Lost Hours Read online

  I turn to look towards Josh´s office. I can still see him, sitting behind his computer, his elbows propped on the glass table, staring at me curiously with a whimsical half smile.

  For a second, I can swear my phone is going to ring and it will be him, asking me to step into his office. A part of me wishes to be ten years in the past, when I was his lover, his colleague, his friend.

  A colleague he betrayed when he found true love. A colleague he used selfishly to satisfy his needs, to fulfill his wildest sexual fantasies. The fantasies of a twisted, sick mind whose existence I completely ignored.

  PAUL

  Thursday, October 10, 2013

  What on earth am I going to tell Paula? The waiter pours my coffee. I thank him and turn back to my notebook.

  Today, Stuart´s really driven me nuts with his negativity. What would John Peck do if he were in my shoes? He taught me to be observant and cautious, but not to be patient. That´s something you either have or you don´t.

  It´s still half an hour before Paula gets off work and joins me. I question the reasons that led me to accept meeting her. I want to see her, but what I´m doing isn´t right. It isn´t professional. Stuart´s words keep drilling into my brain.

  “Nothing! We have nothing! The only woman who could give us any information about Parker is hospitalized, in coma. She may not get through the night, and we still have NOTHING! Not a print, not a clue, not even a suspect.”

  Worst of all is that he´s right. We don´t have a thing. Though I want to be positive and remember that when this happens, there is a moment when all comes out into the light. Suddenly and when you least expect it.

  On the other hand, I´m thankful we have nothing; it keeps my mind off Ana, it helps to keep me from overthinking an issue that hurts me deeply, deeper than anything has hurt before. It keeps me going.

  I go over page by page, reading the key words about each of the people I interviewed at the agency, over and over, starting with Samantha Hemsley. I know that behind her profound sadness caused by Parker´s violent death, there´s a stormy past that´s probably related, in some way, to the girl in the picture on her desk.

  Samantha is not a suspect. She appears to be a cold ambitious woman, yet she is the director of the agency, and the way she talked about Josh, there didn´t seem to be any past problems or contentions. I could tell she was terribly upset.

  Parker´s assistants, Lisa and Nicole, came across as helpful and seemed grief stricken also. Lisa seemed to be less straightforward and uncooperative, she really didn´t know what to say. She mentioned that Josh was a strict boss, disciplined and a perfectionist. Yet he always tried to make things easier for those who worked with him. Nicole couldn´t stop crying and could barely speak. The only negative thing she mentioned about Parker was that he was a bit of a maniac when it came to order and other things, but that it had been a pleasure to work for him all these years. Neither of them mentioned anything about being harassed, sexually or otherwise, by the famous idea man. Only Paula Hawkins. Paula, of the three, the one I found to be most attractive, was the perfect victim for Josh. I want to know more about the fling they had, years ago, even though it might not be relevant to the investigation.

  I scrutinize other names and positions in my notes, but none of them are suspects. They have alibis.

  I was careful to observe every man in the office, it wasn´t possible for any of them to have killed Parker; he was bigger and stronger than any of them, and I doubt any of the scrawny guys I saw, could have broken the glass partition. It had to have been someone with great strength. Or maybe two… That was it! Maybe there was more than one.

  There´s an item I am missing… a detail… As I sit nervously taping on the table top with my fingers, the phone rings. It´s Ana. I ignore it. I keep staring closely at my notes. The phone rings again. This time Ana´s name doesn´t appear, so I pick up quickly.

  “Detective Tischmann.”

  “Always so serious, Paul.”

  I feel pleased by that familiar voice. I can´t see myself in the mirror, but I bet my face just lit-up.

  “Master John Peck! I was thinking about you a couple of seconds ago.”

  “To what do I owe the honor?”

  “To my assistant, he´s a disaster. And to a case.”

  “The Parker case? The idea man?” Asks John at the other end of the line, reading my mind. I´ve always shared a subtle connection with old Peck.

