The Nineteenth
“He’s where? What the fuck is he doing there?” Taylor’s bark wakes me from my sleep. “I don’t understand Henry, I thought you guys had control of the situation….Well, fix it, dammit!” My feet are propelling me out of bed and into the lounge where Taylor is pacing anxiously before my mind has even fully comprehended what Taylor is saying.
“Taylor, what’s the matter?” I ask quietly.
My voice startles Taylor and he whips his head around. “Abs, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he continues.
“What’s the matter, Taylor?” I repeat feeling concerned.
Taylor lets out a long sigh. “Richard turned up at my parents’ house this morning, demanding to get in. Henry’s guys have refused him access, but my mother is fighting them saying that it is his house too and that he has every right to be there.” Taylor pinches the bridge of his nose, a clear sign of his stressed-out state.
“Stix!” I gasp out. “Where is she?” I ask as memories of Richard threatening her in the shop come back to haunt me.
“I don’t know. Henry couldn’t tell me,” Taylor responds, the worry written all over his face.
“Fuck,” I say softly.
“Fuck is right…” Taylor trails off.
A shiver runs over me and I realise that I am still naked. “I am just going to grab my dressing gown. Be right back,” I say striding back into our bedroom where I slip quickly into a pair of soft pyjama bottoms and a vest top. I shove my arms into my fluffy gown and am just trying the belt around my waist when there is a sudden hammering at the door.
“What the hell?” I mutter to myself, hurrying back through to the living room where I am greeted by the sight of a terrified Stix, her boyfriend Chris and a very relieved-looking Taylor.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” I ask, hurrying over to her and wrapping her up in a hug. Despite being taller than me, she still feels so fragile in my arms, especially as she can’t seem to stop shaking.
“I’m sorry, Tay,” Stix says as she tries to hold back her tears. “I was going to call you when he showed up, but I was so scared all I could think of was getting out of the house so I called Chris.”
“It’s okay, Stix. I am just so relieved that you are here now,” Taylor says grabbing his sister and pulling her into a hug. I shoot Chris a grateful smile as he hovers at the top of the stairs, still apparently intimidated by Taylor even after all these months.
“Come on in guys, let me get the kettle on,” I say ushering everyone across to the large couch. “Thanks for bringing her here, Chris,” I say softly, trying to convey how much it means to me.
“Yeah. Thanks, dude,” Taylor says turning to Chris. “You don’t know how much it means to me to know that there is someone I trust having my baby sister’s back.”
I can see the flush rising up Chris’ neck as the embarrassment over Taylor’s compliment makes him feel even more awkward. I move across to the kitchen and start making drinks for everyone. It is only once we are all seated on the sofa that Taylor notices the large brown envelope that Stix is holding.
“What have you got there, Sis?” Taylor asks and Stix looks down at her hands as if she had forgotten she was clutching something.
“I think this is what Richard is after…” Stix trails off and I can see my confusion mirrored on Taylor’s face.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Ever since Taylor and Grandmother had the house locked down Richard has been trying to get back in. The first couple of times, he tried slipping past security, but that Ben guy seems to have eyes in the back of his head and always caught him.”
“Not eyes, cameras,” Taylor murmurs. “Sorry for interrupting, Stix. Carry on.”
“Another couple of times he got as far as the house but couldn’t get through the door or one of the downstairs windows because they are all alarmed now. He even had the nerve to come up to me at the end of school one day just before the end of term and ask me to slip him in. When I refused, he became furious but Chris was with me and told him to fuck off.”
“Language, Stix,” Taylor says forcefully and I see her blush but neither of us misses the grateful look Taylor shoots at Chris.
“Sorry,” Stix mumbles. “Anyway, when he cornered me in Bread it got me thinking that he really was desperate to get into the house so there must be a reason. I have spent the last few days searching the place from top to bottom. Chris and I went through his bedroom and apart from some really icky magazines underneath his bed there was nothing. But then I remembered a while ago that Richard had been banging around in the attic so I thought I would have a look up there. I had to sort through a lot of junk, but I think this is what Richard has been hiding. It was the only thing that was out of place; the rest was just the Christmas decorations, old clothes and off-cuts of carpets and regular stuff.”
