The Recipient

  Casey felt inside her shoulder bag for her purse and checked to see if she had enough change for a coffee, which she did.

  Approaching the line, Casey fell in behind a young couple who were holding hands and chatting happily as they waited to be served. Using them as cover, she peered around their shoulders. There were two servers behind the counter: an athletic young man with a chiselled jaw and an older woman with upswept greying hair.

  Casey paused as a third server stood up into view from a crouching position behind the coffee cart. It was another woman.

  Right away, Casey recognised Shelley Agutter.

  Though she was around the same age as Casey, Shelley appeared much older. Despite this, her features were still soft, like they were in the photograph, but Casey noted a weariness to them too. Shelley moved efficiently, tending to the customers without engaging with them. Her sandy hair was held in place with a clip that also served as a placeholder for a pencil. She wore a fitted black T-shirt. A name badge was pinned to the material over her left breast, confirming her identity.

  Casey lifted her hand to clutch at her shirt. An echo of familiarity clanged in her mind. She bit the inside of her lip.

  Cut it out, she admonished herself. You’ve never met her before.

  The line moved forward until Casey found herself facing Shelley.

  Shelley smiled indifferently. “What can I get you?”

  Casey didn’t answer. She stared at Shelley without realising it. Shelley shifted and met her stare with narrowed eyes.

  “What can I get you?” she repeated, more firmly this time.

  Casey shook herself back to the present. “Sorry, I…ahhh…coffee please. Cappuccino and a muffin.”

  Casey pointed through a small, transparent cabinet between them and Shelley nodded, fetching a blueberry muffin and setting it down on a napkin. She turned to the coffee machine beside her while Casey waited. She continued to watch Shelley as she worked. She knew she couldn’t talk to her here and start asking questions in front of all these people.

  Glancing back over her shoulder, Casey saw the line behind her beginning to lengthen.

  The lunchtime crowd.

  Casey would have to bide her time.

  Shelley turned back with the coffee cup and Casey quickly averted her eyes, which didn’t escape Shelley’s notice. She paused, frowned, then set the cup down beside the muffin.

  “$5.80,” she said with a hint of caution.

  Casey handed her change over and retrieved the muffin and her coffee. She retreated from the cart, taking up a position at a table just out of view as the lunchtime crowd grew thicker. The line now extended far beyond the edge of the courtyard.

  Casey drew the photograph out of her bag and examined it once again, ensuring that there was no doubt the Shelley in the image and the woman working the cart were one and the same.

  Suddenly, her phone rang inside her bag and Casey set the photo down so that she could answer.

  “Any luck?” Lionel’s voice sounded, before she could speak.

  “I’m sitting across from her as we speak,” Casey said, keeping her voice low. “But I can’t engage with her just yet. The lunch crowd really likes this coffee cart she serves at and I don’t want to make a scene.”

  “Are you okay? Do you want me to come to you?”

  “No, no. So long as I focus on what I want to do and forget about where I am, I’m fine. But I hope this doesn’t take too long.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait for you. Just call me if you change your mind.”

  “I will, Pa. Thank you.”

  Casey ended the call, then set her phone down so that she could pick up her coffee.

  As she looked up, Casey saw Shelley leaving from behind the cart, armed with a large shoulder bag. She was waving goodbye to her colleagues as she passed in front of them, then she crossed the courtyard in the direction of The Walk. She disappeared from view behind a tree.

  “Dammit,” Casey cursed as she scrambled to gather her shoulder bag, knocking her half-empty coffee cup over and spilling liquid across the table top. A number of heads turned in her direction at the sound of her voice.

  Grabbing a handful of serviettes from a holder, Casey tossed them down on the mess she’d created before abandoning the table and rushing in the direction that Shelley had headed.

  Casey scanned The Walk. It was considerably busier now than it had been when she had first arrived. Large groups of people were moving back and forth in between several stationary groups of students who were mingling in her vicinity. She couldn’t see Shelley anywhere.

