Love You to Death: An Absolutely Gripping Thriller with a Killer Twist Page 3

  ‘You’ve got fat,’ Joy said as she curled her hand around Harmony’s arm.

  Harmony laughed, a lovely tinkly sound, and Ruby shook her head. Her mother’s inner filter had disintegrated along with her short-term memory, but staff at the care home took it in their stride.

  ‘More of me to love, sista. How about we get some flesh on those skinny bones of yours? It’s shepherd’s pie, and homemade apple pie and custard.’

  ‘Bye Mum,’ Ruby said as Joy escorted her mother through the dining room. With a murder on the go it could be another couple of days before a return visit. Joy kept walking without a backward glance. Harmony gave a quick wink over her shoulder. ‘You take care now, Ruby, stay safe.’

  Ruby swallowed hard, feeling as if she was leaving a piece of herself behind as she walked away.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lucy sat on the steps of the basement thinking through the last few days. Was she cursed? She had gone to such pains to get things just right: why weren’t things turning out as they should? It all went downhill after she admitted to killing Harry Edmonds. But she had no choice. He would have found them. Men like that always did. And Emily had been so noncommittal about leaving; it was just a matter of time before she went crawling back. That was why it had to be just the two of them, without the distraction of other family members draining her affections. Not that Harry was that affectionate a spouse. From what Emily had told her, Lucy had done her a favour. It was why she paid Harry a visit after taking Emily to her special place.

  * * *

  She had left her finger on the doorbell longer than she should, as if she was injecting every bit of frustration into the stiff plastic buzzer. The door – which should have been her door – was opened before her. A gruff-faced man stood there wiping some crumbs from his shirt before giving her the once-over.

  ‘Hello, can I speak to the lady of the house, please?’ Lucy had said. ‘I have some good news I’d like to share with her.’

  ‘There’s no lady living here; you must have the wrong address,’ Harry had said, before attempting to shove the door closed.

  But Lucy had come too far to take no for an answer. Shoving her foot in the gap, she raised her voice. ‘I believe you’re mistaken. Your wife entered our prize draw and won a necklace,’ she said, rattling the bag which contained a long smooth box.

  Harry extended his hand. ‘She’s out. Give it to me and I’ll pass it on.’

  ‘I’m afraid I need a little bit of paperwork completed to say I’ve handed it over. Can I come in? It won’t take a minute.’

  ‘She’s visiting her mother. I don’t know when she’ll be back. Leave your card and I’ll get her to give you a call.’

  Lucy paused. It was the pause, the flicker of anxiety in her blue eyes that gave Harry the edge, the recognition. She knew that now. Because he had seen that look before.

  ‘On second thoughts, why don’t you come in?’ he said. ‘I’ve got a phone number here somewhere.’

  Lucy smiled, allowing herself into the hall. A fresh bouquet of lilies carried a welcoming scent. She brushed past them into the living room.

  ‘It’s not often she has visitors. I’m sure she’ll be disappointed she’s missed you. Why don’t you have a seat?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lucy said, but chose to stand. She had been here once before: when Harry was out. Emily had been tense, begging her to leave before her husband returned.

  Harry folded his arms. ‘Now how about you tell me where your mum really is?’

  Lucy gasped as he turned and locked the door. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘She told me you were pestering her. What do you want? Clothes? Money? Take them; I’m glad to see the back of her.’

  That explained a lot. ‘So you knew about us?’

  Harry gave a bitter laugh. ‘You should never have come back. She was happy until you turned up.’

  ‘No she wasn’t! You made her life hell; she told me.’

  ‘The best thing she did was get rid of you,’ Harry sneered. ‘I gave her some order in her life, pulled her out of the gutter, despite her being used goods. Still, I don’t expect you would understand that, with your background.’

  ‘You know nothing about me,’ Lucy spat. ‘If it weren’t for you, Mum and I would be happy. We could have had a good life, but you forced her to give me up.’

  Harry threw back his head and laughed. ‘I know that you’re poison. Evil in its purest form. I was protecting your mother by insisting she get rid of you. But here you are back again like shit on a shoe. This is all your fault.’

