‘No. I don’t,’ I say truthfully. ‘I did a long time ago. But not any more.’
‘Jolly good,’ she says absently, and then taps on my computer. I gasp as she’s through my password in seconds and my screen saver of Beth comes up. ‘You see,’ she nods at it, ‘that ought to be James. It wouldn’t mean you love Beth any the less. It just means you acknowledge you actually have a son still living.’
‘Don’t talk about Beth like that, please.’ I blink again; my head is killing me. ‘Jesus – what did you hit me with?’
‘It’s completely irrelevant.’ She turns back to the screen. ‘It’s the fucking great hole in the back of your head you should be worried about. That’s exactly what I mean, Jessica. You waste so much time focusing on the wrong details.’ She shakes her head again and mutters ‘Idiot’ under her breath. I don’t know who she’s referring to: her or me. She taps a couple of keys on the screen. ‘Right. I think we’re ready.’ She straightens up.
My guts tighten. ‘Ready for what? What are you going to do to me?’
‘So – what would you normally be doing on a Saturday at this time, Jessica?’
‘Um…’ Confused, I try to think. ‘James would be going down for his morning nap or out with Ed. You’d be out. I’d be working probably.’
‘On your laptop.’
‘Yes, of course.’
She leans forward and speaks directly to the laptop screen. ‘So you’re on the laptop most Saturday mornings at this time.’
‘Yes. Why are you speaking into it like that?’
She ignores me. ‘Hello,’ she says to the screen, ‘I know you’re there. Come join us. Jessica’s here too.’ She moves out of the way and gestures expansively to me. ‘I could make the obvious comment about her being a bit tied up, but I’d rather just tell you I’m going to give you up to fifteen minutes, OK? Then it’s going to get a bit more complicated.’ She shuts the lid suddenly.
‘Who were you talking to?’ I say slowly.
She looks surprised. ‘My dad, of course. Oh, sorry – did you not know he watches you through your computer?’
This time I don’t even blink. I just stare at her in shock.
‘It wasn’t me that sent you the infected email. It was him. He has access to everything of yours. Your emails, your files, your pictures, your searches, your notes… and your camera.’ She opens the lid again and points up to the small round circle in the middle of my laptop screen. ‘That’s how he watches you. How – as far as I can make out – he’s been watching you for the last four years. He’s pretty dedicated.’
Bile starts to swirl in my stomach and rise up my throat. ‘You’re lying.’
Cara shrugs. ‘I don’t care if you think I’m lying or not. But I am interested to see what my father does next. Will he come straight away because he’s worried for your safety, and thus have to admit his dirty little secret, or is he going to protect himself and do nothing? In other words – who is the most important person in Dad’s life? You – or him.’
‘You’re insane.’ I can’t help myself.
‘No, I’m not.’ She is unafraid to meet my eye. ‘I’m just desperately sad.’
I’m reminded suddenly of the tearstained little girl sat on the carpet holding hands with Beth that morning – as Ed’s warning echoes in my mind; the more desperate someone is, the more dangerous they are.
‘Please just let me go back to James, Cara.’
‘No,’ she says. ‘Be quiet now. Although – I do need to tell you something else before he arrives. When I spoke to my mother the day before she died, she said that seventeen years ago I was asked to do something.’
She pulls out a chair and sits down opposite me, folding her legs up and under her so that she’s sitting in the lotus position. She still looks no older than fifteen.
‘“Hurt her.” That’s apparently what I was told. I think Mum meant she told me to hurt Beth rather than it was my dad who said it, but as you can imagine, Mum was pretty incoherent and I’m not entirely sure who said what, but I was definitely told: “At playtime, hurt Beth. It’s part of a secret game”.’
I feel myself start to shake despite the fact that I am tightly bound. ‘You’re lying. It was an accident.’
‘I have no reason to lie.’
‘Of course you do! You hate me!’
She hesitates. ‘I thought I did, but I don’t, actually. I was told to hurt my friend – and I did it because I was a good girl. And she fell.’
I stare at her, unable to speak. A single tear courses down my cheek. Beth holds up her arms to me, asking for her hug goodbye. ‘You’re lying.’ I’m now pleading with her.
‘It wasn’t an accident, Jessica. When Mum told me… I think I even remembered doing it. I could see it all happening, reaching out…’ She closes her eyes and frowns intently as if she’s trawling through her thoughts, replaying it back to herself, but just as suddenly, her eyes snap open and she looks straight at me. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t know what I was doing.’
I scream. The pain at what she’s just said is just too much to keep in. That woman on the bike with her message… someone knew what was going to happen. They tried to warn me. Was it Mum?
Cara looks down at the floor. ‘He’s not coming from Surrey, in case you’re wondering,’ she says quietly. ‘He just works there. He bought a house just around the corner from here.’
‘You’re not serious?’
‘Of course I am.’ She looks at her watch, before standing up, walking over to the side and picking up a large kitchen knife I don’t recognise.
My pulse begins to flutter with panic, but we are interrupted by hammering on the front door. Cara stiffens, and takes a deep breath. In a couple of quick steps, she is right next to me and slips the blade under my chin. The sharp edge rests on my skin as she shouts: ‘Come in Dad. It’s open.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Simon bursts into the room, gasping for breath. He was clearly unprepared for running several streets today, dressed in a checked shirt, jeans and brogues, but the high colour in his cheeks literally drains from his skin as he takes in the scene of his daughter stood holding a knife under my chin.
‘Shut the front door,’ Cara says calmly, ‘then come in and stand in the doorway. No closer than that though – and I mean it.’
He turns and does as he’s told. When he reappears, he just stands there for a moment, puts his hands on his head in shock and whispers: ‘I’m so sorry.’
Cara sighs heavily. ‘Well, that makes it all much better. Thanks, Dad. I’m not even sure which one of us you’re talking to.’
‘Is Jessica badly hurt, Cara?’ he asks quietly. ‘She’s got a little boy who needs her.’
Cara says nothing.
‘I don’t want to call the police, but I will if you don’t answer me.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Cara says. ‘They’ll uncover everything and then you’ll lose your job, your reputation – the lot, which we both know would really bother you; “Headmaster at ￡30k-a-year school found guilty of ratting, to be sentenced next week. Simon Strallen had been cyberstalking Jessica Casson for several years, using the camera on her laptop, monitoring her emails, and keeping tabs on her Internet searches. Aware that Mrs Casson was selling her property, Strallen followed her activity on the property portal Rightmove, before also deciding to ‘sell’ his house so that his victim, also known as the lover-that-he-had-a-secret-child-with”—’
Simon looks at the floor and closes his eyes.
‘“Might want to go and view it, with no knowledge of whose house it was”. Ratters call their victims slaves, you know, Jess, in their online forums.’ Cara addresses me as if we’re having a cosy chat. ‘Most of them have several “slaves” they’re watching. Dad just has you. It must be a lot easier to do it that way than the good old-fashioned stalking he used to indulge in though, which involved accepting a new job and moving his wife and daughter to the town his ex-lover had also moved to. Like we said earlier, there’s no such thing as privacy any more. Isn’t that right, Dad?’