Scared Yet? by Jaye Ford

missed meeting. How was it?
    2 late to go into it. Tell you 2morrow. Sleep well. X
    She wished Kelly had rung so she’d been able to hear the inflection in her voice. Was 2 late to go into it good or bad news?
    Liv flinched awake, batting at the hand reaching for her in the dream. Early-morning glare coming in under the sheet over the bedroom window made her wince in pain. She rolled away from it and sat on the edge of the bed, fatigue like a five-tonne weight draped over her shoulders.
    She’d done what she could to put her mind at rest, pushing packing cases against the front door and the garage access door, blocking the entry to her bedroom with a bedside table, but she hadn’t been able to switch off thetwitchy hypersensitivity to every sound in the townhouse. The timber creaking in the walls, the late-night whir of the fridge, a shout in the street, the dog next door barking. Not the cute yap-yap he did at dinnertime but a long, continuous racket. Then in snatches of sleep when exhaustion had won, her mind had whirled with images from the car park – the movement in the window, the hand over her mouth, a man lunging, Daniel Beck looming.
    She poked gently at the swelling on her face – still huge – noticed Kelly’s phone on the floor, the lights out, battery dead. Great. She hadn’t installed a landline in the townhouse, figuring she’d take advantage of the financial benefits of her mobile account. But there was no advantage if someone broke in and you couldn’t ring for help.
    Kelly’s last message had given her plenty of reason for lost sleep, too. Liv could recite the figures off by heart, just wished she knew what Neil had made of them.
    You’re not losing the business, she told herself. Not today. Prescott and Weeks was still on its feet. She stood up, muttered, ‘Still walking and talking, guys.’
    She stripped out of her pyjamas and ran the shower, taking stock of her spreading bruises as the water heated up. Her face was worse, if that was possible. Cam would be impressed with the brewing green one on her hip. And yesterday’s row of dots on the insides of her arms looked more like what they were – fingerprints.
    Rachel Quest was out when Liv got to the police station. She left the note from her windscreen with the officer at the front desk, and hoped that whatever had kept her onthe side of a busy road yesterday didn’t take up all her time and attention today.
    She found a spot on Park Street, in a two-hour zone a couple of blocks from the office. The parking cops could be swift and merciless but she figured walking the distance with the crowd on the footpath was safe. She ignored the glances at her injuries, searched for bruises in the faces that passed her, felt wary and a little anxious by the time she reached work.
    Daniel straightened up as she shouldered open his office door. He was at the reception counter with a clipboard and an array of boxes stacked in the small space behind the desk. Liv had never seen anyone but him in the office. She guessed he wasn’t going to save their client problem.
    â€˜Let me give you a hand.’ He walked around and held the door open. He seemed preoccupied, not exactly ecstatic to see her.
    So she’d make it quick. ‘And let me give you a coffee.’ She held out the cardboard tray with two large take-outs on it. ‘Lenny said you like a flat white with two sugars. That’s the one on the right.’
    His eyes did a quick down to the cups and back up. There was surprise and bewilderment in them and what she hoped was the edginess of a caffeine addict still working on his morning fix, not irritation at being interrupted. ‘I’ve got no idea why you’re bringing me coffee but I won’t say no. Thanks.’ He took the whole tray from her, ushered her all the way in.
    â€˜And by the way, it’s not just this coffee. I’ve paid your bill at