Page 71 of The Best Friend
Twenty-Eight
I’m early for our 9 a.m. meeting, but Max is already here as I arrive at the clearing. He’s sitting on the damp, wooden bench and rises to his feet when he sees me, brushing imaginary dirt off his coat and trousers. He holds out his hand and I shake it. It’s a gentle handshake, belying the man’s strength. Maybe he doesn’t want to do anything that could remind me of yesterday’s violence. Either way, a polite handshake feels a strange way to greet one another after the shock and terror of yesterday’s encounter.
I take my hand back and shove both hands into my coat pockets – actually, Beth’s coat pockets; mine is wrecked beyond saving. Max and I perch next to each other – he sits in the middle of the bench and I’ve positioned myself on the edge, wary in his company. Despite everything he told me yesterday, I still can’t help thinking of him as my creepy stalker. The cold has already begun to numb my feet and hands, and I’m starting to wish we’d chosen to meet in a warm, anonymous café. But we’re here now so I’ll just have to ignore the icy chill.
Max clears his throat. ‘I wanted to say sorry again. About yesterday. I didn’t plan on it going that way. I pictured a more… civilised meeting.’
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Apology accepted. But, yes, you probably could have been a little less determined. I’m just glad you didn’t turn out to be the nutter I thought you were.’
He raises an eyebrow and gives a hesitant smile before turning serious again. ‘I’ve got a few ideas,’ he says. ‘About how we can catch Darcy out.’
‘Good,’ I reply. ‘Because I’ve got nothing.’
‘Well, I picked up some stuff… in prison. Ideas and skills that could help us expose her.’
‘Nothing illegal,’ I say, ‘or dangerous.’
He waggles his head from side to side. ‘Hmm, how about semi-illegal?’
‘Like what?’
‘We could bug her house and her car. Put some kind of hidden camera on her.’
‘How would we do that?’ I ask. ‘You’re not allowed within one hundred feet of her, and she hates my guts.’
‘I can do it,’ he says. ‘I’ll be careful not to get spotted. I managed to follow you, didn’t I?’
‘Well…’ I begin.
‘What?’
‘As stalkers go, you weren’t particularly good. I spotted you every time you came near.’
‘Thanks.’ He gives me a wry smile. ‘Not every time, actually. Did you see me at all after Darcy warned me off?’
‘No. I thought she’d managed to scare you away.’
He shakes his head and smiles.
‘You mean you’ve been following me ever since?’
He nods.
‘Well, that’s not creepy at all.’ I pull a face.
‘Sorry, but like I said, I had a feeling she was targeting you and I had to find out. If I hadn’t followed you, I’d never have known what was going on.’
‘True, I suppose.’ I gaze down at the carpet of brown leaves beneath my feet and think about how strange my life has become. About how a few weeks ago I was merely a writer, wife and mother, and now I’m a murder suspect, sitting in the woods with an ex-convict, plotting to bug someone’s house.
‘The thing is,’ he says. ‘It’s awkward to ask, but I would need some money for the surveillance equipment.’
Immediately, my senses go on full alert. Is this some kind of scam? Am I being taken for a gullible fool?
‘It’s humiliating,’ he continues. ‘I’ve got no savings from before. Like I said, Darcy took the lot. Now I have to work shifts stacking shelves in a supermarket and I live in a B&B. There’s nothing left over after bills. She took everything.’ He looks me in the eye, his soft gaze unwavering. I break eye-contact first.
‘How much are we talking about?’ I ask.
‘For everything I’d need, we’re looking at a little over eight grand.’
