Unbound (The Braille Club #2) (18 page)

As a deeply private man, Benedict was uncomfortable at the thought of sharing their connection in a zone session. He thought of their impending nuptials to keep him calm although he felt anything but. He retuned into the conversation.

“…until the session,” said Guy, standing. “Sessions will be conducted on an informal and trial basis until further notice.”

Benedict stood up, nodding at Ford, his hand lightly guiding Siena as they walked out the door.

***

Siena

Her mind also on their impending nuptials, she felt overwhelmed with so much still to do. Just thinking about their weekend together had her pulse racing. She had wanted it to go on forever…those feelings had been so infrequent over the last year but she missed the twins acutely. Her parents had been at the airport to collect them and her heart was only complete when she and Benedict had a child each in arm.

She turned; Benedict was staring at her intently, his eyes clear and shining. She knew she had made the right decision, she couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Harrison—to call this beautiful and complex man her husband, the father of her children, and the love of her life.

Chapter 33

The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The neck restraint was the first to tighten and desire shot through Guy’s body and cleared his thoughts. This experience was all about the mind. There would be a build-up, the anticipation, the fear, and ultimately the pain. With every thought his mind produced, his body responded accordingly as the restraint continued to tighten.

Niven

Niven remembered little of the days directly after her attack. Shocked and deeply traumatised, she was rushed to the hospital. Her neck wound required stitches but the cuts to her chest were superficial, most of the blood on her was Maria’s. The angle she fell at meant she’d pinned Toby against the wall but bled mostly on Niven.

She’d not spoken either, turning her face away when anyone entered the room, especially her parents. Whenever Niven thought of Maria it was like suffocating. The pain made it hard to breathe. She loved her like a mother, and Maria had sacrificed her life to save Niven. Pronounced dead at their home, Toby’s knife had punctured her heart, killing her instantly. Niven had been too frightened to speak, giving the scantest of details over several days to the police. There was no doubt in her mind Toby wanted her sexually. Pinned beneath him, she’d read every intention in his bright blue eyes; it was why she was alive today.

He’d ample opportunity to stab her, but she’d felt something pressing against her, through her pyjamas. Saw the excitement in his eyes as he cut through her top. However, she didn’t share any of these thoughts with the police. She would never know
why
Maria came into her room but was eternally grateful she had. The media had been interested, but they only had the basic facts. No one was talking. The story had been woven as an accidental death—a child with a knife fatally wounding the housekeeper of the family.

Her mother went to extreme lengths, not to protect Niven, but to protect herself. Her father was also quick to distance himself from his son and play the role of shocked and concerned parent to Niven. With Toby in custody, it was like he had never existed. Craig approached and paid off Toby’s mother, Joan. She quickly adopted the same ethos and took the money, appalled by her son’s behaviour but not surprised. Like Niven, she confessed to being afraid of him. She said it started as a seed of doubt but it grew quickly. From a young age, her son was disliked at nursery. Whenever a child got upset, Toby was usually involved, and he was a dirty fighter; he liked to bite. Things only got worse when he started school. She tried to get his father involved, but he wasn’t interested.

Joan told of countless visits to the school and understood it was only a matter of time before Toby got himself into real trouble. However, she never in her wildest dreams thought he was capable of murder. The money she took for her silence was substantial and an opportunity to escape Toby and his crime. People knew what he had done. They thought it was her fault…that she’d been a bad mother. This time she wouldn’t stick around to take the blame. She made plans, her heart breaking as she realised she may never see her son again. She said at first she struggled to comprehend her emotions before understanding she was relieved.

Due to the delicate nature of the crime—a child killer was major headlines after all—the last thing the police needed was a media frenzy. They were keen to protect Niven’s identity. However, the Child Protection Officers sensed something was amiss. The terror in Niven’s eyes told a different story but they were unable to proceed without her collaborating testimony. Niven was traumatised and went along with her mother’s version of events, too terrified to face the truth.

“Say you awoke with Toby in your room; it was a childish prank. He was showing off with the knife when Maria came into the room. She mistook him as an attacker and rushed forwards. Startled, Toby turned, the knife in his hand, and accidentally stabbed her,” said Clarisse patiently, over and over.

Niven had felt sick at the lies that spewed from her adoptive mother’s lips and unbelievably she became the victim, not Niven. Friends, shocked and horrified, rushed to her side. Hiding the truth from them, she was all about damage limitation. She was unable to change the fact that Toby killed Maria, however, with the right spin, the tragedy might work to her advantage.

Toby would be sent away, Clarisse didn’t care where, only that she would be rid of him. Replacing Maria was inconvenient, as good housekeepers weren’t easy to find, but the agency sent someone as a temporary measure until Clarisse could interview.

