Contents (71)
- THE
- DAUGHTER
- MICHELLE FRANCES
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
‘What’s happened?’ asked Tim nervously.
‘Someone’s been here. Taken things. Copied my files.’ She pointed at the screen. ‘This one, it’s got everything I’m building into the case. All the stats, the interviews, the evidence. It’s been opened, while we were out. Someone’s read it, copied it.’
The screen pinged. Now the computer had had time to warm up, it was informing her of a new email.
Kate turned back to her computer. She opened up her email account. At the top of her inbox was the new message.
She clicked.
STOP OR WE WILL KILL YOU.
She recoiled.
‘Who sent this?’ said Tim, his jaw dropping.
Kate was shaking. ‘I don’t know.’
‘What is it, some sort of joke?’
‘Not very funny,’ said Kate.
Tim looked at the address. ‘It’s come from a nondescript free account.’
She nodded. Tucked her shaking hands under her arms.
‘How did they even know you were involved in this?’
‘I don’t know.’ Then, in a sudden realization, she gasped, and the floor spun beneath her. ‘Oh my God,’ she said.
‘What?’
She pointed at the screen. ‘This . . .’
‘What about it?’
‘They’re threatening to . . . to kill me. If I don’t stop looking into the story that Becky was writing.’
He frowned. ‘Yes?’
‘Do you suppose . . . what if Becky got one of these?’ She took a deep breath. ‘What if . . . her death wasn’t an accident?’
It was dawning on Tim. ‘Oh my God.’ He put his arm around her. ‘No . . . no, it can’t be.’
Stricken, she looked at him. Wanted to believe him but the worm of mistrust was burrowing itself deep inside her mind. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’ Kate jumped up, hand over her mouth, and ran into the kitchen, retching into the sink.
THIRTY-SIX
The police were making signs to leave. The male officer put his mug down on the coffee table, cleared his throat.
‘We’ll be doing a door-to-door over the next day or so,’ he said. ‘And, as my colleague says, we’ll pass on our report to the cyber-crime team.’ The female officer, who sat next to him on the sofa, nodded. ‘Obviously, if you get any more disturbances or you see anything suspicious, anyone hanging around, please let us know.’ He paused. ‘You might want to reconsider your campaign. If you think it’s causing someone to target you.’
Kate bit her lip, felt Tim looking at her. ‘Yes,’ she said, non-committally. Of course, they were right. But the truth was, it wasn’t as simple as that.
After she let them out, she went into the kitchen where Tim was tidying away the mugs. She sank onto a chair in exhaustion.
‘I still can’t believe it,’ said Tim. ‘Isn’t it a bit extreme to . . . do away with someone because of a newspaper exposé?’
‘Is it? What if Becky’s report had led to compensation? Millions of pounds. Enough to ruin someone.’