In Parker’s bedroom, a mark on the carpet caught my attention immediately and my heartbeat cranked up a gear. The carpet was cream, but just below the picture opposite her bed was a white mark. If I hadn’t spent so long in this room while Parker was sick, I may not have noticed it. I’d had far too long in here. I’d taken in every detail, wondering how it was possible to fit so many things into one room. She’d clearly moved from a bigger place after her engagement failed and tried to fit everything—was it her ex-fiancé doing this? An ex would be a likely suspect, especially since the rose had been left, but Parker had said that he was living in Monaco. Maybe something had brought him back to London? What had she said his name was? Details on his whereabouts couldn’t be more than a Google search away.
The white mark was plaster dust. I took the picture from the wall to find someone had drilled a hole for another hidden camera. I taped another tracer onto the back of the picture and replaced it as if nothing had happened. Someone so lacking in attention to detail as to leave a pile of dust on the carpet just below where they’d drilled a hole to place a surveillance camera wasn’t going to notice my thumbnail-sized tracer taped to the back of the picture.
I took a breath and scanned the bedroom. What else was I looking for? Ultimately, I just wanted to find out who was trying to terrorize my wife and bring them to justice. I didn’t need anything more—I now had a link to them and I just needed to be back in front of my computer and figure this the fuck out. For the sake of thoroughness, though, I was going to put up some cameras of my own, just in case the fucker came back. I had a couple in my bag. If I set up one in the kitchen and one in the bedroom and pointed them both toward the hallway, no one would be able to move through the apartment without being caught on tape.
I worked quickly, at the same time, trying to figure out what I was going to tell Parker. Honesty was the only possible answer. I’d get the ex’s name and then I’d get to work. We were due to go to New York the day after tomorrow for Andrew and Sofia’s wedding. It would get us out of town, put some distance between us and whoever was so keen to keep an eye on Parker. By the time we were back, hopefully, I’d have traced the culprit.
Twenty-Eight
Tristan
The timing of Andrew and Sofia’s wedding couldn’t have been more perfect. Parker was shocked and disturbed to learn about the surveillance equipment I’d found in her place, which made her especially quick to agree when I suggested we fly out early to NYC. We’d left later that night after speaking to the police. I was relieved Parker had finally agreed to involve them, though I wasn’t going to sit back and assume they’d handle everything. Parker didn’t know it, but I’d arranged for us to have discreet members of Sergei’s team around us at all times. I still hadn’t managed to trace the camera feed back to its source and I’d not been able to trace the whereabouts of Parker’s ex. We’d been due to stay at the Mandarin Oriental with all the others, but I’d moved us to the Ritz. Whoever was surveilling Parker was an amateur in some ways, but I wasn’t taking any chances. After all, I hadn’t managed to track them down yet. And if the same person was responsible for Parker’s food poisoning, I wasn’t sure what their endgame was. I wasn’t taking any chances.
“She looks beautiful,” Parker whispered as Sofia walked down the aisle in front of close friends and family at the New York Public Library. It had been Sofia’s choice of venue, apparently.
I nodded. “You look astonishing.”
She rolled her eyes and I couldn’t tell if it was because she didn’t believe me or she was trying to focus on Sofia and the wedding. Honestly, if Parker wore fire-engine-red lipstick, her cow-print pajamas would look sexy. There was just something about her full, red lips.
It was a beautiful day with a perfect backdrop and I couldn’t help thinking how Sofia had changed things for Andrew. This time last year, I would never have thought he’d be married with a baby on the way. Children were a huge responsibility. Creating a family was such a leap of faith. What happened if you got it wrong? Fucked it up somehow? Destroyed it?
As a child, my parents never spoke to me about the ups and downs of my sister’s illness or their marriage. But I’d always been able to tell. The atmosphere in the house would tell me how bad things were and how sick she was. On rare occasions the thick tension would lift and smiles and tenderness would replace the tears, but it never lasted long.