  ‘You stand there and call me evil? You beat my mother. You need to be taught a lesson.’

  ‘And you’re gonna teach it, are ya?’ Harry said, pushing her backwards.

  Lucy gasped, enraged by the contact. Anger bubbled up inside her: the powerful rumbling thunder of hate. She flashed him a smile, catching Harry’s astonishment as the persona of the unsure, nervous woman evaporated before him. Launching herself onto his bulk, she screamed a string of garbled words as her fists flew, punching his chest. ‘C’mon then,’ she said, sending him stumbling backwards. ‘Or do you only hit women that don’t fight back?’

  Gritting his teeth, Harry fought to maintain his balance, pushing his attacker back on the floor. Groaning with the exertion, he straddled her, his face ashen, beads of sweat breaking out on his brow. He grabbed her wrists, fighting to control her flailing fists. ‘You think you can come to my home and call me a wife beater? Well, let me tell you what you are. You’re a rape baby. Born from rape. How do you feel now, you dirty bitch?’

  Lucy’s body went limp as shock invaded her being. ‘What? No, it’s not true, you’re lying.’

  ‘It’s no wonder you’re screwed in the head,’ Harry panted. ‘Your uncle is your father. How about that? Your mum’s spent all these years trying to forget what he did, and then you turn up on her door to remind her.’ Another bead of sweat dripped from his forehead, landing on Lucy’s neck. ‘Can you imagine how she felt when you wrote those letters? Sick to the stomach, she told me.’

  Lucy turned her head away, the prickly carpet pressing into her face as angry tears streamed from her eyes. This was not supposed to happen. This was not part of her plan.

  ‘I’m calling the police,’ Harry grunted as he rose, his breaths jerky and laboured. He picked up the phone, rubbing his chest with his left hand.

  Silently Lucy’s fingers crept to the box containing the mock prize. It was long and narrow like a necklace box. Flicking off the lid, she grasped the contents.

  At first he gasped in surprise, unaware of the foreign object tearing through the folds of his skin. Lucy pulled back the knife, triumphant and smiling, as he staggered forward on shaky legs. Adrenalin coursed through her body, making her strong, infallible. She could taste his blood from when it splattered against her lips, and her heartbeat pumped to accommodate the rush. Her senses heightened. She had entered the addictive phase of her predatory nature.

  Harry dropped to his knees; his breath laboured and whistling as a stream of blood poured down his back. After one sudden wheeze, he lunged forward, his nose cracking as it made contact with the carpet. The clock ticked away the final seconds of his life, and waves of euphoria shuddered through Lucy’s body.

  * * *

  Lucy’s eyes snapped open as she emerged from the memory. She stroked the blood-encrusted blade, wondering: if she took a bath, would the water turn pink? Another opportunity to revisit that heightened state of pleasure. Rising from the stairs, she welcomed the thought of another bath. But she had things to do. The black-bordered envelope lay propped on the kitchen table, and she had preparations to make. Emily may not have been her mother, but she would give her the farewell she deserved.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The soft whirr of the hand drier made a soothing backdrop to Ruby’s thoughts. Like the rest of Shoreditch police station, it was old but held an antiquated charm. The cracked floor tiles, the wonky tap, she didn’t want t
o change a thing. But there were changes underway, whether she liked it or not.

  A man’s cough shook her from her thoughts, and she realised Luddy was waiting for her on the other side of the door.

  ‘Luddy,’ she said, wiping her damp hands on the back of her black trousers as she greeted her colleague in the corridor. ‘What’s so important that you have to stalk the ladies’ toilets?’

  ‘Sorry, Sarge,’ Luddy said, a crooked smile on his face. ‘The tannoy’s broken. It’s a phone call from the women’s refuge. A woman named Charlie. She insists on speaking to a senior officer and Jack… I mean, DI Downes, has asked that you take the call.’

  ‘Oh did he now?’ Ruby said, marching towards the office. ‘Has Worrow left yet?’ she said, referring to DCI Worrow. As the Senior Investigating Officer, she had just led the briefing, delegating duties with regards to the initial enquiries.

  ‘She’s gone. She wasn’t happy, was she?’ Luddy ruefully replied.

