‘We paid the ransom. I thought we’d have her back by now. I didn’t want to jeopardise anything by making it public.’
‘Are the police involved?’
I nod. ‘Yeah. And we’re coping. My son Joel and I. Thanks for asking.’
Mentioning Joel might help. I wipe my brow.
‘Too warm in here, I know,’ he says. ‘Want me to open a window?’
No. Just say what you need to say.‘It’s fine,’ I murmur, sweat soaking through my shirt.
‘I won’t mince words.’
I brace myself, ready for the worst.
‘How much was the ransom?’
I swallow hard. ‘Two million.’
He lets out a low whistle. ‘Shit. That’s some fucking ransom.’
I nod. Sweat drips down my face. He looks thoughtful and then opens a drawer. My hands tremble.
‘I’d like to contribute five thousand pounds, Daniel, if you’ll accept it.’
I stare at him.Did I hear that right?
Relief hits me like a wave. I nearly collapse in the chair.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ I whisper.
‘Say nothing,’ he replies, scribbling a cheque and then handing it over. ‘You’re a valued employee. We’re a big company. If we can’t help out during times like these, what’s the point?’
‘Thank you. Truly.’
I walk out of his office in a daze, stunned that I haven’t been fired. Back at my desk, I gulp down a glass of water. Then Inotice three missed calls and a voicemail on my phone. They are all from Josie Blackford.
I tap on the voicemail tab.
‘Daniel, please call me when you get these messages. It’s urgent.’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Josie
You know those days when you wake up with a sick feeling in your gut? The kind you can’t explain, but it lingers, like a warning that something terrible is about to happen.
Gil once told me Joanna had that exact feeling on the morning she disappeared. She said Joanna told her that life felttooperfect, almost as though something awful had to happen to balance it out.
That doesn’t apply to me. My life’s already a shitshow. Nothing worse could happen. Not unless the house literally collapses on top of me.
Geoff and I have barely exchanged a word since the thong incident. I want to sleep on the sofa bed in the living room, but I don’t want the boys to notice anything’s wrong. So, every night I lie next to Geoff, wondering,Did they do it in this bed?
But I can’t bring myself to ask.
Geoff and the kids are gone for the day. I’m on a late shift. I drag myself into the shower. I barely eat breakfast. I feel half-sick with dread, and wish this cloud of doom would pass.
The drive to the station feels longer than usual. My stomach churns the whole way.
