The Ex (DS Jenna Morgan)

by Diane Saxon

  Nothing.

  With a cautious turn of the knob, Fern pushed the door wide.

  Soft buttery light greeted her, glowing from the nightlight plugged in by the side of the cot. It cast pale golden stars across the ceiling, giving out enough light for Fern to be able to see there was nobody in the nursery but the little one.

  Angel, who was fast asleep.

  Fern sneaked over to the cot and leaned her forearms against the rail as she peered down at the sleeping child, contentment in every soft curve of her face. Skin a pale translucence, blue veins and smudges of purple under the eyes showed how deep in sleep Angel was.

  As her heartbeat slowed and relief flowed over her to soothe her soul, Fern stood for a while longer, fascinated with the pure innocent beauty.

  A smile played across her mouth.

  Angel was fine. She was safe.

  Emily was nowhere to be seen. No car in the drive. She’d not be able to get into the house anyway. Not since Fern had called the man and had the locks changed. It was simple paranoia, and fear.

  Fern straightened and turned towards the nursery door. Breath catching in her throat as she caught the quick flit of a shadow crossing the dark landing.

  Pulse escalating back to panic mode, Fern gave a brief glance over her shoulder to check on Angel. Still fast asleep, the child’s light breathing never changed.

  With soundless steps, Fern crept onto the landing and drew the nursery door closed behind her. She held onto the doorknob to stop the sharp click she knew it would give if she let go too quickly.

  She clenched her teeth, her jaw flexing as she snapped on the landing night.

  ‘Emily.’ Her voice a hoarse whisper, she called out for her sister. ‘Are you there?’

  Nothing. No answer.

  She kept her voice hushed as she stepped further along the landing, away from the nursery. ‘Emily, if you’re there, stop pratting about. You don’t scare me, you know.’

  She terrified her.

  Greeted only by silence, Fern swung open the bathroom door to check inside. Her nerves jumped and anger swirled in the pit of her stomach in a mixture of doubt and turmoil.

  If Emily was playing silly beggars, she was about to get her comeuppance. She’d grab her by the hair and bash her this time.

  Finding the room empty, Fern blew out a sigh as she scrubbed her hands over her face and dug the tips of her fingers into her eyes to help them focus better. God, she was tired. She should be sleeping while Angel was, to conserve her energy for when the child wanted to play. Not spend precious time searching for her sister. A sister she wasn’t about to bash because that wasn’t what she did. She was the pacifist, the peacekeeper. The one who always calmed Emily down and brought her back into line. But Emily had never done anything like this before, never been so out of control. It had been bad enough when she stalked Zak and it had taken professional help to draw her back from the brink of a very dark precipice.

  But this, this was worse.

  All Fern could hope for was to keep Angel safe until she got Emily some help. In the meantime, she could only hope Emily didn’t find her way into the house.

  She backed out of the bathroom and tugged the door closed behind her.

  Undecided, Fern took a moment before she opened the door to the fourth room.

  In direct contrast to the mess that was Emily, her bedroom bloomed with pink rose print flowing over immaculately ironed bedding. Two beautiful throw cushions: one embroidered with an animation hare, the other with a hedgehog. Pale green daubed the perfect walls and the white ceiling was the centrepiece for a delicate crystal chandelier that dangled, catching bright sparks of light from the bulb.

  Her sister evidently hadn’t been there to disturb anything, although Fern often wondered how Emily kept it as neat as a pin when she was around.

  Reluctant to step inside, Fern cast her gaze around one last time and then closed the door on the perfection of her sister’s bedroom and tiptoed her way back to her own room on the opposite side of the landing.

  Never as neat and tidy, she nevertheless found her solace there. Her throw cushions weren’t embroidered, but faux fur that she could cuddle and take comfort from in the middle of the night. Fur which currently was far too warm to have on her bed and was residing in a heap at the side.

  With a sigh, Fern straightened out her bedding and smoothed the still sweat-damp sheet while she allowed the relief of her sister’s absence to calm her.

