Kill or Die

by Ann Evans

  She did a little shopping before going home. Things they needed, she told herself. Not an excuse to delay going into an empty house. When she did turn the key, and close the door on the outside world, slipping the safety chain on again, she stopped, eyes darting around the hall. Everything was exactly as she'd left it two hours ago. But, an uncomfortable silence greeted her, except for the whirring and ticking of the clock.

  Her heart was beating much too fast, but she took off her coat and outdoor clothing, hung it up, switched on the TV for background noise – and for news, and made a start on the housework. The injuries from climbing down a scalding drainpipe were healing fast. Cumbersome bandages were now a thing of the past.

  Oddly, she enjoyed getting to grips with the chores. The dust had built up over the last few weeks, and she was glad to see the surfaces starting to shine again. She was thinking about what to cook for their evening meal, when the shrill ringing of the phone made her jump. Annoyed with herself for being so jumpy, she picked up the receiver.

  No one spoke, and the silence was so loud she could hear the clock ticking again. There was another sound, however—a faint sound of breathing. Someone was there. Her skin crawled.

  Slamming the phone down, she stood, heart thudding, then, snatching it up again, she dialled the number which would tell her who her last caller was. Not surprisingly, she discovered the caller had withheld their number.

  Somehow, she got through the day, but she was on edge. Leaving home to pick up Lucy from school had her looking up and down Sycamore Drive, before setting out on foot. Then, she walked swiftly, checking over her shoulder time and again.

  Only when they had eaten, and Lucy was tucked up in bed, did she tell Ian of her fears.

  “It doesn’t mean anything, sweetheart,” Ian said convincingly “It was probably a wrong number, or a fault on the line.”

  “It was him,” Julia breathed. “It was Vincent Webb. I know it.”

  “Julia, don't do this,” Ian said, holding her. “If you start to think every little thing is down to him, you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

  “They haven’t found him yet, though, Ian. It could have been him.”

  “Why would it be?” Ian said softly. “He'll be too afraid to make contact. He doesn’t know the police aren’t keeping a trace on our calls. He won’t want to give them any leads, that’s for sure. And, why would he, anyway?”

  She wanted to believe him. However, she was petrified he would come for her. He wasn't the sort to let anyone get one up on him. And she had. She had got herself and Lucy away from them. She doubted he would let that lie.

  The following day, she double-checked the doors and windows, before taking Lucy to school. She walked briskly, holding her daughter’s hand tightly, giving alleyways and isolated areas a wide birth, and quickening her pace whenever a car slowed. She was alert, her eyes and ears sharp. At the school gates, she scanned the faces, afraid he would be there, biding his time.

  Lucy’s class teacher was on playground duty. Spotting her, she came over, smiling. “It’s so good to have Lucy back safe and sound. How are you? That was a terrible ordeal for you both.”

  “We… we’re fine, getting back to normal,” Julia said, trying to smile, trying to stop her eyes from darting this way and that. “The police haven’t caught the man…”

  “I heard,” said the teacher kindly.

  “I’m worrying unnecessarily, I know…”

  The teacher touched her hand. “Lucy is safe here, Mrs. Logan. No one will touch her. You can be sure of that.”

  She sounded so confident, and walking home from school, Julia prayed the teacher was right.

  Back at home, she made herself a coffee, and tried to relax and do all the things she used to do, but she jumped at every sound. Even her reflected shadow in the glass of the kitchen door set her heart pounding. Unable to settle, she rang Chief Inspector O’Ryan on the direct number she'd been given. He was out, but Len Grimes took her call.

  “Mrs. Logan, how are you? I'm afraid we've still no news yet. I imagine that's why you're ringing.”

  Her hopes plummeted. “Oh! I was hoping you'd found and arrested him...

  “You would be the first to know,” he said kindly. “But, I'm sorry, no concrete news so far. Plenty of sightings—we're exploring a possible lead in the Dover area. Fingers crossed.”

  “Yes,” she murmured. “Fingers crossed.”

