Blaire Monday 5.39pm Unwilling to stay in my hotel room too long, I took a shower, called Abbie to check her daughter was doing better and didn’t bother to unpack before calling Chloe to say I’ll be over soon. I’m past exhausted when a cab drops me at my brother’s semi-detached apartment. I’m yawning and my body is aching as I climb the stairs. Already dressed in sweats, with my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, I’m more than ready to settle in for a night with family. I’m hoping it’ll be the perfect antidote to a confusing weekend with Luther. I knock on the door and Chloe opens the door immediately. Her hair is a new color, a crazy blue in place of her blonde and she’s wearing her customary eyeliner and multiple piercings. She grins at me as I step inside. “Dad’s out. He’ll be home soon. He’s bringing the pizza.” I nod and throw my bag on the floor and pull off my jacket. “Good. We have time to catch up.” I follow her down the hall to the living room where the TV is currently blaring. Chloe mutes the set and flops down on the sofa. “Did you have a nice weekend?” I release a sigh, wishing I could be truthful. “Parts of it were nice.” The parts Luther made me scream like a banshee were very nice. Her brow twists into a frown. “Who else was there?” I sink back against the comfy sofa cushion. “For the first five days, a few other writers. Then just me and the caretaker over the weekend.” Her nose scrunches up. “That sounds boring. Was he old and wrinkly?” I pull a face back at her. “Not at all. He’s a Marine.” A faint smirk tugs her lips up and a flash of excitement appears. “Like Jason Bourne?” A chuckle. “Jason Bourne is a fictional character, Chloe. No matter how much you wish he was real, he isn’t. And besides, he wasn’t a Marine.” She rolls her eyes. “I know. I know. But still, staying in a castle with a Marine is pretty cool. Did you spend much time with him?” I don’t know how to answer that so I just shrug. “Some. But I was there to write. What about you? Did you decide to wait before applying for the nanny position?” She slumps back, her face pinched as she nods. “Yeah. I just wanted a change of scene. You know?” I find myself nodding. I do know. “Maybe you should take a vacation? Ask your dad to take you somewhere?” Her face twists in disgust. “He’ll just bring his girlfriend with him.” I sigh heavily. This is not an easy conversation to have. And I have to be careful not to overstep. Whatever I think about my brother’s choices in women are irrelevant. He’s a good dad, but it can’t be easy raising Chloe on his own. Nick has always been social. From the time we were little, he was the one out making friends, playing sports and getting out there. Even after dad went nuts, he carried on, the life and soul of the party, while I cowered in my room, night after night, hermitted away, my nose in a book, or writing like my therapist suggested to work through my anxiety. He was too young to know what really happened that night. Four years younger than me, he’s always been a heavy sleeper, so when the police arrived, he was dumbfounded as to what was going on. Already close to emotional overwhelm, I gesture at the TV. “Put something funny on. I could do with a laugh.” Chloe obliges and switches to a rom-com then narrows her eyes at me. “Are you okay? You look kind of; I don’t know, sad.” Pain slams into my chest and I have to dig my fingernails into my palms to keep my voice level. “Just tired.” She doesn’t look convinced but Nick’s timely arrival saves me from having to hide how I’m really feeling. Because I am sad. It’s really that simple. I’m sad for me, sad for Luther, and just sad my life is in pieces. But most of all, in a blinding moment of clarity, I realize, I’m sad I won’t see him again. A knot forms in my throat as Nick dumps a pizza box on the coffee table. For the most part, he still looks like my baby brother, but he’s no longer an irritating, scruffy nuisance who used to get under my feet. He’s a lanky six-foot scruffy man and he’s the only stability I have in my life right now. He squeezes me too tight and grins awkwardly. “Hey, sis, scrounging for food again I see.” Chloe pipes up from behind us, her eyes on the food on the table. “Did you get the cheese garlic bread?” Nick nods. “You want it in here like peasants or you want to eat at the table and pretend we’re civilized?” I snort a laugh as Chloe reaches forward and snags a slice of pizza. “Ask a stupid question.” Nick chuckles and folds his long legs into the sofa, his eyes on me as I settle in beside Chloe again. “Have a good weekend?” Chloe answers for me, her mouth full of pizza. “She met a Marine.” Nick’s eyebrows rise as he reaches for a piece of pizza. “At the writers' retreat? What was he a speaker?” Chloe grumbles beside me. “It could be a woman, dad. Women can be Marines.” I