Sea of Lies

by Rachel McLean

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  They shrank back to a side wall, hoping they hadn’t been caught in the glare of the lights. Sarah stared at Bill.

  “Are they here for you?”

  He shrugged.

  There was hammering at the door. It opened. Sarah cursed herself for not asking Sam to lock it again. Outside the lights had stilled, shining along the road towards the beach. Everything else was plunged into darkness, including the doorway.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” It was Ted.

  Sam stepped forwards. “It was my idea, Mr Evans.”

  Sarah pulled him back. “Don’t be stupid. It was me, Dad. I wanted to talk to Bill.”

  “You said you were going for a walk.”

  “I know.”

  She felt the air shift as he approached. She stood her ground, watching as his face materialised.

  “Get home.”

  “No, Dad. I need to—”

  He grabbed her chin in his fingers and pinched the skin. She lifted herself up, trying to move with him.

  “I said get home. I’ll deal with you later.”

  “It’s me you want,” said Bill. “Don’t be so hard on the girl.”

  Ted dropped Sarah. She stumbled, catching her arm on the corner of a table. She raised a hand to it; it throbbed, but there was no blood.

  Ted rubbed his shoulder. “Bloody girl, you made me hurt myself.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” she said.

  “Let her go,” said Bill. “Deal with me instead.”

  “Oh I’ll do that, mate. I will.” He turned to Sarah and Sam. “Now – go!”

  Sam pulled Sarah upright. He stepped towards Ted. Sarah slid in front of him.

  “No, Dad. I came here to find out the truth.”

  “Oh, fucking Christ. The truth about what, exactly?”

  “About Martin.”

  She felt his fingers brush her cheek as he made to slap her. Had it been a warning, or had he genuinely missed?

  “Come on,” said Sam. “I’ll take you to my place.”

  “No. I need to find out if Martin really killed those people. I think Bill knows.”

  She felt another bite at her cheek, harder this time. Her father had caught her with the back of his hand. She resisted an urge to put her fingers to it.

  “Forget your obsession with that snivelling turd. Get home.”

  Sam stepped between them. “You shouldn’t have hit her, Mr Evans.”

  “You shouldn’t have hit her, Mr Evans. Oh, listen to yourself. No wonder my wife loves you.”

  “He’s right,” said Bill. “You need to calm down.”

  “And who’s going to stop me?”

  “We are.”

  Sarah looked past her father to see Zack standing in the doorway. Jess was behind him.

  “When I found my key missing, I guessed you were up to something, little brother.”

  “Not so much of the little.”

  “Ten minutes. It counts.”

  Sarah felt Sam slump beside her. All the fight had gone out of him. She wondered what Martin would do in this situation.

  She knew what he’d do.

  “You can’t treat people like this, Dad. Bill’s right.”

  “And how the fuck should you know?”

  “Ted, please.” Jess stepped around Zack. “Ruth’s back. I need to deal with the police. Can all this wait until morning?”

  The room went dark as the headlights outside were extinguished. Sarah felt hands at her side, grabbing her. She couldn’t be sure who it was, but she dipped and sidestepped out of the way.

  Then there was a voice in her ear. Bill.

  “Come with me. I’ll tell you everything.”

  He grabbed her hand. Together they ploughed through the confused bodies and ran out into the road.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Martin lay on the bench in his cell, staring at the ceiling. He would appear before the magistrates tomorrow, first thing, pleading Not Guilty. He didn’t care what his solicitor said.

  He ran through the months after the floods in his mind, trying to remember exactly when he’d met Robert. When he’d come across those boys. He hadn’t killed them, but he wished he’d had the courage to do so.

  He’d been walking for six weeks, maybe more. Winter was starting to turn into spring. He remembered snowdrops flowering alongside the road, a few daffodils emerging. The rain beat down on his shoulders some days, tiring him out. But it was better than the storms two months earlier. He’d spent days sheltering in old farm buildings, hiding out. He knew there were others on the road, people like him. But he heard shouts some nights, and screams. He kept himself to himself.

  The last date he remembered was February 16th, when he’d broken into an empty supermarket, water up to his ankles, and stolen some food. There’d been a clock on the wall, one of the old-fashioned kind. It showed the time and the date, and had been ticking away unseen for weeks. 16th February. Two days before he’d been beaten up, and met Robert.

  It fitted with what the solicitor told him.

  His prints were on the knife. He’d been in the area at the time of the boys’ deaths. Hell, that supermarket may even have had cameras.

  And he didn’t know which of Robert’s men had killed the boys.

  He had no chance.

  It wasn’t him who’d killed them, and it wasn’t Robert. Robert had been in front of him the whole time, watching his face for a reaction as the boys had screamed.

  But who?

  There was only one person who knew, and Martin had a feeling he should be here in his place.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Sarah stumbled out of the door, Bill dragging her along.

  “Sam!” she cried.

  “Here!”

  “Come with us!”

  She heard movement behind her; Sam pushing his way through the crowd.

  “Oi, stop it.”

  She stopped, pulling Bill back with her. Sam was squaring up to his brother.

  “No, Sam. This isn’t your business.”

