High Pressure Read online

  Brioni clicked on the timeline at the top of the screen. Instantly a map appeared and down the left-hand side a list of places Marissa – or her phone, at least – had been.

  She began to scroll: ‘OK … So, she started from home at 10.30. It looks like she walked for eight minutes to Highgate Tube station, then took the train. Then it’s showing her in Fitzrovia.’ Brioni paused and scrolled down. ‘The next stop is somewhere called A Cut Above – do you think that’s a hairdresser? That’s not in her diary, though. Then, on the same street – it’s only a minute’s walk – to a restaurant called Verdi’s. That was at 12.20. She stayed there until just before two o’clock, and then it’s showing her walking again. Towards Tottenham Court Road, and then Oxford Street.’

  ‘Wow, you’ve no privacy from Google, have you?’ Anna said, shaking her head as Brioni turned to look at her.

  ‘Do you think she met Jacinta at the restaurant? But why would she get there an hour early?’ Brioni frowned, trying to work it out.

  Anna looked thoughtful. ‘If she was getting her hair done, there’s a good chance she was meeting someone she wanted to look good for? She was due at the church in the evening, but I can’t imagine she was getting it done for that.’

  Brioni screwed up her nose as she looked back at the screen. ‘Maybe the meeting was for a job interview or something. Steve said he had lunch with her, didn’t he?’

  Anna nodded, ‘Isolde said that’s why he was worried – he knew she’d been in the area of the bomb.’

  Her eyes back on the screen, Brioni opened another search window, speaking half to herself. ‘But the Cybex offices are in Canary Wharf – that’s a good distance away, isn’t it? It’s a funny place to meet.’

  Anna tapped her nails on the polished mahogany table beside her. ‘Unless she was going there already to meet this Jacinta. Check her email and see if there are any messages from her that might tell you what the meeting was about. Perhaps it was a chat about a job, and she didn’t want to tell Steve until she knew she had it.’ Anna paused. ‘I can’t think of why you’d meet your wife for lunch in the middle of the working day at a restaurant miles away from your office or your next destination. Surely they could have caught up on each other’s news by phone, or later in the evening?’

  Brioni glanced over her shoulder to look at Anna. ‘Maybe he wanted to meet Jacinta, too? Maybe she’d planned to meet Jacinta and he decided to join them?’

  Her eyes back on the screen, Brioni clicked open Marissa’s email and searched for Jacinta’s name ‘There’s nothing here with Jacinta in it. But she could have a totally different email and sign her name differently. I’d need to go through all her email for the preceding days to find the confirmation.’ Brioni turned to look at Anna again. ‘It’s way too hot to be trekking around the city unless you’ve got a good reason. Steve must have wanted to meet her.’

  Anna frowned. ‘Maybe Mar said something to the hairdresser about lunch? You know how you chat about where you’re going. They always ask.’

  ‘I can call in and find out, and go into the restaurant, show them her photograph. Maybe this Jacinta is a regular and they can help us find her.’ Brioni paused. ‘They might be able to tell us if she had a row with Steve or something, too.’

  Before Anna could answer, there was a knock at the door. ‘That’s the tea. Have a look to see where else she’s been.’

  Anna went to open the door as Brioni turned back to the laptop. She pulled over the hotel notepad on the desk and flipped it open, methodically clicking on the timeline for each day in the preceding weeks and making notes.

  Anna put the tea down on the desk beside Brioni as she read out the various locations Marissa had visited.

  ‘Waitrose, New Hope’s Church … Oh, the day before yesterday she went to a place called Amia …’ Brioni paused while she opened another window to search. ‘It’s a beauty salon.’

  ‘We should talk to them, too. She might have chatted to them, mentioned if she was meeting anyone. I’m sure if we can find her friends, one of them must know where she might go if she was in distress.’ Taking her cup of tea to the chair, Anna sat down again. ‘Are there any coffee shops or other restaurants?’

  Brioni shook her head. Sitting back, she picked up her tea gratefully.

  ‘We’ve got somewhere to start, but I’d need to call in to the hairdressers soon before they forget. Some of these places might have CCTV – if they’ll show me it …’

  Anna looked doubtful. ‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up, but people can be very helpful. Let’s see what they’ve got to say.’

