The Shape of Lies: New from the queen of psychological thrillers

by Rachel Abbott

  ‘Let’s get you out of the mortuary at least,’ Tom said, lifting an arm as if to guide her from the room. They made their way outside into the fresh air. ‘I do understand your children need to know as soon as possible, but we won’t be releasing any information to the press just yet.’

  ‘Why’s that? Do you think Cameron killed that guy?’ She shook her head. ‘Not a chance. He doesn’t do his own dirty work – he’d have got Jagger to do it for him.’

  ‘Jagger?’ Tom asked.

  ‘His minder, hard man, all-round bastard.’ She almost spat out the last word.

  Tom already had concerns about Cameron Edmunds’ apparent wealth and lifestyle in view of his lack of income, but hearing that he had a minder only increased his suspicions.

  ‘We don’t know what happened, Mrs Edmunds, but if your husband was the target and it becomes known that he wasn’t the victim, he may be in danger. It changes the nature of our investigation, and that’s why I need to ask you to neither confirm nor deny that the dead man is your husband to anyone beyond your immediate family – especially not to a journalist.’

  She nodded. ‘Okay, I get that. Although it’s tempting to give the killer a chance at another shot at him.’

  The bitterness in her voice couldn’t be missed, but Tom chose to ignore it.

  ‘Do you have any idea where he might be?’

  Dawn slowly shook her head. ‘It must be obvious that we’re not exactly a close and loving couple. He tells me nothing, and I don’t ask.’

  He felt sad for this woman, who – on the face of it – had an enviable lifestyle. But he bet she would swap it all to be with someone who cared about her.

  ‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to search your house. We need to find your husband, and there may be something that tells us where he is. Rather than ask you to come back with us now, I’ll let you get home to the children. We’ll arrange transport for you and a team will be with you very soon. They’ll explain the search process in more detail and I’ll follow within the hour. We can talk then. Is that okay?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Dawn answered, a frown between her eyebrows. ‘If Cameron finds out I’ve let you in…’

  ‘You’re not “letting us in” – we’ll have a search warrant, and I’m sure he’ll understand.’

  She lifted wide eyes to Tom’s and gave a small shake of her head.

  20

  I can hardly see the road as I crawl along the motorway, which is crazy with early-evening traffic. Every time I wipe away the tears of anger and self-disgust they return to blind me.

  I’m frantic with worry for Holly. How could I not have been there for her when she needed me? Whenever I try to convince myself that, as a working mother, I could have been even further away – on a course or in some meeting where I couldn’t be reached – I let in the other fear and I make bargain after bargain with myself. If Holly is okay, I’ll tell Dom everything. Or If Holly’s okay, I’ll go to the police and tell them how I know Cameron.

  I called Dominic as soon as I could, when I was about an hour away. He said she’ll be fine, but despite my begging for more, he was sparing with detail. It felt as if he was punishing me.

  Finally I arrive at the hospital and race through the automatic doors into the Accident and Emergency Department, spinning round and round, trying to spot Dominic. He is sitting in a corner, clutching a plastic beaker of something that looks vaguely like tea in hands hanging low between his knees. His trainers are covered in blood and his head is bowed. I feel a thump of fear.

  ‘Dom,’ I shout, running towards him. ‘Where’s Holly? Is she okay?’

  Dominic raises his head slowly. ‘Where the hell have you been? It’s hours since I called you.’

  He never questions me, always trusting me to do my best. His tone speaks volumes about his disappointment in me, and that hurts, even though maybe it’s justified. I sit down heavily and reach for his hand, but he pulls it away.

  ‘I’ll explain later,’ I say. ‘Just tell me how Holly is and what happened.’

  Dominic shakes his head. ‘She’s okay. She’s had a head CT because she passed out. But they think it was the sight of the blood that made her faint, so they’re waiting for the doctor to sign her off and we can take her home. She’s already been stitched.’