  She hissed.

  Casey moved forward, urgently scanning her surroundings. Shelley was nowhere to be seen. If she lost her now, Casey would have to wait to do this all over again and she doubted she could stay out of doors for much longer.

  As she felt hope slipping away, her eyes fell across Shelley. She was climbing a set of steps onto the wide verandah of the mansion, several dozen yards ahead of Casey, in the company of another student.

  Great, Casey thought. She’s got company.

  She rushed along the path and skipped up those same steps, finding herself at an entrance to the College Administration. Through the pair of glass doors, Casey saw Shelley and her companion as they walked down a long hall, laughing and chatting. Casey slipped inside and noted a sign pointing to a lecture theatre in the direction she was headed. She followed at a safe distance, fearing that the two women were going to enter that very theatre, but both women passed the entrance and instead turned a corner towards a group of offices and a reception area.

  Once there, they stopped before a counter, smiling at someone out of view. Craning her neck, Casey watched as Shelley shrugged the shoulder bag off her shoulder and reached into it, retrieving an envelope from inside which she then handed over. Casey inched closer, hoping that she might hear what Shelley was saying.

  Suddenly, both girls stepped back from the reception area and turned in Casey’s direction. Her eyes went wide and she ducked into an open doorway beside her.

  She was sure they had seen her.

  “Can I help you?”

  Casey spun around to face a young woman who was sitting at a desk.

  She could feel the heart in her throat. She could hear Shelley and her companion as they approached, then passed by the doorway.

  “Ahhh,” Casey stammered impotently.

  They did not stop.

  “I’m sorry. I think I’m lost.”

  Casey turned back to the entrance and cautiously peeked around the door frame into the corridor.

  It was empty.

  “Shit.”

  Lurching into the corridor, Casey rushed towards a junction and flicked her head to her right. The doorway where she had entered earlier was closed and didn’t appear to have been disturbed. She glanced left just in time to see the two women exiting through a similar doorway leading out of the building.

  She hurried after them, determined not to lose them again.

  All the while, her mind was working furiously, trying to determine just how she would approach Shelley.

  Leaving the building and onto a similar verandah to the opposite side of the mansion, Casey stopped abruptly when she looked across and saw Shelley and her friend standing under a tree continuing their conversation. Though they were turned away from her, Casey ducked out of view. Satisfied that she hadn’t been seen, she watched them. After several minutes, they finally bade each other farewell, exchanging kisses before parting company.

  Shelley watched her friend go then she bent down to run a finger along the inside of her canvas shoe. Evidently, she had picked up a small pebble. Flicking it out, she rose and turned toward a darkened arch adjacent to the chapel, disappearing through it. Casey gave chase, crossing the courtyard in the shadows of the grand architecture, and ducked into the darkened thoroughfare beyond.

  She found herself under a line of grand arches that appeared like something out of a Harry Potter movie: the cloisters
that linked the chapel to the mansion.

  Shelley walked along the path several yards ahead, then turned right, passing out of view. Using the shadows cast by the imposing columns of stone, Casey followed swiftly. Turning right, Casey crossed under an even darker under-walk that was lit by Gothic light fittings that cast an orange glow on the ornate stonework above her head. It caught her attention, distracting her until she looked up to see the expansive paved boulevard open out ahead at the bottom of some steps. Beyond that was the huge lawn she had crossed over earlier.

  Casey’s eyes bulged, and she skidded to a stop at the top of those steps, recoiling at the sight of the open space before her. She felt something snap in her ears and she lurched sideways, taking shelter in the shadows.

  Not now. God please, not now.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Casey forced herself to breathe, then she glanced across at the boulevard and the lawn beyond.

  Shelley was nowhere to be seen.

  “Shit,” she hissed angrily, gripping the column and glancing desperately in all directions: the boulevard beyond, the cloisters and quadrangle behind her. She was totally alone.

