Witch Hunt - By Syd Moore Page 0,33

to his friends as ‘an exceptionally talented writer’, or something along those lines. I followed him with the usual self-deprecation and he smiled at me, almost as if he were proud. When I met his eyes, later that night, while Christopher was off at the bar and his girlfriend was dancing, there was definitely a twinkle there, like he was letting me know that there was something for me whenever I was ready. There was no pushiness about it or any sense that he was demanding an acknowledgement. It was more like an open-ended and unspoken question that lingered in the air between the two of us; ‘would you ever … ?’ Nothing more.

Anyway there we were, by my desk. Joe met my gaze and smiled. I sucked in my abdomen and registered a small thrill.

He seemed oblivious to the effect he was currently having on me: his eyes swivelled over the living room to his partner on the sofa.

‘Let’s have a look.’ This from Lesley. ‘Dragged me all this way, might as well sort it out.’ She plodded over to the chair next to me and heaved her large behind into it.

‘What were you doing?’ Her voice was gruff and fat.

I sniffed and sucked in her smell. She reeked of nights on the computer, microwave meals for one and two cats. ‘I was working on Word – ah – here it is.’ The document was there, cursor still flashing halfway down the third paragraph after the date 1589. ‘And I’d just been on Google to check that date. I minimised the window.’

Lesley grunted. ‘So you were online?’

I shook my head. ‘Not for long. We had a conversation for about two minutes.’

Joe sighed and looked at me. ‘I told you …’

‘I know,’ I said, justifying my folly. ‘I just wanted to see if I could draw out some details. And I did – he said he was fifteen.’

Joe nodded in a kind of ‘you silly sod’ manner and turned to the screen. His back was broader than I remembered. I wondered if it was still as lean.

‘But then you closed the dialogue box, right?’

‘Yep,’ I told them both. Lesley’s eyes reduced further into wriggly slits as she concentrated on the laptop. ‘But then it popped up again. That’s when I disabled the modem. Look.’ The internet icon indicated it was disconnected. ‘And still it came up.’

Lesley grunted. ‘I suspect it was more of a time delay on your part. Or a misremembering.’

That sounded like an accusation. ‘No, honestly. I distinctly remember it came up after I came off …’

‘What did they say?’ It was Joe now.

‘He said “I’m sorry” … He’s coming or I can feel him here. Something about smelling him. I asked “who?”’

Joe huffed out a sigh. ‘You replied to them? Sadie, I told you not to. You’re fuelling them. This is what people like that get off on.’

I was embarrassed now. He was right – it had been a foolish thing to do. But it was born out of concern. ‘I was worried about him. In case he was in danger.’

‘Don’t do it again.’ Lesley’s weary condescension was leaking into Joe’s voice. ‘So, who did they say was coming?’

‘The Devil,’ I said simply.

Joe and Lesley exchanged a glance.

Joe nodded. ‘And this is what scared you?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I know it sounds ridiculous now in the cold light of day, but last night, it really freaked me.’

Now it was Lesley who spoke, obviously wanting to wrap up her visit as quickly as possible and get on to a proper job. ‘Okay, so if you minimise those windows, we should be able to see the dialogue box. That may give us some information we can use, should you continue to be stalked.’

Stalked – now that was an unpleasant word. I hadn’t thought of myself as communicating with a stalker. It had connotations of hunting and predators that didn’t seem to characterise these episodes. But anyway, I did as Lesley instructed and closed all the windows to reveal the pale blue wallpaper of my start-up screen. There was no dialogue box. ‘That’s odd,’ I told them. ‘I definitely didn’t close it.’

Lesley shot Joe a sideways glance. ‘You must have.’

‘No I didn’t. I just closed the lid.’

‘Well, they don’t shut themselves down.’ She pulled the keyboard nearer. ‘I’ll bring up the history. Will probably be there.’ Her tongue stuck out as her chunky fingers stomped over the keys.

I looked at Joe and smiled weakly. He returned it with such strength that

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