Niven had been terrified when the trial came around and even her mother worried she might break down and blub out the truth. Measures were put in place that allowed her video testimony to be used, thus sparing her the horror of seeing Toby again. Her abject terror convinced all involved this was the only solution. Craig’s version of events told of Niven’s screams and their dash to her room. His voice, barely audible, told of how he tried to feel for a pulse but was interrupted by the arrival of the police.

He appeared distraught by the turn of events and Maria’s accidental death, but it was Clarisse’s testimony that planted the seed with the jury early on; that something was wrong with Toby. She stated he was jealous of Niven and she’d quarrelled with Toby—told him not to come to the house anymore. Her face stricken, she told the jury she blamed herself, if she had been more supportive…more understanding…then Maria might be alive today. By forcing Toby out of their lives, she inadvertently invited him in, with devastating consequences.

Toby’s lawyer seemed somewhat lacking, his objections minimal as the evidence piled up against his client. Toby sat, his fury barely concealed, before he jumped up and screamed Clarisse was a lying bitch. Officers restrained him as Clarisse smiled apologetically and knowingly at the jury. She shrugged her shoulders in an “I told you so” type gesture. Toby lost all composure and lashed out as he tried to get to her. The officers struggled to restrain him and he was forcefully removed from the court.

The psychiatrist report told of a deeply troubled boy, listing numerous labels. Toby had a total disregard for authority, he had severe rage issues, and he may be exhibiting a number of personality disorders. The jury made their decision quickly and Toby was found guilty of manslaughter and Clarisse got her wish…he was out of their life.

Niven was told Toby had gone away, and she mustn’t worry anymore. It was the first thing her mother said since the whole nightmare started that made Niven relax slightly. She attended every type of counselling available. Niven felt Clarisse’s motives were always unfathomable but this time it did help, plus her modelling career took off.

Niven’s striking beauty and reluctance to engage with others shone through her photographs, making her seem mysterious but fragile, beautiful but distant, and she was getting attention. She threw herself into the industry, a shining new talent as Toby gradually faded from her mind. Her life at home settled back to the hell it had always been, minus the love and support from Maria. Niven had wept the first night she had stayed in her rented flat; it was the first time she had felt truly safe. Clarisse never considered the implications of staying in that house for Niven—the memories of Maria were everywhere. Niven had never moved back into her bedroom, choosing the spare room instead, and for once Clarisse didn’t object.

At the back of Niven’s mind she knew she needed to re-balance her life. She couldn’t bear anyone touching her, Toby’s legacy lived on. It took years of discipline not to flinch when the hairdresser brushed her hair or the makeup artist touched up her face, but dating was still a no go area for her. She’d had lots of offers, however, the thought of being alone with a man brought her out in a sweat.

She hoped the Braille Club would help her get over these issues. She’d said yes to Guy’s meeting, not allowing her fear to take hold.

The sense someone was watching her was real. Now her phone rang in the middle of the night, the number unknown, but Niven didn’t believe in coincidences. She had a bad feeling in her stomach that wouldn’t go away and with reluctance decided it was time to find out if Toby was back in her life.

Chapter 34

The Braille Club, London, One Year On: Guy’s heart hammered in his chest as he literally gasped for breath, fear overriding everything. Then there was heat, the wonderful fragrance of Braille, and lips. They were soft, moist, and the kiss was intense and erotic, making him forget his fear, making him forget everything.

London 2014

Anna

Anna opened her eyes, relieved it was morning although she hadn’t slept. She felt weak as she struggled to sit up and let herself fall back onto the bed. She looked at her watch. It was 5:30, plenty of time to call the office. Martin, her firm’s senior partner, arrived at 7:30 and it was best to get him early.

What would she say to him? There were several versions swimming around her head. Should she start with “Robert is having an affair?” No, she didn’t want his pity. “Robert and I have separated?” No, she wanted no ambiguity. She selected her next option. “Robert and I have decided to divorce”…it was strong, to the point, and final. She lay for several more minutes running over the conversation in her head before getting up.

Making her way gingerly downstairs, she avoided the study with her eyes until she reached the safety of the kitchen. She put on coffee and got a pen and pad. As she looked around the kitchen critically, it was as if she was seeing her possessions for the first time. She caught herself. Her possessions? Her mind was already separating what she would be taking. The list started with her favourite mug. The process consumed her as the list grew, but it felt good to have something to do. Her laptop was in Robert’s study but she lacked the strength to go to the scene of the crime, as she thought of it. Robert never went back to her rented flat in London and she could understand his sentiment.

Even thinking of her affair brought back painful memories. At the time, it had been just great sex, or at least she’d thought so. She could tell Robert’s affair was different. It was written all over his face—he was clearly in love. She welcomed the stab of pain as it ripped through her. It was different from anything she had experienced…and she had experienced a lot! The pain of betrayal was indeed unique; Robert had firsthand knowledge. Not proud of her affair, she wondered how he’d coped in those early days.

