Sophie stopped off at Starbucks on her way to the office. She was tired again and desperately in need of coffee. She had stayed in the office till seven p.m. the night before, Simon’s words about her leaving early on Friday ringing in her ears.
The scene between Cassie and Josh had put her on edge for the rest of the day. After the confrontation, Cassie had told Sophie she didn’t feel well and asked if she could go home. Sophie had gladly agreed, telling Cassie that they would talk about it in the morning. She already knew what she was going to say. She would tell Cassie about her promotion and use that to explain to Cassie that she needed to be more careful, more professional. Not to antagonise people. That you certainly shouldn’t berate people in front of their colleagues.
As she entered the coffee shop, she saw several members of the design team huddled together around a tall table. She paused, unsure if she could face Josh right now, before she’d spoken to Cassie, but then realised he wasn’t with them. One of the designers, a tall guy with a goatee called Chris, spotted Sophie and waved her over.
‘Did you hear about Josh?’ he asked in a hushed voice.
She thought he must be talking about the argument with Cassie and was formulating an answer when Chris said, ‘Somebody attacked him on the way home last night. He’s in hospital.’
She put her hand to her mouth and stared at Chris as he filled her in on the awful details. Apparently, Josh had gone out drinking the night before, ‘because he was so stressed out and needed to let off steam.’ He’d stayed at a bar in Soho till about one a.m. before heading off in search of a night bus. The other people from Jackdaw had already gone home.
‘We don’t know exactly what happened after that.’
A pretty redhead from the design department whose name Sophie didn’t know added, ‘He’s unconscious.’
‘Oh, my God.’
The redhead had tears in her eyes. Another member of the team, a skinny guy wearing a red T-shirt and matching Converse, put his arm around her. Sophie felt like she was at a wake.
‘We’re going to go to the hospital later to see him, if they’re allowing visitors in.’
‘Was it a mugging?’ Sophie asked. ‘I mean, did they take anything, like his phone or wallet?’
‘We don’t know.’ They dispersed, heading back to the office, leaving Sophie standing there on her own, commuters buzzing in and out of the shop, pushing past her with their takeaway cups and their briefcases, focused on the working day ahead. Sophie couldn’t remember why she was here, what she was meant to be doing. She left without buying a drink and stood outside next to the smokers and vapers loading up on nicotine before the working day began.
Unconscious. Did that mean he had serious head injuries? What if he never fully recovered? A selfish thought hit her: he was her only friend at work, assuming he
she’d told him to calm down yesterday. If he wasn’t there, she had no one else to confide in. But that wasn’t what mattered, was it? What mattered was that Josh was OK.
* * *
Sophie reached the ward where Josh was recovering just as his other visitors, including Chris and the pretty redhead, were coming out. There was a man with them too, wearing a navy suit with threadbare elbows. He was about five foot ten, with spiky hair and five o’clock shadow.
He nodded goodbye to the other visitors then turned to Sophie.
‘Detective Constable Darren Paterson,’ he said. ‘You’re here to visit Mr Barker?’
She nodded and introduced herself.
‘I’d like to talk to you after you’ve seen him.’
‘What for?’
‘I’ll explain when you come out.’
She hurried to Josh’s bed, slowing down as she approached him, the shock of seeing him turning her limbs to lead.
He was propped up in the bed, a bandage wrapped around his head. His eyes were circled with purple and grey bruises. There was a gash on his cheek, stitched up but horribly painful-looking. A scrape on his chin. Lips swollen and bruised. He was sipping a drink through a straw and she saw that one of his hands was injured too, three of his fingers on his right hand wrapped in bandages with splints keeping them straight.
‘Jesus,’ she said, as she reached the bed.
He could only open one eye and it was apparently too painful to smile, but he said, ‘No, Josh.’ His voice was thick, like his tongue was swollen.
‘You look like you were run over by a truck, not beaten up.’
He winced.
‘I’m sorry, I was in a rush so I didn’t bring you anything . . .’