  Brioni looked at her, a worried expression on her face. ‘I need to go and see Steve, too. It would be a bit weird if I didn’t.’

  Taking a sip of her own tea, Anna nodded in agreement. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘Would you? He’ll be a bit surprised to see us both, but he doesn’t know we haven’t known each other for ages and you only made the connection with Mar after you met him. He knows what the Irish are like. At least, he should do by now.’

  Anna looked at the time on her phone. ‘It’s three o’clock. It would be sensible to do Steve first, he might have had news.’

  Chapter 24

  As Brioni and Anna trotted down the broad steps of the Hogarth Hotel and on to Great Russell Street, they didn’t notice a man fall into step behind them. Dalton Hargreaves kept his distance, blending in with the tourists and students on the broad pavement. He’d changed out of his denims and flip-flops into khaki combats and desert boots, was wearing dark shades and Beats headphones connected to the phone in his pocket.

  He wasn’t listening to music, though.

  Thoughts boiled inside him, churning his stomach. It felt as though his head would burst. Had Marissa been near the bus? How was that even possible? He couldn’t watch the TV news, couldn’t see the pictures, was listening to the radio instead. He’d seen enough in the Middle East to know exactly the devastation the bomb had caused; he didn’t need to see it again.

  He was haunted by images of his mates torn limb from limb by mines. Marissa being anywhere near there was his worst nightmare.

  Brioni had said something about her shopping in Selfridges; had she been there buying Steve a present? Dalton had seen his birthday marked on the calendar in the kitchen – it was this Sunday. Was it because of Steve she’d been in the path of the bomb?

  But Marissa was fine – she had to be, and he was going to make sure of it. Like Thelma had suggested, he’d put out the word on the street, had photocopied her photo, passing out hundreds of copies. The homeless were like an invisible army, eyes and ears everywhere. It was only a matter of time before someone would see her and recognise her, and he was going to find her and make sure she was safe. His mind went back to the last time he’d seen her. Steve had been at work and Dalton had arrived quietly, had started mowing the lawn before she’d even realised he was there.

  As soon as she’d heard the mower, she’d waved from the glass doors and come out of the house with a glass of homemade lemonade on a tray, a pile of the deliciously soft oatmeal cookies she made on a plate beside it.

  They’d chatted for ages, laughing at stuff that had happened at the church, at Sully’s bad temper in the heat. And she’d asked him about his family – his mother and his sisters. He knew her dad was ill, that he barely recognised her and lived in an old folks’ home now, that she had one sister who was travelling the world. She was so proud of her – Brioni. She was brilliant at maths, she’d said. Her name was Greek; he couldn’t remember what she said it meant.

  Her name meant Mary of the Sea. It suited her, with her long blonde hair. She was like some sort of mermaid who had fallen under the spell of an evil sea lord. He had no idea what she saw in Steve, how their relationship had lasted at all. She was like a diamond, sparkling, and he just seemed to want to hide her light.

  Ahead of him, Anna and Brioni turned into Tottenham Court Road, heading for the Tube station, maybe? He kept
his distance. He hadn’t expected Brioni to have bright pink hair, but it made them easy to follow. If he got close enough he might be able to hear what they were saying, see if they had any new information. He’d texted Brioni, but she kept saying there was no news.

  There had to be news.

  He didn’t think he could cope if there was no news. Marissa had done so much for him. He owed her his life.

  The lights changed and they waited to cross the road. He hung back from them, could hear them talking about the best way to get to Marissa’s house.

  They were going to see Steve.

  The lights changed and he let them go, watched as the redhead – Anna, was it? – hailed a cab. Stepping away from the road, he leaned on the doorway to the theatre, watching them get in.

  Did Brioni know what Steve was like? She’d seemed pretty switched on when she’d called to the church earlier – savvy, quick. She had to know how toxic her sister’s relationship was.