  ‘If she were any different I’d be worried,’ Ruby said as Luddy held the office door open for her.

  ‘She’s worried the press are going to hang us out to dry again,’ Luddy said, pointing to the phone which was off the hook on his desk. As with all phone calls, it had been placed on mute.

  ‘Ah well,’ Ruby grinned as she scooped up the handset. ‘We don’t join the police to be loved, now, do we?’

  ‘Just as bloody well,’ Luddy murmured, heading for the kettle to put on a brew.

  Ruby’s response was curt and to the point. ‘DS Preston; what can I do for you?’

  The woman’s softly spoken whispers on the other line could not have been any more of a contrast to Ruby’s strident tones. ‘H— hello? Are you in charge of the Emily Edmonds’s case?’

  Ruby pressed the phone to her ear, and jabbed the volume control as high as it would go. ‘You could say that. With whom am I speaking?’

  ‘I’m a worker at a women’s refuge. I need to speak to you about Emily.’

  Ruby frowned. As far as she knew, all the refuges had been spoken to, and they had no knowledge of Emily Edmonds. ‘Go ahead,’ she said, grabbing a scrap of paper and pen from Luddy’s overflowing desk drawer.

  ‘Well, Emily was due to come to the refuge. I was working out an escape plan with her. But then her daughter, Lucy, got involved and said she would take it from there.’

  Ruby’s heart accelerated, delivering an extra beat. Lucy. The name invoked a memory she did not want to recall. ‘Which refuge are you calling from?’ she said, writing the words ‘daughter Lucy’ and underlining it twice with a question mark.

  ‘I don’t work in the refuge anymore. Look, I’m only ringing because I’m worried. Emily was all set to leave. Then one day she said she didn’t need my help anymore because her daughter turned up out of the blue. Our friendship was ended, just like that, because this stranger turns up saying she’s her daughter.’

  ‘I thought Emily didn’t have children,’ Ruby said, leaning against the desk.

  ‘She gave her baby up for adoption when she was sixteen. She’s been through a traumatic time. I just wanted to help.’

  ‘We’re very keen to speak to Emily; so if you know where she is… ’

  ‘She sent me a text. She wants us to meet, and I’ve told her I will.’

  ‘Where? Where’s Emily staying?’ Ruby said, her voice growing louder.

  Fingers stopped typing, phone calls were ended, and the office fell into a hush.

  ‘I don’t know. She’s texting me the details later. I’ll bring her straight to you tomorrow when we’ve had the chance to talk. I know about Harry. Whatever’s happened… it’s not Emily’s fault.’

  ‘I’ll come with you; keep my head down. She won’t know I’m there,’ Ruby said insistently.

  ‘No. She trusts me. I’ll bring her to you – tomorrow.’

  ‘I don’t understand your reluctance. What’s your full name, Charlie?’

  The woman’s voice sharpened. ‘That doesn’t matter. I’m not with the refuge anymore. Look, if Emily’s killed her husband it’s not her fault. That man gave her a dog’s life. I’ll call in tomorrow; we can sort this out together.’

  Ruby could feel her caller slipping away. ‘Wait. What about Lucy? What can you tell me about her?’

  Charlie gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I saw her briefly when I arranged to meet Emily. She turned up and took her away. She was very rude.’

  ‘What did she look like?’

  ‘Slim, dark hair, lots of make-up. She had those big sunglasses on like the ones celebrities wear.’

  ‘Could you identify her if you see her again?’

  ‘Possibly. Look, I’ve got to go. We’ll sort all this mess out tomorrow. Emily needs refuge. Without her daughter.’

  She needs to be arrested, Ruby thought, wondering if the woman on the other end of the phone was making it all up. It wouldn’t be the first time. ‘Why don’t we… ’ Ruby realised she was talking to a dead line. She hung up and jabbed 1471. Damn. The number was blocked.

  Only then did she notice the office had turned silent. Keyboards rapidly began working as she looked around; the colour flushed in her usually pale cheeks.

