Let Me Lie(88)

‘I’ll put in a call.’

‘The anonymous note Anna received was intended to flush Caroline out, and it did just that. She left Derbyshire on the twenty-first of December. It doesn’t take a genius to guess where she went.’

‘The family home?’

‘Bingo. And if we don’t get there soon, someone’s going to get hurt.’

‘Why will …?’ James broke off. When he spoke again it was more urgent, more serious, as though he already knew the answer to his question. ‘Murray, where’s Tom Johnson?’

Murray was as sure as he could be, but he still hesitated. Within seconds of putting down the phone, James would be picking it up again. Requesting resources, calling officers in from home, CSI, detectives, warrants, a method of entry team – the full major incident machine.

What if Murray was wrong?

‘He’s there too.’





FIFTY-TWO


ANNA


Mum and I look at each other, horror freezing our faces into identical masks.

‘He knows you’re here.’ It’s out before I can stop it.

Mark looks between us. ‘Who does? What’s going on?’

Neither of us answers. I doubt either of us knows how.

‘I’m calling the police.’

‘No!’ In unison.

I glance outside. Is he there? Watching us? Seeing our reaction? I shut the front door, pulling across the chain with fingers that shake so much I drop it twice. Buying myself time.

Mark picks up the phone.

‘Please don’t.’

I should never have gone to the police station when the anniversary card arrived; it only made things worse.

‘Why on earth not? Anna, someone just tried to set fire to the house!’

Because my mum will go to prison. Because I’ll be arrested for hiding her.

‘First a brick through the window, now this …’ His fingers hover over the keys. He stares at me, reading my expression, then looks between me and my mother. ‘There’s something I don’t know, isn’t there?’

My dad isn’t dead. He sent the anniversary card because he knew my mum wasn’t either, but when he realised I’d gone to the police, he tried to stop me. He put a dead rabbit on our doorstep. He threw a brick through our daughter’s bedroom window. He’s unstable, and he’s dangerous, and he’s watching the house.

‘Because …’ I look at Mum. I have to tell him. I never wanted to drag him into this mess, but I can’t lie to him any more – it isn’t fair. I do my best to convey this to Mum, who steps forward, one hand in front of her, as though she can physically stop the words leaving my mouth.

‘I haven’t been honest with you about why I’m in Eastbourne.’ She speaks quickly, before I’ve even managed to formulate the explanation Mark is long overdue. She holds my gaze. Please.

It’s all too much. Helping Mum pack; preparing to lose her for the second time; Murray Mackenzie stopping just short of accusing me of conspiracy.

Now this.

It feels as though my nerve-endings are outside my body, each revelation a series of electric shocks.

‘Then you better explain. Now.’ Mark moves the phone from one hand to the other and back again, a call to the police just seconds away. The coldness in his eyes makes me shiver, even though I know it is only worry putting it there. I take Ella from Mum, for the reassurance of her weight in my arms, the feeling of a warm body against mine.

Mum glances at me. She shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Don’t.

I keep quiet.

‘I’m running away,’ she says. ‘My marriage broke down last year, and I’ve been hiding from my husband ever since.’

I keep my eyes trained on Mark. There’s no sign that he doesn’t believe Mum, and why wouldn’t he? It’s the truth.

‘Just before Christmas he found out where I was living. I didn’t know where to go. I thought if I laid low for a bit …’

‘You should have told us, Angela.’ The words are admonishing, but Mark’s tone is soft. Many of his patients have come from – or are still in – abusive relationships. Perhaps some are abusers themselves; I’ve never asked, and Mark would never say. ‘If there was a chance he could follow you here – that you might put us at risk, too – you should have told us.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘I suppose it was him who put the brick through the window?’

‘I bought a train ticket online. He must have looked at my emails; it’s the only way he would have known where I was headed. Caroline was the only Eastbourne address in my contacts.’

Mark looks at the phone in his hand, then back at the door, where the letters show back to front. ‘We need to tell the police.’

‘No!’ Mum and I, together.

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t know what he’s like. Who you’re dealing with.’

Mark looks at me. ‘Have you met him?’

I nod. ‘He … he’s dangerous. If we report him to the police we can’t stay here, not when he knows we’re here. He could do anything.’ I’m still shaking. I rock Ella from side to side, more to expel some of the adrenalin coursing through my veins than to soothe her. Mark paces the hall, tapping the phone against his thigh as he walks.