‘Don’t answer that, Rachel.’
She’s now staring at Gemma’s face, her expression much darker. And I notice her pupils look strange. My eyes dart to the laptop. Gemma wrote about the pupils.
Amanda reaches into her bag.
‘You’re not to answer your phone, Rachel. You’re not even to touch your phone. Do you understand me?’
CHAPTER 67
THE PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR
‘Mel. We have a problem. Where’s Amanda?’
‘Amanda? I think they said the Hartleys asked to see her. Something about helping with the media. She’s due back here in half an hour. Actually – hang on. There’s a message on my phone from Rachel Hartley. Hold a moment. Let me listen.’
Matthew presses the lift button for the fifth floor.
‘Oh Lord. Rachel’s saying Amanda knew Gemma personally. Was hassling her. There’s something on Gemma’s laptop about it, something we missed.’
‘I know. Mel, listen.’ Matthew feels the rush of adrenaline. ‘Looks like we got this wrong. There’s a strong chance Amanda’s our shooter.’ A beat of silence. ‘I just took a call too, from that head of HR. The one abroad. She finally got your message.’
‘Right . . .’ Mel is making the familiar segue from shock into fifth gear. ‘Putting you on hold while I speak to armed response . . .’
Matthew waits and watches the lift numbers. Three. Four.
‘OK. Armed team are in the grounds. On standby to move to the ward.’ Mel’s voice again. ‘So what do we have? I need to phone Rachel Hartley back.’
‘Amanda’s being eased out. She’s unstable. A serial drug user. And’ – he pauses as the doors open on the fifth floor – ‘she had an affair with Sam Blake when she first joined the university.’
Matthew steps out on to the corridor opposite the coffee machine. No one in sight.
‘I need to speak to the team again. Where exactly are you?’
‘Right outside the ward. I’ve got this.’ He’s staring at the double doors, his heartbeat increasing.
‘No, Matt. Wait until I get armed response up there.’
‘I’ll speak to the nurses. If she’s here already, we can’t wait. I’ll work with the guard on the ward.’
‘He’s not there. Still dealing with that reporter. Not on your own, Matt. It’s too dangerous.’
CHAPTER 68
THE DAUGHTER – BEFORE
Poetry
This is getting off-the-scale ridiculous. Proper harassment. I thought I could just make it through to the graduation but I’m not sure any more. I’m wondering if I should just phone home? Or tell someone here at the university? Even the police?
I wish I’d never asked for the bloody work experience now. Never persuaded her to change her mind about it. Never got to know her . . .
Amanda, it turns out, is not right in the head. Seriously.
It’s like she has this split personality. I mean – she seems so together on the surface. The smart suits and all the strutting about, managing photo shoots and press conferences. Always so busy, busy, busy. So ‘on it’。 But underneath, she’s just like the rest of us. No. Way, way worse than the rest of us. She’s messed up. Dilated pupils. Def on something some days.
When she changed her mind about the work experience, I was so grateful. Two whole weeks in her office. It was perfect for my CV. And she was so nice to me at first. Coffees and sandwiches at lunchtime at work. Then a drink in the bar after a really long day. Then a meal out to talk about my career. My future.
And then? After she caught me crying in the loo one day and I stupidly blurted it all out – broke down about the baby – I thought she was being so much more than a mentor. A new friend. The shoulder I so badly needed. Steady. Kind. So supportive.
She actually invited me round to her house, and it was such a relief to have one person on the planet to properly confide in. I couldn’t believe how steady she was. I should have realised it was all fake; that none of it was to help me.
It was after I confided about the pregnancy – not knowing what to do – that she started to get really weird. Said she was retiring early. It was a big secret, she said, but it could solve everything for me. For both of us. She said she could help with my career. Help with the baby too. Some days it was like she was on something. Wired. When she first mentioned private adoption, I thought she meant advice. Something for me to investigate. An option for me. But that’s not what she meant at all.
Plus she somehow guessed who the father was. Confronted me. And now she’s texting me constantly. Trying to get me to change my mind. She’s got this mad idea that I should let her have my baby. Can you believe it? A sort of ‘unofficial’ arrangement. She’s off her head!