  There was nobody there. Emily hadn’t come home. It was just her imagination and expectation that her sister was always there when she least wanted or needed her. Always in the midst of trouble. She didn’t find it, she created it. She built the smallest incident into a drama to cultivate panic and angst.

  Fern slipped under the covers and tugged them up to her chin as she lay flat on her back and held her breath while she listened to her own heartbeat slow down to normal. Her eyes closed, she drifted back to sleep with the fresh waft of night air drifting through the window to cool her overheated skin.

  Another few hours of sleep would be so welcome.

  28

  Tuesday 13 July, 03:05 hrs

  With trembling fingers, Fern reached out to pick up the small, blue toy elephant. Ears soft and floppy, the silken material cool next to her skin as she pressed it against her bosom.

  Fear sent a rash of goosebumps chasing across her sweat-slicked skin as the light breeze danced through the open window of the nursery.

  ‘Oh, Emily, Emily.’

  ‘Of course, it’s Emily, you fool.’

  Fern whipped around, a pained gasp lodged in her throat as she stared at her sister. Confusion and horror battled for supremacy.

  ‘Who else did you think it would be?’ Her sister’s red lips thinned and twisted with derision. ‘No one’s going to break in here. Who the hell else would want to?’ She tipped back her head and, as the chubby folds on her neck stretched out, she chortled. The pure meanness of her laughter shot a warning chill through Fern’s veins.

  She cast a quick glance at Angel, fast asleep in the cot and swallowed her panic. If only she could keep her quiet, Emily wouldn’t get irritated. If only Emily would stay quiet, Angel wouldn’t wake and cry.

  Fern turned back to her sister, determined to keep control. ‘How did you get in?’

  Emily raised one eyebrow as she drew her hand up in the air and dangled a key from her fingers, quirking her lips with derision. ‘Oh, come on, Fern. Of course, I got in. Do you think you’re ever going to stop me?’ She gurgled out a delighted laugh. ‘I’m not sure you intended to keep me out. You left the spare key where you have always left the spare key. I may never have used it before, but you’ve left it in the same place ever since you moved here, and I have always known where you kept it.’ She snorted out her disgust as she tucked the key into her jeans’ pocket. ‘Such a creature of habit. So very foolish. Foolish and naive.’ She spat the last word out, her eyes sparkling with wicked delight.

  Compelled to defend herself, Fern raised her chin but kept her voice a soft growl. ‘I’m not naive. Please don’t say that.’

  Fern’s gaze flickered towards the cot and the sleeping child. Fear kept her from shouting at her sister, who it appeared had no such qualms, as she raised her voice, to draw a whimper from Angel.

  ‘You are naive. Now what are you going to do? Pay another hundred and fifty quid to have your locks changed again?’ She puffed out her breath and slammed both hands on her rounded hips. ‘It won’t stop me. You know, I’ll still get in here.’ She whipped her head around, scanning the bedroom. ‘It’s as much mine as it is yours.’

  Fern stepped forward, one hand held out to stop her sister’s anger from escalating. ‘I never tried to stop…’

  ‘Of course you tried to stop me. Why else would you have your locks changed? You know, no amount of barriers will keep me out.’ She paused, her breath heaved making her heavy bosom swell. Her voice when it came again was quieter, soothing. ‘I’m not g
oing to harm anybody, Fern. You know that, don’t you?’

  Fern gulped down the words that wanted to spew out. Of course, she’d cause harm. She’d done it before, she’d do it again. She’d harm the child. Her child. ‘Emily,’ she blew out a long breath, tried to reason with her sister. ‘I think we need to speak to someone about this, get some help.’

  In a swift move, Emily stepped in, her eyes narrowing, her lips pulled to a thin mean line. ‘You tell anybody, anybody.’ She closed the gap and grasped a tight hand around Fern’s neck, red-painted nails digging in just enough for Fern to appreciate the threat.

  ‘Emily, stop.’ Her strangled voice burst from her throat. ‘You don’t need to do this.’

  ‘Oh, I do need to do it. I think you need a lesson.’

