Sweet Peas in April (10 page)

Grace rolled her eyes. “Depends who you ask. I'm beginning to think Elliott meant it about painting every wall magnolia.”

Adam smiled. “You can always repaint them.”

“The day I move in. So, what can I do for you?”

“Do you have any sweet peas?”

“For you, of course.”

Adam pulled out his wallet. “Brilliant. As many as possible please.” He pulled out his bank card, then looked through the cards on the rack. “For delivery now, if you can.”

Grace nodded. “Sure. So who's the lucky lady?”

He grimaced as he chose one with a rainbow on it. “It's an apology, though I suspect it'll be too little too late.” He handed over the card and his credit card.

“Never say never,” Grace said, ringing up the bill. “It'll work out the way God wants it.”

“I hope so.”

****

Sam closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. Asking Adam for a divorce wasn't what she wanted. She done it in anger, but as she thought about it, maybe it was for the best. She had to cut all ties with him, to keep him out of the hole she had gotten herself into. Using Mrs. Bryant as an excuse had been a convenience, nothing more.

She knew Adam wasn't cheating on her, knew he never would. The fact he still wore his wedding ring was proof of that. And it was a fair assumption that he, like her, still hadn't given Immy over to God. She'd been mad at God for taking her daughter, and to some respects still was, but she needed to deal with one mess at a time. Right now that was the mess her company was in—which was also the mess she was in—and hoped Adam would get her out of.

But it was too late. No one could rescue her now.

She'd gone over and over the files and come to a conclusion. It could only be one of two people behind this, but the way the files read, it pointed to her. She sniffed and wiped her sleeve over her face before covering her head in her hands.
What do I do now, Lord? Show me how to put this right? Because Adam is going to come to the same conclusion I have. And the main bulk of the evidence points squarely at me. I'm going down for this, aren't I?

“Sam?”

She glanced up. Didn't anyone know how to knock in this place? “Yes, Peter?”

He came in and perched on her desk. “You need to get out of here for the weekend.”

“I can't. I have a shed load of work to do…”

He looked at the files and narrowed his eyes. “You don't want to bother with this.” Peter's hand ran down her arm, rubbing it. “You need to go away for the weekend. Leave this all behind. The files will still be here on Monday.”

She thought for a moment. He did have a point. She needed to get out of here to think and pray— about work, and most importantly about Adam. She still cared for him, loved him. But would it be easier to wade through the pain and hurt both of them still felt and try to find a resolution? Or just let him go and suffer the agonies of divorce? Her aunt had a cottage on the coast. She left the key with a neighbor when she was away and Sam could go and stay anytime. It would be the perfect place to hide and think for a few days. If her aunt was there, she could talk to her. If she were away, then Sam would have all the peace and quiet she needed.

“You know, you may have a point there.” Sam nodded slowly, looking up as the door opened again. Was she going to have to teach everyone in this building to knock? She'd send the memo before she left for the weekend. “Yes?”

“These were just delivered for you.” Her PA held out a bunch of flowers.

Sam took them. “Thanks.” She inhaled deeply and looked at the card.
I'm sorry. Talk Monday. A.

“Who are they from?” Peter asked.

Sam shrugged. “No one important.”

“Now out you go.”

“But the flowers…”

“Leave them. Like you said, he's no one important.”

Sam looked at him and then at the flowers. She hadn't said who'd sent them. Why would Peter assume it was a he? “I'll put them in water first,” she said. “It seems a shame to waste them. I love sweet peas.” She unwrapped them and replaced the dead ones in the vase. She turned to pick up the card, but it wasn't there. She had a quick look, but it had vanished.

Peter looked at her. “Go on. Time's a'wasting.”

“Once I've cleared my desk.” She gathered all the files. Peter seemed in a hurry to be rid of her and she wasn't going to leave anything lying around.

He sighed. “Fine, but I'm coming back in ten minutes and you'd better be gone.”