Stix hands the envelope across to Taylor, holding it like she would a bomb about the detonate and we watch as he pulls up the flap, glances inside and then empties the contents onto the coffee table. The first thing I notice is the passport but instead of looking a little worn around the edges, like most people’s would, this one looks brand new. I am the first to reach out and when I flick it open to the back page Richard stares back at me from the photo, but the name inside is Rowland Hamilton.
“Why would he need a fake passport?” I ask rather redundantly.
“Probably for the same reason he would need ten grand in cash,” Taylor says pointing at a thick stack of fifty-pound notes. “To run.”
“Oh,” I say, my mind spinning as I take in the rest of the contents envelope. A lone key sits beside a couple of memory sticks and a small stack of envelopes with Richard’s name on them in girlish handwriting. Taylor grabs his laptop and starts looking at the contents of one of the thumb drives so I grab the stack of letters and untie the string holding them together.
I open up the first one and let out a soft gasp when I see who wrote it; Hannah. Taylor looks at me curiously, but I just shake my head as I begin to read. At first it looks like an ordinary love letter but I am a little confused when Hannah talks about how much she is going to miss Richard, making me wonder whether she is talking about her fake suicide but when I glance up and check the date on the letter my hands begin to shake. The letter was dated two weeks before Taylor left for his gap-year travels.
How is that possible? Taylor said he met her in Costa Rica, that she never knew he had a brother yet here we have it in her own handwriting that she was in some sort of relationship with Richard well before she ever met Taylor. I glance up at Taylor and see he is engrossed in flicking through files on the computer so turn my attention to Stix who is sitting quietly on the sofa, curled up into Chris’ arms as he whispers softly to her.
“Did you read any of these?” I ask Stix quietly and am relieved when she shakes her head.
“No, I just saw the money and passport and thought I needed to get them and me out of the house as soon as possible,” Stix responds.
“Cool,” I say letting out a breath. I pick up the stack of as yet unread envelopes, grab hold of a notepad and pen and move across to the dining table so that I can work more comfortably. I hear Taylor mutter under his breath about encryptions and needing to call Henry, but I do my best to block him out.
There are twenty letters in total spanning six years making it clear that Hannah and Richard have been working together all this time. As I read through them, the picture becomes clearer and clearer in my mind. I have to fill in a few gaps with some assumptions on my part, but Hannah’s role in all of this is clear as day; she was a lure, a honeypot that Richard sent to follow and seduce Taylor on his gap year away. I still can’t work out the purpose of it all; was she supposed to kill him, or just break his heart or merely drive him insane? All I know is that reading between the lines, something changed and I can only surmise that it was as Hannah got to know Taylor and found out what a decent guy he was. At one point, she writes to Richard:
I am not sure I can do it anymore, Richard. I know you said your brother was evil and trying to destroy you but as I get to know him I can’t help but wonder if he has changed and is no longer the monster you thought he was.
A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine the kind of poison Richard was dripping in her ear. A couple letters later Hannah apparently no longer wants to be involved in any part of Richard’s plan:
You say you love me, but I am starting to feel like you have been using me all along. That all I am is some kind of pawn in a sick game of cat and mouse. Taylor has never even mentioned that he has a brother. He is kind and caring and talks to me like I am a person rather than some sort of stooge. I am not going to play your games any longer, Richard. I love Taylor and I think he is falling in love with me.
