Malice Read online

  CONSPIRACY

  365

  MALICE

  GABRIELLE LORD

  To Elizabeth Nicole Butler

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  DAY 1: 30 Days to go …

  DAY 2: 29 Days to go …

  DAY 3: 28 Days to go …

  DAY 7: 24 Days to go …

  DAY 8: 23 Days to go …

  DAY 10: 21 Days to go …

  DAY 11: 20 Days to go …

  DAY 12: 19 Days to go …

  DAY 13: 18 Days to go …

  DAY 17: 14 Days to go …

  DAY 18: 13 Days to go …

  DAY 19: 12 Days to go …

  DAY 20: 11 Days to go …

  DAY 22: 9 Days to go …

  DAY 26: 5 Days to go …

  DAY 27: 4 Days to go …

  DAY 28: 3 Days to go …

  DAY 29: 2 Days to go …

  DAY 30: 1 Day to go …

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  My name is Winter Frey.

  My friend Cal was a hunted fugitive.

  Our story continues …

  Prologue

  I skidded my motorbike to a halt outside Winter’s house. The place looked great now it had been painted a really cool blue and the garden was full of plants and trees. But I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it. Winter had called me earlier, her voice agitated.

  ‘Something really weird came in the mail today,’ she’d said. ‘And Cal, there’ve been other things too.’

  I didn’t like the sound of that at all and had stopped packing for my trip to flight school. I couldn’t quite believe that I’d managed to score a place on a prestigious pilot training program and I’d been thinking of little else for weeks now. Although I had noticed Winter hadn’t been her usual self for the past couple of days. Had I been neglecting Winter? I’d grabbed my keys and headed out the door.

  Things had been awesome for all of us in recent months. Mum seemed happier than she had been in ages and Gabbi was doing well in school. And as for my friends, we’d never been closer after all we’d been through—the huge and dangerous quest to discover the truth about the Ormond Singularity, the bomb at the City Hall and then the final showdown with Sligo and Elijah on the Sapphire Star cruise ship. Now all that was behind me, I had a real chance to achieve my dream, to become a real pilot … just like Dad and I had always talked about.

  But there was no time for those thoughts now as I arrived at Winter’s house. I pulled off my helmet, used my key to get in, and ran upstairs to the study where I could hear voices.

  Winter and Boges barely greeted me, completely engrossed with what looked like an ordinary, stamped envelope.

  ‘You said something came in the mail,’ I said. ‘Is that it?’

  ‘It’s what’s inside that’s worrying me,’ said Boges, his face serious. ‘Take a look.’

  I took the envelope and opened it, frowning because for a minute I thought it was empty. Then I saw a scrap of torn newspaper, which I lifted out carefully. My thoughts immediately flicked to the vicious articles that reporter Ben Willoughby had written about me long ago, before we became almost friends. I wondered if he was up to his old tricks again.

  But I quickly realised this didn’t look like his handiwork. It looked like the top right corner of a very old newspaper. There were four words—two in thick black print, and another two, added like an afterthought, in scrawling handwriting.

  As I read them, a chill crept up my spine.

  DAY 1

  30 days to go …

  Home

  Mansfield Way, Dolphin Point

  6:25 pm

  Cal looked at me, frowning.

  ‘What does it mean?’ he asked, his blue eyes narrowed in concern.

  ‘I haven’t got a clue,’ I said.

  He stared at the words again.

  ‘On the phone, you mentioned … other things,’ he said after a long pause. I knew he’d noticed how I’d been over the last few days—edgy and anxious, answering his worried questions with my standard response—stop questioning me, everything is fine. Now it was time to come clean.

  ‘Someone’s been here,’ I said. ‘In my place.’

  ‘When? Who?’

  ‘I don’t know who—or when. And it wasn’t just once. I think it started a few days ago. At first, I thought I was just imagining it. I noticed things being in a slightly different place to where I’d left them.’

  ‘How do you know someone’s been here with all this …’ Boges opened his arms to take in the mess of paper files and documents that covered most of the desk, spilling over onto the sofa and chairs in my study, ‘this stuff piled up everywhere?’

