The Death List by Paul Johnston Read Free Book Online

she’d got used to taking with me over the years.
    I shrugged. “Work. You know…”
    “Lack of work, more like.” Her eyes flared. “God, you’re so indecisive, Matt. Why can’t you just write a different book and sell it to a different publisher? Why do you have to take everything so personally? It’s not their fault you wrote stuff they couldn’t sell.”
    “Spoken like the caring soul you are,” I said, unable to hold back. “Since when did you know anything about the publishing business?”
    I realized too late that I’d given her an open goal.
    “I’m an economist, stupid,” she said, touching her temple. “It’s what I do.”
    Lucy looked round from the sofa. “Mummy, Daddy, stop arguing,” she said plaintively.
    I felt something break inside me. It seemed that Caroline had a similar experience. We nodded to each other and declared a silent truce.
    There was an uneasy silence while Lucy watched Hades get his comeuppance and I pretended to write about the new Laura Veirs album. Then they got their things together and headed downstairs.
    I followed them, fear welling up inside me. “Do you want me to walk round with you?”
    Caroline stared at me. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “All right,” I said, bending down to kiss Lucy. “See you in the morning, sweetie.”
    “Good night, Daddy,” she said, glancing at each of us in turn. “It would be so nice if we could all sleep in the same house sometimes.”
    Both Caroline and I failed to come up with a response to that.
    I watched them down the street as far as I could see them, and then went after them, skulking in the dark areas between the streetlights. They got home without incident. As I turned to go home, I saw an elderly man in Ruskin Park with his dog.
    He glared at me as if I were a stalker.
    The irony of that did not make me feel any better at all.
     
    When I got back, I opened my e-mail program. I’d managed to put off doing that while Lucy was there, but now I had no excuse. I felt my stomach constrict as the receiving mail icon flashed. The process went on for some time.
    When the chime went, I saw that I had a message with an attachment from 1612WD via another mail provider. The bastard. I now understood what he was calling himself, but I had no idea why. What was in the attachment? I downloaded a digital image. It showed me carrying the wrapped remains of Happy to the Volvo. Shit. He’d been there, judging by the angle and trees at the far side of the park. He must have had a camera with a seriously good zoom. I couldn’t remember anyone taking pictures in the vicinity when I was loading the car.
    I went back to the message.
    It’s me again, Matt. Thought you’d like to see one of my snaps from today. There are plenty more, some from inside Lucy’s bedroom before you got there and others from Farnborough. I don’t think your ex-wife or her neighbors would be too happy if they saw them, let alone your daughter. She was very fond of the dog, wasn’t she?
    How the hell did he know all this? He must have been staking us out for weeks.
    I’ve also got some e-mail addresses that I won’t hesitate to forward the photos to if you start being uncooperative, Matt. I read on. He’d somehow managed to get hold of Caroline’s company e-mail, as well as Jack’s and Shami’s at their places of employment. I don’t imagine your ex-wife would be impressed if she found out that you’d disposed of the neighbors’ dog. She’d take it as an indirect threat to Lucy and get her lawyers on to you straightaway. No visiting rights, no nothing. You get the picture? Sorry, that wasn’t funny.
    It wasn’t, but he’d nailed me very successfully. The divorce had been a bad one, with Caroline wanting rid of me and me not wanting to put Lucy through the mangle. This would be just what Caroline needed to get me out of her life. But how did WD know? Or was he just guessing?
    I’ll be in touch again tomorrow, the message ended. That’s when