  “I´ve been following the case, boy. A bitch of a case. It´s in the news at all hours.”

  “There are no clues, not a print… we have nothing John. As if the killer were invisible.” I tell him laughing about how absurd that must have sound.

  “The murderer is clever.”

  “And very strong. He broke a thick glass partition and slit the guy´s throat with a shard of glass.” I whisper. I don´t want to upset anyone at the café with talk about murder while they take a break.

  “Remember something, Tischmann. Many times, things are not what they appear to be. You are looking for a strong looking man, am I right? Of course I´m right!”

  “Well, I was just thinking that the murder might have involved two or more people.”

  “It´s possible, but I doubt it. Look for one culprit, one alone. And don´t be thrown off by his physical appearance. Don´t let yourself be misguided by what seems obvious.”

  “it´s as if you were reading my mind, boss. How have you been?”

  “Hanging in there. I must admit I´m bored. I miss the action. It´s not the same, being there, as merely putting things on paper.”

  “I´m glad to hear you voice, John”

  “Same here, boy. I´ll call again soon and you´ll see, you will have found something. You always find something. Killers are flesh and bone and their minds are not perfect. They are sinister. And sinister always comes to light.”

  Sinister always comes to light; I repeat old Peck´s mysterious words under my breath as I hang up.

  18:05hrs.

  Miss Hawkins walks through the door of the cafeteria, right on time as I expected, looking out for me. I wave my hand at her and as she approaches I signal for her to sit in front of me.

  This time she´s not wearing the usual tight pencil skirt, showing off her long slender legs. She`s wearing tight fitting black jeans and a white shirt with a provocative neckline and an elegant sport jacket. She walks elegantly on her stilettos, approaches the counter and orders something from a waiter. She turns to smile at me, approaches and pats me gently on the shoulder. I feel my heartbeat racing. This woman brings something out in me that I didn´t even know existed until now.

  “Hello, Paul.”

  She looks happy. A marked contrast to the bereaved woman I saw yesterday.

  “You are looking well, Paula.”

  “I got promoted” she responds coquettishly as she plays with a wisp of hair. She looks out the window, lowers her eyes and looks at me again; “are there any news?”

  “I´m afraid not. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Do you want me to look for something? I mean… do you want me to look into things at the office? In case I find something out?”

  “Of course, Paula. That could help us a lot with the investigation.”

  “I´ll do it.” She answers enthusiastically.

  “Tell me about that promotion.”

  “I was given Josh´s position. Not that I like it. Actually, it sort of scares me a bit. Nothing is the same without him, you know? I don´t know if I´m up to par.”

  “Of course you are!” I try to cheer her.

  “Thanks.”

  She smiles and that smile lights up the whole place. The waiter approaches with a natural orange juice and is stunned by Paula´s charm.

  “Do you know if there´s someone else who might have aspired to Josh´s position at the agency?”

  “No. Everyone has their job, or jobs, many more important than his, though not as glamorous, famous or rewarded. You don´t think I´m
a suspect, do you?” she asks, amused.

  “Meaning no disrespect, but do you think those skinny arms could even break a coffee cup?” I laugh, though I know I shouldn´t.

  “The funeral is tomorrow.” She informs me lowering her eyes.

  Sadness returns, so does melancholy. This woman loved him. Deep down inside, she still loves him. I find this curious, considering she only had a couple of dates and a one-night-fling with him; or so she said. There is also this thing of the sexual harassment on the night of the murder; it´s odd.

  “I know. And Charlotte is still in a coma.” I grumble.

  “It´s horrible. A week ago, they were both alive and well… and happy. Their whole life ahead of them… and now…”

  “That´s life, I guess. It can fall apart around you in a blink.”

  “I know, believe me, I know…” She answers looking at me intently. I want to tell her that I know the feeling well. I want to tell her that on the day I met her I caught my wife in bed with another man.” I have to go.” She says suddenly. Paula Hawkins is unpredictable.

