Jack is sitting in the back of a sleek black Mercedes E-Class, heading for the office. It’s his car, but he rarely drives it himself. He employs a driver who’s on call during the hours of darkness to whisk him to Shannon Medical and back again whenever he feels the need to actually visit the premises instead of running it from home. He tries to go in at least once a week, sometimes twice, and he makes himself stay for four or five hours, but he always leaves for home in plenty of time before sunrise. He fears getting stuck in the early morning rush hour, or the car being involved in an accident, meaning he’ll be out in the world as the sky lightens and the shadows fade. He hates himself for this fear, and he knows that one day he’s going to have to tackle it, to conquer it, but right now he has too many other things going on, and not enough head space to handle everything at once.
And so he keeps his visits to the office brief, walking the floor and chatting to the night-shift team, making sure everyone’s happy and everything’s running on schedule. The business operates twenty-four-seven, bank holidays and Christmas included, and everyone works rotating day and night shifts at Shannon Medical, from the cleaners to the human resources department. It’s unusual, but Jack has it that way so he gets to see every member of his staff in person at some point every few weeks, something that wouldn’t happen if some employees only worked nine to five. He likes to think he’s a good boss – personable, approachable. Yes, he’s sure there’s gossip about him, and about his lifestyle; rumours about why he chooses to live as he does. That doesn’t really bother him. There’s always talk and speculation about management in any company. But other than that, he feels like his staff have got his back. When the thing with Amber happened, he was inundated with get-well messages and flowers. Even now, he’s constantly asked how he is, whether his recovery is going well, if his ability to use his hand is improving. They care, and it’s nice. He likes it. But… it’s not enough.
What Jack really wants is a partner. A woman to share his life with. Someone who he might, eventually, trust with the truth about why he is the way he is. Someone who might be able to help him. He tries not to think too much about Rose Campbell and Amber Ryan these days. He’d thought, briefly, that both of those women might be ‘the one’, but clearly he was wrong and, well—
He feels his fists tensing and he flexes his fingers to release them. He leans back in his leather seat, turning his head to stare out of the window as the car moves smoothly through the dark streets, the pavements still busy with Friday night revellers. In the front, his driver, Yuri, has the radio on low. Jack can hear that some talk show is playing. The car slows and stops at a red light, and a young man steps out unsteadily to cross the road, a woman with long blonde hair looping her arm around his waist and laughing up at him, wobbling on chunky platform shoes that accentuate the curves of her calves. Jack watches the pair for a moment, then looks back through the side window, where a gaggle of people are standing in the pool of light cast by the neon sign of a kebab shop. The girls are in short, tight dresses and the men are jacketless.
It’s… what? The 29th of March? Nearly April, he thinks. Summer will be here before he knows it, and the days are growing longer, squeezing out the hours of darkness. He prefers winter now, although he didn’t when he was young. Back then, it was all about summer. Those long, hot days of the school holidays that seemed to last forever. Pitching a tent in the back garden with his friends, crawling out of their sleeping bags with the first rays of the morning sun to fry eggs on a camping stove. Sunshine and warmth. Happiness…
‘All right, boss? Ten minutes, I reckon.’
Yuri’s voice jolts him back to reality. He nods and thanks his driver as the car begins to move again, then slowly pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls through his apps. He was startled when Heather Harris suddenly appeared back in his life. Actually, startled is an understatement. He was astounded to receive her message and, unusually for him, for several minutes completely unsure how to respond. Why would she want to come back? Nobody comes back. Even now, even though they’ve already slept together and she seems happy to be back in his bed, he’s wary. There’s something about this woman; how he felt when they split the first time took him by surprise. He expected to be angry, and he had been at first, but his fury and bitterness dissipated quickly, to be replaced with a low-level and lingering sense of sadness and resignation. He still isn’t sure if that was simply due to how frantic his work life was at the time, or for some other reason. He knows he felt very differently when Rose, and later Amber, ended their relationships with him. Then, the feelings of rejection and rage were savage as they coursed white-hot through his veins.
But Heather… He’s been thinking hard about Heather. She was friends with Amber Ryan once, a long time ago, and he wonders if that’s relevant. He watched her carefully when he mentioned Amber’s name to her that first night, and there was nothing of note in her reaction, but still. He’s been observing her, and he’s still unsure. He can’t be certain, but he thinks that maybe she knows about his security system, or some of it at least. There was an occasion, the first time around, when he was playing back footage from his living room and he thought she might have spotted the camera concealed inside the spine of a novel on his bookshelf. It had seemed to him at the time that she was doing her best to pretend she hadn’t, nonchalantly moving away, and not looking directly at it. He tried to test his theory by asking her to take her clothes off in the lounge on Tuesday evening, but unfortunately Rhona came in at just the wrong moment. So does she know, or not? It’s irritating him.
Now, he finds the app he’s looking for and taps on the file for Wednesday morning. He’s viewed the footage before, and frowned over it before, but he watches again anyway. Each time he does, his suspicions grow.
First, Heather heads into his office, and stays in there for ten minutes or so. Fine – he said she could use his phone charger, and maybe she was working on her phone while it charged. She spends a lot of time on it, posting book ‘content’ as she calls it on her Instagram page, and sending work-related emails. He understands; he’s like that himself, never really switching off. It’s what she did next on Wednesday morning that’s piqued his interest. He fast forwards as Heather enters the gym and wanders around, still seemingly engrossed in her phone. And then she takes off her hooded sweatshirt and throws it onto the water cooler, directly towards the camera hidden inside it. A second later, the fabric settles, obscuring his view. Music starts pumping, but he can see nothing of Heather or her workout, and he stares at his screen, wondering. Does she know there’s a camera there too? But how? Or is it just a coincidence her hoodie landed where it did? Again, he’s not certain, and he really doesn’t like the feeling.
He taps through to the camera in the kitchen, and watches as Heather prepares a smoothie. She sips it, walks around the room, and enters the pantry. His heart skipped a beat the first time he watched her do that, and he felt a surge of relief when Rhona appeared. He can’t hear their brief conversation because the sound is low and muffled – there’s no camera in the pantry to record it – but seconds later Heather reappears and walks to the big fridge in the kitchen. She helps herself to some ice before thanking the housekeeper and leaving the room again. Ice. She was just looking for ice. Or was she?
‘Here you go, boss. Pick you up at four-thirty, yes?’
Yuri again, as the car slows to a halt. Jack looks up from his phone to see the tall brick façade of Shannon Medical looming over them.
‘Four-thirty’s perfect, thanks Yuri,’ he says. ‘I’ll give you a buzz if I finish any earlier.’
He gets out of the car, reaching back into the footwell to retrieve his briefcase. He raises a hand as Yuri drives away, presumably to park up in a quiet corner of the car park and have a nap. Jack doesn’t care what he does, as long as he’s ready to take him home again before dawn. Yuri’s been with him for over a year now and hasn’t let him down yet. Most of his staff are like that; Jack likes to surround himself with people who won’t let him down, and if they do, even once, they’re out. It doesn’t happen often, though.
It’s girlfriends who let him down, not his staff.
Jack stands there for several moments, still thinking about Heather. It’s a moonless night, the sky a velvety black. The darkness calms him, wrapping itself around him like a comfort blanket.
His phone beeps. It’s a message from Naomie, his PA, wondering what time she can expect him because there’s some urgent paperwork she needs him to sign. He stares into the inky night for another few moments, then turns and walks towards the building. From somewhere close by, a fox howls a high-pitched scream that sounds eerily human, like a woman in distress.