say you have more than one cheque book Lauren.” He holds the book up to the light streaming in from the large window and flicks through the remaining cheques. After a moment of scrutiny, he stops, picks up the pencil and begins to scribble.
“Sebastian, I think that only works in movies...”
“Look!” he exclaims.
I rush over and see that using the pencil he has managed to shade in the imprint of the forged cheque that must have been written on the page prior to this one. I’m shaken as I’m immediately reminded of my time in the police station.
“And what do we have here?”
Sebastian opens a page near to the back of the book and I can see numerous attempts at my signature. Someone has used a fountain pen in an attempt to imitate my loopy writing. Maybe it was traced off a brief? Despite my exhilaration that perhaps the police might believe me now, I’m overwhelmed by a feeling of despair. I now have proof that someone, most likely Serena hates me enough to put me through this, see me get into a world of trouble, see me lose everything. Anyway, the police might not believe me. It is my cheque book, I still can’t prove anything.
“You need to go to the police now, Lauren,” says Sebastian, his green eyes fixed insistently on mine.
I know he’s right, but something still makes me want to believe that Serena couldn’t have done this.
“Why?” I ask, helplessly.
“Well, from what you’ve told me, it’s obvious. Rivers seduced her to get her on side and she was paid off for her role in getting Hobbs off. They were all in on it!” He pauses and places his hand gently on my shaking frame. “Don’t worry sweetheart, they’ll all get what’s coming to them. Come on, we’d better go; as you often tell me, you’re always suspicious of people who delay making a complaint!”
“No!” I protest at an extremely loud volume, “I need more proof. Just give me a little more time, ok? I have an idea.”
He looks at me with an understandable expression of concern.
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” I say in an attempt to reassure him.
I sit at his computer and open the now familiar Facebook page. It doesn’t take me long to set up a new profile in Serena’s name. I add a photograph of her from my phone for good measure and sit back to admire my handiwork.
“What on earth are you doing?” enquires Sebastian, leaning over my shoulder.
“You’ll see,” I mutter distractedly, concentrating on the task at hand. I’ve found Stephen Walker’s profile and click on the link to send him a private message. I type frantically:
‘Just checking to see you’re satisfied with your end of the deal. I hope you spend the money wisely. Enjoy!’
Without stopping to consider whether or not this is a good idea I press ‘send’ and log out.
Sebastian spins the chair around so I’m facing him.
“Was that a good idea?” he asks, with a concerned expression on his face. I put both arms around his waist and squeeze tight.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
Chapter Twenty One
Almost two weeks later, we jump in his car and make the journey back to the police station. I’m having real trouble breathing and am having vivid flashbacks to my hellish time in custody. Sebastian keeps giving me reassuring pats on my leg and I have to remind myself over and over that I’m going of my own free will and can leave accordingly.
We seem to arrive in record time and it takes every inch of willpower that I have to force me to leave the car and make my way to the main entrance. There are uniformed officers all around me and I grip Sebastian’s hand tightly. He squeezes back.
It’s been a tough thirteen days. I’ve spoken to Serena a few times, although understandably, I’ve been trying to avoid her at all costs. She wasn’t particularly happy about my quick exit from her dress fitting, but she’s obviously put that to the back of her mind and has been barking orders at me like a warped army general.
So far, I’ve been forced to chase up the printers to check her orders of service are going to arrive as scheduled and call the hairdresser she had originally booked and tell her that Serena no longer needs her services as she has found ‘A celebrity stylist that she simply has to use.’ The first stylist informed me that Serena would have to forfeit her deposit, but somehow I don’t think she is going to be bothered about a hundred pounds.
Sebastian thinks I’m crazy to still be doing her dirty work, but I have to think of the bigger picture. I can’t do anything to let Serena think I’m at all suspicious of her. I can’t risk her attempting to cover her tracks. The worst bit has been having to listen to her boasting about the huge volume of work she’s been getting. My work. The work I spent years building up my practice to get.
Cassie called me the other day to let me know that some of the solicitors who used to send me a lot of work were questioning the decision to suspend me. That really perked me up. She’s a really sweet girl and is still on tenterhooks waiting to find out if she is going to be made a permanent member of Chambers. Given the way they’ve treated me, I have to say I have mixed feelings on her behalf.
We walk into the foyer of the police station and stand behind a rather dubiously smelling man. I tap my foot as we wait to be seen, anxious to get this over and done with as soon as possible. When we finally do reach the counter, a surprisingly friendly uniformed lady greets me with a cheery smile.
“Hello. How can I help you today?” she enquires chirpily. For a moment I’m lost for words. Sebastian gently nudges me in the side with his elbow.
“My name is Lauren Chase. I’d like to see Detective Inspector Connelly please.” I finally manage. The officer looks at me curiously.
“And may I enquire what that would be about?”
“It’s about a matter in which he is the officer in charge of the case.” I say, trying to sound as authoritative as I can. I think it’s worked as the confusion in her face has cleared and her smile has returned.
“Ah, I see. And are you one of the lawyers in the case?”
Damn. I have no choice but to tell the truth. I take a deep breath and look her directly in the eyes. “Yes, and I’m also the Defendant.”
I have to say, I’m amazed at the speed DC Connelly appears. From the moment the desk officer makes a hushed phone call, it seems like mere seconds before he appears at our side.
“Miss Chase? I have to say this is very unusual,” he says, by way of greeting. He’s in a charcoal suit and sky blue shirt but appears slightly more stressed than last time.
“Trust me officer, I wouldn’t be here unless I absolutely had to be,” I reply. His expression changes and half a smile forms on his lips.
“So you’ve come to confess then! Finally seen sense?”
He’s serious. I give a humourless laugh.
“Not exactly. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
I’m escorted to a small, musty interview room just off the entrance reception. There are no windows and the door barely opens into the room before hitting one of the two chairs positioned around a wooden table. I think they are bolted to the floor. The door shuts behind me and I feel strangely alone without Sebastian by my side.
It’s crazy, before all of this happened I considered myself to be fiercely independent, totally self-assured and ready, willing and able to take on whatever life threw at me. How wrong I was.
I take a seat, placing my large handbag on the floor beside me. DC Connelly does not sit down. He is looking at me with a mixture of anticipation and confusion before speaking.
“As this meeting is rather unorthodox, I’m going to conduct it as an interview.” He leans across to a small shelf in the corner of the room and starts fiddling with some tapes and a machine. I remain silent and wait for him to start the recording. It hadn’t occurred to me that he would do this and I feel my stomach tie itself in knots at the formality of what is happening. It makes perfect sense that he is doing this, I mean, what if I actually had come to confess?