  “It isn’t yours either.”

  Zack shrugged.

  “Sarah needs me.”

  Zack shook his head as if marvelling at his brother’s naivety. “Go on then.”

  She turned and jiggled Bill’s arm, willing him to run. As she started to move, a foot flew out in front of her, sending her crashing to the ground.

  “No, girl.”

  “Dad, please.”

  “He’s right,” said Jess. She pushed past Sam and Zack, Zack’s eyes on her. “Bill needs to talk to the police. For Ruth’s sake. If he knows something…”

  “The bastard’s gone,” said Ted.

  Sarah realised that her hand was empty. Bill, already out of the door when they’d stopped, had taken the opportunity to slip away.

  “Bill!” she called. “Come back!”

  He didn’t know his way around the village and could have run towards the cliff edge. She turned back to Jess.

  “We’ll have to look for him in the morning,” Jess said. “No point in this dark.”

  “We can get torches,” said Ted.

  “You have a bright enough torch to search the entire village?” said Jess.

  “No.”

  “Exactly. And we don’t want everyone waking up wondering what the hell’s going on. I need to see Ruth.”

  “Is she alright?” asked Sarah.

  Jess eyed her. Despite her air of command, she had dark circles under her eyes, and her thick hair was matted.

  “She will be. No thanks to Martin.”

  “He was protecting me.”

  “I don’t care what he was doing. He brought trouble to this village, and we shouldn’t have let him come back with us.”

  “But you said—”

  “I don’t care what I said. I was wrong.”

  Ted was smiling, vindicated. “Go home, lass. I’ll deal with you in the morning.”

  “I want to know what�
�s going on.”

  “It’s alright,” said Jess. “I suggest you go home. Your mum will be worrying about you.” She turned to Sam. “Sam, can you walk her home?”

  Sam nodded and smiled at Sarah. She felt herself slump. Everyone was against her. Ted was glaring at her, anger dancing on his face, and Jess clearly thought she was an idiot. Only Sam was on her side now.

  “Alright,” she said, and stepped outside with Sam.

  The police car was still parked in the road, between the village hall and her house. Candles were lit in Ruth and Ben’s house, flickering in a window. She wondered what sort of reconciliation they’d have; she’d seen the look on Ruth’s face when she’d learned the truth about Ben and Robert. It had been all for Ben that this had happened; Robert’s desire for revenge after Ben betrayed him so many years ago. Robert had killed a man, but he’d managed to convince himself it was all Ben’s fault, just because he’d talked to the police. Now Robert was dead, and Ruth, of all people, was facing prison.

  “Come on,” said Sam. He laid a hand on her shoulder and she didn’t shrug it away. Sam was a good man, like her mother said. He’d stood up to Ted.

  They arrived at her house. Dawn would be inside, waiting. Was she sitting in the upstairs window as she often did, watching for her family?

  “Thanks, Sam.” She gave him a hug.

  Clumsily, he pushed his face into hers and kissed her lips. It was a dry kiss, a cold one. She kissed him back. They stood there for a moment, kissing with closed mouths. She could feel his arousal.

  She waited for her own heart rate to rise, for her skin to tingle. It didn’t. She slid her face to one side, letting him kiss her neck, and looked up at the window.

  Is this what you wanted, Mum?

  She pulled away. “Thanks Sam.” She smiled at him, feeling guilty.

  He grinned. His face was flushed and his breathing heavy. She hated herself.

  She turned and put her key in the lock, preparing to creep inside.

  She closed the door behind her.

  “So you’ve seen sense.”

  She started. “Mum?” She searched the dark rooms, her heart racing at last.

  “In here.” Her mother was in the kitchen, leaning against the cupboards.

  “You saw us.”

  “You’ve made that boy very happy.”

  “I don’t love him, Mum.”

  “Who said anything about love?”

  “I did. That was the chastest, most unsatisfying kiss I’ve ever had.”

  Her mother pushed herself forward so she was standing straight. Sarah approached her, hoping she would understand.

  “And you’ve had plenty of unchaste kisses, have you?”

  She felt her skin flush, her fingers tingle. She could almost feel Martin’s breath on her, his skin brushing hers. She closed her eyes.

  Her mother was right in front of her when she opened them. “You little whore!” she screamed. “Get to your room!” Dawn crossed herself. “Dear God forgive me for raising such a sinful child.”

  “Mum, it’s not sinful. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You can shut up!” Dawn pushed her. Sarah stood her ground.

  “Up! Now!”

  She stared back at her mother. “Fair enough.”

  She backed away, reaching behind her in the darkness. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, the coats hanging behind her. She had to be quick.

  Dawn stayed where she was, a dark shadow in the dimly lit kitchen. “I said go! I can’t look at you, you slut.”

  She moved her hands across the coats. Her own was woollen, and rough. Dawn’s was made of a smooth manmade fabric. Her hand landed on it and she fumbled for the pocket. The key to her bedroom window might still be inside.

  There.

  But she’d had enough of stealth, of sneaking out of her room.

  She turned for the door. She opened it, not stopping to look at her mother.

