So now it’s still way before she would normally get out of bed, and she’s dog-tired, but there’s no use lying here any longer, dreaming up further nightmarish scenarios.
She throws the duvet off and swings her feet onto the carpet. The damn sofa was really uncomfortable, and she really doesn’t think she could face another night on it, even if she still hasn’t sorted Parker out by then.
The house is cold. Leaving that window open didn’t help. Webley hugs herself as she walks out to the hallway and then to the front door. She breathes a sigh of relief as she sees that no more packages have been pushed through her letter box. She unbolts the front door and opens it. No packages there either. Good.
She goes upstairs and finds a warm dressing gown, then comes back down to the kitchen. She puts the kettle on and makes a strong instant coffee. She carries her mug to the table, then checks her phone. One thing she didn’t hear during the night was the phone’s ping, announcing messages or emails. Sure enough, there’s nothing on it from Parker.
She rings his number. It goes directly to voicemail. She stabs the button to end the call.
‘For fuck’s sake, Parker, you lunatic. Answer your fucking phone.’
She gives up. Tries to eject Parker from her mind. All this worry is going to make her ill.
She finishes her coffee, then gets washed and dressed before having a bowl of cereal. She doesn’t actually feel like eating but knows she’ll need to get something inside her before work.
When she leaves the house it’s still early, but it’s going to be a full-on day. She’s going to have to speak to Blunt but also the Missing Persons Unit. On top of that, she needs to put aside her distractions and get stuck into the Selby case. Which is another thing bothering her. She makes a wish for some good luck today – on the investigation and with Parker.
She locks up and steps outside. Walks to her car.
And that’s when she sees it.
It’s a small white plastic bag, held in place under her windscreen wiper.
She wants to cry. This is too much to take.
She retrieves the bag. There’s not much weight to it. She looks up and down the street. She knows Parker has been here in the night. Why couldn’t it have been at a time when she was peering out of her front window?
Parker, what are you trying to do to me?
She takes the bag back into the house. Into the kitchen once again. She cuts it open, finds another small box with a typed stick-on label containing her name and the kisses that do nothing whatsoever to console her.
She reaches out a hand to open it. Pulls it back again.
I can’t do this.
She finds her phone and rings Cody. It’s answered within seconds.
‘Megan? Are you okay?’
She hears the alarm in his voice and realises she has probably just ruined a perfectly good sleep.
‘He’s been here again. Parker. He’s left me another present.’
‘Shit. What is it this time?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t want to open it.’
‘It’s okay. I’ll come right over.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
Touched by his friendship, she feels like crying again. ‘Thank you, Cody.’
* * *
Again, Cody is there in a flash. Webley guesses he can’t even have showered or eaten, he’s there that quickly.
‘Have you opened it yet?’ he asks as he enters the house.
‘No. I couldn’t. I know it sounds ridiculous…’
‘No. I understand. I’d be the same.’
Webley takes him into the kitchen again. Shows him another white box on her worktop. Déjà vu of the worst kind.
Cody looks at the box, then at Webley. ‘You want me to…’
‘Only if…’ She senses his reluctance. ‘I mean, you don’t have to.’
‘It’s fine.’
She watches as he picks up the box, but then she has to turn away as he opens it. She stands there in suspense, her hand over her mouth, her eyes half-closed. Cody’s silence goes on for too long.
She says, ‘What is it? What is it?’
‘There’s another card on top,’ Cody answers. ‘It says, “I bet Cody hasn’t given you one of these. Be mine, Megan xxx”’