Looking at the date on the letter I can see that this one was sent just before Taylor finished up his year abroad and returned with Hannah. The next letter it perhaps the most telling of all and was written the day Hannah faked her own death:
Richard,
My mind and my heart are a swirling mess. As I write this, all I can think about is how you have used and manipulated me for your own end and now I am as much of a monster as you are. I loved you with all my heart, yet you deliberately sent me to Costa Rica to seduce your brother, the one you claimed had been bullying you all your life. Yet it would appear that you are the bully and I am no longer able to stand up to you…so I won’t. I can’t live with myself any longer; the lies I have told Taylor for you are eating me up inside and I can’t be a part of this fucked-up sibling rivalry any longer.
It is clear that you have no heart and Taylor has too much, so this is my goodbye. I love him too much to let you use me any longer and I know that the part of me that fell in love with you is still too susceptible to your charms so by removing myself from the equation I can no longer do any harm.
I will always love you.
Han xx
I feel physically sick as I read these words and understand the desperation Hannah must have been feeling. It doesn’t excuse what she has done, but I can certainly understand where the madness stems from. Some monsters may be born, but many others are made.
Hannah’s mind must have changed because only a few days later she wrote again, telling Richard that she was okay and that it wasn’t her that was killed. She begs him to forgive her causing him pain and says that she will write again soon when she has her new life set up. The remaining letters are spread over the last five years each giving more and more insight into her downward spiral and the growth of her obsession with Taylor. She talks about the ‘skanks and whores’ he goes out with and how no one will ever be good enough for him and then the last letter takes my breath away:
That Abigail James thinks she is all that, but I know better. She is trying to trap Taylor into marrying her with that baby and I can’t let her do that. You know as well as I do that Taylor is ours. He belongs to us and I will not let her or that evil spawn live if it’s the last thing I ever do!
Oh. My. God. I am shaking so violently it is all I can do to stay upright. “Taylor,” I call out. “You need to get these to Emelia straight away. This is it! This is what the Prosecution need to put Hannah away.” My voice is shrill and urgent and in moments Taylor is at my side scanning the letters. By the time he had read them all his frame is rigid, the tension radiating out of him.
“She knew Richard before…” Taylor trails off, the betrayal evident in his voice as his shoulders slump in defeat.
“Yeah,” I say quietly placing my hand over his. Taylor remains still for a moment before snatching his hand away and stalking to the phone. “Henry, I need you to set up a meeting with Detective Stanton and Emelia straight away,” Taylor barks into the phone. “I don’t care if she is in court, get a message to her somehow. We have some new evidence for the case, but she needs to see it before Richard gets on the stand tomorrow. Just do it.” Taylor is barely controlling his rage and I sense his need to vent. Even Stix is looking alarmed; I don’t she has ever seen her older brother like this.
“I am going for a run,” Taylor grunts before turning and heading down the stairs. I follow him cautiously, watching him pull on his running shoes and head out the door before closing it with an almighty bang.
.........................
Three hours have passed since Taylor literally ran out the door. I made lunch, but no one appeared to have much of an appetite so most of it lies on the side uneaten along with the cups of tea I seem to be compulsively making. Henry has been going crazy because somehow his guys managed to lose Taylor at some point along the Promenade and keeps calling me every fifteen minutes to see if Taylor has made it back in one piece.
I have just pulled a batch of scones out of the oven when I hear the door click. We all look at each other with alarm and wait to see what is about to happen. I am shaken to my core when I see a pale Taylor standing at the top of the stairs dripping with sweat and the rain that has been falling most of the morning.
I walk across to him and place my hand on his arm, trying to ignore it when he flinches at my touch. I have seen the look in his eyes once before, the night we had sex before he abandoned me. I resist the urge to cry at the horrific sense of déjà vu washing over me. I will not lose my husband. We have been through too much shit for this to drive us apart.
“Tay?” Stix says quietly and I can hear the fear in her voice.
“It’s okay guys. Why don’t you both go hang out downstairs for a while, grab some cake? Don’t leave, though, okay?” I can hear the tremor in my voice.
“Alright,” Stix says softly grabbing Chris’ hand. They slide past us, both of them looking concerned, but doing as I ask.
