Page 65 of Reckless

Thirty-One

Jamie

I use Dad’s login to access the archives and type in haulage in the search bar. I use the filters to narrow it down to within the last five years. There are only three results, and the first two are stories about the impact of Brexit on British transportation.

I click the link for the last one and a new screen opens with the article my dad wrote on human trafficking following the discovery of the women I just told Seb about. My dad named the haulage company that owned the lorry, and although he didn’t directly accuse them of being involved, they took huge offence and put a claim in for defamation under the Defamation Act 2013. The court ordered my dad retract the statement and issue an apology for any harm caused to the company.

I quickly scan the article looking for the name of the company. “Got it,” I exclaim to myself as I see the name MWB Haulage. Opening a new window, I search MWB Haulage. The first result is their company information and link to their website. I search their whole website and there is no mention of who owns it. The only contact name is someone called N. Huntingdon. I sit back, thinking. I hear Seb finish his call, then come and stand behind me.

“What’s this?” he says pointing at the screen.

“This is the haulage company from the article I told you about.”

“I thought you said it got pulled?”

“It got retracted. Dad had to remove it, but he still has a copy in his archive. I may have used his login details to gain access.”

“Not just a pretty face and wild in bed but smart too.”

“Hey! I resent that,” I say, reaching up a hand behind me and tapping his face. “So, anyway, it’s a bit of a dead end. There’s no owner listed on their website, just a manager in the contacts list,” I tell him and point to the name with a shrug.

“Huntingdon?” Seb says the name like he’s testing out the sound of it. I click open another window realising I should be able to find the owner on Companies House. Every company is required by law to register with Companies House, and company details are public record.

As the screen loads, I feel Seb tense beside me, and when I turn to look at him, he’s scowling, and his nostrils are flaring.

“What’s wrong?”

“Huntingdon, I know that name and you will too.” He looks a little sick, and I don’t understand because I don’t know anyone by that name. “Just do what you’re doing, and I’ll explain in a minute.”

A little hesitantly, I go back to my search, typing in the company name, and once it loads, I click the People link. This time there’s no hesitation from Seb when the screen loads, just an excessive amount of swearing.

“Son of a bitch!” he shouts, spinning away from me. I read over the screen looking for what might have caused such as reaction, but I don’t recognise either of the names listed.

“Seb, what the hell is going on?”

He spins back round to face me, and I don’t like the look on his face at all. It’s anger and fear and something that looks like an apology. For what, I’m not sure, but I guess I’m about to find out as he steps toward me, taking my face in his hands.

“Jamie, the guys from the pictures, what do you know about them?” I try to pull away at his words, not wanting to look at him and definitely not wanting to talk to him about this. “I know you don’t want to talk about this, but it’s important. Please.”

I wrap my fingers around his wrists while his hands hold my face. “I…I don’t know anything about them other than one was called Noah, and he’s a friend of Jasper’s too. Why is this so important?”

He lets out a dejected sigh and rubs his thumbs over my cheekbones. “The guy, Noah, I saw him at Tempest meeting with Jasper the other week, and Rick and I ran facial recognition on him after you showed Rick the pictures. Jamie, his name is Noah James Huntingdon.”

My eyes flick over to the screen and the name glaring back at me; Noah James Huntingdon and listed as Director of MWB Haulage.

“Oh my god.” I try to pull away again, but Seb holds fast. My chest tightens, and my vision blurs as my eyes become heavy with unshed, and very unwelcome, tears. I yank Seb’s hands from my face, successfully this time, dropping down off the stool. “I’m gonna be sick,” I blurt out as I run for the bathroom.

After emptying my stomach in the toilet, I sit back on my hunches, eyes closed as I try to stop my heart from beating so fast it’s likely to beat right out of my chest. I can just make out Seb talking on his phone, most likely to Rick.

Long minutes pass, and I just sit here contemplating everything that’s happened, and cursing every bad decision I’ve made that’s led me here. Granted some of them aren’t entirely my doing, but if I hadn’t been so stupid and let my past guide my reckless decisions, I might not have shared my body with someone, possibly two or even three people, who are connected with the trafficking and exploitation of young girls.

It makes me sick to think I give my body so freely, with no respect for myself, when countless others don’t have the choice. My admiration and respect for Cam, and what she went through, reaches a whole new level.

It’s been a good half hour since I locked myself away in the bathroom, and Seb has tried several times to get me to open the door, but I just can’t. Not yet. I’m not really trying to hide from my feelings or the reality of the situation, I just need a bit of time, and I’m not good at letting others in. I think Seb understands because I know he could pick the lock or kick the door down in an instant if he wanted to.

“Jamie.” When I don’t answer he continues, “Look, I need to go out for a bit, but I didn’t want to leave you alone, so there’s someone here to see you.”

“Jamie,” Cam says, and the tears I managed to hold back earlier now fall in a flood down my face. I scramble to my feet, swiping at my wet cheeks as I unlock the door.

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