Breaking the Ice by Esme Taylor
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hettie
I sat at my desk, which was completely covered in Post-it notes, scraps of paper I’d scribbled ideas on, and half-full mugs of tea that had long since gone cold.
Using the wall next to my desk, I tacked the map up and pushed in the multi-colored pins that made it look as though I were trying to solve a complicated crime. Each colored pin had a note attached, which indicated a particular location mentioned in Johansson’s books that could have been local.
So far, I’d found fifteen places that someone wouldn’t know about unless they were familiar with this area. Of course, the books don’t specifically mention these places by name. Anyone could find a map and choose random places, but it was the way the locations were described that led me to believe that Lewis may have been right. It was as if our allusive author had first-hand knowledge of each location.
It led me to believe that, even if the mysterious Spenser Johansson didn’t live near here, he definitely had a love for the North East of England. And that was a story in itself. I mean, it’s a pretty amazing place to live. Kings, castles, monasteries, invasions, wars, and defensive walls. It’s hard to see the history of the area and not get inspired. But I might have been a bit biased.
One thing was for sure, searching these books for hidden secrets had made me see this particular author in a whole new light. His descriptions painted pictures that made you long to see things through his eyes. And his characters felt oddly familiar. You got a sense that he believed they were grounded in magic and myth and that their stories were timeless and needed to be told.
Probably the most overwhelming thing I got from his books was his belief in fate and love and how each were intertwined. Johansson had a way of making his readers believe that if it were meant to be, fate would make it happen.
Oh, I wished that were true, I thought as I stared at each of the pinned locations on the map.
I loved romance books, but these books in particular had done something to me. They made me admit to myself that my heart longed to be loved like the characters in his books. To experience the kind of love where your partner would be willing to lay down their life, just to protect yours.
◆◆◆
I had just finished book three and was putting another pin into the map over a beach called Stapleford Bay that I was fairly certain had been used.
This particular book was about a bounty hunter in search of a princess who had fled her kingdom to escape an arranged marriage. The bounty hunter, paid by her father, was well-known to be savage and angry. His anger was focused on finding her and returning her back home. He followed her across the oceans to a beach––the same beach I believed to be Stapleford Bay, only thirty minutes from here––where she’d hidden herself away. He tracked her down and in true love fashion, took one look at her and fell in love, bewitched by her beauty. Together, they returned to the castle, overthrew her evil father, slayed the man she was meant to marry, and ruled the kingdom together.
Reading it again, I found myself paying closer attention to the setting. The way the author described the high, deep red rock wall that surrounded the beach was what made me initially think he was referring to Stapleford Bay. But what made me positive that it was this specific place was the way he described the sea, colored by the unusual rocks. The final, undeniable clue, was the way the book described the beach as whispering to you as you stood in the middle of the sand.
Having been there myself, I can know that if you stand in the perfect spot, you can hear the beach ‘speaking' to you, as if the whole beach is one giant conch shell pressed up against your ear. Only someone who had been there and actually stood on that beach would be able to describe the sounds and the feeling it gave you. And I’m not talking in a ‘I’ve read about it in a guidebook’ kind of way. This was the description of someone who had sat on that beach and listened to the sounds. If I had to guess, I’d say on more than one occasion.
My mind was so focused on locations, bounty hunters and princesses that I’d barely noticed Lewis standing at the end of my desk. “Looks impressive, Hettie. I knew you were the right woman for the job. Do you have a moment to have a word in private, please?” I nodded, grateful for the break while following him to his office.
He ushered me inside and pointed to the sofa, closing the door behind him. “Have a seat, Hettie. We need to have a chat.” Panic filled me as I tried to figure out why he would be acting so seriously. Have I done something wrong? Did I forget to do something?
Seeing my expression, Lewis gave me a reassuring smile. “Don’t look like that, Hettie, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to get you up to speed about something that’s happened. But first, I would like to discuss the photo in the paper. As promised, I reached out to the photographer and the copy editor. Apparently, the photos got mixed up and the editor just chose the top five pictures in the pile. It was just a silly mistake.”
“I understand,” I muttered. “Have they corrected it?”
“They have,” he nodded. “I know how much you hate having your photo taken, but you must admit, if we were to use one by accident, that was a good one to pick.” He laughed quietly, nervously picking some invisible lint from his trousers.
“The other thing I need to talk to you about is a bit more serious.” He paused, swallowing hard before carrying on. “IT has discovered a security breach. They believe someone may have hacked into our computer system and tampered with some staff files.” I stared at him in confusion, unsure what that could have to do with me. I mean, I wrote articles that no one really cared about.
