Bad Sister(85)

The more she thought about it, the more definite she felt about her theory.

But, then, was she panicking, jumping to a hasty conclusion? Just because this Flint wrote backwards, that wasn’t enough evidence to be certain it was him – it might be coincidence. There must be other people who had the same condition.

Or those who could emulate it.

What a perfect way to detract attention from yourself to another. Was Brett playing her?

She couldn’t trust anyone.

After seeing her client at eleven, there’d only been one more in the afternoon. Connie’s new business was suffering. She’d have to focus on building it up if she was going to make a success of it. Allowing what was going on to affect it so much was counterproductive; she had to get a grip or it was going to go under. Right now, though, her resolve was poor. Only 4 p.m. and she switched off her computer, deciding to call it quits for the day. She wanted to go home, catch up with Lindsay, who’d said she was going to call around tonight. That’s what Connie felt she needed right now – someone to talk to, someone else who knew what was going on. Someone she should trust.

Instead of walking the direct route to the train station, Connie took a detour, turning right as she exited her building and carrying on up the hill. There was a delicatessen at the top of High Street that did the most delicious takeaway antipasti platter that would be perfect for her and Lindsay to have later over a bottle of wine.

With the platter carefully placed in the bottom of her bag, Connie crossed the road to the narrow cut-through leading to a steep, winding road that would get her to Station Road quicker than going back down the busy main street. It had a claustrophobic feel to it, the high walls either side of the road so close she could almost reach out both arms and touch each one. The lack of cars and people meant it was always quiet.

Apart from the footsteps she could hear behind her.

She turned to see the source of them and her heart missed a beat.

A man in a black hoody.

She quickened her step.

He quickened his.

Connie scanned the road ahead of her – there was a turning coming up about a quarter of the way down the hill. She couldn’t remember if that took her back on to the main road again, or to houses, but either of those options was better than staying there – it was a few minutes before she’d reach Station Road. And that might be too long.

‘Hey, Connie. Fancy bumping into you again.’ The voice came at her as she approached the turning, causing her to give a startled cry.

‘For Christ’s sake, are you stalking me?’

On this occasion, Connie had never felt so relieved to see Kelly Barton and didn’t care that she’d obviously been hanging around again. It was far too much of a coincidence, her turning up like this; she’d clearly capitalised on the fact she lived close by and was keeping a close eye for any development, meaning she’d get in first with her report. Her dislike for Kelly would need to be put aside right now. Connie grabbed her arm and carried on walking, her pace fast.

Kelly opened her mouth, about to protest, but then must have picked up on Connie’s anxiety and kept in step with her.

‘What’s going on?’ She looked behind them. ‘Are you being followed?’ The excitement in her voice was barely containable.

‘Keep walking, Kelly. He’s dangerous.’

‘Good try, Connie.’ She laughed.

‘I’m not messing.’ Connie chanced another look behind her. The hooded figure was still following. ‘Shit, he’s going to catch us up.’

‘Bloody hell, you’re serious.’

‘Have you known me to joke? As you’ve apparently already been informed, I don’t have much of a sense of humour.’ Her previous run-in with Kelly had not been forgotten.

‘Just stop, confront him, and ask him what he wants.’ Kelly broke from her, looking as if she was going to wait for the man to catch up.

Connie grabbed Kelly’s arm again, yanking her onwards. ‘No! That’s a really bad idea. What if he’s armed?’

Kelly’s eyes widened. ‘Are you mad? Why would he be? What have you got yourself mixed up with, Connie?’

Connie risked another look, praying he’d gone, or at least was far behind them now.

‘Fuck, there’s another one.’ A second figure was a few strides behind the hoody-man, closely following.

‘Shit, are we about to get jumped?’ Kelly’s voice finally sounded concerned.

‘Keep walking.’

They were in a secluded part of Totnes, narrow road, high walls. If something happened to them here …

‘We need to get back into the main town – quickly,’ Connie said, her breath coming in short bursts, her legs shaking from the effort of walking so fast in her stupid high-heeled slip-on court shoes.

Kelly pulled her arm out of Connie’s. She rummaged in her bag and took out her camera, turned and, still walking fast, started snapping away.

‘What the hell are you doing? Great, let’s give the dodgy men something to kill us for!’

‘Don’t be so dramatic.’

‘Really? You’ve got photographic evidence now.’

Connie remembered the photos she’d been sent. Kelly always carried that camera everywhere with her. Connie’s suspicion that she was the mystery photographer now seemed undisputable. No time to question her now, though.