  Dalton made sure he only came to do the garden when Steve was out at work. Occasionally he’d arrived and found Steve was working from home with that guy Reiss Chanin; he’d seen them poring over documents, their laptops open on the kitchen table. The very first time he’d heard Chanin’s accent, Dalton had known all he needed to about Reiss Chanin. He didn’t need to see the hate in his eyes when he looked at anyone with black skin. Dalton had no idea how Marissa could have him in the house, but perhaps she hadn’t realised. He’d started calling at the front door after that, to make sure it was a good time to do the garden. He didn’t need to be watched by the likes of them.

  TMarissa had done so much for him. He’d ended up on the streets pretty fast after leaving the army, had wound up at New Hope’s in a bad way. A really bad way. She’d talked to him – she’d listened. She’d persuaded him to go into a hostel instead of sleeping on the streets, had found him a place where he’d be safe. And she’d got him to help out when he got to the soup kitchen instead of just sitting on his own, trapped in his head. He’d slowly got his self-respect back. She’d been the one to suggest to the pastor that he’d be ideal as caretaker.

  She’d saved his life, and he was never going to let anything hurt her. Ever. He was her guardian angel now.

  They all knew what Steve was like, how she couldn’t move without him wanting to know where she was going. But Dalton was there to protect her. She knew she could call him any time, when anything happened, or needed fixing, not just the garden. He’d put up pictures for her, had repaired a leaky shower head in the en suite in her bedroom. He’d painted the front door and sorted out the patio door when it was sticking. How could you repay someone for saving your life? Odd jobs would never be enough.

  But he couldn’t afford to get sentimental now – he needed to focus. This was black and white, good versus evil. And he was going to make it right.

  Chapter 25

  Steve and Marissa Hunt’s house in Highgate was a red-brick Victorian end of terrace in a leafy residential street. Despite Brioni’s protests, as they’d reached Tottenham Court Road Tube station Anna had hesitated, worried about the heat in the Underground, and insisted on another cab. And a little part of Brioni had been very grateful. Grateful, too, that Anna had managed to get hold of Steve’s home address because the one she’d thought she’d remembered was totally wrong.

  The closer they got, the more she could feel butterflies in her stomach. If Steve had seen her yesterday at the embassy, did she pretend she just hadn’t seen him? Would he have recognised her? She’d WhatsApped photos regularly to Mar, but couldn’t remember if she’d sent one of her hair dyed pink. Would Mar have even shown him? Whatever about the last time she’d seen him, she didn’t exactly fit the look of suitable sister-in-law now. Her shaved head, denim shorts and black vest top were the exact opposite of his clean-cut image – polo shirts and chinos. And that was before you even got to her piercings and tattoo.

  ‘Can he drop us at the end of the street?’

  ‘Of course.’ Anna patted her arm. ‘We can take our time getting there then.’ Brioni nodded nervously, her mouth suddenly dry as Anna continued. ‘We don’t need the cab to wait.’

  They’d walked slowly up the road, Brioni looking around her at Marissa’s world, at the view she saw every day. This was real suburbia – expensive cars parked outside beautifully kept houses, freshly painted with tidy gardens. It all looked perfect, but what went on inside, behind the tastefully painted front doors? It took money to keep everything looking this good, but money didn’t solve problems; more often, it created them. When she’d been travelling, Brioni had lived hand to mouth, earned her way around the world serving in bars and cleaning hostels. She’d had as much money as she needed, but nothing extra. Mar had paid for her phone – a direct debit from her Irish bank account – and when she’d been able to find Wi-Fi, Brioni had checked in, sending photos.

  Brioni looked down at her feet, at the scuffed black hiking shoes that had been all around the world with her. Now they were bringing her as close to home as she could get without climbing the stile and crossing the field.

  But home wasn’t here. Home was Marissa. She’d known she needed to see Mar before she got stuck in at college, but she was realising now that that was because her big sister was her anchor. Ever since she was tiny, if she was scared at night she’d go and climb into Mar’s bed. They might be totally different now – she still had no idea how Mar could stay with Steve – but that didn’t change the past. If Mar was gone, what would she do? Their dad had never been a part of her life. He had spent more time in the pub than at home, had gone into the nursing-home in the February before her Leaving Cert. Mar had come back to their house in Ballycastle to look after all of that. It had been the last time they’d had a proper chat, but then, of course, she’d been on her own, had persuaded Steve that she could manage without him for a week. He’d called every day and Brioni had heard the constriction in her voice as she’d answered. She’d wanted to say something then, to ask why Mar stayed, but it had been tough enough. With their father out of the house, they’d finally sorted out their mum’s things, had pored over boxes of blurry photographs and letters in front of the fire late into the night.

