The last one could wait. Maybe forever.
47
THE GHOST
Wednesday p.m.
As Louisa showered and dressed into jeans and a jumper – her only remaining clean ones, she noted – she let the contents of the first two boxes come back to her. Since the hypnosis session Louisa’s adrenaline levels had abated, and the retrieved memories had settled and fixed themselves firmly in her conscious mind. She realised, though, that the session hadn’t been entirely successful. They were all so close – she could almost touch them – but they were not altogether coherent.
The solution to this was crystal clear to her now: she had to revisit the pub.
Go to the place where this nightmare began and retrace her steps.
Back to her fortieth birthday party.
She had to be in the right place.
Although the woman in the lane had happened twenty-two years prior to her birthday, both events were inextricably linked. She knew that now. It was a case of returning to the scene of the crime, so to speak.
A dull ache began in her head. At one point she’d considered that there was a crime. The way she’d felt the day after the party, the visions, the subsequent revelations – had all added to the hideous feeling that something bad, very bad, had happened that night. Now, she at least felt less worried that she’d done something then, but she did know there was a hidden horror. One she felt compelled to uncover.
The hypnosis had only lasted for an hour. An hour of her life that had changed everything. Brian was still out with Noah – which was hopefully a good sign, in that her parents were finally keen to spend time with him. She couldn’t therefore ask Brian to drive her to Abbotsbury. She’d walk out of the village and get the bus from the main road. If she was quick she’d be able to catch the 3 p.m. Totnes to Newton one. Then she could jump off at the turning to the village – it wasn’t too far from there to the centre of Abbotsbury.
The bus had stopped at the top of the road leading to the village – to the pub – and Louisa had walked briskly. In her mind, now she was walking down the path to the pub, she was retracing hers and Tiff’s steps. If she’d realised it’d be her last time properly spending time with her best friend, she’d have made more of it. The lateness of the afternoon meant it was getting dusky and as Louisa approached the pub its stonework appeared dark, unwelcoming. She had to continue, had to ‘relive’ their actions and pull to the front of her mind what she remembered from that night. It was important to fill in some gaps by being in the same venue – the hypnosis had made her realise she had to be here.
Tiff had been on her mobile as they’d approached the pub from the accommodation block. Louisa remembered the feeling of indignation at the time, and afterwards she’d assumed Tiff was texting Brian, letting him know they were there – so the birthday surprise could be executed without a hitch.
It hadn’t been Brian she’d texted though.
The thought propelled itself into her head and left her puzzled. How did she know that? She couldn’t remember ever asking Tiff. Pushing it away as an unnecessary distraction at this point, Louisa carried on walking towards the pub door, then stopped short. Could she retrace her steps, the night’s events, without physically going inside the pub? She didn’t want to draw attention to herself, have to face any people who might ask her questions. Instead, she headed around the side of the pub to the beer garden, which she felt would be equally sufficient in helping to draw out the memories.
Sitting down on the wooden bench beside the table, Louisa pulled off her shoes, then stood.
Cold grass.
She walked up and down in a small circle, the grass tickling her feet. She stopped and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in through her nose. She visualised the box from her hypnosis session. Visualised herself opening it here, now. A vivid image of the woman she hit in the lane twenty-two years earlier flashed up, inside the darkness of her closed lids.
‘Can I blag one of them off you?’ The voice caused fear to surface again.
And now, Louisa felt a presence; she could sense she was no longer alone. A chill shot through her as she opened her eyes, and slowly turned around.
The woman she’d run over was standing in front of her.
Louisa blinked hard several times but the apparition remained standing, staring at her – an expression that was part amused, part disgusted.
Her mind was confusing the memories, mixing up the images.
It hurt her to take a breath; the pain seemed to crush her ribs, restricting her lungs.
It’s not her. She’s dead. Your mind is playing tricks on you.
Louisa’s legs felt cold, weak. This wasn’t real. It was one of her hallucinations and she’d come of out of it in a minute, if she didn’t panic.
