One of Us Is Lying: A totally gripping psychological thriller with a brilliant twist
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This has all happened so quickly. How the hell did I let myself be captured like this? I can’t believe I came here so willingly. Why is Rosie’s teacher part of this? Does he have me mixed up with someone else? Did I do something wrong? But if it’s something to do with school, then why does he also have Fiona? Unless it’s related to that night out we had for Fiona’s birthday. After all, that’s when those photos were supposedly taken.
I’m just going to have to hope that whoever walks in here next is way smarter or stronger than me and Fiona. That they can somehow overpower these two psychos and get us out of here. If they can’t, I have a horrible feeling that things aren’t going to end well. Because Mr Jeffries doesn’t seem like the reasonable type. I think he might be planning to hurt us. Maybe even kill us.
I struggle uselessly against my bonds and try to call out, but it’s hopeless; all I can manage is a weak grunt. An image of Rosie and Leo jumps into my head. What will they do without me? I don’t want to die. Please, God, don’t let me die.
Thirty-Five
KELLY
I close the front door and step outside into the warm night air. It’s quiet out here, the excitement of yesterday’s regatta now a fading memory. Most people are probably already tucked up in bed or preparing for the week ahead. It’s the final week of the school term, so it’ll be a busy one. I should be at home myself, catching up on the sleep I missed out on last night. I can’t imagine that anything productive will come of a clandestine late-night meeting with an anonymous texter. But I have to give it a try.
After the weekend I’ve had, going out right now is the last thing I feel like doing. But if there’s the remotest chance of getting these charges dropped and putting this whole episode behind me, then I have to do it, for me as well as for the boys. With their father gone, they can’t also have a mother in prison. Who would look after them? Friends? Extended family? No, they need their mum.
I make my way towards the lake, to the boathouse to be more precise – a strange place for a meeting, but at least it’ll be quiet there, away from prying eyes. If it is Sophie who’s called this meeting then maybe I’ll get a chance to ask her why she lied the way she did. Perhaps she had no choice. Maybe her husband coerced her into making the whole thing up. He could have done it to squash any rumours that he was abusing her. Put the blame on someone else. Make me look like the bad guy instead of him. But what reason would I have to hold an innocent woman captive? Whichever way I look at it, the whole thing still makes no sense.
I rang Fiona to ask if she would babysit the kids while I’m out, but her mobile went straight to voicemail. I thought about calling Nathan to ask him to pass on the message, but I didn’t want to impose; not after they helped out last night. And Tia’s got her hands full with her own family. In the end, I asked my friend Marian, who sometimes volunteers at the shop. She was more than happy to do it, even though I said I might be quite late back. I could probably have left the boys on their own, but I wouldn’t have been able to relax if they were home by themselves. Not after everything that’s been going on.
I check my watch and see that it’s already eleven thirty, so I pick up my pace and veer off the path, taking a shortcut, picking my way down the grassy bank. It’s dark down here; I should’ve brought a torch. The darkness intensifies as I approach the hulking black shape of the boathouse. I thought security lighting would have flashed on, but as I walk along the path everything remains quiet and dark.
I reach into my bag for my phone and take a moment to turn on its torch. That’s better. At least I can see what I’m doing now. The metal latch on the wooden door is unlocked so I push it open and hold my phone out in front of me to see inside. There’s a strange mumbling sound, and a scrape of wood. Someone’s already here, and they’re not far away.
I’m suddenly gripped with fear. Why did I agree to meet at night in such a remote location? I should turn around and go back home, but the need to clear my name propels me forward into the dark interior. ‘Hello?’ I inch forward and peer ahead as far as the phone’s torch will allow. ‘Sophie? Is that you?’ I turn around to see if I can locate a light switch on the wall, but I can’t see one. I doubt we’re supposed to be in here; that must be why the lights are off.
I turn at the sound of footsteps coming towards me from the left of the room. A lantern swings into view, and I see that the person carrying it is indeed Sophie. Not surprising, really, as this whole nightmarish situation is her fault.
‘You came,’ Sophie says, setting the lantern on the floor.
‘Of course I came. I want to know what on earth is going on. Why did you lie to the police about me? Why did you…?’ The words die on my lips. A man has joined Sophie. It’s Greg, her husband – if indeed he is her actual husband. Sonny and Ryan seemed to think he’s also Rosie’s teacher. What did they say his name was? ‘Mr Jeffries.’ I say his name aloud. ‘Greg.’
‘Hello,’ he says in a pinched tone.
I suddenly feel weirdly protective towards Sophie. She could be acting out of fear of this man. I look at her and try to convey with my eyes that I’m on her side. ‘Sophie, are you okay? Are you being forced to do all this? Has he been abusing you?’
Greg gives a contemptuous laugh. ‘I am still here, you know. I can hear you.’
I ignore him. ‘Is he really your husband? Or, I don’t know, are you part of a trafficking ring?’ My theory may sound far-fetched, but this whole situation is off-the-scale weird.
Sophie doesn’t reply. I can’t decipher anything from her blank expression.
