True Deceit (Blindsided Book 1) (8 page)

“You never did tell me what you wanted with her?”

“We just wanted to catch up on the old days, see how she was doing.” Michael lied.

He nodded. “Well it’s nice to know that her old friends haven’t forgotten about her. Maybe you could go up and see her sometime? Who knows, it might help.”

“I think we just might do that.” Mike stood and held out his hand. “Thank you. And be careful you don’t go shooting anyone with that gun.” He smiled.

“I’ll try not to and you come back anytime, okay? It’s nice to have some visitors.”

“We will,” Sarah promised as they left the house.

Neither of them spoke until they got into the car where Sarah promptly burst into tears.

“That’s the most awful thing I’ve ever heard, that poor man!”

“Yeah, to go through all that ... I don’t know how he hasn’t turned that gun on himself to be honest.”

“Michael!” Sarah looked at him, shocked.

“What?” he asked. “Don’t tell me that if you were in his shoes you wouldn’t consider doing exactly that.”

She didn’t reply and instead stared out the window.

“So now what?” she asked once they were back on the main road.

“Now we go and see Samantha, of course.” As awful as what happened to her must have been, she could hold the key to bringing Jennifer home and he intended to find it.

“We have a problem.”

He didn’t need to ask who was calling, very few people had the number to this particular cell phone. “I can’t talk now, I’m due in court. How urgent is this problem?”

“Very.”

“In that case we’d better meet. Come to my house at 8.” He didn’t wait for an answer, knowing that even if the person at the other end of the phone had plans, they would be rearranged. Sliding his phone into his pocket he reached for his robe, slipping it on over his charcoal grey suit.

There was a brief knock at the door before it opened and a clerk popped his head in. “They’re ready for you now, judge.”

“I’ll be right there.”

***

The house was completely silent save for the ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the hallway as he waited for his guest’s arrival. He heard the car come up the drive before the headlights briefly lit the interior of his study as the car pulled to a stop in front of the house. He didn’t wait for the doorbell and opened the door just as the visitor was about to press it.

“Come in, James.” He stood back allowing him to enter. “I must admit, your call made it very difficult to concentrate on the prosecution’s case today.”

James slipped out of his cashmere overcoat and hung it on the rack in the hall. “I’m sorry, Daniel, but I felt it was important enough for you to know straight away.”

Both men walked into the study and Daniel poured two Scotch on the rocks, handing one to James. “Talk to me.”

“It’s the website, there’s been a security breach.” James took a sip of the Scotch, smiling appreciatively. “Last night someone hacked in.”

Daniel frowned. “How? I was told that the site was impenetrable.”

“Whoever it was, they were good. They got round every security measure we had in place.”

Daniel felt himself getting angry. He never wanted the website in the first place, seeing it as a potentially dangerous security issue, but he’d been outvoted by the other members who’d insisted it would bring in a lot of revenue, which none of them needed. “I knew that site was a bad idea. Do we have any idea who is behind it?”

“At first, no. Whoever it was took steps to make sure that we couldn’t track them, but then this afternoon, they went back on the website. I’ve no idea why, but this time they weren’t so careful.” James reached in to the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a piece of paper. “We managed to track their IP address. We have a name.”

Daniel took the piece of paper. The name meant nothing to him. “What do we know about this person?” They needed to know whether this was just someone working alone or whether the authorities were behind it.

“Well, we can’t find any connection between her and the police but it doesn’t look like a random act. She is the sister of our latest guest, the woman you insisted on.”

Daniel hadn’t expected that and for a minute he didn’t know how to respond.

“How do you want us to deal with it?”

Daniel held up his hand silencing him. “I’m thinking.” He walked over to the fireplace and stared at the cold ash, sipping at his whiskey.

The Kings had been his brainchild, born out of necessity. A group of like-minded men in positions of influence who, like him, had a dark side. A dark side that if left unchecked, could ruin them. The idea was simple. A steady stream of women, kept in a single location, that the men could use in any way they liked to satisfy their urges. Urges that would otherwise see them facing life sentences if they were caught.

He had wanted to keep it to their small group, and the others had initially agreed. But their greed had got the better of them.
And now we’re paying the price.

“The security breach. Explain it to me in terms I’ll understand. Does this mean they know who we are? Where we are?” He couldn’t make a decision without the facts.

“No, it simply means that someone unauthorised has found the website.” James explained. “Usually a person is invited and told how to get to the site. Once there they have a series of passwords to input that we have given them. All very secure.”

“Obviously not secure enough.” Daniel snapped, not turning to look at him.

“No. Well, it appears that this person has found a way in through the back door. But they still know nothing about us.”

“So what threat is it exactly?” Daniel turned this time and looked at him.

James shrugged. “Well, other than the fact that they know of our existence, none. They can’t find us. Getting into the website is one thing, tracing its origin is another altogether.”

“In that case, we do nothing.”

“Nothing?” James sounded surprised.

“Yes, nothing. Think about it, if we really want the police looking for us I can’t think of a better way to raise their suspicions than to have two sisters suddenly die. Can you?”

James didn’t reply.

“Keep an eye on it and if there’s any sign that they’re onto us, let me know. For now though, I think the safest option is to just watch and wait.”

“Okay, Daniel. What about the surveillance on Mike? Do you want that to continue?”

“Yes, absolutely.” He put his empty glass down on the table. “Now if there’s nothing else, I have to get ready. I have guests for dinner.”

Michael threw off his sheet and climbed out of bed. It was past midnight but was lying awake, staring at the ceiling, waiting Sarah was asleep before going downstairs. He hadn’t been able to get the box or its contents out of his mind and he wanted to be able to examine them when no one else was around.