  * * *

  Ruby was shattered by the time she got home. Charlie’s phone call had shed new light on the investigation, and thoughts of Lucy were gnawing at the back of her mind. But she didn’t want to think of that now. Tomorrow would be a full day, and she wanted to put the whole sorry mess behind her, at least for a few hours. She sighed as she glanced around her flat; the cold laminate flooring chilling the soles of her bare feet. The occupants next door were arguing as usual, and on the other side of the wall the thump, thump, thump, of drum and bass vibrated in time with her headache. She turned on her old-fashioned turntable, expecting to drown out the noise with Coldplay. But instead, the sounds of Human League’s ‘Don’t You Want Me’ filled the air. Ruby frowned. She didn’t remember putting that on. Fingering through her collection of vinyl records, she pulled out the Human League sleeve… to find the Coldplay album inside. Weird. But there was no time to ponder as she swapped them around. She slid across the thin orange curtains, barely hanging on the cheap plastic loops designed to keep them in place. The view of the high-rise estate didn’t bother her, but her forthcoming guest valued his privacy, and as much as he hated her flat they had less chance of being seen than if they went to his.

  * * *

  Red wine was her drink of choice when it came to the art of seduction. Decanting the mulberry-coloured liquid into two glasses, she pushed away any lingering doubts to the back of her mind. Sure it was a bad idea, but it had been a bad idea for the last six months; a couple of times a month, preceded by the usual text:

  ‘Fancy some company tonight?’

  The nicotine patch had been thrown in the bin when the text came through. A post-coital cigarette was a joy like no other, particularly when she was in the company of such a satisfying lover. As a relationship it would never work out, and they both knew the score. She dimmed the lights and listened for his footsteps; hoping, for once, that the lifts were working. A smile graced her lips as she reapplied her lipstick. She wanted him to keep every ounce of energy for her.

  She threw her shirt on the chair as she entered her bedroom, then undid her bra, rubbing the redness from the underwire in its wake. Later they would bathe together in her old-fashioned tub, and she would lay back into his chest as he gently soaped them in candle-flickered light. She eased her feet into a pair of black heels and threw on a silk dressing gown. A flutter rose in her stomach as the doorbell rang. She straightened the bed sheets before returning to the hallway and answering the door.

  ‘Well, hello there,’ she purred, arching her eyebrow at the man before her.

  ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,’ DI Downes said huskily, closing the door behind him before taking her in his arms.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lucy stared at the text. Not that she needed to because it was burned int
o her memory. She could close her eyes and the words would flash on the back of her eyelids as anger, hot and frothy, rose inside her.

  ‘I saw the news. Please let me help. Refuge still an option. Is Lucy still with you? I don’t trust her. XXX Charlotte.’

  She had been just about to discard Emily’s phone when it came through, which was convenient given Charlotte had been playing on her mind. Lucy took it as a sign. Seeing Charlotte was enough to keep her awake at night. She jabbed at the delete key, wishing she had let Emily go to the refuge now. All the time and effort she had put into her, then she just threw it all back in her face: calling her names and going berserk. What sort of a mother was that? Lucy grimaced. No mother at all. But she had taken care of her, and there was just one loose end to tie up before she could start afresh.

  Lucy replied to the text in the same simpering tone.

  ‘Meet me back of Mentmore Terrace, Lamb Lane. Cut through London Fields park. Under railway bridge at nine tonight. Lucy gone. Come alone. Need you. XXX Emily.’

  Lucy shoved her hands into her coat pockets. She knew Charlotte would not be able to resist the text. She had read the newspaper articles as she searched her identity online. So kind, so giving. If only they knew. Lucy’s mouth jerked upwards in a macabre half smile. Whatever romantic notions the silly woman held of rescuing Emily, they would prove to be her downfall.

  * * *

  The rusted blue gates of the scrap metal firm creaked in the evening breeze. Behind them, a metal chain clanged against a pole, as if announcing Lucy’s arrival. She had parked at the back of an old industrial site, but the music playing in the distance told her that people weren’t far away. She sidestepped the bulging black bin bags spilling their contents on the street. Something rustled inside, but Lucy’s mind was on what awaited her around the corner, under the railway bridge, where they had arranged to meet. She had picked a secluded location, but Lucy didn’t trust her not to bring the police.