Greg laughs again. This time it’s a proper belly laugh. ‘You hear that, Sophie? Apparently I’m running a trafficking ring.’ He turns back to me. ‘Who’s the one with the knife?’
I’m confused by his words until he jerks his head in the direction of Sophie’s hand. Sure enough, she’s holding the biggest, sharpest-looking knife I’ve ever seen.
My hands start to shake uncontrollably at the sight of it. What’s she planning to do? Why would Sophie need a knife? I shove my phone into my pocket and take a step back.
‘You need to sit down over there with your friends.’ She gestures to her left.
Friends? I don’t know what she’s talking about.
Greg picks up the lantern and walks across the room. I press my hand to my chest as the light picks out two seated figures. They’ve been tied to their chairs and gagged. How did I only just notice them? And then my skin goes cold when I see who they are.
Sophie strides across the room and holds her knife to Fiona’s throat. My friend’s eyes widen in fear.
‘What are you doing?’ I cry. ‘Don’t hurt her.’
‘I need you to sit in the third chair, Kelly.’
‘Why?’
‘Do you want me to hurt your friend?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Then sit down.’
On wobbly legs, I cross the room and do as she asks, sitting on the chair as though in a dream. A nightmare. Why the hell are Fiona and Tia here too? It doesn’t make any sense. And Sophie… she seems nothing like the scared, frail girl who was hiding in my house. Right now she’s strong-voiced, assertive, tough.
As Greg ties my wrists and ankles to the chair, I manage to spit out a couple of questions. ‘Why are we all here? What have we done to deserve this? We don’t even know you!’
Greg viciously pulls the zip tie tight against my wrists, making me cry out in pain. ‘Really? Are you sure about that, Kelly?’
Thirty-Six
History teacher facing child sex offence allegations killed himself
Married father of two, Brian Lawson (41) has committed suicide just three weeks before he was due in court.
Lawson was charged with committing sexual offences against three girls under 16. One of these offences is alleged to have taken place in July of this year. The other two incidents are alleged to have happened last year.
Lawson’s wife found him dead in a vehicle in his garage at his home in Ash
ridge Falls on Monday night. The post-mortem concluded that Lawson died from a combination of carbon monoxide poisoning and sleeping tablets. Police say there were no suspicious circumstances. An inquest into his death will be held in January.
Lawson, who was from Portreach, taught history at Ashridge Falls for 18 years. In a statement, the school said: ‘We value and promote the safety and wellbeing of all our pupils and take these allegations very seriously. We will be working alongside partners such as Portreach Council to look into the allegations independently.’
The council said: ‘We support schools in having effective safeguarding procedures in place, which can be followed in the event that any allegations are received.’
Portreach Police said the three victims in the investigation have been updated and offered support by specially trained officers.
‘Portreach Police takes all reports of sexual assault seriously and urges victims to come forward to report it, regardless of when it happened, safe in the knowledge that they will be treated with respect and dignity and that their allegation will be fully investigated,’ said a police official.
‘In circumstances such as these, where an alleged or suspected perpetrator is deceased, specially trained officers will continue to investigate a victim’s account as far as is possible. Victims will also have access to support from a range of partner agencies.’
A family member of one of the victims commented: ‘We know what’s happened. He obviously couldn’t face jail and he’s taken the cowardly way out.’
Lawson was also blasted online for taking his own life.
Thirty-Seven
Monday
FIONA
I’ve been tied up here for what must be over an hour now so it has to be after midnight. Aside from the fact that my wrists and ankles are burning where they’ve zip-tied me, it’s been torture seeing my two friends walk into the same trap I did, knowing there was nothing I could do to warn them. That all I could do was watch in mute horror as he tied them up. And now we’re all being held in this deserted wooden boathouse with no hope of anyone else coming along for hours. Will we even be alive by then? I’m not sure. Our two captors don’t seem to be entirely sane.
I’ve been trying to work out how I fit into the equation. Greg and Sophie must be behind the tax audit. They must have reported me anonymously. But why? I don’t even know them. And Kelly has just said she doesn’t either. I’m assuming she never met either of them until Sophie showed up at her house with her bullshit story about needing help. The only person who seems to be connected is Tia, because Greg is Rosie’s school teacher. Have Kelly and I been caught in the crossfire because of something Tia said or did?
My thoughts fizzle away as Greg comes and stands in front of us, Sophie by his side, that unfeasibly large knife still in her hand. Greg’s eyes harden as he begins to talk, and I see that his main focus is me; unless I’m imagining it.
‘You might know me as Greg Jones or Greg Jeffries, but my real name is Greg Lawson.’
Hearing the name Lawson, my whole body tenses and the room starts to close in. Lawson? It can’t be just a coincidence.
‘Sophie’s name used to be Natalie Lawson. But we were forced to change our names… because of the scandal. Because our mum wanted to give us all a fresh start. Sophie’s my younger sister.’ Greg gives me a penetrating stare. ‘I see you recognise the name, Fiona. But in case your memories are a little hazy, let me fill you in.’
