Almost Lost

by Ophelia Night

  “I didn’t think the police would do an effective enough job. That’s why I bailed you out. Because I knew I could.”

  She tapped her coat pocket.

  “That information was very detailed, and should hold up in a court of law. Especially the mention of the memory loss, a very helpful addition. Along with my testimony, which will fill the gaps in your story, it should be more than enough to get you convicted.”

  Cassie stared at her in horror. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t utter anything in her own defense. She was completely blindsided by what Trish had just done.

  “By the way,” Trish continued, “as you know, the money in this home is mine. So the diamond necklace belongs to me. I’m sure it will play a part in the evidence. As you said, diamonds are forever—supposedly.”

  “Why?” Cassie got out in a breathy, terrified voice, but Trish continued.

  “Now, let me explain what’s going to happen next.”

  Next? Cassie blinked hard. There was a next? She braced herself for what it would be, because she hadn’t thought there could be a bigger nightmare than she was in now.

  “I will be out most of tomorrow, making the funeral arrangements and getting my nails done. The children are still off school and are going to visit their aunt again in the morning, but I will need you to look after them in the afternoon. Then when I come back, you will pack your things and go.”

  “What?” Cassie’s voice was high and shrill. Her mind reeled at what Trish was ordering her to do.

  “Trish, I can’t leave. My bail conditions don’t allow it. I have to stay in the house. Or go out with an adult. That’s what the police told me. I mean, I signed for it and everything.”

  She stared at Trish pleadingly, but Trish returned her gaze, icily composed.

  “That’s your problem, not mine. You will leave soon as I get back. No negotiation, no second chances. If you refuse to go, I’ll turn the tape over to the police. So you have the choice. You’re with me, or you’re against me.”

  She smiled at Cassie, and Cassie knew she’d never seen such an evil expression on the face of any human being.

  She saw exactly what was happening here. Trish would hand the tape in regardless. And those recorded words, together with the fact Cassie had broken her bail conditions and fled the home, would hammer the final nails into the coffin of her guilt.

  Trish stood up and collected the wine bottle and the glasses.

  She glanced down at the shards by Cassie’s feet.

  “Sweep that up before you lock up for the night, will you?” she said. “And leave that necklace outside my bedroom door.”

  She turned and walked inside.

  Cassie felt a stinging pain in her palm and realized it was wet with blood.

  She’d thought it was just a scratch, but a fragment of glass had speared her skin.

  Carefully she drew the bloodied shard out, aware that the sobbing of her own breath was the only sound on the quiet verandah.

  She made her faltering way to the kitchen, feeling as if she was on automatic pilot as she rinsed the blood off her hand in the sink. Her mind felt bludgeoned by what had just happened and she felt sick with self-blame, because if she’d been thinking more clearly, she could have avoided it.

  Blindly, she had trusted Trish, and now she would pay the price for the rest of her life.

  Cassie swept up the glittering slivers of glass and tipped them into the kitchen bin and as they fell, she started to sob. Her legs gave out from under her and she sprawled onto the floor, unable to move, horrified at the calculated evil Trish had shown, and how she’d used Cassie’s desperation to achieve her own ends.

  She didn’t know how long she’d spent in a puddle of tears on the floor before she heard a footfall behind her.

  Clumsily she turned.

  It was Dylan.

  He looked down at her and his face registered mild surprise.

  “You OK? I thought I heard something,” he whispered.

  Cassie struggled to her feet. She was very clearly not OK and there would be no fooling Dylan. Her face felt swollen from crying and her eyes were puffy. The cut on her palm had bled and dried again, leaving a rusty residue. She was sure her face was sheet-white.

  “You want some tea?” he asked awkwardly, and that made her start crying all over again.

  “I think you should have some tea,” he said.

  Dylan put the kettle on and for a while the sound of it boiling was the only noise in the room.

  “Sweet tea for shock,” he said. “We learned it in class. You look shocked.”

  He added two teaspoons of sugar to the cup.

  “Is my bitch of a mother harassing you?” he asked in a low voice, sitting down at the table opposite her.

  Cassie stared at him, appalled by his choice of words, and also the conversational way he’d said them.

  What could she say back to this strange, sociopathic, twelve-year-old boy who had been at the top of her suspects list until tonight?

  She gave the tiniest nod.

  Dylan grimaced.

  “Dad was cool. He had his issues, but he was a cool guy. I’m sorry he died. Mum is something different.”

  Cassie’s stomach twisted with fear.

  “You think so?” she whispered.

  Asking the question felt like a betrayal, but at the same time, Cassie was comforted that somebody close to Trish could say such a thing.

  “She’s mad in the head,” Dylan confided.

  “Why do you say that?” Cassie could hardly breathe as she whispered the question.

  “Well, look at Benjamin Bunny.”

  Cassie blinked. She hadn’t expected Dylan to bring up that topic. She didn’t want to think about it. He’d admitted to killing his own pet. What did his mother have to do with that?

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “I adopted him. Friends were moving, Benjy had nowhere else to go. Nobody wants rabbits, they’re not popular pets anymore. I researched it. All he was going to do was stay in a cage in my room. He’d be no harm to anyone. But she freaked out.”

