WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (77 page)

CHRISTA

I
retrieved
my digital camera from my office and joined Nicola in the kitchen. 

She laid various items from her craft kit on the worktop;
tape, wire and superglue.  “Do you think this will work?”

“Sometimes simple is best.  Looping the feed is a bit
beyond my skills, and I don’t have time to figure it out.”  I nodded
toward the door.  “Step out for a second.  I don’t want you in the
shot.”  Trying to act all innocent and sly, I carried a chair to the other
side of the kitchen, set it beneath the air vent near the top of the wall where
Nicola thought the camera was situated, and stepped on. 

Nicola moved to the doorway that led to the utility room,
poked her head around and watched with fascination.

After waiting a moment hoping the website feed would click
off in this room due to lack of activity, I raised my camera up to the air
vent, and snapped a quick photo of the room from hopefully the same angle as
their hidden camera.  “Done.”  I whipped the camera back down and
pressed the view button to check my handiwork.  “Not bad.  Focus is
fine.” 

“Show me.”  Nicola dashed over.  We huddled
against the wall and looked at the viewing screen. 

“Do you think it shows enough of the room?” I asked. 
“Is the angle right?  Was the hall door visible on the website?”

She squashed her plump lips into a flat line.  “Looks
okay to me.  Yes, I think the door was visible.”

“Do you think this will fool them?” 
Oh, maybe this
was a bad idea.

“Looks okay to me.  It’s a sharp photo.”

“Good.  Then it’ll do.” 
Maybe
.  

“We have to hang them at the right distance,” Nicola
said.  “Too far away from their cameras and the edges of the photo will be
in shot, too close and the pictures will be dark and out of focus.”

“And not show enough of the rooms.”  Heck, even this
most basic idea had variables.  “After printing them out, we can test
it.  Look at them through the viewfinder of my camera to get an idea of
the gap needed.  And if you can remember how much of the kitchen was visible
on screen, we can use that as a bench mark for the other rooms.”

“Sounds wise.” 

“Just go with your gut.  I trust you.”

Nicola’s eyes looked tired, her frame slumped; she was
running on fumes. 

I held her hands.  “We’ve got only a second or two to race
into each room, grab a chair and stand beneath the camera before movement is
detected and the thumbnail becomes visible on the website.  Are you up to
this?”

Nicola shrugged, her wild, unkempt hair bobbing around her
shoulders.  “Carrying a chair will slow us down.”

“I know.”  I paused.  “If the cameras detect us,
those men will wonder why we’re flying in and out of rooms with a chair and
camera.  But we might get lucky, they might not even be watching.”

“Ummm...  Don’t bet on it.  We need a distraction.” 
Nicola pinched the bridge of her nose in thought, then snapped alert. 
“These viewers want a show, right?”

“That’s the core of things.”

“So I say let’s give ‘em one that blows their socks
off!” 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know... I’ll dance, do aerobics, wear some slinky
lingerie and...” 

I gulped.  “Lingerie?”

“Yes.  And heels.  You deal with the cameras and
I’ll distract them.”

Crikey.  Nicola’s idea was good and simple, if not
insane.  “No.  Let me.”

“You?”

“Yes.  You have a better idea of where the cameras are
hidden.”  I paused to let her answer, but she just chewed her lip. 
“And I think you’ve dealt with more than enough already.”  The thought of
putting on a show for murderers, and God knew how many online perverts, made me
want to empty my stomach.  But I knew my decision was right.

Nicola nodded then closed her eyes and rubbed her
temples.  “I think most cameras are in the vents, but not the office
one.  Perhaps the clock above the door or the picture frame.” 

“Photograph the hall, lounge... just the main rooms
downstairs which the police might walk through.  And don’t forget the
driveway or they’ll see cop cars roll up.  That should be enough. 
Print the pictures onto matt paper so they don’t bounce light, at the highest
dpi, and suspend them in front of the cameras,” I said in a clear and slow
voice so that it would filter into her tired head.  “If for some other
reason the cameras click into action, perhaps remotely, viewers will only see
empty rooms.  Okay, I think we’ve got things covered now.”  

She said nothing.

“Nicola?” I nudged her.

“Huh?”

“Are you feeling faint again?  Are you gonna manage to
do this?”

“Yes.  I’ll be fine.”

I hoped so.
  “The photos need to be perfectly
still and secure.  If they wobble or slip–”

“Yes, yes.  I’ve got it.”

Anticipation swirled in the depths of my stomach.  The
tides were turning our way.  I knew it.

“This is crazy.”  Worry clipped her voice.  “How
can this possibly work?”

I squeezed her hands.  “It won’t.  Not in a million. 
Who are we to outsmart these guys?”

