Page 63 of Fletch

“It’s not that.”

“And I went to The Bar on a hen night before I knew they owned it.”

“Gemma, you were recorded without your knowledge.”

“Okay.”

“With him,” he spits, and I allow the words to sink in. “Karen is waiting for you in her office.”

I push to stand on unsteady feet. I feel like my entire body is shaking as sickness swirls in my stomach. He must be wrong. Fletch wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

I don’t know how the hell I made it to Karen’s office, but as I knock on her door, I feel weak enough to collapse. I try to remember the times I’ve been with Fletch and work out what he could possibly have recorded. “Come in,” Karen orders, breaking me from my thoughts.

She straightens when I enter, and I see the disgust in her eyes as I take a seat.

“You’ve spoken with your father?” I nod. “Were you aware of the footage?” she asks coldly, and I shake my head. “Fuck, Gemma, what were you thinking?” she hisses.

“Where was it?”

“The sex or the fucking recording?”

I want to vomit. He recorded us having sex. “Recording,” I whisper, fighting the urge to retch.

“In the safe, which the president helpfully pointed the officers to.”

Tears build in my eyes, and I angrily swipe them away. “What happens now?”

“It’s out of my hands. Another force is on the way to take over the case. They’ll check everything, every phone call, every text message, to see if you messed up the investigation.”

“I texted—” I begin to say, but she cuts me off.

“Don’t tell me. Save it.”

“Can I see it?” I whisper.

She sighs and shakes her head. “It’s in evidence.”

I groan, wondering who the hell would have watched it in the station. “What will happen to me?”

“At the very least, you’ll get the sack.”

“Everything was aboveboard,” I whisper, “except one text.”

“You told me you weren’t like Lexi Cooper. You said she was a rookie and you knew better.”

“We had history,” I mutter.

“I don’t give a shit,” she screams. “And now, the entire force will be looked into.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If I were you, I’d get rid of the phone.”

“Won’t that look worse?” I sniffle.

“Worse than whatever that text was? Probably not.”

I go to the bathroom to clean myself up. The other force had arrived to interview me right as I left Karen’s office.

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