‘At least two, maybe three,’ he says. ‘What about you?’
‘I haven’t given it much thought,’ I admit.
‘Well, we were both only children,’ Liam says. ‘And I don’t want that for our child.’
‘I loved being an only child,’ I say quietly, thinking of how close my mum and I were. True, it would have been easier having a sibling to help deal with things when she got sick and everything fell on my shoulders: going with her to all her appointments and dealing with all the aftercare every time she had chemotherapy. It would have been good too to have someone else to rely on when she died, and I had to organise the funeral while wrung out and torn up with grief.
I still regret how sad and pathetic an affair it turned out; not at all the wake she deserved. I was so upset though, and Liam didn’t know what to do, so we cobbled together a gathering in a local pub, and though a lot of people showed up I feel like I was too wrapped up in grief to really give her a good sendoff. Guilt descends on me and I try to push it away. Now’s not the time to go there.
‘I hated being an only child,’ Liam says. ‘It was awful. I think if I’d had a sibling it would have been easier,’ he tells me. ‘Anyway,’ he says brightly, brushing off my sympathetic smile. ‘We won’t be like that. We’ll have a boy and a girl.’ He pauses, thinking. ‘Maybe two girls.’
‘I don’t think you get to choose the gender,’ I laugh.
‘How long do you think you’ll want to wait?’ Liam asks with a small frown.
‘Kids are expensive,’ I say. ‘We should try to save up before we have them. And I’m not working. So maybe in three or four years?’
Liam looks at me in shock. ‘Three or four years? That’s far too long. If we wait until then you’ll be in your mid-thirties and the risks will be much higher. You’re in your prime right now.’ He pauses and looks at me. ‘And it’s not as if we haven’t been trying,’ he says. ‘I mean, we don’t use protection, so you could be pregnant already.’ His face lights up at the idea. ‘Imagine, a honeymoon baby.’
I take a deep breath, thinking about the contraceptive pill in my washbag upstairs that the doctor prescribed for me at the same time as my anti-depressants. Liam doesn’t know about either pill. I never told him. I realised that I could no longer go on the way I was, moping around the house, bursting into tears every few minutes, feeling completely hopeless. I knew I needed to get a grip; if nothing else then just because I had all the horribly tedious and convoluted admin to deal with surrounding my mother’s death. I was the executor of her will and I’d been putting off making calls and sorting things out after I’d broken down in tears on the phone to the bank when I called to let them know she was dead. The doctor prescribed them without any questions, and I’ve hidden both from Liam inside a box of tampons.
I feel embarrassed about needing them and I don’t want Liam to feel like it’s his fault that I’m not happy. I was warned not to get pregnant while I was taking them because they can cause birth defects which is why I’m on the pill. That and the fact I don’t want children. At least not right now.
It surprises me that the whole time we’ve been having sex Liam has secretly been hoping I’ll get pregnant. I wonder how he’d react if I told him that there’s never been any chance of it. I can’t tell him. He’d be so upset.
‘You’re right,’ I say to him. ‘Let’s just see what happens, I suppose. Let fate decide.’
‘Really?’ he asks, his face lighting up with hope.
I smile back and shrug at the same time. ‘I mean, it might take a while. You never know. So, it’s probably best we start now, just in case.’
I feel the lie trip off my tongue so easily it scares me. Liam is grinning as though he’s won something. My face starts to warm up and I don’t want him to see; he’s astute when it comes to truth – he is a pro at interrogation after all – so I quickly reach for the dice and throw it, then move my plastic car. ‘Look! A promotion at work and a pay rise.’
I laugh under my breath. It couldn’t be further from the actual truth. I’m aware that by not returning to work, my own career prospects are languishing and all the hard work that I put into getting my degree is becoming pointless. The longer I’m out of employment the harder it will be to get back in – and if I were to get pregnant, I could probably forget ever having a career. I’ve been over this with myself a million times, and it frustrates me, but I just need to park my worries for the time being.
Liam gets up to stoke the fire, throwing on the last of the logs. He peeks out the window. The rain is still lashing down. He sighs loudly. ‘I’ve got to go out and get more wood. It’s not lasted as long as I thought,’ he says.