Her left eye crinkled around a sly wink.  She squeezed
me back.  “Then let’s do this.”

We hugged, left the lounge and split up in the hallway.

I raced upstairs for suitable attire.  What to
wear?  Something sexy, something...  I rummaged through my wardrobe
flinging tops, leggings and bras about the room.  Would wearing a few
scraps of fabric be enough to keep viewers eyes on me, and off Nicola? 

God, I couldn’t believe we were in such a position. 
Today’s events had certainly put a deep and hot crimp in my birthday, in fact
it had blasted a crater that I’d never forget into my entire life.

I selected a white, belt-sized bandeau top and
flesh-coloured panties.  It was really no different to being ogled on the
beach in a bikini, and
that
I could handle.  Oh, what the
heck!  I had one chance to get this right.  Time to cast my dignity
aside.  I had to go the extra mile to make the house Safe for Sarah’s
return.  I flung the bandeau onto the bed, discarding it.

The song ‘Dance like this,’ drifted upstairs from the
kitchen.  Oh, hell. 
That’s my cue!  

What to do?  What to do?
 

I scrambled over the bed.  I had to create a
distraction, fast. 

CLAIRE

“M
ake
yourself comfortable,” Claire said, tottering in on a broken heel.  Having
lured Brian into her home on the pretence of loaning him her old, pay-as-you-go
mobile phone, she sought an excuse to touch him. 

“Thanks.”

Although dishevelled, he still looked amazing in his slick
black suit with the top buttons of his white shirt undone.  A strange ache
filled her core at the thought of never again waking up to his dazzling good
looks and warm body.  There was no way he was going to leave this house
until they’d gotten back together. 

“I’m so confused,” he said, rubbing his chin.  “It’s
just too weird, that biblical thing... right?”

“Sure is.  Although that’s not necessarily what it
meant.”
 
Claire winced and pointed around the room.  “You know
where everything is.  TV, magazines...  What’s mine is yours. 
Want anything to drink?”

He slipped his hands in his trouser pockets and remained
standing.  “Thanks for helping me out, Claire.  I feel terrible
that... but if you could just lend me your old mobile, that’s really all I
need.  I’d like to check up on, ummm... Sarah.”

And Christa!
  Claire clenched her teeth but
tried to hide it behind a smile.  She knew he wouldn’t be so rude as to
phone Christa from Claire’s house, that’s why he was so desperate to
leave.  She had to stall him further.  If he contacted her, he’d
likely learn about the text she’d sent from his mobile, and that would blow her
chance of reconciliation.  “Sure.  I’ll go look.  I’m sure it’s
in a drawer in my bedroom.” 
Care to join me?
  Claire turned
on her stilettos just as her mobile rang.  She pulled the phone out of her
pocket, didn’t recognise the number, but answered it anyway when Brian frowned
at her.  “Hello?”

“Hi,” a man said.  “Is this Claire?”

“Yeah.  Who is this?”

“Marcus.”

“Marcus?” she repeated, trying to place the name.

“Brian’s mate.  I can’t get hold of him.  His
sister gave me your number.  Is he with you?”

Claire stared back at Brian, who must have heard her say his
name. 
Damn.

“My mate Marcus?”

With reluctance, Claire handed the phone over.

“Hi.”  Brian paused.  “Rumours saying what? 
That Christa and I...  Hell no.  Listen, I don’t know who told you
that but it’s all lies.  I just found him.  I didn’t put him there.”

Claire gulped.  She pointed at the hall and mouthed,
“I’ll er... go and find that old mobile.”

Brian flipped his thumb up.  “Yeah, lost my phone.”

Claire raced into her bedroom and flung herself face down on
the bed.  Hell, her brother wasn’t lying about those malicious
rumours.  She smiled.  Dale always had her back and it felt
good.  But if his methods didn’t work, she would think of a way to banish
that bloody woman from Brian’s head even if she had to track down a witch to
put a spell on him.

Knowing Brian, he’d want to speak to Christa more urgently
than ever now, to forewarn her about the rumours.  Claire had no intention
of lending Brian her old mobile phone.  No way!  As soon as she
handed him a phone, he’d be out of the front door like he had a rocket up his
ass, to contact
her
in private. 

She rolled over onto her back, reached out for her bottle of
perfume from the side table and sprayed a generous cloud of its sweetness
across her chest and in her hair.  After a few moments of wasting time,
banging wardrobe doors and drawers so Brian would believe she was searching for
her mobile, she tottered out to fix herself a drink. 

“So you’ll swing by and pick me up?” Brian said from the
lounge, still chatting on the phone. 

Claire halted in the hall outside the lounge.  She
slipped her stilettos off and pressed her back against the wall to eavesdrop.