  She hung up, and tried to concentrate on all the mundane everyday tasks she once did without a second thought. Making beds, doing the laundry, preparing something nice for dinner, but all the while, she felt nervous, uneasy, as if she was being watched. She could practically feel those pale cold eyes leering at her from every corner. And then, taking out the rubbish, Julia saw him.

  At the bottom of her garden was a hedge, and beyond that, was a narrow track and open fields. It had been their main reason for buying this house. And that was where she saw him – walking along behind the hedge. He hadn't looked her way, but she had glimpsed the shoulders of his black leather coat, and saw his arrogant profile and that blond hair.

  Stunned, gulping back her scream, she tore back into the kitchen, slamming the door, shooting the bolt across. She was shaking so badly she couldn’t dial the police's number. It took three attempts, and then, it was an eternity before someone answered.

  “Grimes here…”

  For a second, she couldn’t speak, and then the words came tumbling out. “I’ve seen him. He’s here! Vincent Webb. I saw him over the top of my hedge. He’s here!”

  “On our way!” Grimes yelled. “Stay indoors, keep the doors and windows locked. Someone will be right with you.”

  “Hurry!” Julia begged, still gripping the receiver, her back pressed hard to the wall, breathing hard, expecting him to burst through a door or window at any second.

  A stream of police cars pulled up in the street, sirens screaming. In no time, the entire area was cordoned off, and police, some with dogs, were swarming everywhere. Someone must have fetched Ian, because his car came hurtling down the road, minutes after the police.

  But, there was no sign of Vincent Webb.

  Nothing.

  “I thought it was him,” Julia murmured much later, when nothing had materialised, and she was left feeling idiotic.

  “It’s perfectly alright, Mrs. Logan,” said Chief Inspector O’Ryan. “Far better to be on your guard, although I honestly can’t see him showing his face around here. He must know every copper in the land is on to him.”

  Julia rested her head on Ian’s shoulder. “I feel so stupid, panicking like that.”

  “Shall I ring Steph?” Ian asked gently. “Get her to come and stay with you for a while?”

  “No! I don’t need a babysitter,” Julia snapped. “Oh, Ian, I’m sorry. I know you’re only trying to help. Go back to work. I’ll be fine, honestly.”

  Reluctantly, he eventually returned to work, and gradually, the police dispersed. Julia tried not to be on edge when she went to fetch Lucy from school, but walking back, a fog came down, reminding her of that awful night when it had happened. Gripping Lucy's hand so tightly the child complained, they walked quickly back from school, their clipped footsteps echoing uncannily through the darkness.

  Memories were racing through her mind. Thoughts of how she had sat waiting for Ian to come home. How she had loaded her suitcases in her car, and then, taken Lucy from her bed. It hurt, knowing at that moment poor Benjamin had been lying dead – or dying. By the time they reached home, she felt sick with fear. She locked the door, and put the chain on. Relieved to be back home, and with the curtains drawn, the television on, and dinner cooking, she began to relax a little. The ringing of the front doorbell, a short while before Ian was due home, shattered the mood.

  Lucy came rushing into the kitchen. “Someone's at the door. Don't answer it, Mummy!”

  The bell chimed again, insistent, as if someone was keeping their finger
pressed firmly on the button, determined not to be ignored. Julia, held her daughter close, her feet riveted to the floor. But, the ringing went on.

  “It might be those policemen,” Lucy whispered, but her wide eyes hinted at who she feared it was.

  Julia's hatred for Vincent Webb overshadowed her fear right at that moment. How dare he terrorise her child and her in this way? But, it could be the police. Maybe they’d come to tell her they'd arrested him. She crept to the window and drew the curtains aside a fraction. The fog had thickened, but Julia could distinctly see a woman standing at the door. She wore a hooded coat, not dissimilar to her own winter's coat. Curiosity took the place of fear.

  “It's a woman!”

  “He might be in disguise,” Lucy fretted, hanging onto her arm.