  In a high whisper, he mimicked her.

  “What have you done, Dylan? You know I’m allergic to fur. I won’t have a furry animal living in this house. I’m the main breadwinner, I pay the bills. This is my home and my rules and I say the rabbit goes.”

  “And then?” Cassie asked, fascinated and appalled by the story.

  “Before she left on her recent trip, she told me that if Benjamin was home when she got back, she’d poison him. She would have done it, too.”

  “No!” Cassie breathed, as the implications of what Dylan was saying hit home.

  Dylan nodded.

  “I thought of letting him go free, but tame rabbits can’t survive in the wild, especially older ones. I looked it up.”

  His face hardened.

  “So I broke his neck. I found out how to do it online. It was painless and he died immediately. He didn’t know a thing. It was better that way.”

  Cassie stared at him, gutted by what he’d just shared with her.

  Her hands had steadied enough for her to drink some of the sweet, milky tea and Dylan nodded in approval.

  “I’m so sorry about Benjamin,” she said.

  Dylan shrugged.

  “I had to choose,” he said unemotionally. “But that’s what she’s like. Unreasonable. And it’s all about her, her, her. If you go against her, she torments you. She wouldn’t let Maddie do acting. She banned her from doing the school play and said she couldn’t take part unless she was top of the class in math.”

  Dylan laughed scornfully.

  “Maddie would never be even halfway to the top. Then she told Maddie she couldn’t be the drama club captain or even in the club. She wants a daughter who excels academically. That’s Maddie’s role and she’ll force her into it. That’s how she is.”

  “Oh, no,” Cassie breathed. This revelation explained so much about Madison’s behavior. Th
at wasn’t mothering, that was forcing your own demented agenda onto your children.

  Cassie had a new image of Trish now, a darker one.

  She was a woman who wouldn’t see reason or brook any argument.

  And she wasn’t normal. In fact, she was the furthest thing from it.

  “Thank you for coming to find me,” she told Dylan. “You’ve helped me a lot. We should go to bed now. It’s getting very late.”

  “OK.” Dylan stood up, stretched, and yawned.

  “See you in the morning.”

  He turned and walked quietly back down the hall.

  Cassie turned off the light and made sure the outside door was locked. She took the diamond necklace from her suitcase and placed it outside Trish’s door. Let her have it. With all the lies and misery surrounding it she didn’t want it.

  Then she headed to bed, but once there, her panic returned.

  Dylan’s sympathy had been comforting, but it couldn’t help her out of her predicament. The taped confession had sealed her fate. She marveled at Trish’s cunning in obtaining it from her before forcing her to flee the house.

  The police would track her down in no time. There was no way she would be able to hide, and without a passport, she couldn’t leave.

  The best idea might be to go straight to the police station and turn herself in. Perhaps the sympathetic constable would be there—but she remembered, again, the hard, uncompromising face of Detective Parker, and the way he’d looked at her as if she was already a criminal.

  She remembered the hardness of the bed in the jail cell, with its scratchy blue blanket, and the chemical stink of the metal toilet, and the harsh fluorescent light of the cell that had burned itself into her vision.

  That was where she’d be again, and who knew for how long?

  She had no money for a defense and guessed she would be allocated an overworked public defendant. Meanwhile, Trish would be mustering her resources to ensure that her version was believed.

  Cassie wondered what she would do if she was a judge.

  Whose testimony would carry more weight—that of the wealthy, highly qualified career woman who was a pillar of local society? Or that of the traveler who was working illegally, had confessed her desire to kill Ryan Ellis, and despite her cocktail of anxiety meds, suffered from nightmares, sleepwalking, and memory loss.

  It was a no-brainer.

  The situation was hopeless.

  As Cassie tossed and turned on her bed, trying her best to banish her thoughts for long enough to get some rest, one fact became crystal clear to her.

  Trish Ellis had killed her husband.

  It was the only way her actions this evening could be explained, and Dylan had confirmed that this was who she was.

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  Cassie was driving out of the village, heading down a dark and empty road. Rain spattered on the windscreen, and the wipers sluiced it away.

  “I’m not supposed to be here,” she said, as fear uncoiled inside her. “My bail conditions don’t allow it. I’m out of the village and I’m all alone.”

  “You’re not alone.”

  Cassie looked at the person sitting in the passenger seat. She hadn’t known anyone was there, but when she turned her head, she saw her sister, Jacqui.

  Jacqui was dressed as if she was going to a fancy dinner. Her hair was curled, held back by a crystal-studded pin, and her dress and jacket looked smart and new.

  “I came into some money,” she said. “I can help you.”

  “How?” Cassie asked, because she knew it was impossible. Jacqui couldn’t possibly have a steady job, and in any case, money couldn’t buy her way out of this predicament. She was in deep trouble, and it was getting worse with every mile that passed.

  “We need to turn back,” Cassie said.

  “No. Stop.”

  They got out of the car and walked to the edge of the cliff. Far away, across the ocean, she saw twinkling lights. If she could get there, she would be free, but it seemed so far away.

  “Have some wine.”

