The Silent Ones: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller(67)

Yet I worked so many hours on the damn thing, I’ve committed most of the details to memory, and I have a notepad at home full of pencilled scrawls, including costings.

Tom has always scoffed at my preference for a pad and pen when it comes to recording information, but this time it’s proved its worth against fallible technology.

Despite everything I said to Beth earlier, I reach for my phone and open up the business emails, just to see if there’s any more updates about the Van Dyke clothing that’s due to be delivered soon.

I gasp out loud when the screen loads.

I can see immediately that the densely packed main inbox I viewed earlier is now virtually empty, just a few unopened spam-type messages left in there.

Like most people, I don’t maintain the housekeeping I should on my emails. I mostly just open them and then leave them in the inbox, apart from the odd few I might delete upon reading, so there should be at least eighteen months’ worth in there.

I know I promised Beth I wouldn’t meddle, but it’s a bit much for her to actually go ahead and make the decision to delete everything. So far as I remember, she’s quite a nervous IT user, and I can’t quite believe she’s had the confidence to do that.

More likely is the possibility that it’s some kind of virus that has wiped the communications.

I feel sick. All my suppliers’ contacts were on there, and thanks to Chloe’s staggering negligence, we have no back-up files. Surely Beth realises that? She’s the one who uncovered it, after all.

A sinking feeling in my abdomen drowns the sparks of hope I had that the final stages of the Van Dyke contract might have progressed.

My finger is sliding across the screen to close the email window when a lifeline comes to mind. About a year ago, I deleted an important email by mistake. I panicked and Tom came to the rescue, showing me how easily it could be reinstated via the digital trash bin.

I hardly dare to hope. But if Beth has somehow deleted this stuff by mistake, she might be worried sick about telling me for fear of adding to my problems.

A few simple clicks and I might be able to help her out. Help myself out.

I open the trash box and immediately breathe a sigh of relief. It is full to the brim with emails, including, as far as I can see, all the ones I saw there yesterday.

I’m finding it increasingly hard to focus with everything that’s happening with Maddy, and I don’t want to make a mistake transferring all the messages back, so I decide to text Tom and ask him to sort it out.

But before I can do so, a particular email catches my eye. It’s new and from Fenna at Van Dyke clothing. The subject line reads: Confirmation, which sounds like everything is going to plan. I open the email and read the contents.

Dear Juliet,





* * *



I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been forced to close InsideOut4Kids. I had no idea about the troubles with your daughter but I appreciate your honesty in letting us know that you’re unable to fulfil the contract.





* * *



I wanted to let you know that we have been lucky enough to secure our clothing requirements for the next thirty-six months from another quality supplier, so your worries that you have somehow let us down are unfounded.





* * *



Everyone at Van Dyke’s wishes you the very best in what must be a difficult situation.





* * *



It has been a pleasure working with you.





* * *



Kind regards,

Fenna Jansen

Head of European Sales





I clutch my throat and sit back. Read the email again and think through what its crazy contents mean.

Obviously I haven’t contacted Fenna and told her I’ve had to close the business, so who the hell has?

Then I remember the phone hacking scandal of a few years ago, and it becomes obvious. Some journalists will stop at nothing to get their story, and the press are very interested in Maddy and Brianna at the moment. Someone must have hacked into our email system and meddled with the suppliers’ communications to cause more excitement around the case.

I snatch up my phone again. It’s imperative Beth is made aware of this before she sends out any more sensitive information. Then I’ll try and figure out how to change the password on the account.

It might not be too late to rescue the situation. Beth can call Fenna to explain that the email about InsideOut4Kids closing down was a hoax. It’s our only chance.

Infuriatingly, my call goes straight through to voicemail.

‘Beth,’ I say breathlessly. ‘Listen. It’s possible that someone has hacked into the business account and sent a fake email to Fenna at Van Dyke’s saying that the company has been closed. Ring me as soon as you get this; it doesn’t matter what time it is.’

I call Tom next, but there’s no answer. Where the hell is everyone?

I have this sense of trying to herd up a thousand sheep without any escaping. It’s an impossible task to stop the suppliers finding out what’s happening in my personal life. All Fenna has to do is google my name and it’s all there… scant facts tangled up in all the awful hype about the case.

There are voices approaching outside, and I feel a knot of dread at the thought of having to put a face on in front of Mum and Dad. My head feels like it’s about to implode.