It lived up to its promise. After entering the information and scribbling down his password – ‘Megaidiot1’, which he thought appropriate – Jason was indeed in, and clueless about what to do next. Fill in his profile, he guessed, which presented him with an immediate problem. Did he tick single or married? Separated, he opted for, and then he hit his next snag. He wasn’t much into selfies. The only photos he had, therefore, were of him and Karla together, or with the kids, which was even worse. He couldn’t bring himself to crop any of those. A quick search of his laptop produced a security ID photo he’d had taken in order to access a high-tech computer meeting. He didn’t look very happy in it, but then, he wasn’t exactly feeling ecstatic. It would do.
So, criteria? His lips poised on the bottle, he debated, swilled back another mouthful of whisky and then completed a few categories. And then went back and hit delete. He was narrowing his search down to Karla, he realised, his chest constricting painfully.
Swiping a hand over his face, Jason blinked hard. Don’t go there, he warned himself, and then started afresh, this time making sure his ‘preferences’ were as unlike Karla as he could get. Hair, eye colour – all different. Once he was finished, he took another fortifying drink and hit search. He skimmed through them, skipping most, but clicking on two he liked. And then he buried his head in his hands. What the hell was he doing?
His heart like a lead weight in his chest, his head swimming, he massaged his temples with his thumbs and stayed where he was. The keyboard was out of focus, and the room began to spin as he closed his eyes. He needed to lie down, but he doubted the nausea now churning his gut would allow him to sleep. Folding his arms on the desk, he was about to rest his head when he heard a distinctive ping, followed by another.
Closing one eye, Jason glanced blearily up.Jackpot, he thought, congratulating himself on the fact that somebody out there liked him.
One of the women he’d clicked on had messaged him.Hi. Are you feeling lonely?
Bloody lonely, Jason replied.
Twenty-One
KARLA
Jason still hasn’t come home and with each call I make I grow more desperate. I’ve tried his mobile a thousand times. I’ve sent him texts, left umpteen messages. I’ve texted Mark, who has no idea where he is. I’ve even rung his sister, Hannah, who hasn’t seen Jason for two weeks, and who confided in me that she’s been concerned about him seeming so exhausted and worried lately. Aware of what frame of mind he’s in, that hasn’t helped one little bit.
My mind now running through all sorts of scenarios – I can almost see him lying in some hospital bed somewhere, unconscious – I try his office number again. Again, it rings out. I can’t imagine he’s there, deliberately not picking up. Unless, of course, he simply doesn’t want to speak to me. He was so furious at finding me there, that it was so blindingly obvious I didn’t trust him, that I would believe my father’s word over his. It scared me. He’s scaring me now. My heart drums erratically and then leaps in my chest as I hear the alert of an incoming text. Hastily, I check it.
On my way, Mum has sent.Five minutes.
Relief on some level sweeps through me, while I scramble frantically for what to do next. Of course – his car will be there. Why didn’t I think of that before? If he is in the office, his car will be in the car park. Already, I am reaching for the address book for the security guard’s direct line. Mercifully, he answers the call and I gabble out that Jason doesn’t have his mobile with him, that his office phone seems to be permanently engaged – a small lie – and ask him to check the car park.
The wait is interminable while he does. ‘Yep, it’s there,’ he says, coming back on the line. ‘Sorry, I must have been doing my rounds when he arrived. I can give him a message, if you—’
‘No, no. Thanks,’ I say over him. ‘I just wanted to drop his mobile off. I’ll drive over now.’
Headlights sweep the hall walls as I hang up. Mum has arrived. Knowing I would never ask her to babysit so late and at such short notice unless it was urgent, she agreed to come immediately when I spoke to her.
‘Anything?’ she asks, her expression worried as I pull the front door open.
‘He’s at the office.’ Tears of frustration and fear prick my eyes as I grab up my car keys. ‘Holly and Josh are in bed. They—’
‘Go,’ Mum says, stepping in and urging me past her to the door. ‘Ring me,’ she calls, as I race down the drive and climb into my car.
Acknowledging her with a nod, I reverse haphazardly off the drive, now feeling truly desperate. I have no idea what happened at Jason’s meeting with my father, other than that the offer of financial backing wasn’t forthcoming. I don’t know whether the two of them argued. I do know that Jason went straight from that meeting into his own office, only to end up having to defend himself to his wife, the one person he should be able to depend on. He’d been crushed by the awful things I’d said to him. I swear I could feel his heart breaking as he walked away from me. I have to find him. Talk to him. Convince him that I love him and that I am there for him. That even if his damn business does go under, it won’t be the end of the world. I will always be there for him, no matter what.
Nearing his car, my stomach tightens. It’s parked askew. Not just clumsily, but carelessly, diagonally straddling two bays. The front wheels are wrenched hard right, it’s as if he’s driven at speed, pulled up and simply abandoned it. This is not Jason. He’s a careful driver. Becoming a father made him a better driver, he says.
Oh God, no. Pulling up alongside the car, my heart misses a beat as I realise the passenger side is damaged, the wing badly dented. He’s had an accident. Hit something. Praying that no one has been injured, above all, that Jason hasn’t, I curse mybloodyfather, who I suspect cares about no one. Why did I insist on Jason borrowing money from him, when my father thinks so little of him? I must have been completely insane.
I climb out of my car and tentatively try Jason’s car doors. They’re open. A cold chill of trepidation runs through me. Jason would never not lock his doors. His tie is thrown on the passenger seat, as if torn angrily off. The interior is filled with the pungent smell of cigar smoke. But Jason doesn’t smoke. He stopped years ago. Or at least I thought he did. It’s not that that bothers me most, though. It’s the unmistakable smell of whisky, which tells me my husband has been drinking and driving. This isnotJason.
Not the Jason you know.Sarah, worming her way into my head, reminds me of the one thing I’m overwhelmingly good at: letting down those I love when they most need me.
Quieting her, I turn away from the glove compartment. I don’t want to search Jason’s car. I don’t need to. I need to find him. I slam the door shut and head towards the office, giving the security guard a wave as I go. He’s emerging from the side of the building to do his rounds.
‘Looks like someone had some pressing business,’ he shouts, nodding towards Jason’s car.
‘Is he inside?’ I shout back.
‘His lights are on,’ he says.
Thank God. Relieved, I give him another wave and quickly punch the code into the security door.
There are no lights on in the main office, but I see a glimmer of light emerging from under Jason’s door. Attempting to still the nerves twisting inside me, I push on, and then pause with my hand poised on the door handle. There’s no noise from inside. I press my ear to the door. No sound at all. ‘Jason?’ I call.