“Great.  It’s number ten.  The one with a bay
window.  Er, no.  We’ve split up.”

Claire’s eyes pricked with the threat of tears.  The
words ‘we’ve split up’ rumbled through her like a life-sucking thunderstorm.

“Their phone line’s not working.  I tried at the
station.  I’m about to send Sarah a message on Facebook.  If I’m not
outside, just beep or knock for me, mate.”

Great!  Just wonderful.
  Brian had been in Claire’s
house for all of five minutes and was already arranging his escape. 
Frustrated, Claire lumbered along the hall and entered the kitchen.  She
grabbed a bottle of whisky that she kept for when her brother needed a tipple –
which was often – and poured a few burning gulps down her throat.  Bloody
Christa, Marcus, Sarah... who else was going to get in the way of her seducing
her man?  She carried two glasses and the bottle into the hall, then
stopped in her tracks.  Crap.  A solid lump of dread collected around
her heart. 

Did Brian mention Facebook? 

Sarah’s computer!  Oh, shit.

It was on her bookshelf.  Claire was meant to give it
to Dale, who would hand it back to the guy who owned it - a subscriber to their
website.  His stupid wife had swapped it with Christa for a desktop
without his knowledge, and the idiot had ticked the ‘keep me signed in on this
computer’ box.  It would not have been a problem if Christa had wiped the
computer, but Sarah had mentioned that her mum hadn’t had time.

Blind panic flared like a torch inside her.  She
steamed into the lounge.  “Brian, wait!  Don’t use the...”

Too late. 

Brian had found Sarah’s laptop and booted it up on the
coffee table.  From kneeling on the rug, he turned to Claire, his mouth
agape, his face pale as chalk, ruining his handsome features. 

She glimpsed the screen and immediately lost grip on a
whisky glass.  It thudded on the wooden floor breaking into shards. 
Oh, fuck.  Yes, the guy was still signed in to their site. Could today get
any worse? 

“Have you seen this?”  Brian glanced at the broken
glass then back up at Claire.

“Wha-t?”  Panic knotted her shoulders. 

“This is Sarah’s laptop, right?”  Brian didn’t seem to
care that Claire had possession of it.  No.  His dilated eyes fixed
back onto the screen which showed thumbnails of rooms in Christa’s house. 
Most rooms were empty, except one.

“It’s this stupid mouse pad.  I must have clicked on
this link by accident and...”  He glanced at Claire, his eyes crinkled in
confusion and shock.  “I just don’t understand... I... Is this for
real?”  Brian’s voice wavered.  “A screen popped up... thumbnails,
cameras.  Then I recognised the front of... it’s Christa’s house!” 

Claire lurched forward then stopped.  If she grabbed
the laptop Brian would surely be suspicious.  How should she play this?

Brian fiddled with a button on the laptop.  “There’s no
sound.”

Indeed there wasn’t. 

Wiring up microphones was something Dale said the guys had
been organising.  It would be a big job, but would heighten the viewing
experience, gain them more subscribers, as well as give the guys a heads up on
the plans of those being filmed.  Until then, Claire was the ears who
gathered gossip and passed it on, by either befriending the stars of the show
in the flesh, or on social networking sites.

Brian clicked on the bathroom thumbnail.  Its border
was flashing red, indicating a popular feed.  Instantly, the bathroom
enlarged.  “Bloody hell!  Is that Christa in the...?”

“C-Christa?”

He pointed at the screen.  “It’s hard to miss. 
Look.”

Claire leaned over Brian’s shoulder and stared.  Her
eyes widened in shock, not only because the website that earned her coin was
five inches from her lover’s nose, but because her rival Christa filled the
screen; dancing in suggestive motions in the shower as though slithering her
body to a beat.  “Goodness!  I-I don’t know what it is.”  Claire
unscrewed the whisky bottle and swallowed a huge gulp. 

Brian swivelled his head Claire’s way and furrowed his
eyebrows.  “Why the hell is Christa showering on the internet?”  He
bowed his head and rubbed his eyes.

Claire flexed her fingers, moved to touch Brian’s shoulder,
then thought better of it and pulled away.  “Perhaps you don’t know her as
well as you thought.”  She winced. 
Oh, how the hell do I get out
of this?

“I can’t believe it!”  In a fluster, his eyes roamed
the screen.  “Is this live?”  He nodded and pointed at words at the
top corner.  “Yes.  Live feed.”

“Perhaps she does it to unwind,” Claire suggested, trying to
think of what a person who was not involved in the running of the website would
say.

Brian’s horrified eyes met Claire’s.  “You mean... she
knows she’s being filmed?  Surely not.  How could you even think
that?”

“Cool it.”  She raised a palm.  “Look, I’m as
shocked as you are.” 

