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“You have two weeks, Roxanne. Two weeks to decide what’s more important, your job or getting those elusive answers.”
Now I spin around. “You’re blackmailing me? Ten years of nothing, and then you turn up to fucking blackmail me.” I let out a disbelieving laugh. “This would be good if you had anything on me. So again, thanks but no thanks.”
“We have plenty, but who says you need hard evidence. The rumour mill is a wonderous thing, and in your circle, I imagine it can destroy a career in the blink of an eye. Two weeks, Roxanne. We’ll be in touch.” And with that, they climb back into their car and peel out of here, leaving me standing in a dark, empty car park and wondering what the fuck just happened.
ChapterOne
Roxy
I’m bone tired and stressed to high heaven. You wouldn’t think I just spent the last two weeks doing nothing but making a nuisance of myself in the most beautiful location. I’ve been a major cock-block to my best friend Jess and her brash arsehole of a fiancé. Despite the fact he’s an arsehole, he’s the best kind, and I couldn’t be happier for her.
I’ve also just made the biggest bust in the history of human trafficking. One that has lit a fuse beneath the government, police and courts.
I haul the bag onto my shoulder as I head to my front door, tensing as my phone pings again. It’s been blowing up since I switched it back on an hour ago.
Two weeks. That’s all I got to make a decision that could change the course of my life. A decision that will have devastating consequences no matter what I decide.
My whole life has been one walked on the very edge of right and wrong. Mostly wrong when I was younger. It’s not a surprise when your mother was a junkie and the man who so kindly knocked her up is now the head of the judiciary and president of the courts in England and Wales.
I dump my bag on the floor in the hall and make straight for the kettle. A shot of caffeine and some toast are at the top of my list right now, closely followed by a steaming hot shower.
I fill the kettle, and while I wait for it to boil, I find the bread and milk I just bought from the shop. Shoving two slices in the toaster, I stand and tap my fingers against the counter.
I’m just pouring the water into my cup when the doorbell rings.
“Fuck’s sake!”
As I reach the door, I peek through the spyhole and see it’s Mrs Downs from next door. She’s the Dot Cotton of the road. The nosy neighbour who sees and hears everything. Of course, she heads up the neighbourhood watch scheme too.
Swinging the door open, I greet her with a painted-on smile.
“Mrs Downs, how lovely to see you. What can I do for you?” I use my telephone voice. You know the one we all have when we want to appear professional and well mannered.
“Miss Whitmore, you’re back I see.”
“So it seems.”
“Yes, well, I thought I saw you arriving and wanted to let you know immediately about some rather unsavoury characters that were hanging around outside your house this past week.”
“Is that right. And who might these…” I wait for her to fill in the gaps as I know she will. The woman simply can’t help herself. It’s like a compulsion to stick her nose in and gossip endlessly.
“Well, two men you see. They came by every evening. Only they didn’t stay long. Just seemed to knock, look around and then leave again. I know that in your line of work you must interact with some questionable members of society, although I’ve never seen them at your house before, so I thought it best to let you know. One of them at least had a suit on, but he had tattoos and a piercing in his eyebrow. The other, well, he was kind of angry looking. Tall and broad with a dark head of hair. So vastly different from one another. I found it quite strange, you know.” She trails off, almost wistfully.
Before I can even think to reply, the fire alarm blares from the kitchen, and the smell of burnt toast wafts down the hall to me.
“Shit!” I race away from the door, leaving it ajar. Wisps of smoke plume from the toaster, and as I reach it, I flip the switch. The charred remains of my toast pop up. “Fuck my life every which way!”
A small gasp from behind me has me twisting to see Mrs Downs standing with her hand covering her mouth. And it’s not because of the amount of smoke that’s filled the room.
“Thanks for letting me know, Mrs Downs,” I say, ushering her back towards the front door. “But as you can see, I have a mess to clean up, so if you don’t mind.” I hold the front door open, almost slamming it shut before she can turn around, but I refrain.
“Oh, well, yes…I’ll see you later,” she stutters and hurries back down the path.
I close the door and rush to open the kitchen window, which looks out over my back garden. It’s not much, but in London having any sort of garden is a luxury.
My phone continues to buzz non-stop while I drink my tea and clear up, but I ignore it. I’m holding on to the last few hours before I need to make my final decision. And I know if I don’t, it will be made for me.
I’m not usually an indecisive person. In fact, I’ve been accused many a time of making hasty decisions in the heat of the moment. Even so, they’ve always been well thought out.