The dead woman could not be standing with her in the beer garden. It was impossible.
There’s a rational explanation for this.
Louisa closed her eyes tightly again. When she opened them, the dead woman would be gone.
‘I’ve been trying to get to you,’ a voice said.
Louisa felt a shift in her bowels. This wasn’t the same as the other hallucinations.
It seemed very real.
She opened her eyes to face whatever was in front of her.
48
THE REVELATION
‘I’ve been trying to get to you,’ the woman repeated. ‘Without Oliver catching me.’
Louisa’s cheeks filled with air and she blew it out slowly, recovering now that she faced the woman. Faced the truth.
Melissa Dunmore.
‘Where have you been? How come the police haven’t found you?’
‘I’ve been careful. Not used my mobile, not bought anything with any of my cards, no withdrawals. I’ve done nothing that would offer any proof of me being alive and well.’
‘You wanted people to think you were dead? How could you put your family, your friends through that?’
‘I have my reasons. One in particular that you should be familiar with.’
Louisa wasn’t sure which specific reason she was referring to, but it was safe to assume it could be related to running away from something in her past, or hiding from the repercussions of a bad decision. Or could she be alluding to something else? Had Oliver told Melissa what Louisa had done all those years ago? But if she did, what could she do about it now? It wasn’t as if Melissa could threaten her with the police. Firstly, she had no evidence. And secondly, Louisa did. She had evidence that put Melissa at the scene of a death – even if the police were yet to realise it had been a crime, she would bet that if she showed the police the drone footage, they’d look at the circumstances again, investigate further. Louisa held the cards here.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Louisa said. ‘But I do know about Tiff. That you were there, at her place the day she died. I’ve seen the evidence – Tiff had a drone, and you are clearly visible on the footage. It was you who hurt her, wasn’t it? Why? I don’t understand.’
‘I didn’t hurt her.’ Melissa shook her head, spiral curls bobbing around her face. ‘What happened to Tiff was not my fault. I just went there because I always felt sure she knew more about my sister’s disappearance than she said at the time.’
‘So, you did know Tiff?’
‘I knew of her, yes. Knew her type.’
‘I’d say you knew more than that. I saw the photo. The one on the beach, the happy group of friends all together. You with your arm around Tiff. I need to call the police – sorry, Melissa.’ Louisa turned to the table, taking her handbag and rummaging for her mobile.
‘Wait.’ Melissa reached forwards, laying her hand on Louisa’s arm. ‘Aren’t you interested in knowing the truth?’
Louisa hesitated, a squirming sensation rippling up her arms. Of course she was interesting in knowing the truth. ‘Go on,’ she said, her eyes narrowing.
‘Tiff must’ve slipped. She was alive when I left. That’s the truth. We’d talked, final
ly put some ghosts to rest. It must’ve just been a terrible accident; it was nothing to do with me. Well, not directly. She’d been trying to protect you.’
‘Protect me?’
‘She said Oliver had been hassling her, telling her she had to be careful of you. He told her what you’d done.’
Louisa gasped. After everything he’d said about keeping quiet for both of their sakes, why would he then tell Tiff? It didn’t make sense. Annoyance pressed her lips together tightly. She stared at Melissa, trying to deduce if Oliver had told her what had happened too. Told her how Louisa had killed a woman and asked for his help to cover up what she’d done. A heat burned her cheeks.
‘What I’d done?’ Her mouth was dry, her throat raspy. The question hung suspended in the air for a moment, unanswered. But Melissa’s face darkened, her features losing their sharpness. She looked as though her mind had wandered some place else. When she spoke again, even her voice had altered, had lost its sweetness.
‘Oliver had always been so supportive.’ An abrupt burst of laughter snorted its way through Melissa’s nose. ‘So understanding. Helping me through my grief.’ The garden lamp suddenly illuminated, and the light caught her eyes, the tears sparkling just before they dropped down her cheeks.
‘Grief?’