  “No, she's too small. She's about my height.” Irritated with being frightened of her own shadow practically, she went to the door, nevertheless keeping the door on the security chain, as she inched it open. “Yes?”

  The woman glared steadily at her from beneath the fur brim of her hood. She wore too much eye make-up, was Julia's first thought.

  “My name is Shelley de Main,” the woman introduced herself, her face half obscured by the fur-edged hood of her coat. “Your husband may have mentioned me, but probably not. We need to talk.”

  Julia felt her legs weaken, as she stared into the plump face, the red lipstick, everything accentuated about this woman who Ian had risked everything for. Her first instinct was to slam the door in her face. Instead, she reassured Lucy, who was hovering close by. “Go back and watch your program, sweetheart. Everything's okay. It's a woman from daddy's work.”

  She waited until Lucy had gone back into the lounge. “Yes, he's mentioned you. What do you want?”

  “To talk. Perhaps you weren't aware we've been seeing each other.”

  “I know all about it,” Julia uttered, trying not to show her pain. It was one thing Ian confessing to an affair, but another to be confronted with the woman he'd had sex with.

  Shelley de Main's mouth gaped, like someone had stolen her thunder, and her voice went up an octave. “I wonder if he's told you we've been lovers for months. And that we'd have sex practically every lunchtime?”

  Julia had heard enough, she moved to shut the door, only to feel the woman's foot against it.

  “And you know all the times he was working late, well, that would be when we’d take a drive out, and make love in the back of his car. Your child's booster seat would get in the way someti…”

  “Move your foot, or I'll slam this door, and snap your ankle in two,” Julia said, gritting her teeth.

  Shelley didn't move. Except for her mouth that curved into a sultry kind of smile, mocking her. “So what’s it like being married to a man who cheats on his wife at every opportunity? Does your little girl know what sort of man her daddy is?”

  “Mummy?” Lucy was there, behind her. Her voice was a whimper. “Make her go away.”

  “I'm warning you,” Julia said, moving Lucy back a little. “Go upstairs, sweetheart.”

  Shelley was shouting now. “No, don’t go, kid. Did you know your precious daddy….”

  Julia moved swiftly, jerking the chain from the door, she opened the door wider, then slammed it hard against Shelley's ankle. The woman shrieked with pain, and stumbled backwards. She had no chance to say more. Julia slammed the door shut, leant hard on it, and found herself looking straight into Lucy's troubled eyes.

  Her chin trembled. “Why doesn’t she like my daddy?”

  “She’s a grumpy, cross lady.” She pressed a kiss to the top of Lucy’s head. “She's gone. Good riddance. Forget she was ever here, darling. I'm not going to give her another thought.” And she meant it.

  CHAPTER 36

  Ian drove home from work slowly, the fog was hampering progress, and the headlights of approaching cars came and went like ghostly spotlights. There had been no more frantic phone calls, no more panics. Life would eventually return to normal. He would have to be patient. It was understandable Julia couldn't feel totally safe again. It would take time, and it certainly wouldn't happen before Vincent Webb was behind bars.

  He sighed. That was going to be another ordeal for his wife, re-living the whole terrifying nightmare in court. If there was some way he could deliver her from that, he would.

  He turned into his street, slowing to swing onto his drive, and that was when he spotted something on the pavement. A dark shadowy mound lying there. He stamped on the brakes, quickened the speed of his windscreen wipers to try and get a clearer view. A person. Someone lying there.

  “Dear God!”

  He sprang out of the car, leaving the engine running. Then, as if he'd been punched in the gut he skidded to a stop, recognising the coat first, the hooded camel coloured coat, Julia’s coat. It was the new one he'd bought her since her own was destroyed along with the other things she'd packed to leave him. Things that had ended up in the reservoir.

  “Julia!” He threw himself down beside the unmoving form. A puddle of blood was oozing out from inside hood. “No,” he uttered. “No, no no…”

  He reached out to pull the hood back, to see her face, so see if she was breathing.