Focused on saving her marriage, she had never considered it. Once the initial danger of Robert leaving diminished, all she could feel was relief. She became pragmatic; she missed Guy, it hurt,
a lot
, but she would heal. Her punishment matched her crime—she was guilty as charged. That seemed a lifetime ago, and just as she thought they were turning a corner…

Refusing to think about yesterday’s events, she concentrated on her growing list. Less than twenty-four hours and her life had changed forever. The boxes she needed to pack her things were in the attic. She wanted something physical to distract her and pulled on a warm jacket. Climbing the stairs to the attic, she went up to retrieve them. Finding the flattened boxes, a plastic container caught her eye: memories assailed her. Suddenly she was back in her London flat, crying uncontrollably as she packed up her possessions the day after her affair was brutally revealed. Just the sight of it made her long for Guy. Not caring, she had thrown everything into the container; shut it and her thoughts of Guy away. Out of sight and out of mind was the only way she could cope. Everything in her life went into it apart from her clothes and some books. Left in the attic two years ago, she reached for it now and lugged it downstairs. She returned to the attic to retrieve the flattened boxes and dumped everything into the kitchen. At precisely 7:45 she called Martin’s direct line, knowing he would answer himself, and heard the phone connect.

“Yes?” Martin barked.

“Martin, it’s Anna. I need some time off I’m afraid…”

“What? Anna, that’s impossible. We are already stretched to our limits and didn’t you have an afternoon off yesterday?”

“Martin, listen—”

Something in Anna’s voice made him pause.

“I am about to start divorce proceedings, put my home on the market, and move into rented accommodation. I need time off to do that, and if you cannot accommodate me, then I will give you my resignation today. I must get my house in order.” Anna’s voice was deadly calm.

Martin cleared his throat. “I see…well, I’m sorry to hear that, Anna,” he responded lamely.

“I will work from home over the next few days. However, I’m not taking calls except from Elaine, is that understood?” she instructed, thinking her secretary was the only person she could cope with right now and essential to getting through her workload.

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll update Elaine as soon as she gets in,” Martin blustered.

“Make sure you do, Martin, and thank you,” said Anna before hanging up the phone.

Anna was angry but not surprised. He reacted the same way two years ago when she’d taken time off after the fallout of her affair. It seemed in Martin’s world there could and should be…no weakness.

She turned and marched to Robert’s study, throwing the door open and walking inside. He would be back today or tomorrow, she was sure of it. All his current cases were contained here. Her gaze didn’t see the large piece of mahogany furniture. Instead she saw Robert gazing lovingly into the eyes of the blonde girl in the pretty dress, his hand tenderly caressing her arm. She breathed deeply as her anger increased, shaking her head to scatter the image of her husband before she approached his desk. She wanted to get the axe from the garage and smash it to smithereens; instead she sat down and looked around. Robert had left in a hurry and his desk diary lay open. She saw the entry.

Poppy 1:30 p.m.

It was the perfect name for her, Anna thought—vibrant but natural, delicate but young, and she hated it instantly. She found many more entries with Poppy’s name until she slammed the diary shut, grabbed her laptop, and left. She was wasting time; there was nothing to be gained by snooping into Robert’s love affair with Poppy.

Grim-faced, Anna headed back to the kitchen and took out the parcel tape, working non-stop until her screaming back begged her to sit down. She pulled the list towards her, satisfied she’d missed nothing, and turned to switch her laptop on. Searching for estate agents, she noted down the numbers of several with possible rentals. She lifted the phone and spent the next hour registering her details and making appointments. She immediately felt calmer. She called her local estate agent next and asked if he was free this week for an evaluation. He was excited to hear where the house was located and assured her it would sell quickly. They agreed on a date later in the week and she ended the call. Her next phone call was harder. Her colleague Gemma worked in Family Law and she needed a recommendation. She was surprised to hear from Anna, no doubt wondering why she hadn’t popped in. Anna explained she wasn’t at work and she needed a favour. Gemma, completely professional, didn’t ask Anna any awkward questions about her request and gave her several names and numbers.

“Listen, Anna, if you need to talk to someone as a friend, please call me,” she said sincerely.

Anna thanked her and promised to be in touch soon. She had three names to choose from. Gemma said they were all excellent. Anna must select the best fit for her. She picked up the phone and dialled.

“Marcus Appleby.”

“Hi, my name is Anna Dunbar, I got your number from Gemma Hawkins and I’m looking for a divorce lawyer,” said Anna, the words alien and strange.

“Hi Anna,” said Marcus. His voice was soft and kind; Anna liked that. “Would you like to make an appointment?”

“Yes,” said Anna firmly.

She could hear him flicking through a diary.

“Actually, Anna, I’m free tomorrow afternoon at 2:30, if that’s any good. I’ve got a cancellation.”

