AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The same ritual as the previous week was about to be played out again, except preparations had been made flexible. Another car parked up on standby in case Raven used a cab, enabling Johnson to follow in the trailing car.
Martinson drove Gemma home, back to Clara and Joshua. Jason planned to return to work.
“I’m going to be late tonight, babe,” Jason said kissing her cheek. “Say goodnight to Joshua for me.” She smiled, kissed him back, and opened her car door. Her brain whirred away, and if he knew what churned beneath, he would be disappointed that she didn’t trust him to deal with the matter.
Gemma felt left in the dark again, her mushroom status maintained, and it infuriated her. She wandered about her house, unable to settle. In a state of ignorance, her imagination blossomed and took hold. Things that she assumed to be true became the absolute truth as she tried to create feasible scenarios around the events being played out. She projected her emotions, feelings and fears, layering them over the real events. It triggered a wave of impulsive actions. Thoughtless ones, which Jason would never countenance.
Gemma didn’t know what came over her. She was allowed to surf the Internet and have e-mail accounts, but no Facebook, blogs, or chat rooms. So why did she do it? The sight of Emily, afraid and fragile, occupied her mind. She perceived Emily as meek and terrified, scared enough she’d risked arrest and prosecution rather than defy Raven—the real blackmailer, not poor Emily. She couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Emily with that phantom a day longer. What if Raven questioned Emily and she confessed to having spoken to Gibson. Would Emily be blamed for failing to collect the full amount, punished?
If Gemma could acquire Raven’s address, where she lived, then she could be apprehended and perhaps Emily could be rescued from her evil clutches. Her impulsive emotional side convincingly defeated her logical one. The rational, sensible Gemma was straitjacketed by the silly need to help Emily, somebody she barely knew.
She setup a new Hotmail account, using her Marshall maiden name and a string of numbers. Sitting on the bed with the laptop beside her, she composed a simple note.
WHAT DO YOU WANT?
Gemma didn’t expect an immediate reply and headed off downstairs to make a sandwich. Still no Jason. She checked her mobile but there was no text from him either. It was half-past seven. He was working late, having sacrificed time for Joshua’s birthday outing and another round of hunt the blackmailer.
By the time she got back from the kitchen, the anonymous e-mail account had sent a reply.
You, naturally. So nice to make contact with you, sweetie. We could have a lot of fun. If you send me an up-to-date piccie, suitably kinky, I won’t ask for the extra £500. Easy! Don’t disappoint me.
No name, noted Gemma. Send her more photos!
Nevertheless, what Gemma desperately wanted to know was where Raven lived. Therefore, she let her blackmailer think she was an idiot, desperate to keep her money and privacy.
Whoever you are,
I can’t do online with pictures. I share a flat with two others. There is no privacy. Can we skip the photos?
The reply came immediately this time.
No. I don’t want fantasy play. This is about keeping me happy. You will do as I ask. I’ve had you followed. I know where you live.
You won’t be free of me.
Jeez, the woman had to be an incredible bluffer. If Raven had followed her, she would have quibbled her flatmate comment. She didn’t live in a flat, or with others, she lived in an extravagant townhouse with whitewashed walls and a garden. Gemma drummed her fingers on the laptop. She was tempted to call her bluff and refuse to play ball and resist, to see how far Raven was prepared to go with her threats. However, she knew it wouldn’t lead to knowing where Raven lived or if Emily was with her. The e-mail made no mention of how Gemma would be exposed, nor did it refer to the nonexistent Facebook page. The notice boards at the dance school, which were maintained by the staff, and therefore, would be stripped of unwanted photos quickly, especially rude ones. Threats required actionable agendas, and Gemma ignored the emptiness of them and pushed to find out more about her blackmailer. Her mind was set. Helping Emily was now the priority, and she had to find her one-time party friend.
If you want a photo, I will come to your place. I don’t want my flatmates to know. I don’t do stuff like I used to. I work with kids. I can’t afford to have a bad reputation.
Gemma opted to lay her stupidity on thickly, and she was pleased when Raven took the bait. Perhaps, Raven wasn’t adept at blackmail after all. A few further exchanges of deceitful e-mails, and Raven agreed. By quarter-past eight, Gemma had the address, and she was jubilant. It was short lived. How was she going to tell Jason without revealing her e-mail exchanges? Even worse, she couldn’t go to the blackmailer’s house on her own. She was chauffeured everywhere because using public transport or taxis would result in Jason’s wrath and a severe punishment. She had given him her vow of obedience when it came to her protection and travel arrangements. What would she do when she got there? Confront the woman? Demand her photographs back? What of Emily? Where did she live?
Gemma buried her head in her hands. There were plenty of unanswered questions, and now she’d complicated the situation by arranging to meet somebody she couldn’t possibly meet.
She had to get Jason to act—storm his way into the house. The address. How to give him the bloody address!
Why not add an extra envelope to the one to be dropped next week in the bin? A note supposedly from Emily with the address of the house—as if Emily had cracked and was inviting them to rescue her. Gemma cringed. It wouldn’t work, what if the blackmailer wanted to see her before the next scheduled drop, assuming she picked Tuesday again? Raven could insist they meet before the next £500 drop, as that was the bargaining chip: Gemma’s inability to pay. She had the address, yet, on her own, she couldn’t act on it.
“Shit!” She banged her fists on her temples, frustrated by her lack of forward planning.
Her mind raced and other i
deas took root in her rambling head. She plotted different plans and the excitement driven by copious amounts of adrenaline made her want to pee. Gemma went to the en suite. Sitting on the toilet, she heard a faint beep from her computer. Another e-mail had arrived. By the time she’d washed her hands and emerged from the en-suite, Jason had already read it. She’d foolishly left the laptop open on the bed.
Chapter 25. Haunting
Gemma swallowed hard. Fury moulded his face. A vivid expression of rage, which she hadn’t seen in a long time. He said nothing, his lips sealed into a thin line, but his cheeks twitched, suppressing the words. The absence of speech made everything so much worse. He paced the room, hands on hips. She waited, frozen to the spot by the en suite door, while he brought his anger under control. Then the words would attack. A verbal assault. She knew the routine, which didn’t make it any easier, and she swallowed back the acrid bile leaping out of her belly. She didn’t think her heart could beat any faster.
If he’d read the last e-mail fully, it would be sufficient for him to understand she had made contact with Raven. How far had she gone? The question had entered his head. He went to the bed and picked up the laptop, resting it on the palm of his hand, while his other scrolled down the thread of messages. He would see that the account was new—the telltale welcome to Hotmail e-mail unopened in the inbox—and its presence signified the extent of her trickery. She planned it, at least, as far as the one evening. He put the laptop down, and she flinched. His mouth opened, and out spewed the icy voice, livid and uncompromising.
