Page 78 of Dissection of a Murder
“Audrey, this is really important. Can you tell me who put that music on?”
“I think I put it on.”
I stare at her, willing, hoping, she’s right.
“Have you been on your own all day?”
“Well, I was with Leila earlier on…”
I close my eyes tightly in sheer desperation. My head spins, and my heart is racing. I want to shake the truth out of her.
“I’m Leila, Audrey,” I say very slowly. “Who’s been here today? Can you remember?”
“Nobody’s been here today, darling! What are you talking about?”
“Audrey, I need you to concentrate. I know this is confusing, but hasanyone elsebeen here today?”
The music continues, and it’s like nails down a blackboard, torture in my ears. I can’t wait any longer. Leaving Audrey to think about my question, I rush down the hallway and into the dining room. As I push the needle off the record, a scratchy screeching sound punctuates the abrupt end of the music. Standing in the quiet now, I can feel everything crashing around me.
I have to be calm. She can’t have been here. How would she even know about Audrey? I’m running away with myself and getting paranoid. This would be a step too far. Audrey and I always listen to old music; she definitely put it on herself and forgot. But…“Delilah.”
It’s a coincidence.
You don’t believe in coincidences.
Just as I’m standing in the hallway, trying to cling to the last bit of sanity I have, my phone makes a tri-tone chime sound indicating I’ve got a message. Pulling it out of my pocket, I look at the locked phone screen to see it’s from someone called @DntMessWithMe. I’ve had virtually no activity on myChats at the Baraccount for a few weeks, as I’ve been busy, so this takes me by surprise. It’s not until I start reading the message that it becomes clear what’s going on.
Enjoy your day trip to the salon before xmas? The secret trips to Temptation during the day? How about visiting your dear mother-in-law at Applethorpe Grove tonight? You’re a very busy woman, aren’t you? Watch your step or you’ll get your throat cut.
OK, now I’m scared.
Aside from the obvious anger and fear pulsating through mybody like water gushing out of a tap, my attention turns to the commentary on my location. Not only does this person know exactly where I’ve been, they know where I amnow.
How? How do they know where I am?
I would have noticed someone following me.
It’s as if they’ve been tracking me.How long has this been going on? Weeks? Months?
And then it hits me.
I dash outside to the car and switch on the flashlight feature on my phone. Shining the light under the arch of the two back wheels, I curl my fingers around each one to see if I can feel anything.
There it is. Behind the rear passenger wheel, a small, black device lifts off the arch and fits neatly into my hand. The reason someone was by my car after my lecture at Mountcross Academy.
I’ve come across tracking devices in cases I’ve worked on. You can buy the damned things off Amazon.
Whoever it is has been following me for months. What am I supposed to do? Why now?Could it possibly be someone else? Have I got two maniacs after me days before the biggest case of my life? Surely not. But how does everything fit together?
The trial starts in less than seventy-two hours.
What a mess.
Bursting into tears, I throw the tracker to the ground and plunge my face into my hands. Tears pour so fast and hard, it’s pointless attempting to stop them.
I need a new plan. And there’s only one man who can help.
I don’t stop to think. Activating my phone, I scroll through my contact list until I find who I need.