‘Yes. He knew what we’d gone through when Helen ran away. The thought that she couldn’t talk to us, confide in her family, was always tough. Never finding her was excruciating. It killed my mum.’
Louisa’s stomach rolled; a darkness encroached her vision from the edges, moving its way across her eyes. She put a hand on the wooden table to steady herself – her legs twitching, the bones feeling as if they’d been liquefied.
‘Your sister looked just like you,’ Louisa said, her voice barely a whisper. It wasn’t a question.
She knew.
‘Yes, even though she was older by a few years, everyone always mistook us for one another. Thought we were twins.’
‘It was her in the photo with Tiff, not you,’ Louisa said aloud, the reality dawning on her – Tiff had known Melissa’s sister, had worked with her. It was her Tiff had referred to when she’d told Louisa about her experience of being involved in a missing person investigation. ‘Did you ever find out what happened to her?’ She realised her question was futile, knowing the answer before she’d even asked it.
‘No. Oliver convinced me to stop looking, said it was destroying me, and that moving on would be what Helen would’ve wanted. And I had moved on. As much as I could. But when he wanted us to come back to Devon to branch out the business, I wasn’t happy about it. I couldn’t understand why he’d want to do it here, of all places. Why go backwards when it was he who had encouraged me to move on?
‘It was because of you, though. I know that now. You are the reason he came back. But he never banked on me meeting you.’
‘Now? He knows you’re meeting with me now?’ A surge of panic seized her.
‘No. He has no idea about this, or where I’ve been. No, I mean at your party.’
‘Oh, right.’ Louisa’s muscles relaxed a little, but then she realised what Melissa had said. ‘You weren’t at the party. No one saw you.’
‘Oh, yes. I was there. Not that Oliver knew at first. But Tiff saw me. Talking to you right here.’ Melissa cast her eyes around the beer garden.
So, she’d been right. She had seen Melissa. It just wasn’t the woman who’d been standing by Oliver on the stairs. ‘Tiff said she couldn’t remember,’ Louisa said, shaking her head. ‘She knew I was talking to someone, she remembered that, but she couldn’t say who and I was too out of it to remember.’
‘Obviously I wasn’t to know. I assumed she’d recognised me, so that’s why I dragged you away from the garden. Out of view from your guests.’
The memory now came easily – filling the gap that the self-hypnosis had left. She remembered Melissa pulling at her arm, felt the coldness beneath her feet as she was taken into the grassy area behind the pub, then to the cobbled road running adjacent to it.
I need my shoes.
No. You don’t. Just come with me.
But the stones. Ouch.
Stop whining.
‘How come Oliver didn’t know you were there – and why did he allow everyone to believe you were there?’
‘It suited his plan. He wanted to keep me at home. To keep me from meeting you. But I was too curious. Jealous, I guess. I wanted to meet you, so I followed him. When I saw you here, in the garden, and spoke to you, everything fell into place.’
The sudden clarity hit her. ‘Yes, for me too.’ The reason she’d been plagued by the images and visions from the beer garden were alarmingly clear to her now – that repressed memory too, now forcing itself to the forefront of her mind. As soon as she’d seen Melissa on the night of her party, she’d realised who she must be.
Louisa looked away, not wanting Melissa to see the guilt in her eyes.
‘I know. The look on your face when you saw me – like you’d seen a ghost.’
Louisa’s breathing shallowed. God, this was it. Melissa knew what she’d done.
Louisa had killed Melissa’s sister.
‘I can’t begin to explain. I have no excuses, Melissa. I’m so very sorry. I was young, I freaked out. I didn’t even know what I’d done until Oliver told me – I know it’ll sound like a cop-out to you, but I’ve suffered dissociative amnesia since it happened. I started getting flashbacks after the party – after seeing you. But even that I didn’t remember – I only had fleeting memories of the evening.’
‘But now you remember.’