  “Would you like another glass of juice?” I don´t want her to go, I`d like to hold her back a while, maybe ask her to dinner.

  I look at her delicate, sculptured hands. She´s not wearing any rings, so I infer she´s not married or engaged. I´m glad I noticed. “I guess someone´s expecting you back at home.”

  She shakes her head in denial, somewhat sadly. She finishes her juice and shrugs.

  At that precise moment, my phone rings, breaking the magic that is building between Paula and me. It´s Stuart.

  “What have you got?” I ask impatiently looking out the cafeteria window.

  “Charlotte is dead.”

  “Shit.”

  CHAPTER 6

  PAULA

  Friday, October 11, 2013

  I intend to leave the house at ten twenty so I can make it on time to Charlotte and Josh´s funeral, which is at eleven. It saddens me that they are no longer in this world, and looking at myself in the mirror, I remember last night´s dream. In the dream, Josh and Charlotte appeared to me, holding hands. They stared at me and laughed. Then their figures faded into vapor as they walked down a foggy, dark tunnel.

  The bags under my eyes give me away. They announce to the world that I haven`t been sleeping well. Matthew isn´t at home and I sincerely doubt he slept here. His side on the bed shows no sign of use.

  I think about her. Her false smile, her fake friendship. I think about the day I met Matthew, while holding hands with Josh. I think about how deeply I love my husband.

  I have looked and looked for my wedding ring, it should be under the bed, but it isn´t.

  Up until two days ago, I thought everything was going fine; that Matthew and I were a perfect couple. I can´t pin point the moment when things changed, everything changed. It`s almost as if Josh´s death was some kind of curse. He is dead and I am cursed. Is that possible?

  I walk into the bathroom to apply some make-up. As I apply some mascara on lashes, a strange breeze fills the room. It startles me and I turn to look behind me. There´s no one there, but I feel someone is watching me. «Paula, you are going nuts, girl». I look at the mirror again and Josh is behind me. His neck is cut in half, it has a deep cleft from which blood flows continuously and his blue eyes reflect the same madness they did the last time I saw them, when he wanted to force himself on me on top of the copy machine. I´m paralyzed; I close my eyes tightly and when I open them again Josh´s ghost is no longer there. I´m still in shock, unable to believe what my eyes have seen. I´ve never believed in ghosts. But I believe in broken souls, souls that stay with us hungering for vengeance.

  Trying to disregard the fear in my body and struggling to control the trembling in my hands, I haphazardly roll the mascara on my lashes and leave the house at ten fifteen, earlier than I planned. I will be one of the first at the funeral.

  Through my tear-filled eyes, I look into the depth of the graves that seems to go on forever. Meanwhile, the preacher prays for the souls of Josh and Charlotte. I can hear moans and groans and whimpers. Whispers speaking of the dead, praising them, lamenting their untimely demise, talking about their lost youth.

  Charlotte´s father, the man with the white beard I saw beside her at the office, kneels beside his daughter´s grave. It seems he is now alone in the world. I know what that´s like, to be broken hearted.

  In my mind´s eye, I see Josh´s body inside the coffin and suddenly I´m unable to breathe.

  It wasn´t a couple of dates and a one night stand. It was much more, it was my addiction, my desire, my life, my love.

  At a distance, detective Tischmann observes the scene, partially hidden by a tree. He observes us all, hoping to find amongst those who attended the funeral, the one who killed Josh.

  I too am searching discretely, but I can´t find the culprit. There´s no one with a hateful glower signaling ´It was me, I killed him´.

  I have also been observing people´s hands, not everyone´s as there are over three hundred attendees, but I haven´t been able to detect anyone with superficial wounds that might have been caused by the broken glass of the partition. There is no hand strong enough to break the thick glass and remain unscathed.

  “It´s so sad.” Whispers Lisa, as she moves beside me.

  “I hadn´t seen you.” I reply, glancing sideways at her.