I nod reluctantly, figuring that he’s only going to the woodpile and it won’t take him long. I watch him put on his jacket and boots and I stand by the back door as he darts out into the rain and around the side of the house. He’s back in less than a minute, with a pile of wood in his hands and a fierce expression on his face. He throws the logs down by the back door.
‘What is it? What’s happened?’ I ask.
‘The wood’s soaked through. Someone’s pulled off the tarp that was covering the pile and knocked the stack over, so it’s all wet.’
‘Are you sure it wasn’t the wind?’
Liam shakes his head, his expression darkening. ‘It was secured tightly. Someone undid the ropes and pulled it completely off. The wind couldn’t have knocked over that stack; it was five feet high. It has to have been deliberate.’
‘When could they have done it though?’ I ask. ‘It wasn’t like that when we got back this morning, I don’t think. We would have noticed on our way out, surely?’
Liam casts his eyes about the cottage. The realisation dawns on us. They must have come while we were huddled inside here, hiding from the rain, curtains drawn. The thought makes my stomach clench into knots. There’s something truly unsettling about the idea of a stranger prowling around outside like a wolf while we sit in here like sitting ducks.
I look at the fire, dwindling rapidly without fuel.
‘Don’t worry,’ Liam says. ‘Hopefully it’ll dry out and we can use it later.’ But I look down at the pile he dumped on the mat. The wood is soaked through – there’s no way it will catch light – and in the damp chill that’s encroached on the cottage it isn’t going to dry out that quickly.
I sink down onto the sofa. There’s a gnawing inside me, like a rat chewing at the end of a fraying rope. Liam prowls the inside of the cottage. He checks and rechecks the locks on the doors and windows as though he’s a soldier securing a fortress from an attack.
It’s unnerving seeing him like this. I’ve seen him agitated, but never afraid, as he is now. He might be trying to disguise it with anger, but I can see that the pressure is getting to him. I worry he’s going to crack.
‘It’s fine,’ he says, more to himself than to me. ‘No one’s getting inside. And if he does try anything then he’ll have me to answer to.’
Adrenaline courses through me; my heart starts to pound as though someone is beating a drum inside my chest and I have to stand up again and keep pacing. The wind howls down the chimney. It sounds as if a thousand ghosts are trying to force their way inside the cottage.
‘Why do all this to us?’ I ask, wrapping my arms around my body as I pace. ‘It must be for a reason.’ I look at Liam, who is frowning intently at the empty fireplace. ‘You’re good at getting in the heads of people,’ I say to him, my frustration growing. ‘What do you think their motive is? It can’t be a treasure hunter. I mean, everything he’s doing is so personal. It’s vindictive. Don’t you think? It’s like he’s chosen us.’
Liam scowls, chewing the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t answer me, but I can tell his brain is whirring.
‘Could it be related to one of your cases?’ I ask. ‘Someone you put away?’
‘Not likely,’ he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.
I sit down and look around the darkening room with a shiver.<
br />
‘This isn’t a honeymoon, it’s a bloody nightmare,’ Liam mumbles under his breath. ‘It was meant to be a romantic getaway but it’s turning into the honeymoon from hell.’
I agree.
Chapter Sixteen
Day Five
The cottage feels like a ship being tossed about on a stormy sea. We’ve battened down the hatches and are stowed away in the cabin of the bedroom, lying side by side in the bed. Neither of us is asleep though. I find myself clutching the side of the mattress as though at any moment I’m about to be thrown out of it by a large wave colliding into the side of the house. I strain to listen, unsure if it’s the rain lashing against the window or someone trying to break in.
Liam’s muscles are tense, and he breathes shallowly in the bed beside me. He’s wide awake. I know he must be thinking the same thing – worrying that someone is trying to force their way into the cottage – because I noticed he slipped a knife beneath his pillow earlier when he thought I wasn’t watching.
I manage to fall asleep at some point, probably because the adrenaline that’s been flooding through my system for so long has exhausted me, but I wake before the dawn to the sound of Liam moving about the room. I sit up. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask, pulling the blankets around me to keep out the pre-dawn chill.