He made a circling gesture with his good hand. The bed was surrounded by flowers in vases, more bouquets still in their wrappers lying on every surface. ‘Take some,’ he said, his voice slurred. She guessed he must be on strong painkillers. ‘Why does everyone think gay men like flowers? They play havoc with my allergies.’
Speaking seemed to exhaust him. She shouldn’t have come here. Should let him rest.
‘Anyway, I just wanted to see you. I’ll come back when you’re feeling a bit better.’
He stared at her with his one open eye.
‘Do you want me to get the nurse?’ she asked. He shook his head, the pain making him gasp.
‘OK, I’ll come back. I promise not to bring flowers.’
An attempt at a smile.
She turned to go and heard him whisper her name.
‘He was going to kill me,’ he said, so quietly she could hardly hear.
She stooped so her ear was close to his mouth. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘The man who beat me. He told me he was going to kill me. But someone came by, disturbed him.’
‘Oh, my God. Have you told that detective?’
‘Of course. He wanted to know if I recognised the guy, but he was wearing a balaclava.’ He sucked in a rattling breath.
She left the ward and found Detective Paterson waiting on a chair outside.
‘Let’s walk,’ he said. ‘It’s too quiet here.’
She followed him along the corridor, noticing that his trousers were a little too tight, like he’d recently put on weight.
‘Josh said the guy who attacked him was going to kill him. Like they knew who he was. Do you think that could be true?’
‘It’s certainly something we need to look into. Do you know if Josh has any enemies? Any people who hate him? Who’ve threatened him?’
‘No. Everyone loves him.’
‘Why did you just pull that face?’
‘What face?’
‘When you said “Everyone loves him”, it seemed pretty clear you didn’t believe what you were saying.’
‘Oh. It’s nothing. I was just thinking about an argument he had at work yesterday.’
Paterson produced a notepad. ‘Who was that with?’
Sophie hesitated. She didn’t want to get Cassie into trouble with the police.
‘It was nothing major. Just a disagreement over something stupid. It was between Josh and a girl on my team, Cassie.’
‘Big girl, is she, this Cassie?’
Sophie laughed despite herself. ‘No, she’s tiny. Like a little doll.’
‘Hmm, well whoever beat Josh up was six foot and built like a brick shithouse, excuse my French.’
They parted outside the hospital, the detective heading to his car while Sophie crossed to the bus stop. There was hardly anyone around and Sophie felt ill at ease, eyeing a sportswear-clad teenager as he came towards her up the hill, wondering if he was the kind of miscreant Franklin had talked about, the street suddenly feeling far less safe than usual. She was glad when the bus arrived to take her back to the safety of her home.
Excerpted from THE DEVIL’S WORK © Copyright 2016 by Mark Edwards. Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved.
About The Devil’s Work by Mark Edwards
A gripping psychological thriller from the bestselling author of Follow You Home and The Magpies.
It was the job she had dreamed of since childhood. But on her very first day, when an unnerving encounter drags up memories Sophie Greenwood would rather forget, she wonders if she has made a mistake. A fatal mistake.
What is her ambitious young assistant really up to? And what exactly happened to Sophie’s predecessor? When her husband and daughter are pulled into the nightmare, Sophie is forced to confront the darkest secrets she has carried for years.
As her life begins to fall apart at work and at home, Sophie must race to uncover the truth about her new job…before it kills her.
About Mark Edwards
Mark Edwards writes psychological thrillers in which terrifying things happen to ordinary people. His first solo novel, The Magpies (2013), reached the No.1 spot on Amazon UK as did his third novel Because She Loves Me (2014). He has also co-written various crime novels with Louise Voss such as Killing Cupid (2011) and The Blissfully Dead (2015).
Mark grew up on the south coast of England and starting writing in his twenties while working in a number of dead-end jobs. He lived in Tokyo for a year before returning to the UK and starting a career in marketing. As well as a full-time writer, Mark is a stay at home dad for his three children, his wife and a ginger cat.
Website: www.markedwardsauthor.com
Twitter: @mredwards
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/markedwardsbooks
