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

by Rachel Abbott

  ‘I’m going to go and get Bailey up,’ Dom says. ‘Take it easy for a while. Holly’s still asleep so you can lie on the bed and relax until you feel a bit calmer. I’ll take Bailey to school and come straight back.’

  There are times when I wish I hadn’t chosen to marry a saint. It’s as if his virtue shines a bright light on my imperfections. His one failing, if you can call it that, is that he can neither understand nor tolerate what he sees as weakness in others.

  Sometimes this irritates me, and I try to make him understand that people are not perfect – everyone is capable of making a mistake or doing something they are ashamed of. But deep down I know that my attempts to make him more tolerant are a corollary of my own failings.

  Inevitably, my mind strays back to Scott and all that he could reveal. The thought of Dominic’s inevitable disgust at who I used to be and what I have done terrifies me. His eyes will lose their light as he looks at me, and the peace and security that I found in him will be shattered.

  I stifle a sob and reach into the dressing-table drawer where I have hidden the picture. I haven’t had the opportunity to look closely at the photograph yet as Dominic has been close by all night. But now I can hear him talking to Bailey, explaining why Holly isn’t going to school.

  The photograph is lying on top of the detritus in my drawer, face down, and I turn it over. It is a close-up of a young teenage boy. I first met Scott when he was nineteen, nearly twenty, but the eyes staring back at me are the same dark brown, the brows heavy and black, the perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip and thick lower lip just like when I first met him, permanently set in a smile. Less so by the end. There is only one person this could be.

  I jump when the doorbell chimes, and I remember Scott is not the only danger. I have been waiting for this since yesterday. It must be the police, here to question me about Cameron’s murder. I didn’t think it would be so soon.

  I push the photo back in the drawer. I can feel my heart pounding and listen as Dominic goes downstairs to open the door. I hear his voice. He sounds surprised but I can’t hear what he says. Then the door closes. Have they come in? I hear his footsteps coming back upstairs, but he goes back into Bailey’s room.

  I wait for a beat. ‘Who was that?’ I shout.

  ‘Oh, the postman. I ordered some hinges and they’ve arrived already. I only ordered them yesterday.’

  I let out a breath, long and slow. The danger is past, for now. But they will come soon. It’s inevitable.

  I have been worrying about Scott’s threatened revelations, which for a while have masked my other fear – that my relationship with Cameron will be revealed. However many excuses I might try to make about the past, about who I was when I was with Scott and the terrible secret that I thought no one need ever know, I can’t make the same claims about Cameron. Dominic will know this is not about who I was. It’s about who I have become.

  Moving to Manchester was a huge mistake. Cameron found me, and I owed him. He was never going to let me forget that.

  26

  18 months ago

  When I first arrived as deputy head teacher at Monks Lane Primary School, it was a dreary place. But when I walked into the school at the start of my first term as head, the place looked so much more cheerful. I looked proudly at the children’s paintings in their brightly coloured frames on newly painted white walls. I was loving my job, and any reservations I’d had about moving back to Manchester – a city which didn’t hold good memories for me – were gone. Everything bad that had happened was so long ago. It couldn’t touch me now. At least, that’s what I believed.

  The school is part of a multi-academy trust, and the trustees decided that I personified their core values, so I was rolled out to talk to journalists, speak on the radio and generally spread the gospel. I was less than happy about being interviewed on local television, but I was young to be a head, and someone on the board of trustees obviously had influence with the BBC, so I had made my television debut the night before. I had felt very uncomfortable, but the ordeal was over and I was feeling relaxed as I made my way into my new office.

  Jennie followed me, smiling brightly and juggling a pile of files in one hand with a cup of coffee in the other. She is one of those people who lights up a room as she enters.

  ‘Thanks, Jen.’

  ‘You’re seeing the governors this evening, Anna, so you should watch the video of your interview,’ she said. ‘They’re bound to want to talk about it, and it’s good, you know. You’ve nothing to worry about.’

  The idea didn’t thrill me.