  “What are you doing?”

  She slammed the door behind her and ran out into the night.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  She leaned against the house wall, her chest rising and falling. Where to? The adrenaline was pumping through her veins, clogging her thoughts.

  She could see shapes moving around in the dark ahead of her, hear voices. She squinted. People never came out at night here. It was too dark. What was happening.

  She heard someone knocking at a door, followed by voices. She took a few steps forward, straining to hear.

  “One of the men is here. The men what did the kidnappings. We’re going to get ‘im.”

  She put a hand to her chest. Her father. He was waking the villagers, assembling a mob.

  She heard a door close and heard footsteps on the square. She shrank into the wall, her mind racing.

  More knocks, more voices. She heard Harry’s voice; her father had help.

  She felt a hand on her arm, and almost screamed. She turned, expecting her father.

  “Sam! What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask the same of you. Why are you creeping around your own house?”

  “I had to get away from my mum. And my dad. He’s waking everyone up.”

  “I know.”

  She nodded. “Why are you here?”

  “I came to tell you. I know where he is.”

  “Martin?”

  His brow creased. “No. Bill.”

  “Where?”

  “Come with me.”

  Sam pulled Sarah round the back of the house.

  “Your mum’s in there?” he asked her.

  She thought of her mother, glaring at her. Little whore.

  “Yes.”

  “Run, then!”

  They ran across the grass at the back of the house. Sarah’s chest felt tight and her skin tingled. She expected her mother to open the back doors at any moment, to call her in.

  No one appeared.

  They carried on running, past Sanjeev’s house, Colin and Sheila’s, then Ben and Ruth’s, until they reached the end of the row of houses. Beyond it was a high fence, and a field. Beyond it the sky was lightening a little; was it almost morning already?

  She stared at it. “We can’t climb that.”

  “I’ll give you a leg up.” He pushed her towards the fence and bent down, his fingers entwined.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “I want to help you.”

  She placed a foot in his hands. They gave but then stiffened.

  “I don’t get it,” she said. He was helping her to find out the truth about Martin, so she could decide whether she trusted him or not.

  Of course. Sam expected that the truth would pull her towards him.

  She looked at the top of his head, stabbed by sympathy. He didn’t deserve this. She pushed down and let him haul her up. She grabbed the fence and scrambled over, tumbling to the ground on the other side.

  “Grab my hands,” he said. His fingers appeared, gripping the fence. She grabbed them.

  He lifted himself up so his face was visible. He was grinning and his eyes were sparkling. He shifted his weight forwards and onto the fence. She leaned back and pulled.

  “Careful!” he cried. She kept hold but stopped leaning, letting him shift his weight himself. He was soon over and standing next to her, brushing down his already mud-crusted trousers and smiling triumphantly.

  “He’s in the shed. On the allotments.”

  “The same place that…”

  “Yeah. I hid him there.”

  “Wow.” Was there no end to what Sam would do to end all this? “Is he alright in there? Is he angry with you?”

  “Why would he be angry with me?”

  “Because you locked him in. Didn’t you?”

  “No. He didn’t want to go anywhere. He wants to stay here, Sarah. He doesn’t know that we won’t let him, but he’s not going anywhere, not yet.”

  She heard a commotion to her right. Behind the field, back in the village, there was
shouting. Two men. Was that her father?

  “Quick,” she said.

  They ran across the field, keeping low, until they came to the edge of the allotments. They sank to the ground and surveyed the area. There was no one around, but people arrived early here. They would have to take care.

  She heard voices to the left. Men shouting. She grabbed Sam’s wrist.

  “My dad. He’s been knocking on doors. He’s on the warpath.”

  “I know.”

  Two shapes approached across the rutted ground, their breathing heavy. Sarah and Sam shrank to the ground, their faces turned away.

  The men passed, running towards the centre of the village. Sarah lifted her face from the soil and stared at Sam.

  “Quick,” she said. She lifted herself up to a crouch and made her way across the open space, glancing towards the village as she moved. It was difficult to run and stay low but at last she was at the shed.

  She knocked on the wall of the shed. No answer.

  “Bill!” she hissed. “Bill, its me! Sarah.”

  “And Sam.” Sam fell to the ground next to her, breathing heavily. His bulk landing against the shed made it rattle.

  Still no reply. She stared at Sam. “Are you sure he’s still here?”

  Sam shrugged.

  She looked towards the village again and went to the shed door, which faced the village. She was vulnerable here but she had no choice.

  She tugged on the handle. It didn’t budge.

  “Bill! Let us in. We’re alone.”

  “There’s no one watching you?”

  She felt her chest empty at the relief of hearing him.

  “Positive. Let us in, before someone comes.”

  He opened the door. His face was streaked with dirt and his hair stood up in clumps. He’d cleared a space amongst the tools and junk, and looked like he’d tried to sleep.

  “Sam says you can tell me the truth,” she said.

  Sam pulled the door closed and sat next to it, his hand on the doorknob.

  Bill looked sheepish. “Yeah.”

  “Go on then.”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “I just want to know. Who are Cripps and Ali? And did Martin kill them?”