“Have a good weekend, Peter.” Sam shoved the files into the bottom drawer of her desk and locked it. She had a last look for the card, before leaving her office and heading to the lifts. She'd leave the wedding ring and chain at home in her bedroom. Because from where she stood now, it looked like her marriage was well and truly over.

9

Sam walked up the path to her aunt's cottage. It hadn't changed over the years. Thatched roof, leaded windows and roses growing on the trellis around the door frame. It had been too long since she'd been here the last time; in fact, Adam had accompanied her then. And he'd driven.

This time she'd gone home, packed, then returned to work and left her car in its usual space. The train station was across the road from the office and she'd caught the overnight train to Devon, before buying a second ticket and catching a new train to the south of Cornwall and the picturesque town of Wolf Point. She'd arrived just after ten in the morning and collected the key to the cottage from the neighbors.

She had spent the day walking on the beach praying and thinking, but not really coming to any conclusion. Now she was trying plan B—making dinner. She'd always found cooking therapeutic and soon lost herself in chopping and frying. Once the meal was cooked, she tipped it from the pan onto a plate and took it through to the lounge. From the open curtains, she could see the lighthouse beams sweeping across the bay.

It always amazed her that the lighthouse was twelve miles off the coast, yet its beams travelled so clearly and could be seen from here.

Her mind went back to Adam and being here with him. They'd taken long walks along the beach, eaten chips on the prom, and watched a show on the pier before sitting on the sand as the sun set into the horizon. Immy had been conceived here in this cottage. And life had seemed so perfect.

Headlights shone into the window for a moment before turning off. A car stopped in the lane. Sam got to her feet and pulled the curtains.

Footsteps crunched up the gravel path and the doorbell rang loud and long.

Sam sighed. She longed to ignore it, but whoever it was would have seen her. She headed slowly to the front door and opened it.

Shock flooded her. “What are you doing here?”

****

Adam arrived at Sam's office just after noon on Monday. He was on a high. The church retreat had been amazing. The teaching had been biblical and uplifting, and the fun had known no limits—as evidenced in the ‘talent show' on Saturday night. Who would have thought that Pastor Jack could play the spoons so well, or that Pastor Carson had such comic timing?

But the best part for him, had been the renewal and blessing Adam had felt as he recharged his spiritual batteries. To be so totally immersed in prayer and teaching and fellowship with fellow believers was unlike anything he'd come across before. It was like church twenty-four-seven.

He still had no idea how to handle the mess he and Sam were in, or how he was going to face her and tell her what he'd found, or how he was going to be able to shop his wife to the police when he handed over the files. But, he knew that God was in overall control, and that whatever happened, it would ultimately work out for good.

He'd done his part—well almost, just a few loose ends to finish up—and God would see to the rest.

He parked next to Sam's car. She must have gotten to work incredibly early because the ground under her car was dry, and it had been raining solidly since before dawn.

He signed in at reception and headed up to Sam's office. Her PA, whose name Adam couldn't remember, sat at the desk outside. “Hi. Is Ms. Reece free?”

“She isn't here. She went away for a few days. I don't know when she'll be back.”

Surprise filled him. “Oh, does she often leave her car here?”

She shook her head. “She never does. And she always rings in—this time she sent an email.”

“Can I see it?”

The woman baulked. “I don't think so.”

Adam jerked his head in response. “Then I shall be in her office for a few, checking a couple of things.” He didn't give the woman a chance to say anything before opening the door.

He stood still, shock running rampant through him. The entire office had been trashed. Papers lay everywhere, the vase of flowers he'd sent her lay on its side, the painting of the waterfall had been slashed, and the photo of Immy on the desk was broken.

He spun around and went back to the door. “Who's been in here today?”

“No one.”

“There was no one here over the weekend or this morning?”

“Not that I know of. Oh my…” The PA's voice died behind him.

