The Guilty Couple(79)
‘Oh, and who helped you hide his body?’
‘Keep your fucking voice down.’ Dom clamps a hand to her mouth. ‘My daughter’s upstairs.’
Incensed, Nancy grips his wrist and yanks his hand away. ‘Trust, Dominic, appears to be something you are incapable of. I looked through the SIM cards you stashed in your safe. Was there a particular reason why you kept the CCTV footage of us moving the body?’
Dominic grits his teeth and says nothing. He can’t, it’s taking every ounce of self-control not to slam his fist into Nancy’s pinched, vicious, snarling face. How dare she talk to him like he’s a whipping boy? She’s pulled his strings for long enough. But Nancy’s not done talking yet.
‘And when were you planning on telling me you were sleeping with that cop as well as me?’ She jabs a finger into his chest. “Olivia doesn’t understand me, Nancy. I love you, Nancy. I want to make a life with you, Nancy. But we can’t do it yet because of X, Y, Z.” Did you feed her those lies too or did you craft them especially for me? I looked through everything Olivia took out of your safe. Do you know how close I was to sending the SIM of you and Dani discussing how you were going to frame her to Dani’s boss? I’m going to overlook what happened as a slip of your dick but you’re going to make it up to me. I haven’t decided how yet, but you will.’
Still Dominic says nothing. He’s looking at the oversized blue handbag, lying on the floor behind her. Has she got Jack’s phone and the SIM cards in there? He’d bet his life on it. He moves quickly, rising up onto his knees, knocking Nancy out of the way as he reaches behind her for the bag.
‘Grace!’ he shouts as he gets to his feet and catches a glimpse of his daughter’s legs as she darts across the landing upstairs. ‘Come on we’re—’
Nancy is on him before he can finish his sentence, snatching at the bag, calling him all the names under the sun. He swats her away – a backhand swipe that catches her under the jaw and sends her sprawling across the hallway tiles.
‘You fucking bastard.’ She holds a hand to her chin and tries to get to her feet. ‘Give me my bag. I’m done. You can stay here and rot. You and your little bitch.’
As the last thread of Dominic’s self-control snaps he launches himself across the hallway, grabs Nancy by the throat and hurls her into the wall. He hears a crunch, or a snapping sound, and Nancy drops to the floor and lies still. Sweating, with his pulse pounding in his ears, he drags her into the kitchen out of sight, then storms up the stairs and into his daughter’s bedroom. Grace is curled up in a ball in the far corner of her bed, sobbing softly and shaking. Her suitcase, lying open on the floor, is empty. Dominic grabs random toiletries from the top of her chest of drawers and drops them into the suitcase, then he opens the drawers and randomly selects knickers, bras, T-shirts, a swimsuit, skirts and shorts. He throws them on top of the rest of the stuff then, almost in a trance, zips up the suitcase and taps his daughter on the arm.
‘Come on Gracie, time to go.’
Grace doesn’t argue. She doesn’t shout, she doesn’t beg. She uncurls and, without looking at him, picks up the suitcase. As she moves to walk past him he reaches out to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She flinches as his hand moves towards her and he sees a flash of fear on her face. God knows what she saw from the top of the stairs but he’ll make it up to her. He’ll give her the best life he can.
Grace walks out of her bedroom and down the stairs to the hall. She stands silently by the front door, chin lowered, her blonde curls covering her face as Dominic tips out Nancy’s handbag and places Jack’s phone, Dani’s repayment plan and the two SIM cards in his travel bag, then he clips the travel bag to Nancy’s suitcase and wheels it to where Grace is standing. Taking his daughter by the hand he opens the front door. There’s a stillness inside him that he hasn’t felt for quite some time. Over five years in fact.
Chapter 53
OLIVIA
Bin bags. Masking tape. A person-shaped package, knees bent, the black shiny head resting against one corner of the freezer, the feet, bound together to make one foot-shaped parcel, in the other. I can still see it behind my closed eyes, my hands smothering my nose and my mouth. The lid of the freezer is closed. I slammed it shut as soon as I saw what was inside but the putrid, rotting, rancid smell is everywhere, around me, inside me, dissolving in my lungs and moving into my bloodstream, travelling around my body and into my heart. I can’t stop gagging but there’s no escape. Death has bound itself to me and there’s nowhere to run.
I tremble uncontrollably as shock ebbs away, replaced by the gut-wrenching certainty that the decaying body, shrouded in bin bags, is Jack. My breath, already shallow and rapid beneath the warmth of my palms, is accompanied by a pounding of my heart, so frantic and powerful I fear it might stop. Dominic killed Jack. For what? For daring to love me? For trying to help me escape? My howl echoes off the four walls of the garage. He killed Jack and framed me so no one would ever find out. Rage slices through my horror and I hurl my grandmother’s bookcase onto the floor. The panels shatter and glass crunches underfoot as I push the recumbent bookcase towards the corner of the room. I place the trio of tables on top of it and put an upturned metal toolbox underneath for support. I pick up the crowbar and step onto the table, holding onto the wall for support, then I drive the crowbar up and into the hole in the roof and yank it back towards me, hard. The crowbar slips back through the hole and I topple backwards. The air leaves my lungs as I hit the floor but I roll onto my side and get back up, retrieve the crowbar and clamber back onto the table.