  ‘I don’t need a lesson. I understand.’ Every bit the pacifist, Fern raised her hands to rest them on Emily’s, knowing her sister had the strength and capacity to strangle her if she wanted. Almost nose to nose, she met Emily’s gaze. ‘Shall we go downstairs?’

  ‘No.’ Emily’s sour breath puffed out against her face.

  Desperate not to risk a look at the sleeping child in case Emily noticed, she couldn’t help the quick slide of her glance in Angel’s direction before she whipped it back again.

  Emily’s face turned sly as her own gaze followed the direction of Fern’s and then back again, her eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, that child means more to you than I do, doesn’t it?’ Jealousy laced her voice. ‘I see. I understand now.’

  The hard dig of Emily’s nails ratcheted up the panic, but Fern kept her face blank as she stared back at her sister. ‘Of course, she doesn’t. She’s precious, of course, but only because you brought her. She was a gift from you. That’s what makes her so special. Your special gift. To me.’

  As Emily’s face relaxed, Fern gave her fingers a gentle squeeze to encourage her to let go, holding onto her sister’s hands as she lowered them away from her neck.

  Emily’s voice purred. ‘She’s only special because she’s Zak’s. The little girl we should have had together.’ Emily narrowed her eyes, a tight smile spreading across her face. ‘I could still have Zak. Did you hear the news?’

  Fern stilled, terrified to acknowledge that she knew. Knew what Emily had done.

  She’d beaten a woman almost to death and stolen her baby. Zak’s baby. It was all over the news, how could she have missed it? Every half hour. Appeal after appeal to find little Joshua.

  Rather than instil further rage in Emily just as she’d managed to calm her down, Fern gave a slight shake of her head, refusing to meet her sister’s eyes. Frightened of what she might see reflected there. Terrified of what her sister may see in hers.

  ‘Zak’s wife had an accident, it appears. Their baby has gone missing.’ The challenge from Emily was there for Fern to dispute.

  Their baby boy. But Fern held back on saying it out loud. It would only infuriate her sister again. She needed to calm her. Get her in a good place so she could get help for her.

  She linked her fingers through Emily’s and made a deliberate effort to keep her attention away from the still sleeping child. ‘Emily, let’s go downstairs. We can have something to eat. When was the last time you ate?’

  She scanned her sister’s face. Her skin had turned dull and flaccid from lack of sleep. Obviously no longer taking care of herself properly, blackheads littered the top of her nose and in the crease on her chin. Lacklustre, her hair hung in limp strands down to her shoulders. In a matter of a few days, she’d turned from vibrant and vivacious to desperate and dangerous.

  It wasn’t just the lack of sleep that was responsible, but the fact that she’d stopped taking her medication. Withdrawal was bound to have an effect.

  Fern stared into her sister’s frantic eyes and sadness washed over her. It wasn’t Emily’s fault. She needed help. Help Fern doubted she was capable of providing. It was too late. They were too far down the road for that.

  Fern reached out to touch Emily’s cheek and hesitated as her sister flinched. ‘It’s okay, Emily. Everything’s going to be okay, now. I’m going to take good care of you.’

  Emily shook her head. ‘You can’t, Fern. You’re not strong enough.’

  Saddened by her sister’s lack of faith, Fern cupped Emily’s cheek with her hand. ‘I’ll find someone who can help. I promise.’

  Emily turned her head, so Fern’s hand slipped away from her cheek just as Angel let out a small cry and kicked the thin sheets off her legs. Still asleep, she snuffled, while both women held their breath.

  The last thing Fern needed was for Angel to wake while Emily needed so much of her attention. Just a short while longer, Fern found herself praying as she made a deliberate turn away from Angel, taking Emily’s elbow in her grasp.

  ‘Let’s go downstairs.’

  Emily’s shoulders drooped and the frenetic light extinguished from her eyes. ‘Okay.’

  Fern pulled the door closed behind them and tiptoed down the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Emily followed her. She checked behind her every few steps, not putting it past Emily to push her down the stairs.

  She reached the bottom and made her way along the short hallway to the kitchen.

