The Alex King Series, A BATEMAN [good books for high schoolers .TXT] 📗

toiletries and two toothbrushes. She looked at them, then reached up to the top shelf. She wasn’t more than five-seven and she had to tippy-toe, but she found the razor and shaving gel. It was a generic triple-blade men’s razor. She pushed it back, then changed her mind and took a clear, plastic press-seal bag out of her jacket pocket and rubbed the razor inside it. She repeated the process with both toothbrushes and two separate bags. She could see a more feminine razor on the lower shelf.

Caroline went back into the bedroom and checked the wardrobe. Just the normal selection of women’s clothing. No clothes belonging to men. She rifled the drawers, still came up with nothing else. But the men’s razor and second toothbrush had intrigued her. She stalked around the flat, but it wasn’t a large property and she struggled to see what else she could achieve. There wasn’t enough evidence or suspicion to get a communication order – the procedure for tapping her landline and installing electronic surveillance equipment in her house – but she couldn’t help thinking she hadn’t made the most of the opportunity.

Caroline went back into Amanda’s bedroom and took out the letters. She opened them up again and read them a second time. People didn’t communicate like that anymore. There was detail and emotion, words used without abbreviation. She looked at the date mark, then the signature. Just a swirl, some kisses. They seemed out of place within a college relationship. Out of touch. She thought of how she and King signed off their texts. They had never written a letter to each other. She had once left a folded note for King to say she had gone out. That was the closest she had ever seen him to tears. His wife had left a letter when she had committed suicide. It had taken days to coax it out of him, and from that moment on she had never so much as written him a note on a scrap of paper.

She laid the letters out on the bed and photographed them with her iPhone. She was careful to put the right letters back into the correct envelopes and tucked them back into the drawer. She was startled by her phone as it vibrated in her hand, looked at the screen and saw that she had messages and six missed calls. She cursed the silent function button, she was always catching it and turning the phone to silent mode.

“Hello,” she said, closing the drawer as she spoke.

“At last! Get out of there! The target is on route back, she should be there any minute!”

Caroline wasted no time, ended the call, resisted the temptation to open the app, and put the phone back in her pocket as she ran out of the bedroom. She grabbed her bag off the counter as she ran. She opened the lock, left it off the catch so that it would lock behind her, peered outside and turned her back on the street as she gently closed the door.

“Excuse me?”

Caroline spun around, startled. She looked at Amanda Cunningham, forced a smile. “Oh, hi,” she said. “Sorry, I was knocking, I thought you were in.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Amanda paused, taking a step forwards. “As you can see.”

Caroline smiled. She studied the woman’s face. It was like staring into the mirror a decade ago. She found it difficult to believe King would not have been attracted to her. The younger model. She hesitated, then said, “I wanted to have a chat,” she paused. “If you don’t mind?”

Amanda stared at her blankly for a moment, then looked to compose herself. “How did you find me?”

“Just a quick search online,” she paused. “Social media, surname search, electoral roll, that sort of thing.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” Amanda said. “You work for MI5. We both know you used government resources to find me. Misappropriation, I’d say.”

Caroline shrugged. “I just wanted a chat. Girl to girl.”

“Girl to girl? What, are we dorm buddies?”

“Woman to woman then.”

“Well, the girl to girl may have worked if you were closer to my age. What are you, forty, forty-two?”

Caroline smiled, but inside, she was biting her lip. “Thirty-seven.”

“Oh! Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Caroline said breezily. “Age is a privilege and youth is merely an illusion. By the time you figure out life, you’re usually too old to make a notable change. If you think forty is old, then your ride is going to be a steep and slippery one.”

“Thank you for that,” Amanda said uninterestedly. “So, what have you come around here for? Apart from our girly chat?”

“Can we get a coffee?” Caroline asked. “I’ll buy.”

Amanda stepped closer, took her keys out of her bag. “I’ve got coffee,” she said.

“Great.” Caroline stepped aside for Amanda so that she could open the door.

Amanda pushed open the door and stepped inside. Caroline followed, hoped she’d put everything back as she had found it. Amanda closed the door and Caroline walked through into the kitchen. There were two doors off the kitchen; one to the lounge and the other to the hallway, where they entered from. Amanda walked past Caroline and flicked the switch on the kettle.

“So, talk,” she said curtly.

Caroline leaned against the countertop. “What you said in the director’s office this morning. I want to know how close you and Alex got, and what happened down in Cornwall. I know you stayed at the same hotel.”

Amanda smiled. Caroline started to question whether she looked the same as the younger woman, or whether there was just a passing resemblance. There were glares, glances and sneers that she had never seen herself make in either photos or reflection. If she were to judge Amanda, having never before seen her, she would say that she was a damaged soul. She had a vicious streak to her.