  ‘I live alone, Boges,’ I explained defensively, ‘no-one comes up here but me. And I wasn’t expecting guests in my study!’

  I walked around, nervously picking up a photograph of my parents, putting it down again and adjusting the position of the pot plant that stood nearby. ‘Look, I did think I was going nuts or something. Because nothing was moved very much. Like my diary—especially my diary. Then I found this on the floor near my desk.’ I showed them the scrunched up bit of blue, yellow and white paper. ‘It’s a chewing gum wrapper—Triple Mint. I don’t chew gum. So I definitely didn’t drop this here.’

  ‘Is that your diary?’ Boges asked. ‘That red and gold book?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, nodding, ‘I’m a bit particular and I always put my diary like this, between the timber joins in my desk.’ My desk was made of recycled wood, just like floorboards. Cal and Boges watched as I placed the diary next to the computer between two of the boards, straightening it until the top and bottom edges fitted exactly between the joins. ‘Twice now, it hasn’t been in the right place.’

  ‘You could’ve bumped it when you were getting up from your desk,’ Boges suggested.

  ‘I thought of that,’ I said, picking it up, opening it. ‘But whenever I finish writing up an entry, I always use this bookmark.’ I touched the dark red ribbon attached to the spine of the diary. ‘I mark the following day’s page, so that it’s ready for me to open. But look—,’ I said passing the diary to Cal, ‘it’s been left in this page.’

  ‘That’s from two days ago,’ he said.

  ‘Right … which means someone has been reading my diary.’

  Cal scanned my handwritten entry for the day, reading it out loud—

  ‘It’s just me grizzling about the paperwork I have to do,’ I explained. ‘Some documents only exist in paper files because my father hadn’t got around to entering all of them into the database. Sligo had other things on his mind instead of keeping up with paperwork, so I’ve been going through the files and making sure that they’re all in order.’

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be anything particularly earth-shattering in that entry,’ Cal said.

  ‘When I realised my diary was open on that page this morning, I went looking for the Perdita file and spotted it right at the bottom of this pile.’ I said, picking up the folder from my desk.

  ‘Perdita. Unusual name … I wonder who it is.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘The name is pretty cool though, it’s the name of the heroine from Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale. And Perdita means “the lost one”. I used to feel like that.’

  Cal nodded—he knew what I meant.

  I opened the file and started flicking through some papers, the boys looking over my shoulder. ‘I’m not sure what this is … “notice of easement”, some legal letters …’ I said. ‘I better spend some time going through this properly to find out what this has to do with someone called Perdita.’ I put the file back on top of the pile.

  ‘OK,’ I continued,
picking up the torn piece of newsprint again. ‘What are we supposed to make of this? Who’s the Drowner?’ I asked. ‘Why did someone write “30 days”? And why have they sent this to me? Is it a threat?’

  ‘It’s from some really old newspaper,’ Cal said, noticing the date. ‘Nineteen sixty two. Half a century ago. Looks like the last part of the headline has been torn off and then someone’s just scrawled “30 days” after it.’

  Boges took the scrap of yellowing newsprint from my fingers and had a closer look. ‘Thirty days from now … does that date ring any bells?’

  It didn’t mean anything to me and I could see from the faces of the others that they’d all drawn a blank.

  ‘I hope it isn’t a repeat of what happened before. Elijah is locked up, isn’t he? I mean, the last time we got a note like this, we nearly got blown up!’ Cal said. I could see he was trying to be light-hearted but I knew the confrontation with Sligo on the Sapphire Star still bothered him.

  ‘The Drowner sounds more like some murderer or gangster … or a serial killer,’ Boges continued, pulling out his mobile.

  ‘Great,’ I said, bitterly. ‘Just what a girl needs. A serial killer. With a thing for old newspaper clippings.’

  ‘Take it easy. I’m checking it right now,’ Boges announced, hovering over his phone.