  His voice is low and controlled, and for the first time I can remember I realise Dom is angry. With me.

  ‘Can I see her?’

  ‘She’s asleep. She exhausted herself, mainly by crying for you. The nurse said she’d call me when Holly wakes up.’

  ‘What happened, Dom? How did she get hurt?’

  Dominic stands up and walks over to the bin to throw away his tea. He has his back to me, and I feel a beat of unease, as if the solid foundations of my marriage are shaking. Whatever else is wrong in my life, he and the children are the rock I have been clinging to, the part of my life that makes sense. They are the reason I do what I do. Everything is for them.

  ‘She was playing in the garden with Bailey,’ he says finally. ‘I was in the house. I heard her scream and I ran to the window. She was running away from the hedge – the back hedge where it borders the golf course. She ran into the old store where I keep my tools. I’ve no idea how she got in – the door’s always locked. But she did. She tripped and fell on a chisel that was lying on the floor, cutting her leg and hitting her head on the workbench. I don’t understand that either, because I always put my tools away.’

  I feel sick. My poor baby.

  Just then a nurse walks towards us. ‘Mr Franklyn, your little girl is waking up. Do you want to come back in?’

  Dominic turns towards the nurse. ‘Yes, I’ll be right there.’

  I stand up.

  ‘No, Anna. Stay here. We haven’t worked out an excuse for you taking so long to get to her, and until we do I don’t want her upset any more than she already is.’

  I grab his arm as he starts to walk away. ‘No way, Dominic. Whatever you’re blaming me for, Holly is my child too.’

  I push past him and follow the nurse.

  Holly is drowsy, and I lean down to kiss her, whispering that I’m here, she’s safe, I love her. The doctor says she’s going to be fine, and there is nothing to worry about, but nevertheless my chest is tight with guilt and I can’t shake it.

  Dominic’s disappointment is almost as hard to bear as Holly’s pain. From the start of our relationship he has been unequivocal about the importance of truth, and yet I’m going to have to lie to him about where I was this afternoon. He has such a strong sense of right and wrong, and it was this steadfastness that attracted me to him. He is unwavering in his belief that family has to come before everything, and I understand why he feels like that.

  As I sit by my daughter’s bed, stroking her hand, I think about the time I met Dom nine years ago. After Scott I had always believed I would neither find nor want anyone else. I was certain I would never again experience the exhilaration and euphoria of being in love – the racing heart, the trembling, the loss of appetite. But was that what I wanted? Did I want to suffer the anxiety, panic and feelings of despair when things went wrong? I had begun to realise that perhaps I needed a love that was gentler, easier to live with, maybe even predictable.

  After my first year at university and that summer in Nebraska, I didn’t go back to Manchester, switching instead to Lancaster University, which was nearer home. My mother was happy, if no one else was. I muddled through somehow, my body aching for all I had lost, comforted by the warmth and security of my childhood home. On the side of a hill overlooking Derwent Water, the tiny cottage my parents had restored stone by stone in the long years before I came along kept me safe while my battered heart healed.

  When I finally forced myself to break free, it was to teach in a school in north Lancashire. Working with the sweet children, I recovered some of my confidence, and when a tall young man called Dominic Franklyn came over from the local secondary school once a week to teach drama, I felt stirr
ings of interest in a man for the first time in years. I was comfortable around him from the start. The word that described him best was ‘unthreatening’. He seemed kind, level-headed and thoughtful, and whenever he was around I felt calm.

  We became lovers, and it wasn’t long before I realised he wanted more. And perhaps, at last, so did I. I knew, though, that if I wanted Dom to be a permanent part of my life, there was one thing I was going to have to tell him, sooner rather than later. I didn’t want to lose him, but the longer I kept my secret the more difficult it would become. The moments after we made love were always the most precious to me, when we lay face to face in semi-darkness, noses almost touching, legs entangled, baring our souls and allowing each other to get as close mentally as we had been physically. I chose my moment well. I knew he was in love with me and he deserved my honesty.