  I’ve lost her!

  “Why are you following me!”

  Casey jumped and spun around in reaction to the voice that came from beside her. She looked into the angry eyes of Shelley Agutter.

  Shelley had silently emerged from behind an adjacent column, taking advantage of the moment when Casey was looking in the opposite direction. She now stood not more than a couple of feet away from Casey, glaring at her menacingly.

  “Who are you?” she snapped.

  Casey stumbled backwards and she raised her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare—”

  “Who are you?” Shelley retorted, cutting Casey off menacingly.

  “Look, I’m,” Casey stuttered. “I was hoping to ask you some questions.”

  Shelley’s expression shifted in confusion. She scanned Casey up and down. “Questions? About what?”

  Casey blinked. She would have to think quickly. “I understand that you were a good friend of Saskia Andrutsiv.”

  Shelley’s eyes went wide and she recoiled visibly at the mention of that name.

  “Saskia,” she whispered, as though uttering it felt like knives slashing at the back of her throat. She began to look about her in all directions fearfully. “Who are you? Why would you want to know about her?”

  “I’m looking into her case and your name came up,” Casey said quickly.

  “Her case?” Shelley hissed incredulously. “Are you with the police?”

  Casey shook her head quickly, too quickly.

  “I’m not with the police,” she said, trying to muster a reassuring tone. “My name is Casey. I’m doing some research into unsolved cases and Saskia Andrutsiv’s came up.”

  Casey’s voice trailed off. She knew her response sounded pathetic.

  “Unsolved?” Shelley said bitterly. “How did you find me?”

  She hefted the strap on her bag and began to back away in the direction of the boulevard.

  “Look!” Casey croaked, reaching with one hand while keeping the other planted on the stone column. “I’ve come by some information about the night of her accident. You were interviewed by the police. You knew her. I was hoping you might be able to help me.”

  “I want to know who you are!” Shelley spat viciously.

  “I’m a friend,” Casey answered weakly. “My name is Casey. The information I have about Lasterby Road is new and I just wanted to ask you about it.”

  “Lasterby Road.”

  Without warning, Shelley began to shake. Her expression tensed and her eyes became glassy. Casey could sense her fear.

  “I’m not going to talk to a stranger about Saskia,” Shelley whispered shakily. “I c-can’t be talking about this. And you shouldn’t be asking questions.”

  At that, Casey’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

  Shelley blinked, startled by the question. Again, she glanced around them both, as though expecting someone else to emerge. She backed away from Casey and turned to leave.

  “Please,” Casey began as she stepped away from the column. Shelley broke into a jog, peeling away from Casey in the direction of the boulevard. She skipped down the steps and into the daylight.

  The university grounds opened up before Casey, stretching away into the distance. She stopped at the top of the steps, stared at the wide, open space, unable to go any further.

  “Please, Shelley!” Casey called as Shelley crossed over onto the lawn.

  Shelley paused and turned back. She was about to speak, but something about the way Casey was standing at the top of the steps stopped her momentarily: the way this stranger was looking at her.

  There was a hesitation in Casey’s expression that felt familiar.

  Shelley had seen it before.

  Brushing the thought aside, Shelley pointed an accusatory finger at Casey.

  “Don’t come near me again.”

  She turned on her heel and hurried away.

  Casey retreated under the safety of the columns. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to regain control.

  1…2…3…4…You’re safe…you’re safe.

  Calm was returning. She nodded slowly to herself, then she opened her eyes.

  And looked directly into the face of Prishna Argawaal.

  “Hi there,” Prishna greeted sarcastically, leaning against a stone column.

  Casey baulked, realising who it was.

  She rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

  Prishna adopted a look of mock hurt. “I’m not that frightening, surely.”

  Casey attempted to turn away but Prishna stepped forward and deftly shifted directly into her path.

  Her expression hardened. “What are you up to, Casey? It’s good to see that you’re out of the loony bin, by the way.”

