It was now 10 p.m. An unmarked police car was due to take her back home in a half hour and collect her early next morning.
When Helen got home, she locked up her hens and, exhausted, fell into bed. Sebastian’s woodsy scent still clung to her sheets. Struck with a pang of absence, Helen sent him a text asking how he was and if he was around to talk.
Her head buzzed with everything that had happened, she wasn’t allowed to tell him over the phone about it, but she craved to hear his voice, wanting to know about his day. She left her phone on her pillow so she’d hear his reply, but soon fell asleep when one didn’t come.
The next morning, Sebastian still hadn’t called or messaged, but 6 a.m. in England was 1 a.m. in Ottawa so Helen decided to leave it a few hours before she called him.
By 7:30 a.m., she was back at the police station, settling down to work with the cyberunit at the desk she’d used the day before. Her software script was straightforward enough, but the tracers the cyberunit needed to track who Jaxon was selling to were complicated. She stumbled on a few subtle nuances of code and had to rewrite.
When Nazir came by her desk, forcing Helen to resurface from her screen, it was almost lunchtime. Five hours had felt like five minutes.
Nazir handed Helen a mug of tea and a filled baguette. “I hope you like cheese and salad.”
“Yes, thank you.” Helen leaned back in her chair and stretched, then checked her phone. Tom had sent cute pictures of Harry paddling in the sea and Emma dipping Lucy’s toes in the water, but there was nothing from Sebastian.
“Our sources indicate Bates is getting ready to make a sale.” Nazir pulled up a chair beside her. “We have a meeting at three o’clock to discuss the delivery and the cyberunit will be working all day tomorrow and Sunday.”
“Sunday is the last Get Living event,” Helen told Nazir. “I can’t miss it. Sebastian would want me with him.”
“As long as your software is in place, that won’t be a problem.”
“The script is done,” Helen said. “Sebastian will be back tomorrow afternoon. I can finish the tracking at home, if that’s okay with you?”
“Of course. We can check in on your progress tomorrow evening. What are you planning to tell Clarke?”
“The truth.”
“Do you trust him with it?”
“Yes, of course, I do.” Though Sebastian would likely panic and worry. “How’s Karsan?”
“He’s had facial surgery, but he’s recovering well.”
Helen rubbed her temples. “I couldn’t have been more wrong about Jaxon, could I?”
“Don’t torture yourself over it. He’s a very clever man.”
“And are you sure this plan will work?” Helen asked.
“We’ll keep you safe if that’s what you mean. We have eyes on Bates 24/7.” Nazir’s smile was friendly and reassuring. “Just stick to what you’re good at.”
“Sounds simple when you put it like that.”
“You’ve got this, Helen.” Nazir paused. “And thank you. Not just for coming forward and helping with the program, but for not falling for Jaxon’s bait. A lesser person would’ve gone for the money.”
Money that would’ve solved a lot of problems—and caused a whole load of new ones.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve finished this next bit of code.”
Helen then turned to her screen and got back to work.
Seb’s return flight to England was a blur. He plugged his earphones in to the plane’s entertainment system, ramped up the volume, and tried to block out everything that had happened the past two days. He ate. Watched a movie. Slept.
At London Heathrow, Seb picked up his car and punched Helen’s address into his phone. Satnav guided him out of the airport and onto the highway, even though he knew the way by now. A couple of hours later, he drove along the winding country roads. Seeing nothing and everything.
He loved you … He was so proud of you.
So what the hell happened?