nod, taking my own piece of greasy pizza in my fingers. “They can. But he wasn’t. And he wasn’t a speaker. He’s the caretaker,” I mumble. Nick’s interest is piqued and I’m not prepared to discuss Luther with him, not when Chloe is around. “What’s he doing in a castle?” My life has been the topic of conversation too much of late so I switch the subject back to his instead. “I don’t know. How’s work?” Nick’s brow knots and I know he’s not done asking questions, but he’s smart enough not to start up something with his daughter around. “It’s ticking along. Slow going, but we’re starting to meet costs.” I finish my slice of pizza and take another. “Do you still want a silent partner?” Nick nods slowly and looks over at Chloe. “Hey, lazy bones, want to get us something to wash this down with?” Chloe looks put out but relents and drags herself up and out of the room. Nick sends me a pointed look. “I do need a partner. But I didn’t want to assume you still had the funds, what with the divorce and everything.” I swallow the last bite of pizza and shrug. “Everything will be finished by Wednesday. I just need to sign and it’s final. That won’t affect me investing in your company.” He scratches his chin and reaches for a paper napkin. “You sure you want to invest in a construction company? Plenty of other things you could invest in.” I nudge his shoulder. “Yes, but none of those are owned by my little brother.” He smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Well, thanks I appreciate it. It means we can start putting in tenders.” He swipes the grease off his chin and looks sidelong. “You need me to come with you on Wednesday? As moral support?” I shake my head. “Thanks. But I’ll be okay.” He tilts his head at me. “Still having trouble being on your own?” My eyes water and I have to blink the tears away. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arm around my shoulders. “You know you can stay here permanently. You don’t have to go back to the house.” I sniff and lean into him. “I know. But it’ll get better. I just need to get used to it again.” He squeezes my shoulder then releases me as Chloe sidles in the room, with three beers in her hands. Nick growls. “You got that out three years too early.” Chloe’s bottom lip protrudes. “Mom lets me.” Nick’s jaw tightens and anger flashes in his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m not your mom.” I’m not here to get in between them but I can see where this is leading so I intercept before it can turn into a battle of wills. “Carol Casey was at the retreat,” I say. Chloe’s eyes widen and she barely acknowledges Nick when he takes the beer from her hands. “No way. Did you say anything to her?” I shake my head. “I didn’t see the point.” Nick takes a swig of his beer and sends me a grateful look. “Who’s that?” I accept my beer as Chloe relaxes beside me. “Dad! You know, that bitch who told her journo friend all about the Brit leaving Blaire.” The situation back to neutral, disaster averted, I settle in and listen as they pull to pieces the tragic story that has become my life. At least it distracts me from thinking about Luther. *** Luther Tuesday 4.25am “Luther Beckett. NSDAP15337. Corporal. March 15, 1990,” I choke out. I’m in the same room. Brick surrounds me. The smell of vomit, piss and shit makes the stale air rank. Blood trickles down my back, pooling on the brick. My breathing is ragged, throat agonizingly dry, lips cracked and bleeding. A sharp pain is present with every breath I draw. I know I won’t last much longer. The door opens spilling light in the darkness and a woman enters. My voice comes out a croak. “Blaire? You can’t be here.” She keeps walking towards me, her heels tapping on the exposed brick. I blink, trying to focus as she leans closer and spits the words. “Coward.” I jolt awake, sucking in breaths as grey light filters in blotting out my dream. My body is covered in sweat, sheets twisted around me as I try to bring my breathing under control. My heart is crashing against my ribs as I grab the water beside me and down it in one. When I’m calmer, I pull myself out of bed and stalk across to the treadmill. I don’t bother with shoes, I just plant my feet and turn the speed up to maximum. I find my stride and run as I try to figure out why the dream that’s been a constant companion the last year is now featuring Blaire. When nothing makes sense, and sweat is pouring off my body, I ease off and decide to fill the early morning by watching more of the tedious footage Jake recorded. I grab a granola bar and put the coffee on as I open my laptop and pick up where I left off last night. I’m on Thursday, 9.23pm when my cell buzzes on the table beside me. I grab a towel to wipe the sweat off my face before I pick up. I keep my eyes on the screen as I answer. “Yeah?” I recognize the voice instantly as my cousin. “Still looking for security work?” My lip curls. “Always.” Carl grunts down the line. “Found something. Night shift like you wanted.” I lean against the table and nod. “When’s the start date?” “Tomorrow. 