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“What’s happened?”
I close the distance between us. I know that hesitating look, and it isn’t a good sign.
“Have we lost another witness?” I glance down at the brown envelope she’s clutching. We’ve lost three testimonies from tenants in neighboring apartments of the one where Chelsea was kept against her will. They said they heard a female crying. But now they’re scared. The bastard who did this has gotten to them somehow.
“No, it’s not that,” Jules says. “But these arrived in today’s mail.”
She hands me the envelope and I pull out a bundle of photographs. All are of me, taken with a long-angled lens.Outside the office getting into my car. At the deli I bought lunch from last week. The last image is the only one I give a little more attention to. It’s of me leaving Dr. Melinda’s clinic after a checkup. I remember that day well because it was raining so much that Drew had gone to pull the car around.
“Right,” I sigh, stuffing the pictures back inside.
This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. It’s nothing more than a scare tactic used by someone connected to the defendant. Generally witnesses are targeted, with the aim of intimidating them enough that they won’t want to give crucial testimonies. But occasionally, a lawyer working the prosecution falls into the firing line too. Guess today is my lucky day. If anything, it spurs me on. It means they’re getting scared because they’re worried I’ll win.
“Did you log it?” I ask Jules.
“I did. The inspector I spoke to was really helpful. He gave me his direct number in case you wanted to call and talk to him.”
I take the Post-it from Jules. “Won’t be necessary, but I guess it was nice of him.”
My shoulders tense as I read the name.
DI Henry Harper.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I snort.
I crumple the paper in my hand and toss it into the trash can as she gives me a puzzled look.
“I know where to find him should I need to talk, as he so kindly offered,” I say as we walk down the corridor toward the meeting room where Chelsea will be waiting.
“No worries. I’ll file these.” Jules takes the envelope of photographs back from me and turns down another corridor, giving me a quick wave.
“Thanks,” I call as I open the door and spot Chelsea waiting for me.
“Morning.” I smile at her brightly as she looks up, her hands wrapped around her usual mug of tea.
“Hi,” she replies as I take a seat next to her.
She’s wearing a fitted maternity top today that hugs her bump. The usual baggy sweatshirt is nowhere in sight.
“You look well,” I say as I place my folders down on the coffee table.
“Oh, thank you.” She smiles shyly. “Ifeelgood. I told my parents who the baby’s father is.”
“You did?” I manage to keep the surprise from my voice. In all other conversations we’ve had, Chelsea hasn’t indicated that she knows who the father is. I suspected it was one of the men who assaulted her, but that she didn’t know which one.
“Yeah.” She looks at her mug. “I was worried about it for so long. But Jake has been so supportive.”
“Jake’s the friend who’s been going to your ultrasounds with you? The one you mentioned?”
Chelsea meets my eyes, relief shining in hers. “Yes. He’s the baby’s father.”
“Oh. That’s—”
“I know I let you think it was one of the men who…” She swallows. “But the truth is that I was worried Mum and Dad would think the truth was worse. Jake’s been my friend for a long time. He was the one who insisted I hadn’t run away and that something had happened when I didn’t go home that day. And when I was found, I…” She fidgets with her mug, rubbing her thumbs back and forth over it. “I didn’t want their hands to be the last ones to touch me.”
She blinks a couple of times before clearing her throat.
“I wanted to feel normal. I wanted it to be my choice again. And Jake’s always been amazing, he wasn’t sure, but he could see I needed it. So we… after I got home. And he’s never stopped being there for me since. I was worried that peoplewouldn’t understand. That they’d think I was wrong to want it so soon after—”