Liam’s a dull shape in the gloom of the room. ‘Nothing. Go back to sleep,’ he tells me.
‘Where are you going?’ I ask, seeing he’s opening up the dresser drawers and is starting to throw on clothes.
‘Out,’ he says.
‘Where?’
‘To the castle.’
Fear paralyses me. He can’t be serious. But of course he is, and it’s not like I didn’t expect it. I don’t want to go anywhere near the castle, I think it’s madness, but he can’t go alone. I throw off the blankets and jump out of bed. ‘I want to come with you.’
He shakes his head. ‘No. Laura, I need to go alone.’
‘I won’t let you,’ I argue back. ‘Please.’ I move to the dresser and start pulling out my clothes too, throwing on a sweater and tugging on jeans. ‘You can’t leave me here alone. What if that’s what they’re waiting for? For us to split up? What if you leave and they break into the cottage while I’m here all by myself?’
I can see a furrow deep as a crevice between Liam’s brows.
‘There’s safety in numbers,’ I push.
Liam concedes with a loud sigh. ‘Fine. But hurry up.’
I dart into the bathroom and quickly dress, pulling my hair into a ponytail and throwing cold water on my face. Downstairs I find Liam rummaging through the kitchen cupboards with the help of his phone light. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, I’m guessing he didn’t sleep a wink, but I don’t ask because he seems so on edge. He’s moving around gathering things, including the torch we took from the drawer and his switchblade knife. I glance at him, but his expression gives little away. He just looks determined, his brow furrowed and his jaw set. A shadow of fear ripples over me. What is he planning on doing to this person if he catches them? Will he try to arrest them? I want to tell him to leave the knife, but I also know that he won’t listen.
I check quickly on the bird before we leave, relieved to find it’s still alive. It tries to peck my hand and I notice it’s eaten most of the food and drunk some water. ‘Good girl,’ I say to it, deciding it’s a female even though I have no idea. ‘You’ll be fine,’ I tell her, re-covering the box with the towel.
‘Come on,’ Liam says to me, already standing by the back door, impatient to leave.
In the kitchen I slip a bag of trail mix and an apple into my pocket and glance out of the window. The dawn has come, and the sky is still heavy with grey clouds, but streaked with pink. I don’t have a jacket to wear as mine is still damp from when I cleaned the bird excrement off it yesterday, but I suppose I’ll be OK to go without it. We head out, Liam making sure to lock the back door behind us. He eyes the forest up ahead of us, his eyes darting this way and that, as though he’s trying to spot a sniper, hidden among the trees. But it’s still dark out; the sky is only just beginning to lighten, and it’s impossible to know if anyone is out there, watching us.
Drizzle haloes my hair and when we enter the forest water drips so furiously from the tree branches that it might as well be raining. I regret not bringing my jacket, even if it’s damp, as cold slugs of water snake their way between the collar of my jumper and my bare skin. We slog through mud, the wet fronds of ferns and bracken soaking our jeans.
The castle waits for us, lurking in the mist. Today it seems even more ominous and threatening, sitting there under the low-slung sky. Half of me wishes I’d stayed behind in the cottage, but I couldn’t let Liam come alone.
Liam puts his finger to his lips to warn me to be quiet before we jog across the clearing towards the side cellar door we entered through last time. He wants the element of surprise on our side, which is why we’re here at the crack of dawn. I can hear my breath rasping in my ears and my heart thudding loudly. My stomach flutters with nerves. Liam reaches the cellar door before me, and he pauses; for a heartbeat I wonder if he’s having second thoughts. I pray desperately that he is but, as I get closer, I spot what it is that’s stopped him in his tracks. Words have been scrawled in red paint across the door: NO TRESPASSING.
My heart explodes against my ribcage and my pulse spikes. I grip Liam’s hand, unable to find my voice. I start to pull him away, but Liam doesn’t budge. Surely he’s not still contemplating going in there? Not with that warning emblazoned on the door. I read it again, blinking a few times as the realisation sinks in: it’s not red paint; it’s blood. Isn’t it? I mean, it can’t be paint – where would you find paint out here?