  By the time Brioni had finished her exams, their father didn’t even know who she was.

  Brioni felt Anna’s eyes on her and looked up.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yep, I think so. You think he’s at home?’

  ‘I checked with his secretary and she said he hadn’t come into the office today, so unless he’s out looking for Marissa, I’d guess he is. I left his secretary your number, so he has it now.’

  ‘So he’ll know I’m here.’ Brioni paused. ‘I need to see her house, even if she’s not in. The last time I saw her was in Ballycastle, before I left.’

  ‘We can put a note in the door to say we called if he’s not there.’

  Anna slipped her arm around Brioni’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug.

  Roses were blooming in the garden of 44 Oliver Road; a basket overflowing with summer flowers that were every shade of pink hung beside the slate-grey front door. A black jeep with tinted windows was parked in the drive, another one, identical, at the pavement outside.

  Brioni’s shoes crunched on the gravel as they headed through the gateway. Anna rang the doorbell and took a step backwards.

  ‘This is a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?’ Brioni rolled her eyes, keeping her voice low. ‘Being worried about meeting my sister’s husband – not even having his phone number.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re not alone in not getting on with your sister’s spouse. Families are strange things. What do they say – you can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family?’ She smiled. ‘Really, it’s fine. You’ve got Marissa in common. Focus on that.’

  ‘And try and park the feeling he’s done something terrible to her?’

  Anna grimaced. ‘For the moment, let’s see what we can find out. Houses can tell you a lot about people.’ S
he knocked again, and glanced over her shoulder at the jeep in the drive, saying half to herself, ‘Perhaps he’s not in after all.’

  Brioni took a step backwards.

  ‘Windows are open upstairs. He’s in. He’s just deciding whether he wants to talk to us or not.’

  Chapter 26

  Before Anna could answer, Steve opened the front door. His hair was ruffled and he looked as if he hadn’t slept. He was wearing creased shorts and a T shirt that needed ironing. Brioni felt herself scowling inside.

  As soon as Mar was gone, he was falling apart; he obviously didn’t even know how the iron worked.

  ‘Oh, I thought you were Rani.’ He frowned, looking confused. ‘Do I …?’

  ‘Anna Lockharte – we met at the embassy. I didn’t make the connection, but then I met Brioni, Marissa’s sister. She’s come back from Thailand and just found out Marissa’s missing. Do you have any news?’

  ‘Brioni?’ Steve looked at Brioni and frowned again, as if he wasn’t taking it in.

  Like he didn’t recognise her because she had a double undercut and pink hair … Hello!

  Brioni felt her anger rising. She really wanted to slap him right now. Keeping her voice under control as best she could, she said:

  ‘Have you heard anything? I’ve been trying to get hold of her, but she wasn’t answering her messages. I tried calling, too. Then I bumped into Anna …’

  ‘We haven’t heard anything, no.’ Steve ran his hand through his hair.

  Anna leaned forward. ‘Could we come in, Steve? So you can share what you know with Brioni? It might be less public than the doorstep?’

  ‘Of course. Sorry, do come in.’ He stepped away from the doorway, allowing Brioni to follow Anna inside. ‘The living room’s on the left.’

  Inside, the house couldn’t have looked less Victorian. It had been extensively remodelled, internal walls removed to make a large open-plan space, the rear of the house now one huge wall of glass. Everything was white, pale wood and chrome. Even the soft leather sofas were white. There was an enormous flat screen TV above the fireplace, which was some sort of fancy glass box set flush to the wall. This wasn’t the sort of fireplace that got mucky with real fuel – Brioni could almost hear her dad’s voice echoing. telling her to bring in more turf for the fire. Had anyone told him about Mar? Her heart fell again if that was possible, despair eating into her.