“Yes, I could make that,” said Anna.
The sooner the better
, she thought.

“Perfect, I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Marcus.

Anna put the phone down and burst into tears, the shock of actually discussing her divorce finally penetrating. Like any delayed reaction it caught her by surprise. Shoulders heaving, she sat down on the kitchen chair and let herself cry. She looked at the chaos around her, every surface in the kitchen covered with pots, glasses, and mugs. How had it come to this? She must pack away her life and her marriage. The plastic container she had lifted from the loft earlier was beside her and she looked inside. It seemed like a lifetime ago but she couldn’t help but see the similarities. Her feelings for Guy had been packed up and put in storage as she fought to save her marriage, and for what? She had been miserable, as had Robert. She riffled through the contents, wondering if there was anything of Guy’s when her eyes fell upon the mobile phone lying there. Old now by modern standards, she felt her pulse quicken. There was only one number stored in the contacts and she felt her hopes rise as she tipped the contents out, searching for the charger. It wasn’t there. Damn.

Her tears stopped and she blew her nose as she tried to think where it could be, when she remembered that she had charged the Blackberry at home once. She went to Robert’s study and looked in the cupboard where he kept odds and ends and voilà, a Blackberry charger. She rushed back to the kitchen and smiled when it fitted. The mobile began to charge.

She jumped when she heard the front door open. She wiped her face quickly—she didn’t want Robert to see any sign of weakness. He was a lawyer too, after all, and he might not agree to her view on how their assets would be split. When he finally walked in the kitchen, his face was drawn and she felt a tug of pity. A small part of her would always love him but the main part of her heart didn’t, and clearly, he felt the same about her. His eyes were weary as they took in the scene; his shoulders slumped in defeat as he sat down next to her.

“Anna, I’m so sorry. You must think I did this out of spite but it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t planned,” he said dejectedly.

“I’m moving out, Robert. I’ll have everything packed in a few days. I have several flats to view,” Anna replied icily.

Robert looked stunned. “Anna, I don’t want you to move out…I’ve spoken to Poppy, told her it’s over.”

Anna didn’t believe him. “Who are you trying to convince, Robert—you or me?”

“Don’t you dare take the moral high ground with me. Poppy and I can’t be compared to walking in on your lover screwing your brains out!” exclaimed Robert, enraged.

“Then let’s not pretend anymore, shall we?” said Anna angrily. “It’s over, Robert. It’s been over, as you rightly pointed out, since you found me with Guy.”

Robert rounded on her, furious. “So you’re the victim here, poor Anna. ‘It was just sex, Robert…it meant nothing, Robert,’” he mimicked cruelly.

“You have enjoyed every minute of punishing me,” Anna spat. “Not one day passed without you rubbing my nose in it.”

“What, and you don’t like being punished?” he sneered. “Please! You and your perversions. Did you think I didn’t know, Anna? That club you wanted us to join…you disgust me.”

Without thinking, Anna slapped him hard across the face. He lunged for her, grabbed her arms, and they struggled. Anna fought and kicked, her anger erupting as she lashed out. Robert yelped as her foot connected with his body. They careened crazily around the room until they fell over one of the boxes. Anna screamed in pain as they fell heavily to the floor. Robert, absolutely furious, eventually overpowered her. Holding her down, his face was puce as his knees kicked her legs apart and he lay on top of her.

“This is the way you like it, Anna. Am I turning you on or do you need it rougher?”

“Get off of me,” she screamed, twisting her body, her voice filled with rage.

With one hand he ripped the buttons off her blouse and Anna could sense he was losing it. All his accumulated resentment had festered, and rage twisted his face. Anna suddenly felt afraid.

“Is this what
Guy
did to you, Anna?”

“Get off me,” she screamed. Her body bucked wildly, chest heaving, eyes wild.

Robert laughed as he kept her pinned down, tightening his grip, hurting her, bruising her.

“You’re nothing but a freak,” he spat, suddenly releasing her. “I wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole.”

Anna sat up and shot backwards, scrambling to pull her blouse closed and get as far away from Robert as she could when she saw the blood. She must have hit her face when they had fallen and now that the adrenaline had subsided, the pain from her nose suggested it must be broken.

“Oh my God, Anna…are you all right?” said Robert, horrified.

“Don’t touch me, get out!” she screamed hysterically as tears and blood ran down her face. She was finding it hard to breathe, her nose blocked as she gulped air through her mouth. Robert stood stricken, but as he moved towards her she shot up and reached for the phone.

“I’m calling the police if you don’t leave this second.” Her voice was choked and shaking.

“Anna, please, I’m sorry…let me help you,” Robert begged. Anna started to dial. “Okay, I’m going…I didn’t mean to hurt you, Anna, I’m sorry.” Robert hung his head.