  ‘Well?’ I asked. A few moments later, Boges was shaking his head. ‘The only thing I can find called the Drowner is a book, and it wasn’t around in nineteen sixty two. And don’t worry, Cal, your pathological cousin is still in detention as far as I can tell.’

  ‘Repro might know. I’ll give him a call,’ Cal said, reaching for his phone. He left a message asking his old friend to call back. ‘Repro’s gone a bit funny about mobile phones,’ Cal said. ‘Ever since he read that they have GPS tracking in them, he keeps his in a locked cashbox.’

  ‘That won’t help,’ laughed Boges. ‘I hope he gets it out every now and then to listen to his messages.’

  ‘So what can the note mean?’ I asked. ‘And who would have sent it?’

  My questions hung in the air like accusations. Then I was struck by a frightening thought. ‘What if Sligo wasn’t the only one who got out of Inisrue Marsh?’

  ‘Come on, Winter. That’s not very likely,’ said Boges.

  I took a closer look at the envelope and then turned the piece of newsprint over. The faded print on the back seemed to be a list of vegetable prices at a local market. Nothing helpful there. ‘If one person got out, Boges, it’s possible that someone else did too,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Perhaps we should call the police,’ Cal said, ‘if you really believe someone has been in here.’

  ‘Yes, but how could I prove it? By saying my diary is on a different page? They’re not going to take that seriously. And what could they do about it anyway? Can you imagine what Senior Sergeant McGrath would say?’ I said.

  Boges cocked his head to one side, and his eyebrows came together like they always do when he’s thinking hard.

  ‘What is it, Boges?’ Cal asked. ‘You’ve got an idea. Spit it out.’

  ‘Looks to me like we’ve got two problems. First of all, there’s this newspaper cutting and second, someone’s been stalking Winter. We can solve the second problem quite quickly. If someone’s been snooping around in here, there’s a really easy way to find out who it is. Once we’ve cleared that up, we can start tracking down the Drowner—whoever he is.’

  Cal’s House

  Flood Street, Richmond

  7:40 pm

  Boges headed off, promising to come back the next day to solve the stalker mystery, while Cal and I went to his place. Cal knew his mum would be happy to have me stay in the spare room. I would have been fine at my place, but Cal insisted.

  I followed Cal up to his room where piles of gear took up most of the flat surfaces. I picked up his new pilot’s bag.

  ‘Dad promised me he’d buy me a proper pilot’s bag when I got my solo flying rating, but by the time I did that, he wasn’t around anymore. I figured I’d go ahead and get myself one.’

  So much had happened since Cal’s father had died, but Cal still missed him just as badly as ever.

  ‘What is all this stuff?’ I asked, pulling out his headset and fiddling with a slide rule. ‘Is this for navigation?’

  Cal gently took the slide rule out of my hands and put it back in the bag. ‘Why didn’t you tell me when you first noticed someone had been sniffing around?’ he asked. ‘Why leave it till now, when I’m about to go away for three weeks?’

  ‘I didn’t want you to be worried while you were away.’

  ‘Don’t ever do that again. OK? If something happens that bothers you, tell me straightaway.’ He took my hands in his, holding them tight. ‘Winter, listen to me. I’ve gotta go, but if anything happens or if you get really scared, promise me you’ll call?’

  ‘Cal, I’m going to be alright. And I’ve got Boges and Ryan. Don’t worry. You need to focus on this. I know how hard it was to get into the course.’

  ‘Promise me?’

  I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure about keeping this promise, but I gave in. ‘Promise,’ I said, hugging him.

  ‘I’ll call Ryan now,’ Cal said. ‘You can tell him what’s going on.’

  ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ I said, feeling a big smile on my face. ‘How about all of us get together at my place tomorrow night for dinner? We can celebrate the fact that I’m almost through that mountain of paperwork. What do you say?’

  ‘I say yes,’ Cal said.