  ‘I thought I might lace your coffee with something to help you deal with the shock of seeing how brilliantly you performed. It was shown again on the late news.’

  I groaned.

  Jennie edged round the desk and navigated to the clip, dragged the video control along to the right point in the programme and hit Play.

  I saw myself on screen for the first time, and it took me a while to get used to it. I’m short and slender, and next to the tall, well-built presenter I almost looked like one of the children. Then the camera homed in on my face as the presenter asked a question.

  ‘Monks Lane is a faith school and I know the trustees are keen on your vision and values, so what can you tell us about those and what they mean to your pupils, Anna?’

  ‘The core values of the school underpin the whole of our community and inform our aims and ethos.’ God, I sounded pompous. ‘Christian values need to be embedded into our daily lives, with the family at the heart, and we believe that truth is at the centre of everything. We encourage our children to strive to always tell the truth and to be true to their word, to take responsibility for what they think, say and do, and to treat each other honestly and fairly.’

  As I talked about our behaviour policies, behind me was a picture of the school, with the five value words running across the top: TRUTH, JUSTICE, RESPECT, HONESTY, RESPONSIBILITY.

  I wanted to turn it off. I wasn’t sure I could look at myself and listen to the person spouting those words, given who I had been and what I had done, but Jennie’s eyes were shining as if she believed every word, and I felt such a fraud.

  There was a deserted feel to the school after the governors’ meeting ended. I had seen the last of them out of the building and was the only one still there apart from the caretaker, Barry, who refused to leave before me. He saw it as his responsibility to make sure the school was locked up properly at the end of the day, and while I found it slightly irritating that he thought a mere woman wasn’t capable of following procedure, I had to admit that I was grateful for his presence when the building was empty.

  Knowing my children would both be fast asleep by the time I got home, I decided to call Dominic to ask him to defrost the chilli I made at the weekend. There was no answer on his mobile, but he had an early-evening rehearsal for a drama production at school and maybe it was running late.

  I stood up from my desk and looked out of the window. It was dark, and the mist that had been hanging around all day had thickened and settled. I got my things, headed towards the front door and found Barry hovering in the foyer. ‘I’ll see you out, miss, then I’ll lock up behind you and go out the other way. My car’s out back.’ I had told him it was okay to call me Anna but he always chose to ignore it.

  ‘Thanks, Barry. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  I heard the door slam behind me and the clunk of the locks shooting into place. Hurrying towards my car, I felt a thin drizzle on my face, or maybe it was the mist hanging in the air. Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant.

  I was about to open the car door when my phone rang. Thinking it was Dominic returning my call, I answered without checking the screen.

  ‘Mrs Franklyn? This is the Accident and Emergency Department at Salford Royal Hospital. I’m afraid your husband has been admitted.’

  My mouth went dry, and I grabbed the door handle with my spare hand.

  ‘What’s happened? Is he okay?’ I man
aged to ask.

  ‘The police are with him now. He’s conscious but in some pain. Are you able to get here? He’s asking for you.’

  Relieved that he was at least conscious, I leaned heavily on the door, oblivious to the weather.

  ‘Of course, please tell Dominic I’ll be with him as soon as I can.’

  With that I hung up, quickly called the babysitter to ask her to stay on and jumped into the car. With shaking fingers I thrust the key in the ignition and slammed the gear stick into reverse. I saw the last of the lights go out in the school as I turned the car towards the gates.

  What had happened to Dominic?

  My brain felt foggy, confused with shock, and for a moment I thought I was seeing things. There appeared to be a car parked between the gateposts of the exit from the school yard, blocking my way. I cried out with frustration. I couldn’t afford any delays.

  Suddenly I was dazzled by headlights. I lifted an arm to shield my eyes from their glare. The beams were broken by the silhouette of a man, standing legs apart, arms folded. Somehow I knew he was waiting for me.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Where was Barry? Then I remembered he was leaving by the back way. The school was in darkness. He’d gone.