  “There are a lot of people. But, you know? How many of them really loved Josh?” She asks thoughtfully.

  I did. I love him. Or at least I loved him.

  PAULA

  April of 2004

  Spring brought back bad memories. It took my parents from me, back in 1987, when I was only ten years old.

  “So, what happened?” Josh asked as he stoked my naked back and intertwined his fingers in mine.

  “It happened one night they went out to have dinner with some friends. I was left with an awful teenage baby sitter. On their way back home, around one in the morning, a drunk driver slammed into them killing them instantly.

  Josh remained very contemplative for a while. I could tell he really felt my pain. He wiped away my tears gently and hugged me very sweetly, running his fingers through my hair.

  It was the first time making love was unnecessary to feel him deep inside me.

  “We all have our tragedies, Paula. All of us.”

  Right then, he went into the bathroom to snort a line of coke. He said it was good for him, that it steadied him. It helped deal with the daily stress at work.

  He felt under terrible pressure, always expected to be the best.

  In March, he received his first real important accolade for the creation of a sensational spot. He couldn`t afford to lower the bar. I helped him, actually I provided de original idea he then worked on, developing it masterfully. I wasn`t troubled by the lack of praise at all. His joys were also mine, I felt the awards were as much mine as his.

  Spring wasn´t kind to me either.

  Josh became more distant, paid less attention to me and he stayed at the office working all hours and sent me home.

  He didn´t want to be distracted, he needed to work alone.

  At a meeting with Nicole, Lisa and Charlotte, it became very clear to me. He avoided looking at me, his attention was focused on Charlotte, he was literally gobbling her up with his eyes. Charlotte had always been interested in Josh and was more than thrilled to become the new apple of his eye. I was consumed by jealousy; but, what could I do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  We had never talked about formalizing our relationship on anything like that. I thought we had something more permanent, but it was just in my head. We were both adults, lovers, but without any attachments, without commitments… Without love? How could he have forgotten our profound stares all of a sudden? Our mischievous smiles? What of the awe-inspiring passion that would send me soaring to heaven each time he pushed inside me?

  His visits to the restroom became more frequent, and often enough Charlotte kept him comp
any. It was obvious they were having a lot of fun together, and they shared their appetite for drugs.

  I remember clearly. It was a Friday and there was nobody left at the office. It was five minutes till seven thirty and Josh was engrossed by something on his computer screen. He was alone in his office, a bunch of his sketches strewn over his desk. It had been days since he had spoken to me; avoiding me without any explanation.

  I opened the door to his office uninvited and looked at him seriously, trying to find a reason, some motive for his having pushed me out of his life so suddenly. My toothbrush was still in the bathroom of his apartment.

  “What do you want?” He asked without taking his eyes off the screen.

  “I want to know what´s going on Josh.”

  “Nothing´s going on Paula.”

  “Are you with Charlotte now?”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes as he stood from his work. He approached me slowly, as if wishing he would never actually get close to me.

  “I´m sorry, Paula.” I was struck dumb. His stare was glacial, pure ice in his blue eyes. His hands were steady and his fleshy lips were unsmiling. “Hey! But we had a great time, didn´t we? From now on our relationship will be strictly professional.”

  I could have cursed at him, maybe slapped him in the face or even kicked him in the balls. I could have told him that he broke my heart. It could have been me who slashed his throat at that moment. I could even have admitted that I had fallen in love with him.

  But I did nothing of the sort; I nodded and teary-eyed walked out of his office an out of his life.

  PAUL

  Friday, October 11, 2013

  More than three hundred people showed up for the Parker´s funeral service. Paula was there too; I know she saw me.

  At the lab, they haven´t come up with anything yet that might help us with the case. It´s eleven o´clock at night and I´ve been at it since seven, and found nothing.

  I grab my stuff and head for home.

  As I open the door, Ana is there, sitting demurely on the sofa. She greets me with a friendly smile.