Creeping out of his bedroom he started down the stairs, pausing and listening for any movement when one of the floorboards let out a loud groan. Satisfied that the noise hadn’t woken her, he carried on down the stairs and into the living room. It was a clear night and the moon shining through the window lit the room as he walked over to the desk. Once there, he flicked on the small desk lamp, and opened the secret drawer, retrieving the little wooden box.

His stomach was in a knot as he lifted the lid and withdrew the letter he’d been reading when Sarah arrived that afternoon. Though not dated, it was clearly old. The once white paper now had a tinge of beige, and the blue ink of the flowing script was faded.

As promised, an account has been set up for you and the boy and you will receive monthly payments until he is eighteen years old.

I will be true to my word and you will not hear from me again during your lifetime.

The words were just as shocking on their second reading and the implication hit him hard. His mom had lied when she’d told him she didn’t know anything about his father. This letter couldn’t be from anyone else. But why lie about it?

Putting the letter to one side he once again reached into the box. There was one more letter, a piece of paper with details of a bank account and a business card. The name on the card read ‘Patrick Brady’.
Is that my father?
He turned the card over in his hand, noticing that there was a number written on the back. A telephone number.
Was there any chance that it would work after all this time?

Slipping the card into the pocket of his robe, he pulled the second letter from the box. This one was different. It was still in an envelope and had his name on the front. He ran his finger over the words, wondering when his mom had written them. It had to have been a long time ago as the pale blue of the ink told him that this too was old. Carefully he opened the envelope and slid out the single sheet of paper.

My dearest Michael,
it began. The words brought a lump to his throat. He could almost hear her voice speaking them and the pain of his loss washed over him.

If you are reading this letter, then I have gone. I have only ever done what I thought was best for you. I have loved you from the very moment I found out that I was carrying you, and will continue to love you long after I am gone. Whatever happens, please remember that.

Your father’s name is Patrick Brady. I’m so sorry that I lied to you but it was easier than explaining the truth. As you got older, you stopped asking and I felt it was better to leave the past behind.

Now though I am gone and it is time for you to find out where you come from.

Your ever loving mom.

Tears were sliding down his face now and blurring the words and he had to wipe his hand across his face so that he could keep reading.

A loud creak of a floorboard above his head startled him. Quickly he put everything back in the box and slipped it back into the hidden draw.

“Mike, is that you?” Sarah called down from the top of the stairs.

“Yes, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to bed.”

“Everything okay?”

“Just getting a drink,” he called up, going into the kitchen and getting a glass of water.

“Okay, goodnight,” she called and he heard her go back to her room.

Leaving the unwanted glass of water on the counter he went back upstairs to bed, knowing full well that he was not going to be able to sleep.
Patrick Brady. My father.

The state mental hospital was a couple of hours’ drive away so they’d decided to leave early the following morning to go and see Samantha.

“Do you know where this place is?” Sarah asked, sipping on the hot coffee she’d bought when they’d stopped for gas before leaving town.

“Roughly, but don’t worry, the satnav will get us there.”

“God, how did we ever manage before we had all this technology?” she chuckled.

“I know, it’s making us all far too lazy.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

They fell into a companionable silence and it wasn’t until they had nearly arrived that Sarah spoke again.

“Have you ever been to a place like this?”

“An asylum?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“No, not exactly the kind of place you visit unless you have to.” He looked over at her. “You’re not worried are you?”

She shook her head. “No, not worried exactly, more that I don’t know what to expect.”

“I get that.” He nodded.

“And scared a bit too,” she admitted.

“Scared of what?”

“Scared that she won’t be able to tell us anything and we’ll be right back where we started.”

Michael didn’t reply. He didn’t want to tell her that it was exactly those thoughts that had kept him awake all night. The fact that his wife was out there somewhere, very possibly still alive, was torturing him. God only knew what she was going through and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was killing him.

“We’ll find her, Sarah.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
I won’t rest until we do, one way or another,
he thought as the outline of the hospital rose from the horizon.

***

The hospital was everything she’d imagined. Unfortunately. It seemed the sky got darker the closer they got, reinforcing the feeling of foreboding that crept over her as soon as she saw the building itself.
If these places are supposed to help people, they could try and make them a bit more cheerful
she thought taking in the box-like shape and the walls painted in battleship grey. As her eyes travelled up she saw that the windows were small and many were covered with iron bars.

“Not exactly a resort hotel is it?” she asked wryly as they checked in with the guard at the gate before being directed to a visitor parking spot.

“I think most of the guests are not here of their own choosing and, to be honest, I’m not sure how many of them even take in their surroundings.”

He had a point.

“Come on, let’s get this over with.” He climbed out of the car and waited for her to join him before they turned and walked towards the main entrance.

There was nothing welcoming about the reception area, no comfortable chairs, no cheerful paintings on the walls. Rather it was completely sterile with a grey tiled floor and walls that were painted off white. Sarah immediately felt cold and was glad she’d brought her jacket.

Along one wall was a reception desk, behind which sat a lone nurse who looked up as they approached.

"Hi, we'd like to see Samantha Hathaway." Mike told her.

"And you are?" The nurse smiled warmly.

"We are old school friends. We went to see her father yesterday and he suggested she might enjoy a visit."

“Ah, Mr Hathaway. That poor man has been through so much.” she gave a sad smile. “So, you’re aware of her condition I take it?” she asked.

"Condition?" Mike asked, confused.

"Well, rather, how unwell she is. Her behaviour can be quite extreme and quite disturbing if you’ve never seen it before.”

“Yes, her father explained.”

“Okay, good. Well if I could take both your full names I’ll issue you visitor passes and then get someone to take you through.”