Paparazzi by Jo Fenton (best free e reader .txt) 📕

to bed early, she arranged for Joel’s mum to give her a lift to school this morning.”

“Are they going out?”

“I think it’s imminent. They obviously really like each other.”

“Can we go through again what happened yesterday? My head was spinning by the time she got home yesterday. I gathered everything was okay, but apart from that, I’ve not a clue. The details completely escaped me.”

“There’s not a lot more than that really. From what I gathered, the Head was a bit sceptical until he read the letter from Lesley. Then he did a bit of an about-turn and released Cheryl and her friends. Apparently he called them back in later to say that he’d suspended the girls involved pending a full investigation. He’d been in touch with Wendy as well, and she’d filled him in on their criminal activities, and said they had sufficient evidence to prosecute if Danielle wanted to press charges. That bit I got from Wendy herself. She phoned the landline last night, after failing to get through to you on your mobile. She wanted to fill me in from her side.”

“That was nice of her. I’d better call her as well later.” I finish my coffee. “So it sounds as though Cheryl’s crowd will be fine. No repercussions.”

“The school is working with the police to find out if the girls’ social media accounts can be deleted, together with all content they’ve posted. It should be possible. That will clear any residual problems. Hopefully, the suspension will become expulsion. The school can’t afford to have kids like that.” Matt looks angry – not a normal condition for him.

“How would you feel if one of our girls had been a bully?”

“It wouldn’t have happened. They’ve got lovely parents, and a stable background. Statistically, it’s unlikely.”

“I don’t think I’ve given them a lot of stability this year. They’ve had a lot of worry thanks to their parents.”

The conversation is interrupted by my phone.

“Becky, is that you?” Gaz sounds anxious.

“Yes. Is Troy okay? Is he home?”

“I just picked him up from the hospital, and we went via his house to check for mail and for him to pick up some more clothes. The police have finished there. We picked up his post and brought it back to mine. He’s just opened an anonymous letter threatening to kill his daughter.”

My thoughts scramble for a moment. The problem with having children is that every threat to a child feels personal. I take a deep breath and try to get my emotions under control.

“Okay. Is he there? Can I speak to him?”

There’s a slight pause, then jagged breathing in to the phone.

“Troy, it’s Becky. Take some deep breaths.” I pause and listen to him try to control his breathing. “Where’s your daughter now? Have you checked on her?”

“She’s with Linda’s mum and dad. I’ve told them she’s been threatened. They won’t let her outdoors alone. They’re very sensible, but, shit, this killer is something else. He’s killed my wife and my parents. How can he threaten my baby?”

“You need to tell the police.”

“I can’t. The letter said I’d regret it if I breathed a word to the authorities.”

“Can you send me a photo of the letter? Handle it with gloves. It might be evidence later when we catch the killer. There might be fingerprints on it. No point adding extra prints to it.”

“Okay. But can you and Joanna come over? And is her son helping you out? Gaz said there was a young man with you both yesterday; said Joanna was his mum.”

“Yes, Will. He’s a nice chap. About your age probably. And how are you feeling? Were they okay at the hospital?”

“Yeah, I was lucky, supposedly.” He sounds bitter. I guess ‘lucky’ doesn’t quite describe him currently. I promise to bring Joanna and Will to see him later this morning, and disconnect to make the arrangements.

***

Back at Gaz’s flat an hour later, Troy is pacing the living room, running his hand through his hair, which is sticking up at all angles.

I introduce Will, then say, “Shouldn’t you be resting? At least sit down. Gaz, is there any chance of a cup of tea please?”

“Sure. I’ll put the kettle on.”

With everyone’s refreshment needs met, and Troy sitting on the sofa sipping his drink, I get out a pen and paper. I’ve got the photo of the letter which I received by text about ten minutes after the call this morning, but I ask to examine the original. Gaz puts on a pair of leather gloves and brings it over to the dining table where I’ve settled myself. I extract a paper of latex gloves from my handbag and take it from him.

It’s a sheet of white A4 paper, perhaps 80 grams per square metre, with folds to show that it was in a standard DL size envelope.

“Do you have the envelope still?” I ask. Gaz produces it, still with his gloves on. My supposition about the size was correct, and the only other thing to note was that it’s a white envelope with a printed address label, and a self-seal adhesive. This is not surprising, but I always hope a criminal will be stupid enough to lick the envelope. I produce a plastic zip-lock bag from my handbag and deposit the envelope inside before turning my attention to the actual letter. Like the address label, it’s printed, in standard Arial 12-point font.

Mr Cassidy,

Matters are not progressing as they should. The next step is your little girl. Reconsider your behaviour, or she will be in mortal danger. Do not tell the police. If there is any increase in activity because of this letter, you will never see your daughter alive again.

Regards.

“It’s very vague, isn’t it?” Will has been reading it over my shoulder. He turns to Troy. “If I was the killer, I would be a lot more explicit in my instructions. I mean, what the hell does ‘Reconsider your behaviour’ mean?”

“I dunno. I don’t even know what I’ve done to bring this on.