“Hettie, they did some digging, and it appears they only downloaded one file. Yours.” At first, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly.
Lewis took my hand in his before continuing. “I’ve contacted the police. IT has also implemented a number of extra security measures to prevent anything like this from happening again. Apparently, this person really knew what they were doing and what they were looking for. If it weren’t for Jack’s eagle eye for detail, we may have never caught it.” I shook my head in disbelief, the blood draining from my face.
This doesn’t make any sense. Why would anyone be interested in anything that had to do with me?
“W–What did they download?” I choked out.
“Your personnel file––your address, phone number, health information, next of kin––it was all in there. The police are coming in later today to take a statement from Jack, but after your recent mugging they believe it’s too much of a coincidence that they only chose your file.”
“My mugging?” I asked, confused about what that would have to do with anything. “You think it’s the same person? I was under the impression that the police thought it was just a random attack. Why would anyone target me? I’m just Hettie. I’m no one special.”
He squeezed my hand reassuringly. “Hettie, I want you to think about anything that may have happened recently. Anything at all. No matter how small or seemingly insignificant. It may help the police work out what’s happening.” I nodded, still confused about why anyone would target me.
“Also, I want you to promise me that you’ll be more careful. No more working on your own late at night, no walking around in the dark. Be sure to set that new fancy alarm Mr. Hudson had installed for you when you go to bed, and call the police if you feel anything is out of the ordinary. I don’t want to scare you, but I also don’t want you to underestimate how serious this could be.”
I nodded my head again, unable to think of anything to say. Could it be that someone is really after me? And if they are, what do they want?
“You okay, Hettie?” Lewis asked, a look of concern shadowing his features. I hated seeing that look, like I was helpless. One thing was for sure, I refused to be a victim in whatever this was.
“Thanks for letting me know, Lewis. I will be sure to talk to the police, although I’m sure it’s nothing. Now, shall we go and sample the cake Ellen made for us today?” Lewis gave me a warm smile and nodded.
◆◆◆
Two hours later, I found myself sitting at my desk, staring at the list I had entitled Strange things that have happened o tell the police. I was hoping that I could give it to the police when they arrived, but it all felt over the top and a bit unnecessary.
Of course, there was the mugging and the attempted break-in, but they already knew about that. Is there really anything else? I wondered as I thought back to everything that had occurred over the last couple of weeks.
There was the fact that three of the streetlights outside my house seemed to have gone out all at the same time, leaving the road pitch black. But surely that was just a coincidence or a mini power failure.
And then there were the couple of days before the ball that I was positive someone was watching me.
I remembered telling Heather about my suspicions while I was getting my morning muffin. She’d laughed and told me it was probably the paparazzi trying to get a scoop on me because I was–in her words- “So famous.” Yes, she even did the air quote marks while she ribbed me. In the end, I agreed that I was probably being a bit paranoid, brushing aside the weird feeling I had when I was outside.
The sound of my phone beeping in my bag pulled me from my thoughts. As I reached in to pull it out, the card from the flowers that I thought Reid had sent fell out. I took a moment to re-read the message. No matter how many times I read it, the less it sounded like something Reid would write.
But if it wasn’t from him, then who had sent them and what did the card mean? My gut churned, an uneasy feeling overtaking me. Hoping to distract myself, I looked down at my phone and saw a message from Reid.
VIKING: I miss you.
Just as I was preparing to reply, I remembered the flurry of text messages I had gotten when I turned my phone back on the other day at Reid’s. I quickly flipped back through my text messages until I found the unknown number, making note of both on my list for the police.
On their own, none of these things worried me. But together, it was all really scary.
Is someone really watching me? Do they know where I live? Have they targeted me deliberately? Suddenly, an even more unsettling thought struck me. Does that mean I’m in danger?
Shaking off my thoughts, I attempted to give myself a mental pep talk. Like usual, I was letting my imagination run wild. But rather than dwelling on it, I decided not to mention what was happening to anyone until I knew more myself. The last thing I needed was everyone worrying about something that would probably turn out to be nothing.
I pushed the list to the side of my desk and sent a reply to Reid.
ME: I miss you too. I can’t wait to see you tonight so I can do all kinds of filthy things to you…
I clicked send and threw my phone back into my bag while unsuccessfully trying to convince myself that going to Reid’s house had nothing to do with being too scared to be at my own home. Don’t get me wrong, I liked my house and I loved seeing that giant man try to fit into my tiny house, but given everything I had been told earlier, I didn’t feel safe there, even with him in it.