“Stix, could you just let Henry know he is back. Give us an hour,” I say handing my phone to her as she nods her head.
I step back and run my eyes over Taylor, who is now trembling. “Come on,” I say gently tugging his hand while I ignore the wet, muddy footprints that make me wonder which fields he has been running through. I push him through to our en-suite and get the shower running before turning to Taylor. His eyes are dead, so blank that I wonder how I on earth I am going to get him back to me.
I try to pull Taylor’s t-shirt off him, but he is just standing there looking at me blankly. “Come on, Taylor. Give me a hand here,” I order and I feel a little relieved when he complies by kicking off his running shoes and pulling the sodden top over his head. I quickly pull down his joggers and pants and then kneel down to help peel the socks off his damp feet. When Taylor is completely naked, I strip out of the dress I had changed into earlier before pushing Taylor under the stream of hot water.
We stand like that for a few minutes, the water cascading down Taylor’s face while I wait for the trembling to stop. I reach across and grab the shower gel, squirting some into my hands and then working it into a lather. When I finally touch Taylor he flinches once again but I refuse to be daunted. I begin running my soapy hands across his broad chest, up over his collar bone and then across his shoulders. I move behind him and continue to wash Taylor’s back, massaging the tense muscles as I go.
When I move back to his front, I see that Taylor has now closed his eyes but the tick in his jaw remains. I bend down to wash Taylor’s legs and feet, cursing when I struggle to stand. I almost slip on the wet tiles but as my feet go from under me, Taylor scoops me up and puts me back down on solid ground.
“Careful,” he murmurs and I see my Taylor slowly coming back to me.
I reach up and grab the back of Taylor’s neck pulling his head down so that his forehead rests on mine. “I’m not losing you, Taylor. Not like this. Not again. So don’t even think about it. Okay.” It is not a question and Taylor squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them and giving me a brief nod. My lips find his as I kiss him fiercely, suddenly feeling a need to relieve the tension that I have been experiencing since Taylor walked out the door. Taylor returns my kisses, a growl erupting from his t
hroat as he forces his tongue into my mouth. His hands run over my body and into my hair, gripping it tight and mirroring my own actions. I feel my arousal growing as Taylor’s hands wander lower. His fingers find my clit and he begins rubbing it with a circular motion that has me going weak at my knees. I find myself scrabbling against the glass door, the tremors starting to wash through me as my orgasm builds.
“Argh, I need to be inside you,” Taylor commands spinning me around and entering me from behind in one fluid movement. His hands trap mine against the cold screen making it impossible to move as his hips flex, grinding into me deeper and deeper.
“More,” I cry out and he picks up his pace, his thrusts sharp and short as I push my pelvis back against Taylor, trying to take him even deeper. I need more friction so snatch my hand from under his. I reach down and find my clit, that little bundle of nerves that has grown swollen with my desire. I can feel my juices flowing and I know I won’t be long. I begin rubbing my clit, enjoying the sensations as the muscles in my pelvis starts to tighten. When I can’t take anymore, I give it the lightest of flicks and then I explode, my muscles clamping down of Taylor’s cock like a vice. I squeeze and squeeze until I hear him calling out my name and then we both collapse forward, my head on the cold shower screen while Taylor kisses my neck.
“I love you, Abs,” Taylor whispers into my ear.
The Twentieth
I am under strict instructions not to worry so of course that is all I can do. When Taylor was finally compos mentis, we drove up to London with the brown envelope clutched firmly in my hands and Stix and Chris in the back seat. I didn’t want to let it out of my sight for a moment, not until we could hand it over to someone who could actually do something with it. When Emelia was finally able to read through the letters, the expression on her face was like all her Christmases had come at once. Even Detective Stanton had a small grin on her face as she finally got the substantial evidence she needed to link Richard and Hannah together. When we finally walked out of the police station where we had all met up, I felt lighter than I had for weeks and wondered if we were finally on the home straight.
Book Three: Thirty Days, Book 3 Page 11