  Jacqui passed her a glass of red wine and Cassie lifted it to her lips, but as she was about to drink, she realized that the wine was poisoned. There was a greenish tinge on the surface of the deep red liquid and she could see it was starting to eat away at the glass, leaving it pitted and discolored.

  “No!” she screamed. “We can’t!”

  But Jacqui had already drained her glass, and she lurched toward Cassie.

  “You can,” she hissed. “You must!”

  Her face was changing, hardening, growing pale, and Cassie realized she’d been wrong. It wasn’t her sister at all. She was trapped now, and with her back to the cliff, there was nowhere she could go.

  The person stumbling toward her with a gray, bloated face and outstretched arms was Ryan Ellis.

  *

  Cassie sat up in bed, breathing rapidly. She was drenched in sweat. More nightmares. Laced with poison, they all started with her breaking her bail conditions and ended with the vision of Ryan’s corpse.

  She had barely slept. Checking the time, she saw it was seven in the morning. Finally, she could get up, but she dreaded what the day would bring.

  When she went to the children’s rooms she found that Dylan, for once, was still drowsy and she guessed their late-night conversation had tired him out.

  Madison was huddled in bed, in floods of tears.

  “I miss my dad,” she said over and over. She clung to the duvet and it took all of Cassie’s patience and persuasion to get her up and dressed.

  While she was busy with Madison, she heard the click of Trish’s heels on the wooden floor outside, and felt sick with fear as she remembered her threats.

  During her long, desperate, and mostly sleepless night, Cassie had considered every alternative, including breaking down in front of the children, pleading innocence, and begging Trish for clemency.

  Even though it was her only hope, she was sure Trish would already have anticipated this and thought of a way to counter it.

  To Cassie’s relief, Trish just tapped on the door and called out a cheery “Goodbye, Maddie” before heading outside.

  Only now had Cassie started to notice how little affection she showed the children. She hadn’t even bothered to come in, give Madison a proper hug, or comfort her. For all his faults, Ryan had been the backbone of the family. He’d been the one who showed them love, and now he was gone and they were left with her.

  Cassie could understand exactly why Madison was behaving this way.

  “Come on, Madison,” she cajoled. “It’s breakfast time, and you need to eat something before your aunt picks you up. Can I make you a pancake? A bacon sandwich? Toad in the hole?”

  “Toad in the hole is supper,” Madison sniffed. “Can I have a bacon sandwich, please?”

  Cassie hurried to prepare it. The children had only just finished eating when she heard a car’s horn outside.

  She hadn’t met their aunt yet. Heading to the front door while the children got their coats, she remembered that she needed to adhere to the letter of her bail conditions. If she put a foot outside the house, she would be breaking them, and she was sure the aunt knew this.

  Never mind just the aunt. This was a small village where everyone would know everyone else’s business soon after the fact. Cassie had no doubt that there were eyes watching her.

  She opened the door.

  The aunt, Ryan’s sister, was a pleasant-looking woman with curly blonde hair, who looked to be a few years older than Ryan.

  “Good morning,” Cassie greeted her.

  “Hello, I’m Nadine. Are the children ready?”

  “They’re just getting their coats. I’m so sorry for your loss,” Cassie said in a low voice.

  Nadine didn’t shake her hand and barely looked her in the eye.

  Cassie could feel disapproval—no, antipathy—radiating from her. She guessed that everyone in the village already knew and believed Trish’s version
.

  “The children will be back at one,” she said.

  Madison trailed to the front door, still tearful, but Cassie was encouraged to see that Nadine embraced her in a huge, comforting hug and seemed genuinely concerned and loving.

  Dylan followed close behind and also brightened when he saw his aunt.

  “Hello, Aunty N. Can we go past the cycling shop on our way?”

  “Of course, love. We can spend some time in there if you like.”

  Without another word to Cassie, she turned and walked with the children to the car.

  Cassie closed the front door and made sure it was locked. Remembering that Trish had warned her about the possibility of journalists arriving, she closed the curtains in the family room and her bedroom, so that nobody could photograph her inside the house.

  She felt increasingly desperate as she thought about the day ahead.

  Trish had committed this crime. Cassie was being forced to take the blame. But maybe, somehow, she could uncover something that would prove her innocence.

  After all, she had a few hours on her own now.

  Trish might have hidden the Dictaphone somewhere. If Cassie could find it and destroy it, that would be first prize.

  Cassie began a methodical search of the house.

  She tidied the kitchen and went through every cupboard. She checked the laundry room and hunted through the garage, rummaging in every box and container on the shelves.

  She searched through the family room and checked the children’s rooms carefully.

  She found nothing, and although she’d tried to prepare herself for the fact that nothing would be uncovered, she couldn’t help feeling increasingly desperate.

  There was one last place to look—the master bedroom.

  At that moment, Cassie heard a knock on the front door.

  Her heart accelerated, thinking that Trish might be back early and she would be forced to abandon her search before checking the most likely hiding place.

  Then common sense returned. Trish wouldn’t knock; she had a key.

  This could be a journalist though.

  Cassie opened the door a crack and peered suspiciously through it.