Silent Victim(23)

‘All the stuff we discussed. It’s in the past. That’s where I want to keep it. Please. Let’s not go back there any more. Can we just move forward? Act like it never happened?’

Alex appeared uneasy in his skin, his tension mirrored by the hiss and crackle of the fire. It smelled of damp bark and moss, like the land in which I had buried Luke. ‘I want to drive up there,’ he said.

I frowned. ‘I thought you were going on the train?’

‘No, I mean to where it happened. I want to see it for myself.’

I swallowed, my mouth dry. The room seemed to darken around me as I spoke. ‘I’m not going back there. Just trust me. It’s not a good idea.’

He lowered his voice to a level that only I could hear. ‘What if the new owners dig it up? What if they find something?’

‘They won’t.’ My face paled as I recalled Luke’s half-opened eyes. The sweat trickling down my forehead as I shovelled dirt into his face. ‘There’s no trace. No shoes, not even a scrap of material. It’s as if he’d never been there at all.’

‘I know you don’t want to talk about it, but he could have crawled out. It happens. In the old days some people had bells in their coffins, so they wouldn’t be buried alive.’ He slid his vaporiser from his pocket and inhaled, a modern-day Sherlock Holmes. The smell of fake tobacco rose up to greet me. My stomach lurched, not from the fumes but from the idea that Luke could still be alive. I thought about the apparition in the mirror. The newspaper on my car window.

‘It’s possible. I didn’t take his pulse, and from what I remember, it was a very shallow grave. But he would have made himself known by now.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ Alex said. ‘If someone tried to kill me I’d get as far away as possible.’

Above me, the ceiling timbers creaked as another gust of wind rattled its frame. I knew what he was thinking. How can you accidentally cave someone’s head in with a shovel?





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

EMMA





2017


Screeching on my windscreen, my car wipers grated on my senses. The inclement weather matched my mood: grey and overcast with a threat of worse to come. I checked my rear-view mirror for the hundredth time. Behind me was a view of the Strood. It was not uncommon to have traffic behind me as commuters made their way to work. But today was different. Today it felt as if the world was out to get me. After a restless night, I had come to one conclusion. Luke was alive. He had to be. That night I hadn’t imagined his reflection in the mirror. He was coming for me, and he was looking for revenge. I’d had four years of peace. Four years of believing I had nothing to fear. But was I afraid of him, or the secrets he held? I glanced at my son on the back seat, my precious cargo. Dressed in his dungarees, he waved his Buzz Lightyear toy in one hand and Woody in the other, deep in his imaginary world. His thick blond hair needed cutting, but I couldn’t bear to lose his curls.

I felt my resolve strengthen. Luke would not divide my family. My right eye twitched, a side effect of my frayed nerves.

‘Are we here yet, Mummy?’ Jamie said, scattering my thoughts. I blinked, barely able to remember the journey. Triggering the indicator, I steered my Beetle through the cement bollards of the car park. ‘Almost,’ I said, my eyes crinkling in the mirror as I gave him a reassuring smile. I had no qualms about leaving him in nursery school. It was run with the highest level of security; Theresa, Alex and I were the only people authorised to take Jamie out and I was able to log on to the CCTV at any time of the day to check how Jamie was doing. Alex had laughed at my paranoia but, unlike him, I had a good understanding of the evil in the world. I pulled into the parking space, checking left and right. Karma was coming to collect but it would not have my son.

After dropping Jamie off I drove to the shop and gave it a quick tidy up before turning the sign on the door to Open. Both Alex and I had vowed not to allow what had happened to interfere with our work. For Alex, his job was our gateway to a better life, while focusing on my business helped me stay sane. But today was not proving so easy. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, I tried to avoid the glare of high-street shoppers. I never realised how many men passed our doors, and I stiffened as each one took pause. The rain didn’t help, with all the umbrellas, hats and pulled-up collars disguising faces. I could barely concentrate. Were they stopping to light a cigarette or seeing if I was still inside? Drawing up the nursery’s app on my phone, I checked my son’s progress for the fifth time. As the day wore on, my guilt intermingled with fear, making me start every time the telephone rang.

Our latest appointment arrived and I told myself to get a grip. A wedding-dress fitting was not the time for a glum demeanour. The bride-to-be was called Jennifer Delaney and Theresa was trying to find a way to alter her dress so that it would accommodate her growing bump. It had fitted perfectly six months ago, but her pregnancy had understandably changed her shape and now panic had set in. It was her own fault, given she had missed many of her fittings, but it did not stop me wanting to help.

‘It’s going to be a disaster,’ she said, her pretty face in tears. ‘Look at the size of me. I’m a whale.’ Unfortunately for Jennifer, she was accompanied by her mother, who always seemed more than happy to put the boot in at every opportunity.

‘You should have thought about that before getting yourself pregnant.’ Her mother’s features were sharp, accentuated by her voice.