Chapter 20

As she drove home, Stella arrived at the uncomfortable conclusion that she was going to have to be honest with her mother. There was no other way she could tackle the conversation or tell her she'd discovered the identity of her father. And it was a conversation she was keen to have sooner rather than later. There was something else niggling her too, and it was her mum telling her she'd had no reason to settle in Micklewick Bay other than she thought it looked pretty. If that was the case, how had Pim found his way there? It was too much of a coincidence that he'd just turned up by chance. And what was the connection between them, other than the obvious initials? They had to be related, of that she was certain. Stella had a lot of questions and she was determined her mum wasn't going to wriggle out of answering them this time.

Parking up in her garage, she checked her reflection in the mirror on the back of the visor. She wanted to make sure all traces of her tears had gone. The pale blue eyes looking back at her triggering a reminder of the young man in the photo. Satisfied she'd removed all tearstains, she climbed out of her car and made a dash for the front entrance of her apartment block. Much as she'd love nothing more than to see Alex, she felt now still wasn't the right time, so she hurried up the stairs and rushed to unlock her door, glad to be in the quiet sanctuary of her home.

Massaging her temples, she headed over to the balcony doors and threw them open, though she had no intention of sitting out there right now, the refreshing, salty air that flooded in was more than welcome. She'd make a coffee first, then start her internet trawl; work would have to wait.

Now she had a name, she felt buoyed by optimism that she'd have some success in the search for her father. That thought made her heart jump.

As she was waiting for her cup to fill, the aroma of coffee beans swirling around her nose, her eyes landed on the clutch of letters she'd collected from her pigeonhole earlier that day. She scooped them up and quickly checked through them. There were a couple of circulars – they went straight into the recycling bin – a magazine from one of her favourite clothing companies and a letter in handwriting she didn't recognise.

She ripped the envelope open and unfolded the single piece of paper it contained. Her stomach clenching as the words, written in large, uppercase letters leapt out at her.

I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

She stared at the paper, her chest heaving, her breathing short. Her mind raced through a mental list of who would send her such a thing. Gavin Dixon and Vaughan Elliott jumped out as the most likely candidates. Dixon would be trying to scare her off pursuing the case against his son, the threat – it couldn't be construed as anything other – to push her into advising the CPS to drop it. Vaughan Elliott would no doubt be smarting about their spat yesterday morning. But would he really stoop to doing something like this? she wondered. Actually, yes, she thought, he would, or at least get someone to deliver the note on his behalf. His reputation for being unscrupulous had mushroomed over the last year.

The next thing to cross her mind was how whoever it was knew where she lived? She hadn't lived there long. She must have been followed. That thought sent a prickle of anxiety running up her spine. If Vaughan Elliott was responsible, then he was risking being disbarred, not that she could see that bothering him much. He was so slippery, he'd have convinced himself that he'd get away with it; blame someone else. If it was Gavin Dixon, he risked a prison sentence. He probably hadn't even thought that far ahead, and had just assumed she'd bow down to his threats, just as his daughter-in-law and certain members of the jury in his son's trial had no doubt done.

She snatched up the envelope again, checking the postmark to see there wasn't even a stamp. ‘How did—' Anxiety squeezed in her chest. Of course, the back entrance door! Whoever it was must have sneaked in when it was left open, found the pigeonhole with her name on and posted the note. A rash of goosebumps broke out over her skin. ‘Flipping Andrea!' The fact that someone who bore her ill will had been in her apartment building didn't sit easily with her.

Her mind went to the car that had been driving so closely behind her earlier that day. Could the two be linked? she wondered, her concerns building. She really hoped not; she had enough to deal with without having to worry about someone who had an axe to grind. She'd have to call chambers, bring them up-to-speed with the threats Gavin Dixon had made to her before the trial was adjourned. She'd also have to contact the CPS as well as the police officer in the case. And now she'd become potentially personally involved like this, she'd have to step away from the Dixon case; someone else would have to take over the brief. One thing she knew for certain, she wouldn't be sorry to see the back of that family.

She released a juddery sigh, the thought crossing her mind that she'd need to find out who to contact to access the CCTV to the premises. All entranceways to the property were covered by cameras which offered her a grain of reassurance that whoever had sneaked in would be captured on film.

But for now, she just needed a minute to regroup and let her heart rate settle.

She grabbed her coffee and eased herself onto the sofa, feeling utterly bombarded, wondering what else could possibly happen that day?