I’m finding it hard to breathe with this gag in my mouth. I can’t seem to pull enough oxygen into my lungs. And it’s too hot, too close. If this revelation is to do with what I think it is, then – aside from Greg and Sophie’s psychotic behaviour – I really, truly don’t want to be here. That episode from my past is something I’ve pushed to the darkest recesses of my mind, and whenever one of its slimy tentacles threatens to escape, I instantly squash it back down. So please, God, don’t let it out of its box. Not now. Not ever. But as this man continues to talk, the past is racing towards me and I know that it’s all about to be laid bare.
After her initial confidence, Sophie’s eyes are mainly downcast now that Greg is talking. Only occasionally does she look up at any of us. In contrast, Greg’s gaze glides across the three of us, his blue eyes glittering in the lamplight. ‘In case any of you don’t remember, seventeen years ago the three of you ruined my father’s life. Brian Lawson was a well-respected teacher at your school, and he lost his job, his career, everything, after the three of you falsely accused him of sexual misconduct.’
I squeeze my eyes shut, as though that will block out Greg’s voice. But his words come like lacerations, opening up the skin to make fresh wounds. He doesn’t stop. It’s all pouring out now in a torrent of bitterness and hatred.
‘We were a normal, happy family. Me, Natalie, Mum and Dad. And then it all changed. Dad’s name was splashed across the papers. He was beaten up in town. My sister and I were bullied at school. My mum’s life was made a living hell. They accused her of being part of it. But you know all this, don’t you? Because it’s your doing.’
I shouldn’t be shocked by his anger, but I am. I’m appalled by such naked, cold rage. He hates me. He hates us all. I vaguely remember that Mr Lawson had two children. But they were much younger than us, so we didn’t know them. I didn’t let myself think about what happened to them afterwards. I didn’t let myself think about any of it.
Greg starts pacing, absorbed in his own story. ‘And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Dad was suspended from school. Of course, everyone assumed that he’d done it. That he’d be found guilty in court, lose his job and go to prison. It’s supposed to be innocent until proven guilty, but that’s never the case. It’s trial by mob rule.’
I wonder what Kelly and Tia are thinking right now. I can see why Greg and Sophie gagged us all. He wants to have a captive audience. He wants us to listen without the right to reply. And what about Sophie? She’s being very quiet. Is she as angry as her brother? Or is she just going along with him? From watching them both, it seems quite obvious that he’s the one behind it all. She’s barely glanced up while he’s been spewing out all his pent-up emotions.
‘But Dad couldn’t cope with it all. With the accusations, the lies. He knew his career was over. Even our mother began to doubt his innocence. He thought he was going to lose his wife, his family, everything. He couldn’t cope with the shame. He shut himself in his car and took his own life.’
Greg’s breathing has grown heavy with emotion. But still Sophie stands there, head bowed, clutching the knife. ‘So, after years of doing nothing, of letting you three get away with your teenage games, we decided that it was time to make you pay. To make you suffer just a little of what we suffered. We started with a few rumours. As a teacher, it was easy for me to arrange for some of the pupils to overhear a bit of gossip. Things like, “Rosie’s mum is a murderer”, and “Sonny’s mum kissed a teacher”. Nowhere near as bad as a sexual assault rumour, but enough to cast doubt on your characters. To give you a small taste of what it was like for us back then. And then we ramped it up a gear…
‘We wanted you all to feel the despair and fear that my dad felt when he was wrongly accused. To ruin your lives the way you ruined my family. To make you suffer the way he suffered. Back then, you all thought you were so special. So popular and untouchable. You thought it would be funny to accuse an innocent teacher of sexual misconduct. Everyone knew you were making it all up, but it was too late for my dad. The damage had already been done. Once he was under suspicion for something like that, the school had to let him go. The other parents wouldn’t have stood for him staying on.
‘Fiona…’ He fixes me with a stare that makes me squirm in my seat. It’s only now I realise how much he looks like his father. ‘We thought we’d tip off the tax office about you. Let them do a little in-depth investigation into your business. We know how you like everything in your life to be shiny and perfect, so it seemed like a good way to ruin your week.’
‘And Tia…’ Greg switches his gaze to her, and I wonder what it is that this man has been putting her through. ‘Those photographs were fun, don’t you think? Sophie and I enjoyed Fiona’s birthday party. To be honest, we went into that club with a plan to spike Fiona’s drink, not yours. But we couldn’t get near her, so we adapted our plan. Tia, you seemed to be having the most fun that night. You were certainly downing the shots. You made it so easy for Sophie.’
I think back to the night of my birthday, and I remember being annoyed by Tia’s attention-seeking behaviour. Dancing and flirting, acting like it was her party. I didn’t realise she’d had her drink spiked.
Greg continues. ‘I bumped into you outside the club, just as the effects of the drug were starting to take hold, making you woozy enough not to recognise me. I kissed you. And I have to say, Tia, it was pretty sloppy. I didn’t enjoy it at all. But at least Sophie was able to get a few good photos. The other images had to be photoshopped, but I think we did a pretty convincing job.’
I glance sideways at Tia to see her straining at her ties, angry tears running down her face. My heart goes out to her. She obviously had it so much worse than I did. A tax audit is nothing compared to whatever it was they put her through. I realise I’m lucky they didn’t succeed in spiking my drink.