8pm. You’re meeting with the boss for a trial period. Don’t be late.” He rattles off the address then hangs up without another word which doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Carl doesn’t talk unless he has something to say but when he does talk, it pays to listen. I’m considering taking a shower when motion on the screen makes me do a double-take. A shadow is creeping closer to the Boathouse, I take a seat at the table and pull the laptop closer so I can zoom in. The clarity is good, but whoever it is, they don’t look in the direction of the camera. I keep my eyes glued to the screen and down a bottle of water as I watch them head inside the Boathouse, spend around twenty minutes inside then come out. Every movement is measured, uniform and precise. Either they know the camera is there or they have reason to be cautious. I watch for a while, note the date and time, then increase the speed so I’m watching at double time. I scan the rest of the footage, barely blinking until I come to the weekend. I slow it down to regular speed and see myself going inside the Boathouse. I pause it when a rain-soaked Blaire appears. I stare at her, jaw working furiously before I pick up my cell and dial. She answers immediately and I cut her off. “It’s Luther. I need a favor. How soon can you get here?” “Well, hello to you too, and you still in that one-bedroom on Stark?” I nod. “Yeah.” She breathes heavily. “See you in an hour.” I fill the time by taking a shower and have time to put a load of laundry on before there’s a knock at my door. I shrug a shirt on and hover at the door. “Who is it?” “Delta.” I open the door a crack and find Delta staring right at me. As per usual she’s wearing tight jeans and a low-cut top that invites way too much attention. Her blonde hair is loose around her shoulders, and her lips are shiny with gloss even though it’s still early. I open the door and force a smile. “Thanks for coming.” She arches an eyebrow. “I haven’t heard from you in over six months.” I raise my hands. I knew this was coming. “About that—” She grunts at me and looks around my dingy apartment. “Looks like I dodged a bullet taking you back to mine. This place is a dump.” She’s not wrong. It is a dump. “Delta,” I start to say. Her brow knits. “Oh relax. You have ‘fuck buddy only’ practically stamped on your forehead. I knew it the second I laid eyes on you back in training. Besides which, I’ve sworn off any more military men, too much trouble.” I’m not sure if I should be relieved she’s okay with me leaving before she woke up. Too many drinks, too many nights spent alone and I make a whooping great error in judgment. Having sex with an independent contractor we got to know in Afghanistan was stupid, but one I can’t erase. I was so drunk I barely remember the night. “I was a dick,” I mumble. She chuckles and looks at my laptop. “You were out of your head. But you still managed to do more for me than most men.” Without me asking, she drags an extra seat to look at what I have on screen. “You’re doing surveillance?” I take a seat alongside her. “Yeah. But it’s delicate. There’s someone on there that needs to disappear.” I know she’ll see it anyway, so I fess up before she figures it out. “There’s a woman,” I start to say. A smile twitches at her lips. “Your woman?” I shake my head then run a hand over my face. “Not exactly.” She hits play and leans back to watch Blaire knock on the Boathouse door. “Where is this?” “Heart Castle. I’ve been working there every weekend.” She starts to nod then stops as I appear in the doorway. Her eyes pop a little as I step out, look like I’m yelling at Blaire, then grab her and pull her inside the Boathouse. She pauses the video and sends a pointed look at me. “You want to tell me what I’m looking at?” I don’t but Delta is the only person I trust skilled enough to remove the evidence. “She’s a public figure going through a divorce.” Her hand moves in a ‘carry on’ motion so I frown at the screen rather than look at her. “I wasn’t supposed to be in the Boathouse. I could lose a source of revenue. She could lose her house.” Her eyes back on the screen, she hits play again and speeds through until an hour later, Blaire runs out, obviously distressed, then a few minutes later comes back in. I sit, watching along with Delta as I leave the next morning, then Blaire follows and a while later I’m carrying her in my arms. Delta hits pause and narrows her eyes as she looks at me. “Are you seeing her still?” I shake my head and she scoffs. “Why the hell not? Looks like you had quite the weekend.” I push back from the table and go