  I pipped my horn at the man to signal him to move, but I knew I was wasting my time. I wondered if I should call the police, but my car door was locked, so he couldn’t get to me. My heart beat faster. I needed to get to Dominic. What was this man doing? What did he want?

  He started to walk towards me and I double-checked the locks. He moved to within two feet of my front bumper, and I saw his face illuminated in my own lights. It was an eerie sight, the glare from below casting shadows, his eyes black hollows. Despite the fact that it was over twelve years since I’d seen him, I knew exactly who this was and I felt the urge to jump out of my car and run back into the school, locking the door behind me.

  Jagger.

  I had been afraid that my return to Manchester would lead to revelations from my past, but I had been back for a while now and thought I was safe. I had a new surname and was nothing like the student who had studied at the university for just one year.

  He lifted his hand and flicked a finger. He was telling me to get out of the car. That wasn’t going to happen; he was dangerous and I had no idea what he intended to do to me. But now I knew who he was, I couldn’t call the police.

  He got tired of waiting and strolled round to my door. ‘Out!’ he shouted. ‘Out, Anna, or I’ll smash the fucking window.’

  I knew he would, and I had no doubt that he had some weapon handy.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you, you stupid bitch. Not yet, anyway.’

  I wanted to scream at him to get out of the way – I had to go – but I knew enough about him to realise that the more difficult I was, the longer he would delay me, and I told myself that I could deal with him. I wasn’t an innocent eighteen-year-old girl any longer, scared of her own shadow. I was a woman with a responsible job, a husband – an injured husband – and two children. I didn’t believe he was going to attack me. All I could think was that I had to get this over as quickly as possible so I could get to Dominic.

  I undid my seat belt but left the engine running, then inched the window down until the gap was wide enough to talk through but still too small for his hand to reach in.

  ‘What do you want, Jagger?’

  ‘Oh, remember me, do you?’ He laughed nastily. ‘I thought you might. Get out of the car, Anna. We’re not playing games.’

  ‘How did you know where to find me?’ But I knew the answer: the TV coverage.

  Jagger wasn’t listening, and I saw him reach behind and pull something from the back of his jeans. I jerked sideways, sure that it was a gun, and lunged for the door. I was literally a sitting target in the car. I got out quickly, my eyes on his hand. But it was a hammer, no doubt to smash a window had I not complied with his demands. At least, that’s what I hoped it was for.

  ‘You’re big news, girl!’ Jagger had a sick grin on his face. ‘Your face appeared right in front of my eyes on the telly. I grabbed a shot on my phone and showed Cameron. I’d know those eyes of yours anywhere, and we were mighty impressed with the bullshit too. The school’s trying to show they’ve got a good ‘un this time, it seems. If only they knew, Anna. If only they knew. Maybe we need to enlighten them.’

  I forced myself not to react.

  ‘I loved the bit about truth and honesty. And let’s not forget respect for others. I guess that means not treating them like fools. Oh, and your non-stealing policy. That was good too.’

  ‘I’ve never stolen,’ I said, mustering up what defiance I could.

  ‘That’s just semantics, I’m afraid.’

  It was easy to forget that Jagger wasn’t your average thug. He had graduated with a first in economics the year I left Manchester, and I had mistakenly assumed he would have used his undoubted abilities to move on, and I would be safe. It seemed I was wrong. Clearly being the minder of one of the cruellest men I had ever met was more appealing or lucrative than becoming a banker or an accountant.

  ‘Cameron wants to talk to you.’ He nodded his head towards the other car, but I couldn’t see inside. ‘Go on. Don’t make me force you.’

  I hadn’t seen Cameron since the end of my first year in Manchester, and I had hoped never to see him again. And yet here he was.

  I walked slowly towards the car, and Jagger opened one of the back doors. There was no point in arguing, so I got in. Jagger slammed it shut, then stood with his back to it.

