Silent Victim Page 8

  Alex had his back to me when I returned to the living room. It warmed me to listen to my husband on the phone to his mother. We saw Louise for the usual holidays, as well as the anniversary of Alex’s father’s death. It would be nice to spend more time together when we moved to Leeds. I stood in the doorway, listening in to his call. There was no way my husband would reveal what I’d told him to his seventy-year-old mother on the telephone. The very thought was ridiculous. Just what would he say? Guess what, Mum, my wife murdered her stalker and now his body’s disappeared, but we’re all fine, we had a game of pie face this morning. No, if he were to confide in Louise it would be face-to-face. I felt my heart tighten. I had to convince him we needed to keep this to ourselves.

  He hung up the phone and I came into the living room, trying to appear relaxed as I tidied up Jamie’s toys. But we both knew it was all an act. I watched him as he stood poking some life into our open fire.

  ‘Bollocks,’ he said, pushing the blackened poker back into its holder. ‘I’ve just remembered. I’m supposed to go to Leeds tomorrow to meet the team.’ He stared unblinkingly into the flames. ‘I can’t just leave you.’

  I hated seeing him like this, unable to meet my gaze. I stood beside him. I wondered if he had forgotten his earlier invitation to join him in Leeds or if he wanted to go alone. His muscles tensed as I placed my hand on his back. ‘Of course you can,’ I said, my hand resting on his woollen jumper. ‘How else are we ever going to leave this place? Besides, it wouldn’t do to call off sick when you’re due to meet everyone.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, the flames reflected in his brooding eyes.

  I rested my hand on his back, loath to take it away. I needed the contact. I needed a hug – but if he couldn’t meet my eye then genuine intimacy would be a long way off. ‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, softening my voice in an effort to show remorse. ‘Theresa’s meant to be coming over for a drink. I’ll persuade her to stay the night.’ But my words were hollow because I doubted she would. Theresa hated our house more than Alex did.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’ Alex said, turning to face me.

  ‘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.

  I winced, instantly recognising her condescending tone, which brought with it a memory of the past. Theresa and I exchanged a glance as unspoken words passed between us. She had noticed the similarity to Mum too. Smiling at Jennifer, I guided her gently to one side while Theresa sat her mother down and distracted her by discussing the big day.

  ‘I’m going to look a fool,’ Jennifer wept, and I handed her a tissue. Hankies were always in plentiful supply.

  I gave her a reassuring smi
le, the sort that I’d had cause to use many times before. ‘Now listen to me, we have some beautiful high-waisted gowns that will fit like a dream.’ I directed her to a mirror. ‘See how gorgeous you are? You’re going to look stunning, I promise.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ She sniffed, her tears testing her mascara.

  ‘Your bump is so neat. You should have seen me when I was pregnant with my son. I was like a hippo. C’mon, follow me.’ I felt a warm glow at the memory of my pregnancy and how thrilled Alex had been.

  An hour later and Jennifer had left beaming because she had found a new dress to complement her shape. Even her mother was happy. Glowing with satisfaction, I barely noticed Theresa take a delivery at the door.

  ‘Look at this,’ Theresa said, sniffing the considerable bouquet. ‘How lovely, although the silly sod forgot to write a card. Are you all right?’ she asked, slowly approaching me. ‘You’ve gone very pale.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, taking the bouquet from her grasp. The sudden smell of sunflowers filtered up my nostrils, making my stomach churn. It was taking me back to a place I did not want to go. Bringing the flowers out to the back, I dumped them in the sink. Alex was an old romantic, but after last night, sunflowers – any flowers, come to that – were the last thing he would have sent me.

  ‘How do you know these are for me?’ I turned to Theresa, who was standing right behind me, a curious look on her face.

  ‘The delivery driver said. Why, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said, my voice high-pitched from the effort to camouflage my emotions. ‘I’m just curious. I don’t think these are from Alex.’

  Theresa raised an eyebrow. ‘Ooh, lucky you. Perhaps it’s a client.’ She turned away, oblivious to my problems. Closing my eyes, I inhaled a calming breath. My sister had obviously forgotten about the relevance of the sunflowers. Their faces glowered at me, dark and gaping as if ready to swallow me whole. I ran the tap and plunged them into a vase, because I couldn’t bear to bin them, despite everything. Was Luke sending me a warning? My pulse quickened as I thought about what might come.

  In the distance, the dull ring of the telephone brought me back to reality. I strode towards it, grasping the old-fashioned Victorian receiver and placing it to my ear. ‘Hello?’ I said, holding my breath, awaiting a response. But there was nothing. Nothing but the heavy sense of dread rising in my chest. Then I heard it: a soft breath on the other side. A sudden wave of fear swept over me. ‘Hello? Can I help you?’ I almost choked on the words.

  ‘No answer?’ Theresa said, standing behind me. ‘That’s the third one we’ve had today.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, grateful my back was to her as I hung up the phone. Goosebumps prickled my flesh. I knew that it had begun.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ALEX

  2017

  I stood at my office window, absorbing the skyline. From the top of the high-rise building, the view over Leeds was stunning. The company had spared no expense in setting up the new branch of the business. I could not wait to get stuck in: dealing with million-pound properties brought generous commission, bringing me one step closer to our dream life. I inhaled deeply through my nostrils. The air felt better up here. I had my own personal secretary, a pleasant young twenty-something blonde by the name of Alice. Everyone had been welcoming, even seeming relieved to have a new manager take the helm. But at the back of my mind was Emma and the awfulness of what she said she had done. I was still struggling to comprehend it. The uncharacteristic act of violence that she had confessed to consumed my thoughts. I thought of my mother, with her soft permed hair, her homemade scones and jam. She was such a gentle soul; this would break her heart. I drove my hands through my hair, lost in thought as I tried to work it out. This wasn’t a novel or a movie. We were talking about murder. Real-life murder. Carried out by Emma, who had taught Jamie how to feed bees sugar water when they were tired from their flight. Emma, who cried at the end of every Disney movie she had watched. How could she be capable of killing someone? And had he deserved such a fate? How could Emma – my Emma – kill someone, even if what she’d said was true? It was a question I had asked myself numerous times in the last few hours, and I was no nearer to finding an answer.

