Free The Warning by Sophie Hannah Page A

She looks disappointed. We sit in silence for a while. I suspect I’m not the only one disobediently remembering the armadillo.
    “Tom’s friend Keiran with the expensive BMW—that’s also true.” Simon plows on. “Keiran Connaughton. He and Tom were in the same year at Manchester Grammar School and have stayed friends since. Bear in mind, one sign that someone’s a dangerous sociopath is if they have no one in their life who dates back very far—no one in a position to reveal that they’ve changed their various stories over the years. But . . . not the case here.”
    There’s that word again: sociopath .
    And if it’s not the case that Tom has no long-standing friendships, if he’s not a sociopath, then what bad and dangerous kind of person is he? What’s the problem? Simon’s tone strongly suggests there is one and that it’s serious, but I can’t work out what I’m supposed to be listening for.
    “The burger-wrappers-and-empty-cider-bottles-in-expensive-sports-car story? Completely true,” he says. “I’ve seen no evidence that Tom is dishonest. Butch and Sundance, the bull terriers? True.”
    “You contacted Keiran?” I say, surprised.
    “Charlie spoke to him.”
    “Charlie?”
    “Me,” says Charlotte. “Everyone calls me Charlie except Lorna, who refuses to.”
    “Because it’s a cheap-and-nasty perfume, a life-destroying drug, and horribly unisex,” Lorna explains.
    “Can we not get sidetracked?” says Simon. “Maddy, the ex-girlfriend, is in Australia where she’s supposed to be. She had only good things to say about Tom. So, let’s move on to his education and work history. After Manchester Grammar School for boys, he was an undergraduate and then a graduate at Peterhouse, here. He got the best results in his year when he graduated, and he’s worked for three companies since. He started his career at Sagentia, just outside Cambridge. Got promoted through the ranks very quickly there. Then he went to Intel, who we’ve all heard of, and worked there for a few years, in America.”
    I’ve heard of Intel but I can’t say I’m sure what it is. A computer company? Tom has never told me he lived and worked in America. My stomach tenses. Is it coming now, the shocking revelation?
    “He got promoted by Intel, stayed there for four years, then made another move: back to England, to CamEgo. He’s been promoted twice since he got there, and now holds the top position that someone in his field can: CSO.”
    Finally, Simon looks up, in time to see three waffles with toffee sauce and maple syrup heading toward our table. “That’s it,” he says. “That’s everything I found out.”

 
    Chapter 14
    T HE SUGAR RUSH from my waffle—which is probably delicious, but I barely taste it—ought to make my brain move faster, but it’s not working. Neither is the caffeine from my second cup of tea. “I don’t get it,” I tell Simon. “I listened as carefully as I’ve ever listened to anything—I don’t need you to repeat a single word—but I didn’t hear anything worrying or suspicious.”
    “Me neither,” says Charlie.
    Simon jerks his head at Lorna. “What about you?”
    She’ll never admit she spotted nothing. Never. After a few seconds, she says, “His three jobs—did he move around by choice from company to company, or was he sacked? You say he ‘went’ from Sagentia to Intel, then ‘made another move’ to CamEgo . . .”
    Simon lurches forward, nearly knocking over our flimsy plastic table. “That’s the question I was hoping to hear.” He looks happy, or what I assume is happy for him. Not grumpy, anyway.
    “I think it’s a daft question,” I say. “Sorry, Lorna, but . . . Intel, CamEgo—these are serious companies. He wouldn’t have got a job at either without amazing references from his previous employers, would he? And he wouldn’t have got those if he’d been fired.”
    “Are you sure?” Simon asks me.
    My breath catches in my throat. “No,