  ‘Dom, there’s something I need to tell you,’ I said, my voice low and gentle.

  Dominic put his finger on my lips. ‘Me first.’

  That’s when he told me about his childhood: about how his mother had walked out on him when he was two years old, and how his father had struggled alone to bring up both him and his four-year-old sister.

  ‘I can’t tell you how it felt – how it still feels, ridiculous as that sounds,’ he said. ‘I spent most of my childhood wondering what was the matter with me – what I had done to drive her away when all I wanted was to be loved. My father was shocked when she left, but it wasn’t until I was an adult that he explained to me what had happened.’

  I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him as close as I could while he talked.

  ‘My father was a man who believed in trusting the people you love. He trusted my mother and never questioned her, but it turned out she had a vice, one he knew nothing about.’ Dominic paused, and I could tell he was finding it hard to tell me. ‘My mother, it seems, liked having sex with strangers. When my dad found out it nearly killed him. He told her she either had to stop or get out. She chose the latter and I’ve never forgiven her. What sort of a person does that – thinks her kicks are more important than her children?’

  There was no answer that I could give. But Dominic hadn’t finished.

  ‘I’d love us to have children one day, Anna, but only if I can be sure your values are the same as mine. I don’t want any secrets between us. I couldn’t stand that because I don’t want to end up like my dad. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my family safe, but I have to be sure my wife feels the same way, that I can trust her.’ He paused for a moment and lifted one hand to stroke the back of my head where it lay next to his on the pillow.

  I knew that this whole speech was his way of proposing – I was sure that for him it would be marriage or nothing – and for a moment I was silent.

  ‘Have I said too much?’ he asked. ‘I had to tell you how I feel before things go any further because this is one area in which I can’t compromise. My mother lied and cheated, then walked away from her children without a backward glance. That must never happen to a child of mine.’

  I remember feeling the tension in his body as he willed me to say what he wanted to hear. Finally, perhaps sensing that I was struggling, Dominic broke a silence that had lasted too long. ‘What were you going to tell me?’

  I knew that if Dominic and I were to have children together, there was one thing he would be almost certain to find out. He would know that his child wouldn’t be my first.

  ‘I had a baby, Dom. When I was nineteen. It wasn’t planned, but I never considered a termination even though I was at university at the time.’

  He pulled his head back and looked at me. ‘What happened to him, or her?’ he asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

  I dropped my head to rest on his shoulder. I didn’t want him to see my eyes. ‘It was a boy. He was stillborn.’

  ‘Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry,’ he said, pulling me closer. ‘What about the child’s father?’

  ‘He was called Scott. I loved him, but he died too.’ A sob shook my body as I remembered Scott’s last moments, and I cried then as I hadn’t done for years. Dominic held me tightly until the tears dried up. Then I asked him not to mention it again, and he never has.

  Now here we are, waiting to find out if our first-born child is going to be okay, and I have let him down. I had allowed something to take priority over our children, and I can’t tell him what it was.

  I wipe a tear from my cheek and look up. Dominic is watching me, and his face softens. He walks around the bed, holds out a hand to pull me from my chair and slips his arm around my shoulders. It feels as if it weighs a ton.

  One lie, so long ago. I didn’t think it mattered; he never needed to know the truth. But once I lied about that, I had to lie about everything else, and if I don’t find Scott and stop him, everything I have done will have been for nothing. Because I know it is the one lie that Dominic will never forgive.

  21

  Then

  I didn’t sleep a wink the night the charity money went missing. I knew by then where it had gone, but I had no idea what I was going to do about it.

  ‘I borrowed it,’ Scott had finally admitted. ‘That’s all. Just a loan. I’m sorry, Anna. I know I should have asked you first, but I thought I would be able to put it back before you noticed, and then it wouldn’t matter.’