  The interior light briefly illuminated Cameron’s face. Older, as I would have expected, but he looked the picture of a successful, confident man, and the added years suited him. For a second I had a vision of what I might see if the perfect exterior was stripped from his body to reveal the devil beneath.

  ‘Anna! Such a pleasure,’ he said with the fake charm that had sucked me in all those years ago. I didn’t answer. ‘Jagger and I had forgotten all about you until last night, so what a surprise it was to see you, all grown-up and successful, appearing on the television.’

  I still didn’t speak. I didn’t trust my voice.

  ‘How’s your husband doing? Do you know?’

  For a moment I just stared at him. What did he mean? He sat silently and watched as I worked it out.

  ‘You see, Anna, you took my money and never paid me back. You promised to – several times, in fact – but then you disappeared. Did you think I would forget?’ He shook his head and tutted, his tone one of fake disappointment. ‘You let me down, Anna. You asked me to have faith in you, but you weren’t to be trusted. So take this as a warning. You let me down again, and I’ll hurt you. You’re hurting now, aren’t you, worrying about your husband? Well next time Jagger won’t be quite so gentle.’

  I lost all control and started to scream. Jagger yanked the door open, wrapping one arm around my throat and a gloved hand over my mouth. Memories of that night in the cobbled alley flooded back. He didn’t have to speak to make his message understood.

  Cameron leaned across and patted my arm. ‘Think about how you’re going to pay me back, Anna,’ he said, smiling. ‘We’ll be in touch.’

  27

  Becky pushed open the door to Tom’s office with her foot and walked in bearing two mugs of tea. ‘Door shut? That’s not like you,’ she said.

  ‘I know, but I’m dealing with some personal stuff right now, and I don’t want the whole team knowing what’s going on.’

  Becky frowned. ‘Anything I can help with?’

  Tom was silent for a moment. ‘Maybe. It’s Lucy.’

  Becky handed over the tea and sat down, listening as Tom explained why his daughter was staying with them and what had happened the previous night. He had followed Lucy upstairs to try to explain why he had decided that he and her mum shouldn’t get back together, but she hadn’t wanted to listen and had refused to come down from her room to eat the food she had so carefully prepared. She wouldn’t
come out of the bathroom to talk to him that morning before he left for work, so he’d sent her a text saying how much he loved her, and that he would talk to her properly that evening.

  ‘Anyway, enough of my problems. I’m sure they’ll sort themselves. Let’s get back to our investigation, which is now looking a hell of a lot more complicated. What’s your general feeling? No one’s heard from Edmunds or seen him, and we still don’t know the identity of our victim. As you said, it had all the hallmarks of an execution, but who died, and who was supposed to die?’

  Tom was about to suggest they head to the incident room to catch up with the team and stress the urgency of finding Cameron Edmunds when there was a knock on the door and Keith Sims marched in. ‘Sir, I think we may have something.’

  Keith was obviously not going to tell them what it was without being asked, so Tom obliged.

  ‘As we noted, the car was immaculate, and we finally managed to check with the valeting company. It was valeted as soon as Cameron Edmunds arrived on Sunday evening. They’re generally not busy at that time, but the company always leaves one person on duty.’

  ‘On a Sunday night?’

  ‘Yes, it seems that as Mr Edmunds was a regular, there was one bloke who was happy to work because he always got a fat tip. Anyway, they key thing is that the valet was completed by ten thirty that night, and in theory the car was returned to a parking bay. But Lynsey spent most of yesterday going through the CCTV and spotted the Mercedes leaving the car park at ten thirty-six.’

  Tom sat up straight. ‘So Edmunds came back and went somewhere during the night? That explains why the Focus driver didn’t see the Mercedes. Do we know where he went? Have we been able to track his mobile activity?’

  ‘We don’t believe it was Mr Edmunds driving the car, sir. Inspector Robinson said the attendant in the office had seemed very uncomfortable when she spoke to him. That’s correct, isn’t it?’ he added, looking at Becky.

  ‘Cut to the chase, Keith,’ Tom said. ‘Who was driving, why, and when did they get back?’