A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (e manga reader TXT) 📗

why her when there were more vulnerable girls to be tricked? She still couldn't believe it.

Nicky eased away from her. Like Julianna, the knuckles of his right hand were red and swollen.

‘What happened?’ she asked.

He blushed and covered his injury. ‘Nothing... I hit a wall. I was pumped up.’

‘You should put ice on it.’

He brushed a rogue lock of her hair out of her eyes. ‘I will, later. I have to go. I’m working extra shifts to pay for a deposit.’

She followed him to the front door. ‘How did you get here?’

He shrugged awkwardly. ‘Some friends dropped me off.’

‘How will you get back? It's miles to the station.’ She peered down the dark driveway. There was no frost or rain, but the wind was nippy and uninviting.

‘The walk will be good for me. I need some fresh air. Look after yourself, kiddo. I’ll ring you tomorrow. Okay?’

She couldn't persuade him to ask Haynes to arrange transport or a room for the night. Nicky's agitation grew and she waved goodbye.

~ * ~

Late in the evening, after she had helped Hettie put an excited Noah to bed, Jackson invited her into the study and the company of another man. Tall, like Jackson, he had buzz cut hair, wore khaki pants and a black sweatshirt. He resembled a commando. Jackson introduced him – Chris Moran, his chief security adviser.

Moran stared at Ellen's face. ‘Feeling better, Ellen?’

In a short space of time, Ellen had become accustomed to her personal life, her name and state, being common knowledge to strangers.

‘Yes. Thank you,’ she said.

‘Any luck?’ Jackson asked Moran.

‘No,’ said Moran. ‘Trail’s gone cold again. I’m afraid there’s nothing to follow, except your accounts, miss. The things you shared online.’ He glanced at his boss.

‘I can give you access, if it would help?’ All those exchanges would be read and judged including the embarrassing level of detail she had given to Freddie and nobody else.

The big guy retrieved a small notepad from his pocket. ‘If you don't mind. Passwords, too. I promise I won't share them with anyone else. It's likely he's deleted his accounts. But it might give us some more leads.’

She and Freddie had only spoken about her problems, a selfish discourse based on her needs and nobody else's. She wrote the account names and passwords down anyway. She had no plans to ever go near them again.

Moran, after dispatching a nod in Jackson's direction, departed.

‘Yesterday, while we waited, Sophia told Hettie that you had a good time at her party and you met Derek; I’m going to suggest you follow up his offer.’ Jackson handed her a slip of paper.

‘Thank you. Yes, Derek. He was very friendly, and I was rather abrupt with him. I hope I didn't offend him.’ Life from now on was going to be about making bridges, not destroying them. No more drinking, either.

‘Hopefully he’ll help you find work,’ Jackson said. ‘Opportunities.’

She felt a small pang of optimism. She would let it grow, but not too quickly, as it would have to be nurtured with the help of others. This time, she would let Jackson guide her. He seemed to be a good man and somebody to trust.

‘Thank you.’ The words of gratitude unstopped the dam she had built, the one that had begun when she was eleven years old at a newspaper shop. She wept, brazenly and loudly. Jackson wasn't embarrassed – he sat quietly. However, neither did he touch her or placate her by calling her sweetie. He passed her the box of tissues and waited.

  32

Julianna

Julianna stared into her empty refrigerator. Saturday mornings was when she usually did her weekly shop and she couldn’t be bothered to do it that afternoon. She ate an apple and drank coffee. Wandering ceaselessly about the house, she couldn’t stop thinking about Mark; he had said nothing to her in the car. Was it because he was so consumed by his sister's brush with disaster, which was understandable, or that he had changed his mind about Julianna, now that he had seen her anger on full display? He had convincingly shut her out.

As required, she wrote a formal summary of events for Chris. She yawned and typed, skipped over the details of the fight, and merely stated she had disabled the man, when in fact she had beaten his face to a pulp. Pausing to digest the comment, she examined her bruised knuckles. Real flesh and blood, no matter how deplorable a person they embodied, was not the same as a punch bag. Alex never deserved that kind of anger. Relationships might falter and break, but rage never healed them. The punch bag had to go. Instead of freeing her, it fed her anger.

Her mobile rang. Mr Haynes was calling.

‘How's Ellen?’ she asked.

‘No lasting injuries. She's sleeping,’ Jackson said. ‘I hope I'm not disturbing you, too.’

‘No. I'm awake. Writing a report while everything is fresh in the mind.’

‘Very diligent. It's what I like about you, Julianna.’ Not Baptiste – a small, but significant shift. ‘I want to say thank you.’

Julianna muttered an embarrassed acknowledgement. She waited, hoping the gratitude would take her somewhere better.

‘I dropped you into this and you ran with it.’

‘I did it for Mark, and Ellen, and you know that, sir.’

‘I meant the bigger picture: Haydocks, Zustaller. I wasn't exactly forthcoming when I dangled the carrot. But I needed you to work it out independently. I’m too involved.’

‘One last piece of information, sir. Haydocks. It was Bill Clewer who suggested it to Mark.’

‘Ah.’ Jackson paused. ‘Makes sense, don't you think?’

‘I suppose. He's not really clued into the significance yet. I think he will be. Then, perhaps he might want to visit his father again.’

‘Mark will thank you when he's in