  Her gaze touched on the two empty bottles of Mateus Rosé, one of them on its side on her small, round kitchen table. Before she could stop herself, judgement spilled from her. ‘Oh, Emily. You know you shouldn’t drink when you’re on medication.’

  In a fast switch of temperament to leave Fern regretting her comment, Emily’s lips pulled up in a feral growl. ‘I’m not on fucking medication.’ Eyes hard, she glared into Fern’s face, towering over her. ‘You know that stuff only fucks you up, don’t you? Right?’

  Fern’s heart stuttered as Emily confirmed her dark suspicion. They were in serious, serious trouble. She needed to let somebody know. She needed to report it. But who to? Emily’s counsellor was no longer around and nobody else had been put in charge of Emily since they’d declared her sister stable.

  Stable.

  How could Emily ever be classified as stable? The moment she missed her meds, her world started to shred into thin strands which unravelled slowly until her meds knit them back together again.

  The fact that she’d gone cold turkey horrified Fern. That and the addition of alcohol. What chance did she stand of helping her sister get back on track?

  Fern slipped onto one of the two small, hard, white-painted wooden stools as Emily reached into the fridge and extracted a fresh bottle of Mateus Rosé, efficiently popping out the cork as only someone who’d had ample practice could do. She reached for two large wine glasses and poured the pink wine into each of them. Slipping one across the table, she smiled at Fern as the chill of it bloomed the glass with condensation.

  ‘Why don’t you join me?’

  Fern’s mouth watered at the temptation of an ice-cold drink after such a scorcher of a day and she reached out to wrap her fingers around the stem of the wine glass, drawing it nearer to her. What harm could it do? If it pacified Emily knowing Fern joined her in a friendly glass of wine, perhaps then her sister would relax. Fern could maybe persuade her to take her meds, or if she would go to bed, Fern could make plans. Telephone around. Get them some help. She needed support as much as her sister did.

  She’d be careful. Just sip a little. Drink it slowly. It wasn’t a high alcohol content, more like drinking a light, refreshing fizzy drink.

  Assuming it was the last bottle, she’d be doing Emily a favour by consuming it, just so her sister didn’t feel obliged to finish off her third bottle. Low alcohol it may be but drinking three bottles of it was bound to have an effect.

  She picked up the glass and took a slow sip, her mouth tightening at the taste of the sharp wine, but the cool wash of it down her parched throat coaxed an appreciative sigh from her. As her muscles relaxed, she wilted against the kitchen table, forearms resting to keep her propped up.

  She smiled as she flicked Emily a glance
from under dark eyelashes. In direct contrast to her relaxed muscles, her mind spun, racing through quick resolutions and scenarios. Of them all, the simplest was the best. Get rid of Emily. Get her out of her house. Get her out of her life. For good.

  After all, Fern had Angel to care for. Angel was her priority.

  She’d have to find a way to keep her sister parted from Angel before she caused her any harm. There had to be something. Someone. She needed to tell somebody. She’d told before, and that’s when her sister had got all the help she needed, and she’d gone, leaving a great cavity of loneliness in her wake. As much as Emily troubled and disturbed Fern, having her disappear completely from her world had been a shock at first but once Emily had been gone for a while, Fern started to really appreciate living a normal life without a sister to watch out for. To care for.

  Life had been simple without Emily.

  29

  Tuesday 13 July, 04:45 hrs

  Emily tucked her legs up and wrapped her arms around them so she could rest her chin on her knees while she rocked back and forth. With her back to the corner, she roamed her gaze around Fern’s bedroom until it fell on her sister’s face.

  In repose, Fern was prettier than ever. Her eyelids closed, long, dark eyelashes rested on the translucence of her skin above her high cheekbones. Any wrinkles she may have had been smoothed out with sleep. Her breath sighed in and out through her perfect, snub nose.

  Dark irritation stabbed at Emily as she reached for the newly opened bottle of Mateus Rosé by her side. Not bothering with a glass, she tipped it up to gulp down several mouthfuls of the liquid while she kept her gaze fixed on Fern.

  Fern.

  She’d thought bringing that child, that brat, home would have delighted her sister. That she’d love her even more, want her to share in the delight of the child.