AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There was a headset resting on the desk, and I picked it up and settled it over my ears, then clicked on the recording. I was fizzing with nerves, biting the inside of my lip so hard my teeth almost met in the soft skin. For a second nothing happened—just a whirling “loading” icon. And then a woman’s voice came over the headphones.
“Hello, could I speak to Mr. Gabriel Medway?”
“Who is this?” said a man’s deep voice.
I felt a rush of shock—swiftly followed by a sense of crushing defeat. Because it wasn’t Jeff. It was nothing like him. It was far too deep—much more like… a feeling of dread was pooling in the pit of my stomach. It sounded much more like Gabe, in fact.
Oh God. Had I got this all wrong?
I had paused the call, my finger jerking reflexively on the mouse at the sound of a voice I hadn’t been expecting, but now I rewound it to the beginning and started the recording again, this time steeling myself for the man’s voice.
“Who is this?”
This time, even though I’d been expecting them, the words felt like a stab to the heart. Because it sounded like it could be him. I wasn’t absolutely certain, though. The woman was coming through crystal clear, but the recording at the man’s end wasn’t brilliant. The line was crackly and his voice was distorted. I turned up the volume a notch and closed my eyes, trying to filter out all the call center distractions and focus on nothing but the sound of the voice in my ears.
“This is Jo from Sunsmile, Mr. Medway, you were in touch about setting up a policy with us? We just needed to clarify one point, it’s regarding—”
“I’m sorry, could you email me about this?” said the other speaker, rather brusquely. He sounded rattled and annoyed at being called. “This isn’t a good time.”
And suddenly I was sure, absolutely sure, with a rush of relief that made my fingertips tingle: this wasn’t Gabe. It was very like Gabe, very similar indeed—the same deep voice, even the same London accent. Almost anyone else might have been fooled. But I knew Gabe. His voice had accompanied me night after night, year after year, whispering in my ear for hours with encouragement, instruction, jokes, warnings. And although there was nothing I could put my finger on, nothing I could take to the police as a certainty, I was certain of one thing: The person on the other end of the line wasn’t Gabe. Not in a million years.
“Of course, if you prefer,” said the woman pleasantly, “but this really will only take a moment. It’s just—”
There was a click, and the call ended.
I heard the woman sigh.
“And a nice day to you too, sir,” she said, a little sarcastically to the dead air. And then the recording stopped.
My heart was thudding like a drum in my chest, so hard I could hear it in my ears.
I resettled the headphones, cupped one hand over my ear to shut out as much of the background noise as possible, and squeezed my eyes shut.
Then I turned up the volume as high as it would go and pressed play again.
I’m sorry, could you email me about this? This isn’t a good time.
Again.
I’m sorry, could you email me about this.
I’m sorry, could you
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
And then—I don’t know how, but—I knew.
I heard the clatter as the mouse slid from the desk and fell to the floor.
I sensed the drag of the chair’s castors against the carpet tiles as I pushed it back from the desk and stood on unsteady legs.
I felt the shake in my hands as I shut down Keeley’s computer and flipped her Rolodex back to A.
But inside—inside I felt strangely numb. Inside I felt nothing at all.