  “None of your fucking business, Prishna,” Casey spat.

  Prishna cocked an eyebrow. Her lips turned up in a knowing smile. “Oh really. Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. It seems that you’ve been busy. Causing a little trouble for people. People like Lesia Andrutsiv and Shelley Agutter.”

  Casey turned away.

  “It didn’t make much sense to me, at first,” Prishna continued. “It didn’t fit with you. Then I did a little digging and, lo and behold, it turns out that you do have a little connection to them after all. Don’t you?” Prishna nodded at Casey’s chest. “If I were you, I’d be grateful for that heart, Casey. Don’t go digging up the past, looking for something that isn’t there. You’re only going to cause them more heartache. Besides, you’ve got bigger problems to deal with.”

  Casey seethed. Her lips grew even more tighter. “Are we done?”

  Prishna waited. Then she beamed a proud, satisfied smile.

  Casey wanted to punch her.

  Without waiting for an answer, Casey grabbed the shoulder strap of her bag tighter and marched down the steps. Prishna watched her go, her expression faltering somewhat at Casey’s brush-off.

  “I’m watching you, Casey,” Prishna called after her. “Whittaker is watching you, too.”

  Casey didn’t look back. Her anger pushed her on, keeping her fear at bay.

  CHAPTER 23.

  Hello!”

  Peter’s voice sounded from the bottom of the warehouse stairs as he trudged up to the apartment, armed with a trio of grocery bags.

  Receiving no reply, he frowned as he stopped before the industrial door and set the bags down, fishing his keys from his pocket.

  He called again as he turned the key in the lock and slid the door aside to find the apartment empty.

  “Empty,” he mumbled under his breath, stepping inside. Depositing the grocery bags on the counter, he scanned the apartment, casting a cursory glance upstairs to the mezzanine, then through the windows onto the balcony. The curtains were open, framing the azure bay beyond.

  Though she was usually home on a Tuesday afternoon, Pete
r supposed that Casey was out seeing Kirkwood or perhaps she was at the hospital. As for Lionel, he could have been anywhere. Probably catching up with old police colleagues, Peter figured. He decided he would just get to it, unpack the groceries and start cooking their curry.

  Peter went over to the glass doors and opened them, stepping out onto the balcony, lingering for a moment with his hands resting on the rail. A flotilla of small yachts was cruising up and down the bay just in front of him.

  He shook his head and smiled. Sure picked a gem of a spot, he thought.

  Turning to head back inside, something caught his eye in Casey’s bedroom. He frowned, trying to see through the reflection of the glass and what appeared to be a vast mural covering the brick wall. Slowly, he stepped inside and peered around her wardrobe.

  Cars? he thought, puzzled.

  The entire wall, from floor to just above head height, was covered in pictures, though he noticed gaps in the mural. In all of the images, Peter identified the familiar circles of the Audi emblem.

  He drew closer, then looked down at the floor beside Casey’s bed. A burgeoning pile of paper balls lay there.

  Dropping to his haunches, Peter picked up one of those balls and unfurled it, revealing a glossy magazine picture of an Audi sports car: a midnight blue convertible with shining alloy wheels, its bright headlights punching the low light before it.

  What on Earth?

  He picked up another ball of paper and another, unscrewing them to see similar pictures, his confusion mounting and evolving into concern then worry, until an unpleasant knot tightened in his stomach.

  Peter didn’t hear the industrial door slide aside, nor did he hear Lionel’s voice.

  “Casey? Are you home?”

  Lionel appeared in the space between the wall and the wardrobe.

  “Peter?” he greeted.

  Peter spun around and looked up at his father-in-law. He held up the magazine picture in his hand.

  “What is this?” His expression was taut.

  Lionel exhaled softly, turning his palms outwards towards Peter. “It’s Casey’s.”

  Peter’s eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared.

  “Casey’s what?” he pressed, his voice rising in agitation. “Jesus. What is this?”