TICK TOCK RUN (Romantic Mystery Suspense) (8 page)

I bit my lip.  “Sorry.  Thoughtless.  Do you have a picture of him?”

Lee produced a small square of paper from his wallet, stood up and passed it to me. 

Pinching the edge, I stared long and hard at the matchbox-sized snapshot of his brother sitting behind a dark wooden desk. 

Lee leaned closer, his breath brushed against my hair.  “Does he look familiar?  I know it’s not a brilliant photo, but it fits in my wallet.”

“Well… no.”  I shook my head.  “He looks like a hundred other dark-haired guys.  I’ve certainly not dated him, and he’s not a patient at our dental practice.”

“Well, something links the two of you together.”

I handed him the photo, and he slid it back in his wallet.

“It’s not the clearest of photos.”  I stood still, eyes locked on Lee’s, wondering if we’d ever find a connection.  The kettle bubbled and I turned away.  “Why bother sending a puzzle in the email?” I muttered, walking the few strides into the kitchen to grab some mugs.  “And if it’s a deadline, then why make it so difficult to understand the countdown timer?  A digital clock would be easier.”

“Yes.  True.”

I stirred a couple of coffees. 

With fluent efficiency every ten minutes, we took turns moving the mouse to refresh the inbox page. 

It proved hard to think with a woolly head.  I slumped onto the sofa while Lee remained at the desk.  I would have preferred to have a few teeth pulled out without anaesthetic than deal with this nightmare situation.

“I need to know your secrets, Chelsea.  Think about something you’ve done, even if you don’t think it’s important.  It just might be.”

In the quiet house his voice rippled outwards.  It gave his words more impact and got me deep in thought.  From time to time I expressed my opinion in online forums.  I drank my fair share of booze on the weekends and had the odd drunken row.  Maybe I’d left rude comments on Facebook and not realised I’d offended someone.  “Was your brother a member of Facebook?  Friends Reunited?  Twitter?”

Lee shook his head then stared at me for a moment or two, stared as if he was unaware.  The intense gaze creeped me out.  I wondered if he was thinking about his brother, perhaps confusing saving my life with his.

He swivelled in the chair and looked away.  “Unless it’s random, you’ve both upset the same person.  I need to go through Daryl’s belongings again.  I’ve done nothing but search his home since Phillip gave me your note.  There must be something I’ve missed.  But it would help if I knew what to look for.”  He glanced over his shoulder.  “That’s where you come in.”

“What did he do outside of work?”

“Daryl liked football matches, enjoyed going out to bars, although he wasn’t a big drinker.  He preferred dark-haired women to blondes, girls with their heads screwed on the right way, not scatty ones or lazy layabouts.” 

I looked at the ceiling, searching for the answers along the hairline cracks I’d only just noticed. 

Lee played the keyboard like it deserved a beating, his fingers almost phantom drumsticks.  The furious tapping took my concentration away, and coupled with my head feeling like a hammer was tapping my skull from the inside, drowsiness crept in. 

Shutting my eyes, I curled up on the sofa and tried to bring guilty thoughts to the forefront.  I remembered ruining a pair of Jayne’s Jimmy Choos, but that was over a year ago - nothing to warrant this level of evil. 

I began to fast forward the last year of my life in my head.  Complaining customers, fallouts with friends, my parents’ cat dying...  Once I’d ruled out family and friends – it seemed ludicrous to even consider they’d issue me with a death threat – if that’s really what it was.  My thoughts turned to old boyfriends and the numerous people I’d dated.  A logical step seeing as the first message contained the word ‘slag.’ 

“My old boyfriend Shaun.”  I lurched forward.  “I dumped him on his birthday last year.”

Lee swivelled around in the chair.  “And...”

I thought about the circumstances.  “No.  It can’t be.  He’s been dating someone for a while now, and he’s never
off
with me when I see him around town.  Other old boyfriends?  Mark?  Jake?  Carl?  But why would something to do with the men I’ve dated be linked to your brother?”

Lee raised an eyebrow.  “Exactly how many exes are we talking here?”

“I lost count a long time ago,” I said, instantly regretting it. 

He looked at me, shocked, as though I were a hooker.  “I see.”

My cheeks warmed and I wagged my finger.  “Hey!  I like men, but please don’t think that I sleep with any old Tom, Dick or Harry.  I’ve got my standards.  Setting me up is kind of my friend Jayne’s hobby.”

“Interesting hobby,” he muttered.

“They weren’t all boyfriends.  I’ve been on a lot of dates, that’s all.  But, not this year, well, only when I’ve been pushed into it.” 

Lee looked relieved to hear I wasn’t the local bed-hopper.

I continued thinking.  “I just can’t remember things ever ending
too
badly.  It’s not like I cheated, or stood a man up at the altar.”  I had to think harder, dig deeper, pull at the roots.  “I’ve obviously done something terrible, so why don’t I know?”

“Neighbours?  Friends?  Family?” he suggested, trying to trigger my memory.  “Don’t rule anyone out unless you’re one hundred percent sure.  Do you go to a gym?  My brother did.”

“Call me unhealthy, but I don’t work out.  Well, not in a gym.”

“Colleagues?”