  Shelley de Main was unconscious on his path.

  “It’s too much of a coincidence!” Julia said, over and over again – to him, to the police, to everyone.

  “Sweetheart,” Ian tried to console her. “Vincent Webb has nothing to do with this attack. Love, you’re starting to become paranoid. Every time the phone rings, every time you see a blond-haired man. You’ve got to get things into proportion. Shelley de Main got herself mugged; it happens. You heard what O’Ryan said. Webb has been spotted on the south coast. He’s possibly looking for a boat to get across to Europe. He can’t be in two places at once.”

  “Ian, you’re wrong!” Julia screamed. “Shelley de Main looked like me in that coat. You even said so yourself. She'd come from our house. He must have been watching, and thought it was me.”

  Ian took her hands in his, giving her a little shake. “He isn’t watching the house. He isn’t going to hurt you again. Love, it’s been weeks now. It’s over. You have to try and forget. When Shelley de Main recovers consciousness…”

  “If!”

  “When she does,” Ian insisted. “She’ll be able to identify her attacker. O’Ryan is putting a police officer by her bedside, so the minute she comes around, we’ll know.”

  Julia rested her head against his chest. “I’m frightened, Ian. I'm really frightened.”

  “Don’t be!” he ordered. “Vincent Webb is long gone. He’d be a fool to come back to this area, now, wouldn’t he?”

  And, at that moment, he honestly believed he was right.

  CHAPTER 37

  Lucy awoke from her dream with a start. Her head was hot, and her heart was thumping. The nightmares always made her feel like this. She clambered out of bed, and switched on the bedroom light. Curling back under the covers, she searched for Mister Brown, and whispered in his ear, “It's okay, Mister Brown, dreams can't hurt us.”

  The nightmares came less often now. At first, she had wanted to run into her parents' room, but that would remind Mummy about it all again, and she didn't want that to happen. She wanted her mummy to forget all about it, like she was trying to do.

  Downstairs, she heard the chinking of milk bottles, which told her it would be soon time to get up. She decided then to get dressed early. Today was very special. Today was the school nativity play – and she was going to be an angel.

  Shelley de Main's dark rimmed eyes flickered open. Smells of disinfectant invaded her senses. Slowly, she moved her head on the pillow, as she tried to focus on the room. A get well soon card stood on top of a pale wooden cabinet. It was daylight, but a blanket of grey fog was all she could see through the hospital window.

  A policeman sat in a chair opposite her. His eyes were shut. She tried to speak; her voice w
as feeble, barely audible even to her own ears. It was enough to stir him though. He looked at her, then jumped to his feet. He pressed a button above her head, and dragged his chair closer to her. He seemed too young to be a policeman, just a boy.

  “How are you feeling, Mrs. De Main?”

  She pulled a face.

  He smiled. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

  Shelley didn't try to speak at first, but allowed the images in her head to sort themselves out. A malicious little thought struck her. She could tell this policeman it was Ian Logan, or his idiotic wife, who had smashed her skull in. The prospect of seeing them trying to squirm out of that brought a faint smile to her lips.

  A nurse came in, and took her pulse.

  “Do you recall anything, Mrs. De Main, anything at all?” the baby-faced policeman asked softly. “We want to catch the person who did this to you.”

  “He hit me from behind,” Shelley murmured. “I remember lying on the pavement and looking up at him. I must have blacked out then, but what I do remember is thinking what a handsome man he was. Under different circumstances, I could have taken a fancy to him.”

  The policeman took out a notebook. “Could you describe him?”

  She tried to ignore the pain in her head. She would let Ian Logan off the hook. He'd have an alibi, anyway. She concentrated on the man hovering over her, and the expression on his face. It was almost as if he was puzzled at the sight of her. As if she wasn't the person he expected her to be. And then, he'd gone.

  Her throat felt parched, as she said, “He was tall and blond, and he wore a black leather trench coat, with silver buttons.” She tried to smile at the policeman; he really was rather cute. “Anybody you know?”