Free The One You Trust by Paul Pilkington

sending her sinister letters.’
    Dan brought a hand up to his forehead and closed his eyes. ‘Dear God, not again.’ Emma just watched, not knowing what to say to make it better. Then he seemed to recover his composure. ‘What did they say?’
    ‘The messages were pretty cryptic. Things about trust.’
    ‘Trust?’
    ‘Yes, warning her about not trusting people.’
    ‘What people?’
    Emma shrugged. ‘Her friends, I guess.’
    ‘You mean us?’
    ‘I think so, yes.’
    Dan shook his head. ‘It makes me so angry, that people won’t just leave us alone,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘Does Lizzy have any idea who’s doing this?’
    ‘No, but she saw the person.’
    ‘She saw their face?’
    ‘No, it was hidden by a cap. She ran after them; they were in the entrance hall to our apartment building, hand-delivering a letter.’
    Another angry shake of the head. Emma thought for a moment that Dan was going to thump the table, but he didn’t.
    ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘It’s okay to be angry about it.’
    ‘I just feel so useless, Em,’ he burst out. ‘I don’t know what to do to help. I don’t know what to do, to make all this go away.’
    Emma reached across the table and took his hand. Dan looked like he was on the verge of tears. ‘Please, Dan, try not to be upset. We’re all struggling to know what to do.’
    Dan nodded and smiled ruefully. ‘Looks like the honeymoon is well and truly over.’
    Emma again felt the photograph in her pocket. She considered not asking Dan about it, but there would never be a good time. ‘The person also sent Lizzy a photograph,’ she said, her voice cracking with nerves.
    She brought it out and passed it to Dan, afraid of where this action might lead.
    He stared at the image, unspeaking.
    Emma knew Dan so well, thought she could recognise every tic, every expression. But his reaction threw her: she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, how he was reacting. For those few seconds, he even looked somehow different from the man with whom she had shared the past few years.
    It reminded her of the time her mother had been pumped full of drugs during the latter stages of her cancer fight – the times when she just didn’t look quite herself, as if an impressive but imperfect imposter had snuck in to take her place.
    ‘Are you okay, Dan?’
    ‘This isn’t real,’ he said, finally. ‘Whoever sent this, they’ve faked it.’
    It was the answer that Emma had longed to hear. ‘So you never knew Stuart?’
    ‘No.’ He looked again at the image. ‘No, I didn’t know him.’
    ‘The image looks so convincing,’ Emma said. ‘David Sherborn couldn’t tell whether it was real or not.’
    Dan’s reaction was instant and shocking.
    ‘You went to him about this?’ His raised voice drew the attention of several customers, and the young server behind the counter.
    ‘Let me explain. He—’
    ‘I can’t believe you went to him before speaking to me!’ Dan continued. ‘Don’t you trust me at all?’
    ‘I do trust you.’
    ‘Really? Like when I was kidnapped and tied up by Peter Myers, and you thought I’d just had second thoughts about marrying you?’ His voice dripped sarcasm.
    Emma mentally scrambled for cover. ‘That’s not fair, Dan.’
    ‘Isn’t it?’ He made to stand.
    ‘Dan, please, don’t go like this!’ Emma looked at him, shocked. ‘Let’s talk about it.’
    He shook his head, slapping the photograph onto the table as he stood up. ‘You might need this, in case you want to get it analysed.’
    Emma stood up to stop him as he turned away. ‘Please, Dan, don’t . . .’
    He shrugged her off with surprising force. ‘I need to get back to the office,’ he said, bitterly.
    Emma could only watch as he stormed out of the café.
     
    Dan strode away from Perfetto and turned down the next side road. Stopping abruptly, he leant against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. Kicking out, his heel connected with brickwork. It