“Hmmm... maybe it’s someone from work.  I was promoted to head receptionist last year.”  I tapped my lips and thought.  I got on well enough with the other girls to go out for drinks.  “No.  Not them.”  Frustrated, I fiddled with a coaster.  It slipped through my fingers.

Hearing the soft thump as it hit the laminate floor must have sparked a new line of thought.  Lee walked over, picked up the coaster and handed it to me.  “Got any dodgy friends?  Done anything illegal?  I need you to be honest with me, Chelsea.  If you tell me everything, I might spot a connection to Daryl.”

“Erm,” I said, flummoxed by the intense lock Lee’s eyes had on mine. 

He clamped his lips together as though he’d picked up on something but didn’t want to say.

I averted my gaze.  “I don’t dabble in drugs if that’s what you’re getting at.” 

Lee returned to the computer.  He rattled his fingers on the keyboard as if giving me a Morse code message to be honest.  “This isn’t going well,” he muttered.

I folded my arms.  “I’m stumped.  Look, I’m no angel, but I’m not the devil either.  Surely it should be obvious if I’ve done something wrong?  I don’t walk round in a little bubble not caring about what I say to people.  What the hell is all this about?” 

Eventually, after biting my lip until it stung, I came to a conclusion.  I chucked the coaster onto the table.  “They’ve got me mixed up with some other Chelsea Denham.  Did your brother know anyone else named Chelsea?”

He shook his head several times.  “I’m sure there aren’t that many Chelsea Denham’s round here.  Nice name by the way.”  The keyboard rattled again. 

The computer kept Lee’s eyes off me for a moment, although I expected if I looked in them I’d see what he saw – my death sentence. 

“We’ve missed something,” he said.  “Some clue in the emails.  There has to be a way of finding out who’s doing this.”

“I remember the phrase from my first message, if that helps.  It said,
‘People have to pay for what they’ve done.’ 
Just the same as your brother’s.”

Lee glanced at me.  His eyebrows had a puzzled tilt.  “People?   Erm.  I wonder.  Maybe there are more targets besides you and Daryl.”

What I saw as horror, Lee seemed to take for a challenge.  He studied the email for the tenth, maybe twentieth time.  “I’m gonna work out who’s doing this if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

I grew tired, couldn’t think.  Getting my head around a death threat was, of course, new to me. 

Lee swivelled with agitation on the seat, and banged on the desk with his fist at intervals while analysing the emails. 

“Can’t we reply?” I suggested.  “Tell them they’ve got the wrong person, just in case?”

“We could.”

“Worth a shot, isn’t it?  No point panicking and phoning the police if it’s not actually me they want.”

“Sure,” he said, fingers tapping the keyboard.  “Who in the hell is this?  You’ve got me confused with someone else…  I’ll send something along those lines.”  He stopped typing for a moment.  “In fact.  No.  I’ll throw a few comments in to rile them up, pretend you know who it is.  It might prompt a response and enlighten us.”

“Great, but fingers crossed it’s not actually me they want.”

“I think you’ll need to cross more than your fingers.  Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to set this up, so I doubt they’d accidentally target the wrong person.”

I shut my eyes, massaged my forehead and forced my weary brain to drift deep in thought. 
The answer must be in my head.

CHAPTER 6

A
loud bang startled me awake.  I jerked forward on the couch.  Jeez!  I couldn’t believe I’d fallen asleep.  A cool draft of air threaded through the house and I rubbed my arms to warm up.  When I looked at my computer desk, reality plunged the dagger of worry back into me.  The black swivel chair sat empty.  “Lee?”

No answer.  He must have left. 

After all, who in their right mind would choose to befriend a girl with a death threat looming over her?  I almost felt diseased.

I got to my feet.  The computer was off.  Perhaps Lee’s way of stating that I hadn’t received a new message, yet.  I checked the desk for a note.  Nothing. 

While gnawing the inside of my lip, I spun around in the room unsure of what to do next.

Being alone in my quiet house, feeling angry and helpless, well, I hated it.  I grabbed my car keys and drove to Laura’s.  After turning onto her driveway, I cut the engine but remained in my seat.  While looking in the mirror to tidy my hair, I wondered what I would say. 
Do I really want to drag Laura into this mess when I don’t even know what it’s about?
  It would certainly slap a huge dampener on her wedding week.  Helping her to start afresh had been the only thing I cared about all year.  Her wedding day was supposed to put us both on a new road to happiness, a golden one.

A dim light filtered through Laura’s lounge curtains.  I dragged myself out of my car and knocked on the front door, intent on keeping my mouth shut about the mess I was in.  I planned to drive back home at first light, check my emails, then contact the police.  If I phoned them now, I’d have to tell Laura what was going on. 

A few seconds later, the door opened.

“Glad you came back.”  Laura grinned then hugged me in the doorway.  “You’re shaking.  Come in and warm up.”

A familiar female voice drifted from the lounge.  “Who is it, Laura?”

I walked through, stepped onto the plush cream carpet and forced myself to find a smile for Emma. 

“Are you okay?”  Emma placed her glass of bubbly on the coffee table and studied my face.  “You look a bit troubled, and well... rough!”

“I’m fine.  I dozed off.  Just woken up.”  I patted and smoothed my hair, wondering for how long I’d need to smile to convince her I was okay.  “I don’t look that bad, do I?”

“I’ll get you a drink.”  Laura left the room.