“She’s topless!  And her pants look painted on.”

Claire winced and fidgeted behind him.  She bit her lip
so hard it hurt.  “What are you going to do?” 

Brian eyed the laptop, then Claire, in a pointed way. 
“I can’t let this continue.”

Claire’s anxiety rocketed to a full-blown ten.  She
downed more whisky and slammed the bottle on the coffee table.  Brian
could not be allowed to breathe a word of this to anyone.  “How well do
you really know her?”

“Well enough to know this isn’t like her.”  

“Maybe this is the
real
her.  She’s not who you
think she is.”  Claire gnawed the inside of her cheek, working out how to
play this down so Brian would forget it.  “Look, don’t judge her too
harshly.  I mean, she’s only taking a shower.  She’s not even fully
naked.” 

“That’s about as close as you can get.”

No doubt about it, this was the stuff that kept subscribers
coming back for more; a sexy woman soaping herself and dancing in the
shower.  The guys running the website would be doing a happy dance. 
But moving so provocatively wasn’t something Claire had seen Christa do
before.  Anytime Claire had watched Christa dance in the office, she
resembled a wriggling caterpillar.  “Perhaps you should keep this to
yourself.  I mean, it’s obviously something she wants to keep private or
she’d have told you about it, right?  You should switch the laptop off.”

“Private?”  Brian cupped his chin and sat immersed in
the footage.  “I’d hardly call being on the internet private.  God
knows how many people are viewing this.”

“It’s disgusting that you’re watching this...
her
in
my house.”  Claire poured a shot of whisky and passed it to him, searching
her brain for a road out.  “Drink this.” 

“I can’t believe she’d parade herself like this.”  He
drained the glass in one gulp.  “And yesterday, if... if I’d known this
was what she does in her spare time then I’d not have...  Think I dodged a
bullet there.”  He slammed the empty glass on the table.

“Sure did.”  Claire had already discerned that
something happened between the two of them last night.  This confirmed it,
and reduced her stomach to a free-spinning barrel of sickness.  

“Why would she do this?  She’s got a child for Christ’s
sake.”

She stared blankly for a moment, suddenly fighting the urge
to both laugh and cry.  Finally, after all this time, she’d unearthed the
one thing that would turn Brian off Christa.  It should have been a
hallelujah moment, but instead, it could get Brian killed and land the whole
lot of them in jail.  If Dale knew Brian had seen this website he’d drive
straight round and knock him unconscious whether Claire protested or not. 
Fear for Brian’s life and her own freedom polluted her mind.  She had to
find a way to keep Brian quiet.  But how?  “Well,” Claire winced and
mumbled.  “Women as cheap as
that
just aren’t worth the
trouble.” 

His voice stiffened.  “What?  You think she does
this for money?”

“Either that or because she gets off on it.”

“Oh, Christ.”

“There are many ways to make cash online, but you wouldn’t
catch me cheapening myself that way.  Tart,” Claire scoffed, then pressed
her hand to her lips.  Regret rushed into her brain.  Had she made
things better or worse? 

“I know Christa’s been strapped for cash lately... but
this
! 
It’s outrageous.”

“Poor Sarah.  I wonder how
she’d
feel about it,”
Claire said, hoping that Brian might keep this under wraps for her sake.

“She’d be mortified.  Sarah, bless her, can never find
out about this.”

Bingo.

He got to his feet and stood face to face with Claire. 
“Thanks.”

“What for?”  God, she could stare into his gorgeous
blue eyes for an eternity.

“For bringing the laptop here.  Did you know what was
on it?”

“Oh, I er...” Claire fumbled for words that wouldn’t make
him suspicious of her.  “Yes.  Sort of.  I wanted to show it to
you, but...”

“I know.  It’s been a heck of a day.  Thanks.”

Claire bit her lip.   Had she said the right
thing?

“If Sarah had gotten hold of it she’d be devastated.” 
His face scrunched.  “I’ll find out which sleaze bag owns this
laptop.  Christa will know.  It’s second hand.”

Yeah, by accident.
  Claire stroked his arm then
reached up to turn his face toward her. 
Ahr, you smell so good. 
“You
deserve better than someone who flaunts themselves like that.  Look what
you’ve been through today, and who’s here looking after you?  Me, that’s
who.”  This was a man stupefied in shock, broken, and she had to fix him.

“I know.  You’ve been great, Claire.  I really
appreciate it.  But I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”

“You’re great.”  Brushing wayward hair out of her eyes,
she stepped forward, reducing the space between them to a mere foot.  “And
we’re
great together.  I know how much you love Sarah, and perhaps
you’re confused, but you don’t need to be with Christa to have Sarah in your
life.”