the one exception. And look where that had landed her, she thought resentfully. By letting her emotions intrude sheâd become vulnerable. By allowing herself to fall in love with him sheâd suffered heartbreak and humiliation. And sheâd also lost a valuable client.
Even worse, by making a pilgrimage to Benbury sheâd resurrected ghosts from her past!
This time, though, she intended to lay every one of those ghosts. Permanently! Theyâd never trouble her again, she was determined to make quite sure of that.
The tension sheâd felt while driving eased once she was home. After garaging her Escort she carried the black leather grip, which held the equipment sheâd taken with her to Benbury, indoors.
That would be her first job, Maureen decided. Checking to make sure she hadnât left anything behind, and then sorting and storing away anything she would need for future use and, of course, disposing of the rest.
Sheâd always prided herself on her efficient filing methods. It was an essential part of her stock in trade to allocate a new file to each new undertaking and give it an identifying code name and number.
Then she collated and subdivided the information she collected until she had built up a complete background picture. Only then did she enter all the details into her computer where she would sift and sort, check and double-check, set up comparison tables and pie-charts before printing out a comprehensive dossier.
Each undertaking required different methods as well as patience, thoroughness, and painstaking attention to detail and logic. In some ways it was like puzzling out a complex jigsaw. Months of hard concentrated research could amount to nothing because of a single elusive piece.
In the same way, of course, an obscure fact could be the key that spelled success. A seemingly fruitless task could suddenly gel; it could be the crowning touch and signal another satisfied client.
Mostly, because she worked at home, her clients had no idea of the gruelling struggles needed to unravel the problem they set her. She preferred it that way. She had her own methods and disliked having to listen to other peopleâs opinions or concede to their methods.
Philip Harmer had been the exception. His mind was as analytical as her own, and he was able to think laterally, the same as she often did. His responses had been like an extension of her own mind.
It was too late now, of course, but she bitterly regretted not keeping her own counsel even with him. What on earth had induced her to let down her reserve after so many years of silence?
If only she had stopped to think instead of letting her heart rule her head. How could she have forgotten her motherâs anguish about what people would think if they ever found out that she had been raped?
Her mother had even refused to let her see a doctor because she had been afraid he might report what had happened to the police. She couldnât face the public shame.
Her father had been as adamant as her mother. âThink what it would mean if this got out!â he railed. âWho would believe your story once people knew youâd gone to a public house drinking with a bunch of boys!â
She tried to defend herself. âYou donât understand,â she protested. âWe were all so excited at passing. Only six of us out of a class of thirty!â
âSix?â
âThatâs right. Me and five boys.â
âYou told us there were four . . . that four boys raped you.â
âOne of the boys was sick when we came out of the pub . . . The others left him behind.â
âHe shouldnât have been in the pub drinking in the first place . . . none of you should.â
âWe wanted to do something crazy . . . to celebrate . . .â
âYou did that all right!â her father interrupted bitterly.
Theyâd talked and argued that night until her brain was in a spin, trying to decide the best way
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