I glance at Liam. His expression is hard to read. I can tell he’s afraid, but I think he’s also trying to steel himself and hide the fear from me. He’s weighing up his options.
‘Let’s go back,’ I plead in a terrified whisper. But Liam’s expression darkens. He glares at the words painted on the door.
‘No,’ he says. ‘The bastard’s not scaring me.’
My stomach clenches into a knot. ‘Liam,’ I beg again. ‘Please. I don’t want to go inside.’
He shakes my hand off his arm. ‘You should wait for me here, or in the forest,’ he says.
My eyes widen in alarm. He can’t be serious. I shake my head furiously. ‘No way,’ I tell him. ‘We can’t split up.’
He turns to me, frustrated. ‘Laura,’ he argues. ‘It’s not safe for you to go inside.’
‘Or you!’ I hiss back at him.
‘I can handle myself,’ Liam tells me.
I know that he can, but I also know that he’s stubborn and that he doesn’t want to let this person win. But it isn’t a game, I want to tell him. Not unless two people play. And we don’t have to play. We can walk away. But deep down, I know that there’s nothing I can say that will stop him.
‘Go and wait for me in the forest.’
‘No,’ I refuse, lunging for his arm again and holding on to him. ‘What if something happens to you? What will I do?’
‘Nothing’s going to happen to me,’ he says, touching my cheek and offering me a smile. ‘I swear. Stop worrying. Now go and wait for me. I won’t be long.’
‘What are you going to do to them?’ I say, thinking of the knives he’s carrying.
‘Find out who he is and give him a warning to leave us alone.’
I swallow the lump of fear in my throat and turn to glance back at the forest, caught between the thought of running and hiding somewhere in its dark interior or following Liam into the belly of the beast. Neither option is appealing. But I’d rather be with Liam than wait, alone, not knowing what’s happening. ‘I’m coming with you,’ I say to him.
He purses his lips, frustrated, but then nods. ‘OK, but stay back, and stay quiet,’ he warns me.
I nod.
We enter the cellar. Liam leads the way through the low-ceilinged space,
having to duck because of his height, until we reach the kitchen. I stay glued to his heels, my heart rattling loose in my chest and my breathing quick and fast, fuelled by fear. Every step I half expect the man to come leaping out at us. I wish to god Liam didn’t want to confront him.
‘There has to be another set of stairs up to the first floor,’ he says now in a whisper, looking around. ‘We just need to find them. Come on,’ he says, gesturing to the stairs we took last time that led up to the great hall. Reluctantly, I follow, and we tiptoe up them, entering the rubble-filled room.
Liam walks swiftly towards the study and I hurry after him, aware of every little noise I’m making. It’s almost impossible to stay quiet as our footsteps echo on the stone floors. I worry that the element of surprise will be lost, and we’ll walk into a trap.
Once in the study, Liam makes directly for the wood-panelled door and we enter the narrow servants’ passage that runs between rooms. My breathing seems riotously loud in the tight space, though it’s almost drowned out by the blood that’s now roaring in my ears. I recognise it as the start of a panic attack and I fight it, keeping my eyes fixed on Liam’s back and trying to screw up my courage. Everything in my body is screaming at me to get the hell away from this place, but, as though I’m under a witch’s spell, I cannot turn around. I can only follow Liam blindly on. I’m too scared to leave him and go off by myself, so I choose the lesser of two evils.
We keep following the passage until finally Liam discovers a staircase. ‘Here!’ he says. ‘Found it!’
Liam shines the torch up it and then starts to climb. I follow, my legs like lead, my heart still jackhammering with panic. I draw in huge gasping breaths as I try to fill my shrunken lungs.
We reach the top of the stairs and find ourselves in another passageway, but this one ends at a door. When Liam eases it open, we find ourselves in an upstairs hallway. Liam slips out, putting his finger to his lips again to remind me to stay quiet. My breathing is laboured, and I try to quiet myself down but when I pad out behind him, I let go of the door and it bangs shut behind me. Liam whips around and glares at me, annoyed. I shake my head in apology and mouth ‘sorry’.
The Stalker Page 10