into the kitchenette to fill a coffee mug. “Can you fix it?” She licks her lip. “It’ll take some time, but yeah. I can remove her and make it clean.” She looks me over. “Did you spend the night with her? Sleeping I mean.” I lean against the counter and sip my coffee. “Why?” She removes the stick from the USB port. “I’m wondering if this is your M.O. with women.” When I don’t answer she taps the stick against the tabletop. “No. That’s not it, is it? Because she came back, and she didn’t leave until morning. You did spend the entire night with her. Why was she so upset? Why were you?” I can’t answer so I change the subject. “I need that back ASAP.” She sniffs and gets to her feet. “Fine. You don’t want to tell me the truth. I’ll give you a little piece of advice for free.” The last thing I want is her advice but I need her to work her magic so I shut my mouth as she pushes the stick into her purse. “Maybe you should stop punishing yourself because you aren’t fooling anyone with this lone wolf shit. You wanted something that night we hooked up, and it looks like you found it in whoever this woman is.” My jaw clenches and it takes all the control I have to not tell her she’s wrong. She stares at me and shakes her head. “See? Military men, too much damn trouble.” She opens the door and closes it without me saying a single word to contradict her. What’s the point? She’s right. *** Blaire Wednesday 9.20am My stomach is twisted into painful knots as I take a seat in the conference room. Kate, my lawyer, takes a seat. “Kent and his lawyer are due here in ten minutes. I wanted you to have a little time for me to go over everything again.” She pushes the divorce papers towards me. “You’re divorcing on the grounds of adultery, but if that gets hard to prove, or if he fights it, we’ll take it in another direction.” I nod, nerves amplifying with every tick of the clock on the wall. “And you’re sure I’ll keep the house?” Kate nods slowly. “He’s not contesting it as yet. Looks like he’s in a hurry to leave the country.” I don’t have to think too hard on why Kent wants to leave. He got what he wanted, now he’s free to go home with his ex-girlfriend, still free to come and go any time he pleases. My shoulders stiffen as I see Kent and his lawyer through the glass wall of the conference room. I don’t know where to look as he walks in, looking incredibly handsome in his tailored suit and easy charm. He smiles, and my skin ignites as he takes a seat opposite. I can feel his blue eyes on me as his lawyer takes a seat and opens his briefcase. I’m so focused on not being affected by Kent’s gaze that I almost miss what his lawyer says. “Ms. Parsons, my client wishes to contest the divorce.” My neck snaps up and I suck in a gulp of air. “What?” Kate clears her throat and answers for me. “Mr. Spencer, we have already agreed on a settlement, further negotiation would delay the divorce.” His lawyer replies coolly. “My client wishes to reopen the settlement on the grounds of insufficient separation.” I’m so gobsmacked I just stare at Kent. “You have got to be kidding me.” Kate sends me a look and starts peppering the lawyer with questions. “We are in the closing stages of proceedings, we agreed on the separation time as six months and your client now decides he wishes to reopen?” Kent is smiling at me, rather smugly, like he has something over me, and just like he always does, he’s confusing me. When his lawyer says something, I have to ask him to repeat it. He nods and looks from me to Kate. “If you wish to proceed, you’ll need to find other grounds for divorce. We have clear evidence your client spent the final portion of the separation apart from my client with another man. The original claim of adultery is now redundant.” I’m so bewildered I just silently listen as Kent’s lawyer relays the seven days I spent on Heart Island. “We are amendable to opening negation again,” his lawyer says. I nearly groan. Negotiation means the house is once again going to be an issue. “What are you doing?” I snap at Kent. His gaze stays steely as both our lawyers remind us to not speak directly to each other. But Kent ignores them and speaks for the first time since sitting down. