Free The Aura by Carrie Bedford

York.
    “Good, good,” he said. “I heard on the grapevine that you had an accident, and that the road to recovery has been a little bumpy?”
    Alan complaining about me, no doubt. I briefly explained that I’d been hit by a car, and apologized for taking time out.
    “I’m much better now,” I said, half-expecting him to tell me I was fired or on probation. But he just looked at me with concern in his eyes.
    “You let me know if there’s anything I can do,” he said. “Although I won’t be around much for the next week or so. I’ve got an outing planned for later this week, followed by a business trip to Edinburgh early next week.”
    I pushed the last paper plate into the bin and set it down in the corner. “Well, send me a postcard.”
    “I might just do that.”
    I went back to my office to call Rebecca again, but there was still no answer. Josh dropped by to say he was going off-site with Alan. I breathed a sigh of relief. With Alan out for the rest of the afternoon, I’d be able to leave early.
    Ben walked past my office, seemed to think of something and came back to my door.
    “So, you’re spending time with the Montgomery Financial Director outside of the office?” he asked.
    “We’re just friends,” I answered. “There’s nothing sinister going on.”
    Ben’s pale moon face crumpled in mock amusement. “Friends? That’s fast. No one makes friends that quickly.”
    “No one would make friends with
you
that quickly,” I retorted. “But, no, we knew each other in college.”
    That silenced him for a few seconds, but then he started again. “Even so, it’s against company policy to socialize with clients,” he said. “You might be giving out information on details that we’re not ready to commit to yet.”
    “Rebecca’s not going to hold us to anything I tell her in a social setting,” I said. “Besides, we don’t talk about work.”
    “Says you,” sneered Ben. Although I knew better, I was provoked into arguing back.
    “I promise you, this is just about two girls having lunch or a glass of wine together. We’re not sharing corporate secrets or planning the overthrow of the male-dominated management regime. The future of Bradley Cohen is not at stake. I think you’re over-reacting.”
    Ben sniffed. “I doubt that Alan sees it that way.”
    “I’m busy, Ben. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. And I’m sure you do too.”
    I called Rebecca’s cell several more times and on the third call, got a recorded message saying that her voicemail box was full. The minutes dragged by. Every time I looked at the time in the corner of my computer monitor, I thought the screen had frozen. Finally, when the display showed 5p.m. I packed my briefcase, grabbed my coat and headed for the Tube.
    Back at home, I dumped my briefcase in the hall. After putting the kettle on for tea, I changed into jeans and a warm sweater. I thought of calling Josh to ask his advice, but he was probably still out with Alan. I could go over to Rebecca’s flat to see if she were there, but she would have answered her phone. Peter Montgomery seemed to think she could be working elsewhere. Still, she had been out of touch for a long time, and that bothered me.
    I took my cup to the living room, feeling my anxiety harden into a rock of foreboding that sat like lead in my stomach. Taking a last gulp of tea, I opened my laptop and started searching for the name Williams in Bournemouth. Maybe her parents would know where she was. There were ten listings, fewer than I’d feared, but the first five rang through to voicemail or to voicemail boxes that were full and refusing messages. Maybe nobody checked their landlines nowadays. On the sixth call, a woman answered. I asked for Rebecca.
    “Who the hell is Rebecca?” she said. “And who are you? Do you know my husband?”
    I rang off quickly and kept going, tapping numbers into my iPhone and feeling a little stupid. On the ninth call, a man responded. “Williams