“I think I should see that email now, don't you?” He put his briefcase down. “I'm legally her husband as well as a lawyer. If something's happened to her, which it is beginning to look like, then I need to read it.”

“Sure.” She returned to her desk and brought the email up.

Adam read it and frowned. “That doesn't sound like her at all—the wording is all wrong. Don't delete it. The police may need to trace it.”

“Do you want me to call them?”

“Yeah.” He had copies of everything, but that was beside the point. Sam was now the prime suspect, her office had been trashed, and she had vanished. “I'll wait for them in here, but I won't touch anything. It's a crime scene now. They'll want to check for fingerprints and so on.”

Ten minutes after the police arrived, it was apparent that all the files pertaining to Sam's involvement were no longer there—neither the paper folders nor the files on her computer. Hard copies still existed on the server, he hoped, and he had paper copies locked in his safe at home, plus the copies on the frog keyring USB drive attached to his keys his brother had given him for Christmas.

Once the police had left, Adam sucked in a deep breath. He'd agreed to catalogue all the files as he'd been working on them with her. “Could you make me some tea?”

“Sure.”

He bent to pick up his briefcase and caught sight of something wedged under the desk. “What's this?” He picked it up.

The PA came over. “She was working on that one on Friday.”

Adam flicked through it. It was covered in pencil notes and sticky-notes and multiple references to CP. “What's this mean?”

The PA glanced down. “Oh, that's her short hand for Peter Carter. She was often cryptic in her notes.”

“Is he in today?”

“He's off sick. He won't be in all week. Besides, between you and me she can't stand him. You should speak to Esther Parks—she and Sam are pretty good friends. She works in HR, knows everything about everyone here. Actually, she and Peter dated for a while.”

Adam jerked as if shot. “Can you ask her to come down?”

“Sure. I'll get you that tea as well.”

Adam waited until she'd left and shut the door. He pulled out his mobile and dialed two numbers in succession. There was no reply from either her landline or her mobile.

Where are you, Sam?

He rang David. “Hi, I need a contact in the fraud department, wondered if you knew anyone.”

“Yeah,” David said. “DI Tom Chandler; works out of the nick here. He's one of the best. You can get him on extension 251. Or I can transfer you if you want.”

“In a sec, yeah. Umm, I have a friend, who hasn't been seen since Friday. I probably shouldn't worry, but…”

David sucked in a deep breath. “But you are. Wait another twenty-four hours then if she hasn't turned up, give me a call.”

“Who said it was a she?” Adam said. Yes, the local boys knew Sam was missing, but to them she was the prime suspect, who'd probably trashed her own office before leaving the country. Or at least that's the impression he'd gotten from the two officers that came out.

“I know you. Sam, right?”

Adam sighed. “Yeah, probably worrying over nothing, but there's other stuff going on. Anyway, if you could transfer me, I'd be grateful.”

“Will do. And call me tomorrow whether she turns up or not.”

“Thanks, David. I will.” Adam waited while David transferred the call.

A clipped voice answered the phone. “DI Chandler.”

“My name is Adam West,” Adam began. “I was wondering if it was possible to hand you some files pertaining to a case I've been working on. It started out as a lawsuit for wrongful dismissal, but I've uncovered several cases of embezzlement which seem to go up into the high ranks of the company. Sgt. David Painter suggested I call you.”

“Sure. If you'd like to come in…”

“It might be better if you came here. The office in question has been trashed. The local boys have just left, but I'd rather hand what I have directly to you. There are files missing, the hard drive has been wiped. I have backup copies in my possession, but…” He sucked in a deep breath, wondering if he should add that the CEO of the company had also vanished.

“Where are you?”

“Wyatt Finance Inc. It's on Vauxhall Drive opposite the train station. I'm in Sam Reece's office. I'll tell reception to expect you and send you right up. Just don't let on you're a cop. There's something else going on here, but I'll explain when you arrive.”

“I know the building. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Don't move anything more than you need to.”