‘Most of it, yes. I … I can see …’ The words caught in her throat; tears burned at her eyes. She shook her head, a part of her now wanting to displace the images that were so easily appearing. She shouldn’t be telling Melissa this. It would be too much for her to cope with.
‘What? What can you see, Louisa? Tell me exactly what you think happened.’
Louisa hesitated, stumbling on her words. ‘I can see … your sister; I can see Helen, on the ground in front of my car. I can hear the engine idling, the music from my radio cassette blaring out of the speakers: the words from that song, which has been in my head recently; I can feel the bile rising, my whole body shaking as I slowly get out of my car to see what I’ve done. I feel the sheer panic when I see she’s completely still. I realise I can’t drive past her. There’s no room in the narrow lane. I—’ Louisa retched, her upper body folding over her thighs. ‘Oh my God,’ she gagged. ‘I got hold of her arms, and pulled her to the side of the lane under the trees. Then I somehow drove home and rang Oliver. I was in such a state. He helped out, came over then drove the route I’d taken. He told me she was dead. That I’d killed her.’
‘Oh, Louisa.’ Melissa’s brow creased, her expression a mixture of anger and sadness. ‘Oliver did a good job on you, too, then.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You did hit my sister, knocked her down. She was badly injured. But she was alive when you left her. You did not kill her. Oliver did.’
‘What? No. Poor Oliver, it was me who’d made him drive out there. He did what he thought was best for me. He disposed of her body. For me. I was drunk, had been taking drugs. He said I’d have gone to prison …’
‘Louisa. Listen to me. It was Oliver who killed Helen. Not you.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Louisa took a step back, pressing both hands to her chest, her breaths suddenly shallow.
‘After I saw you in this garden, and we talked, you told me your history with Oliver. You told me how he’d left you back in 1997, that he’d said he was doing it to protect you after your accident – you got so upset and I knew something big had happened. So, some things fell into place for me. I confronted Oliver after the party, said I knew the reason he’d come back as I’d spoken to you, and he flipped. He must’ve assumed you’d told me everything about the accident in the lanes, thought I’d added two and two together. He lost it, tri
ed to strangle me, Louisa. Look.’
Melissa pulled at the silk scarf around her throat, revealing a yellowing ring of bruises.
‘I tell you, it was like he’d become possessed. I couldn’t understand it. I fought him hard, kicked him in the balls. He backed off then, unable to carry on his attack. When he’d got his breath back, he began rambling an incoherent explanation about what you’d done. He was trying to blame you to start with, saying you’d killed her and that his only crime had been in trying to clear up your mess. But then he crumpled, like all his strength left him and he was finally defeated, his lies too heavy to bear; he fell apart. He sat there, crying like a child. Then it all spilled out of him, the truth, like a long stream of hot guilt that he’d carried with him for over twenty years.’
‘But … he told me. Said it was me who’d killed her. He went to where it’d happened and when he came back, he said he’d taken care of it. For me. To protect me. And after a while he left the area – again, to protect me. That’s what he said. It’s what I believed.’
‘It’s the way he’d have liked to believe it happened too. But it didn’t. He said when he got to the location you’d specified, my sister was propped against a tree trunk. Battered and bloody, but very much alive. She looked at him, begged him to call an ambulance, to call me. He said he was doing it for you. That’s how he’d justified strangling the life from her, then burying her body.’
‘He couldn’t have done that, Melissa. Oliver is a lot of things, but not a murderer. He took the flak for me. And anyway, he wouldn’t have had time to kill her and bury her – he was back at my house less than …’
‘Less than what?’
‘I – I’m not sure exactly, but he hadn’t been gone long. I was beside myself with worry, but I would remember if I’d been waiting ages for his return.’
‘And you have a clear memory of everything that happened that night, do you? You weren’t panicked? Confused?’
‘Well, I …’
‘So you might not remember the time he came back. An hour, two, may have passed. Can you be one hundred per cent sure he was back within half an hour? And anyway, I’m sure it didn’t take long for the sick bastard to end her life.’
The Missing Wife Page 23