No matter how I try, I can't get those images of the mannequins out of my mind. I'm worried for my friend.

8. Samuel

Chapter 8

Samuel

Carolina is quiet on the drive home, a pensive mood drawing down over her like the twilight smothering the day.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

I expect her to say nothing and brush off my question, but she surprises me when she turns to face me, giving me her full attention.

“My friend has this guy who's bothering her. He is an ex-boyfriend, and he keeps leaving flowers on her car and at her work. He's also left them at a coffee shop that she's never been to with him. It means he has to have been following her at some point. He's supposedly an artist, and he's done some quite awful photographs, which are misogynistic in the extreme if you ask me. He sent them to her and said it's his latest project. I think there's a veiled threat in there. I told her I’d speak to you about hiring somebody, but she brushed me off. Can I ask you... I know my dad is paying for this, but how much are your services?”

I watch her expression, curious when I answer her. “I’m costing your father three thousand a day.”

She chokes, which is impressive as she’s not eating or drinking anything.

As she recovers, her eyes watering a little, she coughs a few times.

“Dear God. Really?”

“Yeah, really. That includes an off the top fee for my employers who organized this. It also includes a social media check and management, which they run from their base on Corfu.”

“Wait, what?” Her face grows thunderous. “People are monitoring my social media?”

Oh crap. Her father didn’t tell her. Great. “Your father requested it as part of the package. It’s important, to be fair. You post something on social media, and it can the world know where you are and puts you in danger.”

“How does it work? I post something, and your team on the ground tell you, and you come and tell me off?”

“Yeah, except they will delete anything that could show your whereabouts. You haven’t posted anything, however.”