  I shook my head. ‘But it would matter. You took something that wasn’t yours, or even mine.’

  He had hung his head even lower – knowing, I’m sure, that I wasn’t going to be persuaded that this was acceptable.

  ‘When can you get it back?’

  ‘Tomorrow. Honestly, just trust me. Okay?’

  I wanted to. More than I could ever say. My hunger for him, my need to be with him hadn’t diminished, and after I agreed to have faith in him – for a few hours, at least – we made love with an urgency driven by the intensity of our emotions. But I felt a shadow of doubt about Scott, and it was like a dull ache at the heart of my happiness.

  After a final lingering kiss, Scott leaped from the bed saying he had to go. He wasn’t going to stay the night – he had to ‘see about’ getting the money back. I didn’t know what he meant, but he was pulling his clothes on, and I didn’t want to delay him. I had to pay the money over within thirty-six hours or have a very good excuse why not.

  I spent the next day lying on my bed staring at the ceiling, wiping away the tears that slithered down my cheeks, jumping up whenever I heard footsteps outside the door, expecting it to be Scott. But it never was, and time was running out.

  Just when I had given up hope, there was a soft knock on the door.

  I yanked it open with a welcoming smile, expecting Scott to hold out an envelope or a bag, or anything as long as it was stuffed with notes.

  His hands were empty.

  ‘Where is it?’ I gabbled, pulling him into the room, my eyes darting to his pockets and back to his face. ‘Where’s the money?’

  His eyes wouldn’t meet mine. ‘I couldn’t get it. I’m so sorry, Spike.’

  ‘Don’t call me that,’ I spat, as if using my pet name was the worst of his sins.

  ‘Look, I don’t have the money, but I do have a solution.’ His words were eager, and he reached out to grab my hands. I pulled them away and folded my arms. ‘Do you remember I introduced you to a man called Cameron Edmunds a few weeks ago?’

  I did remember. I thought he seemed a nice guy, but Scott had acted as if he were the devil’s spawn.

  ‘He can be really generous with people he likes. His dad’s loaded, and sometimes Cameron can be persuaded to lend money to friends.’

  ‘But I’m not his friend.’

  Scott shook his head. ‘It doesn’t work like that. If he likes you, trusts you, he’ll do it – I know he will. You can just borrow it for a few days until I can pay it back.’

  I stared at him. ‘Why do I have to be the one to borrow it? You’re the one who took it, Scott.’

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t be like that, Anna.
I told you – I thought I would be able to pay you straight back. I’ve said I’m sorry, and I meant it. Anyway, he’s far more likely to lend to you than to me. He likes girls, and he doesn’t seem keen on me for some reason.’

  We argued back and forth for an hour. In the end I had two choices: borrow the money, if Cameron would lend it to me, or report it stolen. If I chose the second option they would discover Scott had taken it. I would lose him, and despite everything I didn’t want that to happen. He had made a mistake – an error of judgement.

  I considered asking my parents, but they didn’t have that sort of money. Both of them were on minimum wage, and between them brought home around two hundred pounds a week. Three thousand would have meant borrowing against the house. And how would they repay it? I couldn’t do that to them.

  My throat was tight with stress and unshed tears, but I managed to speak.

  ‘Where do I find Cameron?’

  I had hoped Scott would come with me, but he was adamant that it would be counterproductive, so I made my way to a smart-looking bar on Oxford Road with tall smoked-glass windows where Cameron ‘held court’, as Scott put it. I stood outside for ten minutes, trying to muster the courage to walk in.

  ‘Stop being so wet, Anna,’ I muttered under my breath. ‘Get on with it.’

  I pushed open the door and tried to look confident, wondering if I should buy a drink and act casual, or if I should scour the room for Cameron. In the event I heard a burst of laughter from my right as I entered the bar and glanced over to see him with his friend Jagger at a table full of people, all of whom seemed to be laughing uproariously at a story Cameron was telling.