  DAY 2

  29 days to go …

  Home

  Mansfield Way, Dolphin Point

  9:15 pm

  The next night, we all sat around my big dining table after a fantastic meal. I’d twisted up my hair into a knot, and put on a pair of long sparkling earrings. My spirits were sparkling too. I felt better having shared my worries with my friends and I knew we’d get to the bottom of these mysteries.

  I hadn’t seen Ryan for a while. He was wearing black jeans and a black band T-shirt and he’d styled his hair up into spikes. It was amazing how similar Cal and Ryan were—they had the same tastes in music and food … but not in clothes! Cal was so lucky to have found a brother he got along so well with—most of the time.

  Boges excused himself and went upstairs as I told Ryan about the suspicious chewing gum wrapper and how I’d been spooked by the Drowner note.

  When we realised Boges hadn’t come back, we went upstairs and found him in my study, standing on a chair which was precariously balanced on top of my desk. He was fiddling with the downlight in the ceiling. I grabbed the legs of the chair to make sure he didn’t fall.

  ‘Just fitting this little spy camera up here,’ Boges said, looking down at us and almost losing his balance. ‘No-one will notice it. I’ve patched it into the electricity supply.’

  ‘That sounds dangerous,’ Cal said.

  ‘Only if it kills you, dude. How does that look?’ He took his hand away and I looked at the downlight. I couldn’t see anything at first.

  ‘Is that it?’ I asked, pointing to a tiny, round black object just inside the silver rim of the light housing.

  ‘That’s it,’ said Boges, climbing down from the chair onto the desk and then thudding heavily onto the floor.

  ‘Cool,’ said Ryan. ‘There’s no way anyone would notice it. You’d really have to get close up. Even then it just looks like the head of a small rivet or something.’

  ‘All I have to do now,’ said Boges, as we all crowded around his notebook, ‘is activate it,’ pushing a couple of buttons. ‘That’s odd,’ he said, as he stared at the screen. ‘I’ve only just switched it on, I haven’t even activated it yet, but I’m picking up some kind of interference …’ Again, his voice trailed off and he looked up, his eyebrows colliding with concern. ‘This isn’t right. There is something seriously weird going on here.’ He looked around. He was starting to seem really worried.

  ‘What is it, Bo
ges?’ I said. ‘You’re freaking me out.’

  ‘Tell us,’ Cal demanded, looking at a small signal pulsing like a heartbeat on Boges’s screen. ‘What’s seriously weird?’

  ‘Apart from you, Boges,’ Ryan tried to joke. But no-one laughed.

  Boges typed in some commands and on cue, his screen immediately filled. The camera was activated and there we were, or rather a bird’s eye view of us, all grouped around my desk.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Cal said, pointing to us all on the screen and waving to himself.

  ‘It’s not my camera I’m worried about. It’s something else. Switch off your phones, will you? All of you.’

  We did as he asked and a few moments later, Boges shook his head. ‘It’s not your phones either. I’m picking up interference that shouldn’t be here, right at the end of the FM band.’

  ‘So what does that mean?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘Boges, explain!’ I demanded.

  Boges thought for a moment, then said, ‘It means there’s some other activity going on here.’

  There followed a long pause until Cal looked across at me as comprehension dawned. Ryan got it too.

  ‘You’ve picked up another signal,’ I said, ‘haven’t you? Something was already here and it showed up on your screen.’

  ‘Winter,’ said Boges gravely, ‘this is bad news. Someone’s bugged your study.’

  For a few seconds, none of us could move or speak. Intruders who chewed gum, threatening newspaper clippings and now someone bugging my house. I couldn’t believe it. What was going on?

  ‘We already know that someone’s gotten into your place and searched around,’ Boges continued. ‘But it looks like they’ve also planted a bug, or you’ve brought something into your study that’s hiding it.’

  ‘Like what?’ I asked.

  ‘Could be anything—a clock, radio, lamp, calculator, a pen … ’

  ‘No. I haven’t got anything new …’ Then I remembered something. ‘There was a free gift that came with a catalogue I got last week. It’s here somewhere. It’s a really neat pen … there it is, next to the pile of folders. Hey, what are you doing, Boges?’