Who is Sarah Lawson: A Captivating Psychological Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

which he removed from a shelf in the filing room then entered the outer office. Sandy had a single earpiece from an IPod lodged in her left ear.
    “Who’s flavour of the month?” he asked.
    “It’s a language lab transmission actually, I’m learning Russian.” Sandy looked up at him waiting for the smart reply but he just nodded.
    “I’m off to London for a bit. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow,” he said, carrying two bags, one containing his wet tracksuit and the other containing the reason for his visit. He’d isolate the fingerprints in his flat later. He stopped in the doorway. “Oh and don’t forget to put out the bins,” he said.

Chapter 8
     
    The man was a stranger. I’d smelled a faint aroma of cologne as he’d kissed my cheek and noticed that he kept looking at his watch as if in a hurry.
    “Do I know you?” The question seemed to be permanently glued to my lips.
    He frowned and I could see he was making up his mind whether I was serious. “Neil Stafford. We met at Andy’s fortieth. How are you by the way? Your brother told me about the accident.”
    The world tilted once more as I wrapped my arms tightly around my body. Who was this man? How could we have met at Andy’s birthday party? In addition to which Andy Lawson was not, and had never been, my brother. Luckily an answer to his question was not required as he glanced again at his watch and said, “Goodbye, sorry to dash,” before leaving me standing in a daze on the pavement.
    Behind me lay the offices of Richard Stevens; he was my only hope. Waiting at the bus stop I tried Owen’s number once more only to be met with the inevitable recorded voice asking me to leave a message. This time I declined the invitation.
     
    It was two days later before I saw Neil Stafford again. I’d decided to search the local newspaper archives for any reports of the mysterious accident, the details of which I knew nothing. The offices of the Courier were situated in a side street off Manor Road. A young woman called Catherine led me into a room overlooking the street where back copies of the paper were kept on Microfiche. She spent a few moments showing me how the machine worked then left me alone.
    It was a frustrating and monotonous task and I found my gaze returning to the street. Then I saw him. Neil Stafford was leaving a building opposite and was in deep conversation with the man who said he was my brother. They were sharing a joke. Both men were laughing uproariously until Andy slid his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and removed a thick brown envelope, which he gave to Stafford.
    There was an air of conspiracy between them. Neil Stafford tapped the side of his nose with his finger and my ‘brother’ laid a hand on his shoulder. I was certain that money had exchanged hands and even more certain that it had something to do with me.
    I suddenly lost interest in my search. Realising that I was paying someone to do the donkeywork, I decided that for the present I’d assume the identity of Sarah Lawson and live her life to the full. But there was no way I was going to give up on Rowena; I would simply put her to rest for a while, until I could find out the truth.
    Leaving the Courier, I walked down Manor Road and turned into Victoria Park where I lay down on the grass in the sunshine and soon fell fast asleep. When I awoke, the sun had moved so that I was lying in the shade. The sound of children’s voices drifted towards me from the direction of the play area as I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and focused on my surroundings.
    I looked at my watch, a habit that was hard to break. What was there to rush home for now? Empty days stretched before me until I could start work again. I’d already more or less decided that I’d leave my identity crisis in the hands of Richard Stevens so what was the point of getting more stressed about the situation. I knew who I was and where I lived - I just had to prove it.
    Standing up , I stretched and