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you to talk about this. You aren’t answering your phone or returning my emails. Then I find out you were on some island with some random guy.” Heat rushes across my skin as Kate sends me a warning look then speaks to Kent’s lawyer. “What are you hoping to accomplish?” I know the answer before he speaks. “My client has no prior disposition to commit adultery; there are no viable witnesses—” Kate interrupts. “I need a minute with my client.” With a snap of his briefcase and murmuring to Kent, he pushes back from the table. “We’ll take fifteen.” I stare, slack-jawed, anger filling my veins as Kent leaves with his lawyer. Kate pushes back from the table and the words escape in a rush. “What is going on?” She frowns and sighs heavily. “Marital property law means he is entitled to a portion of the sale of your home. The only reason Kent agreed to waive his proceeds from the sale of the house was due to adultery.” She taps her pen on her chin. “If you are guilty of breaching the separation agreement, his lawyer would have told him he is within his rights to request a new settlement.” The words piece into me. “I thought this was over and done with?” “So did I. But legally speaking he has a valid claim and if we can’t agree on a new settlement, this will delay proceedings until a judge rules.” I take a breath and try to stay the torrent of anger presenting flooding through me. “I’m going to have to sell the house aren’t I?” Her lips press together. “We can file again. But if there is any evidence to confirm you were involved with another man during the separation period, his lawyer will use it to potentially take more than half of the house’s value.” My eyes start to sting and my voice comes out wobbly. “That was my house. I bought it. It’s in my name.” She pats me on the arm. “I’m sorry. I can try to talk his lawyer down, but adultery doesn’t usually affect the distribution of assets. Until now, Kent was acting against his lawyer's wishes. For some reason, he’s changed his mind.” She checks her watch. “Whether you were unfaithful at this late point in the divorce proceedings isn’t the issue. The issue is if he has proof it’ll get messy fast and if he starts down this road, it’ll be costly.” I release a sigh and blink away my tears. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” Kate smiles sadly. “It’s up to you. But it’s my job to inform you this will drag on for as long as Kent’s lawyer thinks there is something on the table. If you want to resolve it and walk away, agreeing to sell and split the proceeds is the most expedient option.” I nod, numbness creeping over my body. “Will he get fifty percent of the sale?” Her brow knits. “Given the short length of the marriage, the assets and the marital property, I’ll be pushing for to seventy thirty in your favor. If Kent wants this wrapped up, he’ll agree. I can amend the settlement and we can sign off today. Just say the word.” I agree and keep my tears in check by digging my fingernails into my palms, and instead of thinking about losing my house, or how Kent has changed his mind, I think about how Kent knew I spent the weekend with Luther alone. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. There is only one person vindictive enough. I don’t think I’ll understand the level of spite Carol Casey holds towards me. But the continued backstabbing has now reached unprecedented levels. Placing a bunch of one-stars across all my books including one not even published was ridiculous, intentionally trying to cause me harm in my private life, is almost beyond belief. Anger is building like a storm inside me until I’m not sure I won’t stop myself from retaliating somehow. I will never understand how some people can be so filled with spite. It takes so much energy to purposely sabotage another author. And what’s worse, I’ve gone out of my way to be kind to her. Whatever it is she thinks I’ve done to slight her, I can only imagine as a figment of her warped imagination. It defies belief she loathes me so much. Attacking my books, placing reviews is one thing, this goes beyond her unprofessionalism, this is hardcore stalker behavior. Since she’s obviously in cahoots with Kent, and they both have decided to gang up on me like petty teenagers, I tap my toes in my heels as I wait for Kent to come back in. The second he sits, my lawyer pulls out the new contract. “The revised proposed settlement. My client is agreeable to a seventy-thirty split from the proceeds of the marital home. If you’d like more time—” Kent looks me in the eye. “I don’t need more time. I’ll sign.” My fingers are trembling so much, I have a false start before I scrawl my signature on the contract. The second my name is on the agreement I look at Kate. “Are we done?” She nods, and I look at Kent as I shoulder my bag. “Say hello to Carol for me. Tell her I really enjoyed her last book. Pity it was in the bargain bin.” His mouth opens, but I stalk out of the room with as much dignity as I can muster. It’s a cheap shot. It really is, and he probably won’t tell her anyway. But it makes me incrementally better knowing that while her books are languishing, mine at least are doing better than my love life. I stumble down the corridor towards the elevators. I half expect Kent to show up to gloat, but he doesn’t appear as the elevator doors open. I step inside, press the button and ignore the lump in my throat as I descend to the ground floor. I’m about