  I closed the door on these thoughts. My focus had to be on my job for now. I rested my hands on the back of my leather swivel chair, staring at my glass-topped desk: it was equipped with all the mod cons, including a new Apple Mac, a far cry from the old PC I had been working on in Essex. Having grown up in Leeds and started off in the real-estate business here, I felt at home and knew many of the staff already.

  I stiffened as my intercom buzzed, unaccustomed as I was to the alien sound. The soft, sweet voice of my secretary spoke. I could get used to this.

  ‘Roger James to see you,’ she said, and I smiled at the luxury of having my visitors announced.

  ‘Thank you, Alice. Could you bring us through two coffees when you have a minute?’ I said, remembering Roger’s fondness for caffeine.

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll be right with you.’

  ‘Alex, mate, good to see you!’ At six foot one with a confident swagger, Roger was a man with enviable taste in suits. I made a mental note to ask him about his tailor now that I had come up in the world. He gave me a hearty handshake. We had known each other since back in the day – I’d been no stranger to bunking off school with him and his twin brother Jimmy.

  Within minutes we were reminiscing about old times and what we were both up to now. I steered the conversation away from Emma, trying to focus on work.

  ‘So you don’t mind me being your boss then?’ I smiled, feeling my shoulders relax. Being in Leeds and chatting to friends was just the tonic I needed.

  ‘I’m made up,’ Roger said. ‘Besides, anyone’s an improvement on Hopkins.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I laughed, knowing he did not mean it the way it sounded.

  ‘Seriously,’ he said, flashing me a smile. ‘We have to call him Mister Hopkins. What a ponce. He’s only been in the game a few years.’

  I grinned in response. ‘Not like us fresh-faced uni graduates hammering in our For Sale signs, then.’

  ‘Yup. And as for your secretary – you can thank Hopkins for her. Talk about perks of the job.’

  I savoured my coffee as I sipped, the smell of freshly ground beans invigorating my senses. ‘I’m an old married man,’ I joked. ‘I don’t have the energy for that sort of carry-on any more.’

  ‘So that’s why you got rid of the whiskers? Too many grey hairs creeping in?’

  Feeling the absence of my facial hair, I rubbed my bare jaw. ‘There might have been one or two. What can I say? All down to the pressures of work.’

  Finishing his coffee, Roger threw me an envious glance. ‘Who would have thought it, us two ending up in the same office with you on that side of the desk. Fair play to you – maybe if I’d put in a few extra hours I would have made more of myself.’

  For all Roger and I went back, I didn’t rush to tell him about the fact that I was Mr Second Choice, having applied but failed to get the job the first time round. I was pretty sure that if it weren’t for Theresa, I wouldn’t be sitting there at all. Despite her impending divorce from Charles, my boss in Colchester, she was still able to pull a few strings. Still, that was something Roger didn’t need to know. I would prove myself and make the team a huge success. I sank my coffee, filled with enthusiasm for what lay ahead. ‘I’ve seen your sales figures, Rog, you’re doing just fine. As long as you’re happy to be working for me . . .’

  ‘Like I said, goes without saying,’ Roger said, placing his empty cup back on my desk.

  Our meeting was interrupted as Alice announced my predecessor was on his way in.

  As our office door opened, Roger straightened, fixing his tie. He nodded sweetly at the man entering before giving me a knowing look. Hopkins had short-clipped grey hair and was in reasonable shape. I guessed him to be in his late forties, and had heard o
n the grapevine he was an ex-army man. He carried an air of authority as he approached. Straightening my shoulders, I held in my stomach as he reached his hand to shake mine.

  ‘So you’re my replacement. Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll get on better here than I did. This lot can’t wait to see the back of me, can you, Roger?’ He narrowed his eyes at my friend as he took his leave.

  Roger coughed, giving him a sour smile. ‘Of course not. But it’s about time I got back to work. These properties won’t sell themselves.’

  ‘Who knows, maybe you’ll sell the big one this month. You might be able to buy yourself a decent car instead of that pile of shit you’re driving around.’

  I winced. Roger’s wife got through money at a frightening rate, and his lack of a decent motor was a tender subject. I made a mental note that as soon as Hopkins left, I would make it my business to get Roger a company car.

  As the door closed, Hopkins turned to face me. ‘I hear you can’t wait to get stuck in.’

  I smiled. There was no point in getting mardy with my predecessor if he was leaving soon. ‘Yeah. I’m looking forward to working in Leeds again.’ It was true. It was a vibrant and welcoming city, and my heart remained firmly in my home town.

  ‘You’re a native aren’t you? What took you down to Essex?’ Hands in pockets, Hopkins walked to the window, his gaze firmly on the streets below.

  ‘The missus,’ I said. ‘But I’ve managed to persuade her Leeds is the best place to be. I’m looking forward to heading up the new team.’

  ‘Oh, that reminds me, I’ve got a message for you,’ Hopkins said, interrupted by the insistent strain of Queen’s ‘We are the Champions’ ringtone playing in his pocket. He frowned as he silenced the phone call. ‘Looks like I’m in demand. IT will sort you out with some passwords for the new system. Enjoy reacquainting yourself with the sights of Leeds.’