Binary Witness (The Amy Lane Mysteries) by Rosie Claverton Page A
Authors: Rosie Claverton
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front door.
Usually, when she had something to investigate, Amy didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. It was all caffeine and chocolate, a rush of adrenaline until she collapsed in a heap, physically and mentally drained, or she got caught by a black mood and couldn’t shift from her bed. Or a panic attack got hold of her and ruined the whole day, but she mostly had those under control. There was nothing to panic about if she didn’t open the front door. The house was safe and there were sensors and cameras on every potential entry point. She’d wired them herself.
AEON chirruped happily. Amy prised herself off the sofa to see what her beloved computer had found. The data from the supposedly secure transaction site had returned—she now had a list of everyone who had bought tickets for the last Crash and Yearn gig in Cardiff. Settling into her office chair, Amy filtered the results into her custom database and cross-referenced it with employee data from the Heath hospital by name and address fields. It was impossible to be sure who had made that call, but this would at least give them a sensible place to start.
Coupled with the information about the alarm, they might be able to narrow down their list to a handful of people, perhaps even one or two, and that was as good as a neon sign pointing down at the woman in Amy’s book.
However, the search would take a couple of hours to run, and until then there was nothing to do except bemoan the fact that it was Sunday morning and Jason wouldn’t be over for another 27.5 hours.
Amy sighed. “Screw you, Sunday,” she declared to the empty flat. AEON beeped in agreement.
* * *
She wasn’t returning his calls.
He tried to ring her every day but most of the time they wouldn’t put him through, told him that they didn’t let just any call through. He tried to tell them he was her lover, but they hung up on him nine times out of ten. When he did get through, the men on the other end would tell him she wasn’t there and she didn’t want to speak to him. The women would promise to give her a message, but the whores always lied. If they’d passed on his messages, she would’ve called him back.
But she must’ve got his other messages, even though the stupid moderators had taken them down. He knew she always liked to check the forum at that time, had watched her username pop up at the bottom of the page, revelling in the sense that they were together in that moment, occupying the same warm space.
He just had to be patient. He didn’t want to chase this new girl, but she wasn’t leaving him any choice. If she wasn’t jealous enough to come back to him, she’d need more persuading.
She left him no option but to pursue the girl. She brought this on herself. It was her fault that he had to be so cruel to her, to drive her mad with envy. She was to blame for those two beautiful girls at the bottom of the lake. She’d driven him to it.
She had to return his calls, or she had to face the consequences.
Chapter Nineteen: Mama Told Me Not to Come
Teresa texted to say that people were coming for nine, so Jason turned up at ten with a bottle of Australian red in his hands and sporting his favourite leather jacket. His mam had insisted on the wine, but she hadn’t talked him into the paisley shirt Cerys had bought him for his birthday. While Cerys had decent taste, she seemed to want to bring out his inner indie kid, and he had no interest in wearing skinny jeans and a bowler hat.
Jason felt unaccountably nervous when he rang the doorbell. They were just students and they were older than Cerys, growing out of that compulsive need to be edgy and different all the damn time. But they still thought themselves cool and independent, so he’d already decided to keep quiet about the fact that he lived with his mother and worked as a minimum-wage cleaner. In a year or two, these kids would be lawyers and teachers—he wouldn’t let them think that they were smarter than
Usually, when she had something to investigate, Amy didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. It was all caffeine and chocolate, a rush of adrenaline until she collapsed in a heap, physically and mentally drained, or she got caught by a black mood and couldn’t shift from her bed. Or a panic attack got hold of her and ruined the whole day, but she mostly had those under control. There was nothing to panic about if she didn’t open the front door. The house was safe and there were sensors and cameras on every potential entry point. She’d wired them herself.
AEON chirruped happily. Amy prised herself off the sofa to see what her beloved computer had found. The data from the supposedly secure transaction site had returned—she now had a list of everyone who had bought tickets for the last Crash and Yearn gig in Cardiff. Settling into her office chair, Amy filtered the results into her custom database and cross-referenced it with employee data from the Heath hospital by name and address fields. It was impossible to be sure who had made that call, but this would at least give them a sensible place to start.
Coupled with the information about the alarm, they might be able to narrow down their list to a handful of people, perhaps even one or two, and that was as good as a neon sign pointing down at the woman in Amy’s book.
However, the search would take a couple of hours to run, and until then there was nothing to do except bemoan the fact that it was Sunday morning and Jason wouldn’t be over for another 27.5 hours.
Amy sighed. “Screw you, Sunday,” she declared to the empty flat. AEON beeped in agreement.
* * *
She wasn’t returning his calls.
He tried to ring her every day but most of the time they wouldn’t put him through, told him that they didn’t let just any call through. He tried to tell them he was her lover, but they hung up on him nine times out of ten. When he did get through, the men on the other end would tell him she wasn’t there and she didn’t want to speak to him. The women would promise to give her a message, but the whores always lied. If they’d passed on his messages, she would’ve called him back.
But she must’ve got his other messages, even though the stupid moderators had taken them down. He knew she always liked to check the forum at that time, had watched her username pop up at the bottom of the page, revelling in the sense that they were together in that moment, occupying the same warm space.
He just had to be patient. He didn’t want to chase this new girl, but she wasn’t leaving him any choice. If she wasn’t jealous enough to come back to him, she’d need more persuading.
She left him no option but to pursue the girl. She brought this on herself. It was her fault that he had to be so cruel to her, to drive her mad with envy. She was to blame for those two beautiful girls at the bottom of the lake. She’d driven him to it.
She had to return his calls, or she had to face the consequences.
Chapter Nineteen: Mama Told Me Not to Come
Teresa texted to say that people were coming for nine, so Jason turned up at ten with a bottle of Australian red in his hands and sporting his favourite leather jacket. His mam had insisted on the wine, but she hadn’t talked him into the paisley shirt Cerys had bought him for his birthday. While Cerys had decent taste, she seemed to want to bring out his inner indie kid, and he had no interest in wearing skinny jeans and a bowler hat.
Jason felt unaccountably nervous when he rang the doorbell. They were just students and they were older than Cerys, growing out of that compulsive need to be edgy and different all the damn time. But they still thought themselves cool and independent, so he’d already decided to keep quiet about the fact that he lived with his mother and worked as a minimum-wage cleaner. In a year or two, these kids would be lawyers and teachers—he wouldn’t let them think that they were smarter than
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