Melissa’s head aches. Today she delivered three client presentations. One of her sales team threatened to resign, and another found a significant error in his commission payment. She got a step closer to signing Pharma Direct, but a long-term client – one she has bent over backwards to keep happy – is making noises about going elsewhere.
PJ, of course, knows none of this. All he knows is that she is finally home, and he is really, really pleased to see her. First comes the jumping and pirouetting. Then the zooming, skidding out of control on the corners. Finally, he collapses on his belly and puts his face between his paws, as though to say, Boy, I’m exhausted.
‘I know exactly how you feel,’ Melissa laughs. She opens the balcony door to let him out.
Tessa has left a note on the counter. PJ has been very scratchy today. Should we take him to the vet?
Melissa notices the ‘we’ and smiles. PJ has been to the vet and was prescribed a special cream, which seems to be working.
‘You’re perfectly fine, aren’t you?’ Melissa says when he comes back inside. ‘Tessa’s just being a helicopter parent.’
She changes his water, gives him dinner, starts to make something for herself to eat, all the while keeping up a steady conversation with the dog, who cocks his head and gives the impression he understands.
‘I’m becoming one of those weird dog ladies,’ she said to Cassie today. ‘I talk to PJ like he’s a human being.’
Cassie laughed. ‘They love the sound of your voice. That’s not the case with a lot of human beings.’
After dinner, Melissa flicks on the television while she answers emails; it’s a constant battle to keep up with them, no matter the time of day. She sends Henry a text to say hello but doesn’t expect an answer. It’s open night at Tessa’s dance school. Parents are invited to come and watch the class perform. Phones would be switched off, no doubt. Melissa wouldn’t have minded going – things have defrosted with Tessa and she would have enjoyed watching her dance – but neither Henry nor Tessa suggested it.
At 9 p.m., Melissa lets PJ out for his final toilet, and then locks up. She realises afterwards, when she goes through the chronology of the night, that this is her first time entering the bedroom since getting home. She notices it immediately, the instant she turns on the light: a white envelope propped against her dusky-pink pillowcase. She assumes it’s another note from Tessa. Until she opens the envelope and reads what’s inside.
You make me sick, Snow White. People like you who care so much about animals but don’t give a shit about real people.
The police officers are male; similar in build, age and levels of cynicism.
‘So, nothing has been taken?’ asks the one with the darker hair.
‘Not that I’m aware of.’
Melissa has checked her jewellery, the safe where she keeps her passport and other important documents, and the drawer next to her bed where she tends to keep extra cash. Everything seems to be accounted for.
‘Any laptops or other devices missing?’
‘No. I had them with me.’
‘Clothes, shoes, handbags?’
She is the owner of two designer handbags and has already determined that both are where they should be.
‘So, the only indication that someone has been here is this letter?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was anyone home today?’
‘My stepdaughter, Tessa. She comes every afternoon to check on the dog.’
‘Where’s Tessa now?’
‘At dance class. With Henry, my husband.’
Melissa doesn’t mention that Henry and Tessa don’t actually live here. She doesn’t want to see those expressions become any more dubious.
‘Was Tessa alone when she dropped in this afternoon?’
‘I don’t know. Sometimes she has friends with her. I can’t contact her at the moment to ask.’
One of the officers – the one with the lighter-coloured hair – leaves the bedroom.
‘He’s just going to collect some fingerprints off the door and other hard surfaces,’ the remaining one explains.
Melissa assumes that the fingerprinting will only yield a result if the perpetrator is someone with an existing criminal record.
‘There are security cameras,’ she says. ‘We should be able to see who has come in and out of the building from the footage.’
‘We’ll check with the building manager,’ he promises. ‘Your balcony door was locked when you came home?’
Melissa casts her mind back to when she let PJ out. She flicked the lock before she slid open the door. Didn’t she?
‘I think so.’
The officer checks the bedroom window, which is locked, and proceeds to check the other windows in the apartment. Finally, he examines the lock on the front door. ‘No sign of forced entry.’
Did Tessa leave the door on the latch? The intruder wasn’t in the apartment at the same time as Tessa, was he? Melissa’s heart freezes.
‘Look, can we sit down and talk?’ she says to the darker-haired officer, his counterpart busy with dusting paraphernalia. ‘There’s a bigger picture here. Other people have been getting notes too.’
They sit, and she proceeds to tell him about the reunion, the yearbook, and what she knows about the emails and notes. She has him over the line by the time she’s finished; his scepticism has been replaced with concern.
‘It sounds like we need to get a detective out to see you. Probably be tomorrow before we can organise that. Do you feel comfortable staying here in the meantime?’
Melissa does not feel comfortable staying here. Someone has been in her apartment, in her bedroom. She feels violated, more scared than ever in her life. Dying alone. And you will. Those words have taken on a heightened level of threat.
She shakes her head. ‘No ... but I have somewhere else I can stay.’
She goes back to the bedroom and quickly packs some essentials. PJ has been sitting out all the drama in his crate. She gives him a cuddle before attaching his lead. ‘Come on, boy. We’re going on an adventure.’
The police officers walk out with her, one of them offering to carry her bag. The car park is deserted, menace lurking in every shadow; she is extremely glad of their presence.
‘We’ll be in touch.’ They shake her hand and depart.
Melissa throws her bag in the boot and hurriedly secures PJ’s lead around one of the headrests. She turns on the ignition and doesn’t exhale again until all the car doors are locked.
‘Let’s get the hell out of here,’ she says. The tyres screech when she turns the steering wheel, causing another surge in her heart rate.
It’s 10 p.m. Henry and Tessa will be home by now. Should she phone? Warn them that she and PJ are on their way?
‘Oh, whatever! Henry will just have to deal with it. Tessa and Christopher, too. We’re coming to stay and there’s not a single thing they can do to stop us.’
It’s a fifteen-minute drive to Henry’s house. Melissa grips the steering wheel and repeatedly checks her rear-view mirror. Someone could be following her. How would she even know it if they were? All she can see is the blur of headlights. She presses down on the accelerator. She’s well over the speed limit, doesn’t care, can’t get to Henry’s house fast enough.