to pull my cell out to call Abbie when it chirps in my purse. I step out of the way of the foot traffic and press my spine against the exterior of the building. Chloe’s name is up on the screen, and I almost don’t answer. I’m not sure I can take any teenage dramatics after today. My voice comes out thick as I answer. “This isn’t a good time.” She almost squeaks down the line. “Ah! Your castle! It’s on fire!” I press the phone harder against my ear. “What on earth are you talking about?” She’s so excited I can barely make out what she’s saying. “Chloe, slow down. I can’t understand you.” She takes a deep breath. “The castle. There was an explosion or something. It’s on the news. Can you believe it? Someone planted a bomb and you were right there just a few days ago!” My thoughts start to crush in one on top of the other as I shake my head. “A bomb? Was anyone hurt?” Her breathing is still ragged. “They didn’t say. Just that the Bomb Squad were investing. This is so exciting! I mean, I’m so happy you weren’t there, but—” The phone slips away from my ear, fingers curling around it as I try to think past the panic. I lift a hand and hail a cab. I can’t even contemplate what is going on right now. I need to get back to my hotel and call Mary to check she’s okay. When the cab pulls up at the curb, I throw myself inside, bark the address at the driver and dial Mary’s number the second I’ve shut the door. Her phone switches immediately to voice mail making my panic increase. I tap out Abbie’s number and she picks up instantly. “Oh! I was going to call you! I wasn’t sure if you’d be finished with your lawyer.” I wince. “What happened at the castle? Was anyone hurt?” I grip my phone as the cab driver sends me curious looks. “I just got off the phone from Mary. No one was hurt and they aren’t telling her much. But it looks like a bomb was placed in the Boathouse. She said the police are going to interview everyone who was there the week prior.” I’m so stunned, I just lean against the door and can’t find a single word to say. “I’m a suspect?” “More like a witness. Are you okay? I mean, how did everything go with Kent?” I’m barely coherent as the cab pulls up at my hotel, I pay him, tip him far too much and stagger out. “It’s fine. It’s done. I have to sell,” I say as I walk inside the lobby. My thoughts are twisted in so many directions at once, I can’t keep them straight. “Abbie, sorry. I need to go.” “Don’t apologize. I’m just sorry this happened today. Thank God you were gone. It really makes you think, doesn’t it?” It does make me think. But not about what she probably is. “Just so I know, where did you hear about the retreat from again?” She pauses for far too long. “Don’t be angry but I ran into Carol and she mentioned it.” That’s all she needs to say. “Carol told Kent I spent the weekend on the island alone with a Marine. I lost the house because of her.” “A Marine? You didn’t tell me that. Was he the owner?” I sigh deeply. “I think he’s one too, but no, they weren’t there. It was just me and the weekend caretaker. Carol saw him arrive, knew I was staying on and must have called Kent.” “She’s such a bitch. I’m so sorry. This is my fault. If I’d been there like we planned…” She lets her voice trail off and I can’t stay mad at her. “It’s not your fault Krista got sick. Carol hates me and I have no idea why but she seems to revel in my misfortune.” Abbie snorts. “She’s just jealous. She had been ever since you won that award you were both up for. She’s a poisonous troll who belongs under a bridge.” I’m too overwhelmed to laugh. “Maybe. But she’s still making my life miserable.” Abbie sighs. “Well, misery loves company. She’s obviously a deeply sad person if she keeps targeting you. I know this sucks, but unless you plan on confronting her, what can you do?” I screw up my face as I think about all the things I could do to get back at her. But Abbie is right; Carol must be a desperately unhappy person if she feels the need to tear others down to make herself feel better. Not that it’s any consolation. I just lost my house because of her spitefulness. “I guess I can’t do anything.” “She’ll get hers. You’ll see.” Feeling less than reassured, I end the call and decide Carol Casey doesn’t deserve any more space in my thoughts. I toss my cell phone on my bed and fall face-first into the mattress as I force away thoughts I’d rather not be having. If the police are going to interview me, that means they’ll be looking at the camera and see the footage of me and Luther together. To smother my groan, I press my face into the linen and try to look on the bright side. When I can’t see anything remotely bright, I give up, accept my life is a walking disaster, and decide to do something proactive. I roll on my back, dial my lawyer and decide to see if I can pre-empt a visit from the police.