Bad Sister(49)

Connie reached her building without having remembered the journey. She looked at the plaque to the side of the entrance – the one that a matter of days ago had brought such pride. Today, all she felt was emptiness, a strange detachment. Still with a sense of disinterest, Connie unlocked the door and walked into the reception room. The door failed to close behind her, snagging on the doormat.

‘Christ’s sake.’ She bent down and yanked it back, then slammed the door. That’s obviously what had happened the other day when her client had managed to enter the building without pressing the security buzzer. She should have had a sunken area for the doormat to fit snugly into. She made a mental note to call the builder she’d used for the interior refurbishment, get him to sort it. Snatching yesterday’s post from the tub chair where Mack had left it, Connie made her way upstairs.

The nausea she’d felt the week before returned – the smell of cut grass hitting her senses as she walked into her office. Dropping the post on the desk, she went to the window and lifted the sash to breathe in the normal air. It was about time she got a new fragrance for the infuser. After a few deep breaths, Connie straightened. And that’s when she saw him.

A figure across the street. A man in a black hoody.

He stood stock-still, staring up at her.

Connie jerked back instinctively. Was it the same guy she’d seen near the pirate ship with Steph?

Flattening herself against the wall, she edged towards the window again. Slowly, she turned her head to peep out. He hadn’t moved. Was he waiting for Steph? Perhaps he thought she’d be having her usual session with Connie. And if that was the case, she could assume he had nothing to do with her death, couldn’t she? She moved away from the window again. Then, without stopping to really think about what she was going to say, she bolted from the room, ran heavily down the stairs and flung open the front door ready to confront him.

He’d gone.

Panting from the exertion, Connie looked frantically up and down the street. Surely he couldn’t have moved that fast, not so much as to be completely out of sight. He must’ve ducked into a shop. She took a few steps away from the entrance of her building, her eyes darting from shopfront to shopfront.

Nothing. No man in a black hoody.

The hand touching her arm made her shout out.

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you, are you okay?’

‘Oh. Paul,’ she said, her words now no more than a whisper: an exhalation of air and fear. Her heart jumped erratically; Connie put her hand to her chest, as if to prevent it escaping.

‘I’m a bit early, sorry.’

‘No problem.’ Connie hadn’t noticed her client’s approach; her attention had been on the other side of the road. ‘Come on in.’ She forced a smile as she and Paul made their way inside. Connie closed the door, pushing it tight until she heard the reassuring clunk that indicated the lock had operated.

Paul stood watching.

For the first time since she’d set up the consultancy, Connie questioned her security measures. She hadn’t wanted to be upstairs with a client, worrying about who could walk in, so the intercom system seemed the best idea. Without the buzzer system that allowed her to control who she let in, anyone could access the building. She needed to keep people out.

But now, with Paul staring blankly at her, she questioned why she hadn’t installed anything that might offer protection from those she was inviting inside.





CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE


Connie


‘You look really pale, Connie. Are you feeling all right?’

She considered the question for a few seconds before answering. In that time, she also asked herself whether she had any need to suddenly fear a man she’d been happily counselling for six weeks.

‘Yes, yes. A bit tired, but I’m fine, thank you.’ She could hear her mother’s voice in her head: You always say you’re fine.

‘You’re sure? I mean, if you don’t feel well …’

‘Honestly,’ Connie started up the stairs, ‘I’m good to go.’

‘That’s just as well,’ Paul said, squinting, ‘because this is our last session together. I wanted to make sure it was a good one.’

Her stomach tightened. It was probably her imagination, but those words seemed to have an edge to them. The way he’d said ‘this is our last session together’ sounded almost threatening.

Stop being melodramatic.

What was wrong with her? It was his last session. He was purely stating a fact, not threatening her. Having no sleep was clearly having a detrimental effect. She needed to get her act together and conduct Paul’s session professionally.

He followed her up the stairs and into her room. Before she took her seat, Connie had a quick look outside. There was no sign of the man.

‘Okay, Paul. Take a seat and let’s get started.’

It took at least half an hour before she settled into the session. Half an hour to relax and stop mistrusting Paul. He’d given her no cause for concern before. And now he’d also got into full swing, he was his usual chatty self. When his hour was up, he thanked her and left. She heard the clunk of the front door lock hitting home and allowed her anxiety to melt away.

It was four o’clock. She still hadn’t emailed her list of names to Mack as she’d said she would. Connie curled the top corner of the paper, staring at the column of names. Then she flipped it over, placing it face down on the desk. Perhaps she’d make a drink first, then write the email. She knew she was trying to find any reason to stall … prevent this disclosure for as long as possible.