by H Elliston
“I get it,” I said, jumping in. “I know you don’t believe the police can help, and I guess I understand if you want the glory of bringing your brother’s killer to justice.”
“And as for you, Chelsea, well, maybe I’m weak. Getting close to a person who’s got some kind of bounty on their head, it was too much to deal with, even for me. Too soon after losing Daryl.”
I stroked his leg. “I understand. Really, I do.”
His eyes locked on mine. “I’ve tried to fight my feelings, but you’re just so… ugh! It’s getting harder and harder to keep my hands to myself.”
A snorty laugh escaped me. “Not that I want you to keep your hands to yourself, but something could still happen to me. So what’s changed?”
Lee caressed my lips with his finger. “I can’t help who I fall for. But I’ve decided. If you can just trust me, you’re going to survive this.” Passion burst out through his voice, causing my nerve endings to tingle. “I’ll make damn sure of it.” On his last word, he pulled me towards him and kissed me with urgency. His arms tightened around my back. There was no way he wanted to either hurt or risk losing me. Not when he kissed with such pent-up desire.
I closed my eyes and fell into the moment.
His lips, pressing no harder than butterfly wings, tickled as they fluttered down my neck below my ear.
Brought out of myself, a burst of pleasure took over me, tenfold due to the strenuous day. I felt free and alive, and so, when he kissed me on the mouth again, I cupped his face to keep him there.
Several long moments later, he pulled away and looked deep into my eyes. As though stunned by the intense connection, we continued gazing. Were we at last, really seeing each other?
“Aw… Chelsea,” he said in a sugared voice. “How could anyone want to hurt you?”
A second later, there was a hitch in his breathing. I waited, my heart rate climbing to explosive levels. But then, he groaned in pain, rolled his shoulders and stretched his back.
The passionate moment went altogether when I caught sight of his irritating wall clock. Just over two hours to go. My heart, now beating at full volume again, sounded so loud I wondered if he could hear it. Sickness welled like a heavy pendulum swaying in the pit of my stomach.
With his muscles now stretched, Lee faced me and held my gaze with his delicious eyes. He lifted an eyebrow. “We’ve got an hour or so before you need to go upstairs and hide.”
I slumped against the sofa and considered racing for the bathroom to empty my stomach. “I’m sorry... but the time. I feel as though I’m going to be sick. I just want to get this over with. I’ve really had enough.”
He nodded, wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. He understood, or at least pretended to.
More than an hour passed filled by pottering, pacing, and controlling my turbulent stomach.
Lee rewired the bowling ball trap. “All done. I’ll be down in a minute.” He went up to use the bathroom while I gathered my belongings ready to take my position upstairs.
Someone would soon be coming for me.
And that someone wanted me dead.
I was forty minutes away from the most terrifying climax of my life. If I got through this, I knew exactly how I intended to celebrate.
I’d had a small taste of it already.
An unfamiliar tune rang from the kitchen. It wasn’t my ring tone. Lee’s? I darted into the kitchen and shouted, “Lee. Is that your phone?”
He didn’t answer.
The sound led me into a cupboard where a mobile was trying to spin in a circle next to a tin of mushroom soup. The caller rang off. I sauntered back to the sofa and set the phone on the coffee table, ready for him.
I couldn’t stop staring at it.
Feeling naughty, I grabbed hold of the mobile and scrolled down the contact list. If my name wasn’t here, I intended to add it - a hint for Lee to phone me once this nightmare ended. I scrolled further down the list. Nothing. Maybe he’s mis-spelled it. I continued tapping my thumb on the down button, convinced my name would appear.
That’s when I spotted something strange.
The name Lee was in the list, and tagged on the end, the nickname ‘bro,’ caught my attention.
This phone belonged to Lee’s brother, Daryl.
I held it loosely, momentarily scared because it belonged to a dead person. When I looked back at the contact list and spotted another name that didn’t belong, I knew for certain someone had lied.
My jaw fell open seeing Laura’s details in the entries. Laura, landlord. The phone slipped through my shaky fingers and thudded on the floor.
Hearing little more than my heartbeat rapping in my chest, I leaned forward and let my head droop. Dropping the phone must have knocked a button. The photo gallery popped up on the screen. Staring at the mobile between my feet, I tried unravelling the reason why Laura’s number would be programmed into Daryl’s phone, when she’d said she didn’t know him. I scooped the mobile up and flicked through a few of the photos; Lee. A cluster of men smiling in a bar. Older people, possibly his parents. Then one of Daryl. He was standing outside the huge window of a hairdressing shop.
Poor guy, I thought, what really happened to you?
Studying the photo, deep in thought, my eyes wandered to the right of Daryl’s shoulder. There, reflecting back from a large mirror behind the window of the hairdressing shop, stood a female with jaw-length black hair. A mobile phone covered half of her face as she held the phone out to take the photo that she starred in.
This was Laura. I felt sure of it.
I scrolled through the contact list again, landed on her name and pressed dial to double-check. I put the phone to my ear, waited and listened, my heart ready to explode.
The call was answered after four rings. “Hello? Who in the hell is this? Why do you have this phone?”
I recognised her voice straight away, hung up and chucked the mobile onto the other sofa. The lying little...
Laura’s voice had sounded shocked. Of course it had. She’d just accepted a call from a dead guy she claimed not to know.
She knew him.
Bingo.
CHAPTER 18
It may have been ill-mannered, but I felt that I had to question Laura first, alone.
I returned the mobile to the cupboard and scribbled Lee a quick note.
‘Gone to meet Laura. Don’t follow or phone. Thanks for all your help. One big kiss.’
I grabbed my handbag and mobile, moved booby traps aside, then hurried out of Lee’s front door. My shoulders felt heavy. Confusion from the questions in my mind was weighing me down. I trudged to the end of the dark street and phoned for a taxi, then phoned Laura and demanded that she meet me.
After locking the front door of my home behind me, I clicked on all the lights until I reached the kitchen, where I grabbed a serrated bread knife from the drawer. Poking my head around doors and listening for movement, I swept the entire house with the knife pointed forward in my shaking hand. The steak knives from my bathroom wall had been removed, but the lipstick words remained on the wall above the toilet, along with patches of black from where the police must have dusted for prints. It made me shudder. I whipped around, exited and slammed the bathroom door shut.
After double-checking for signs of an intruder, I re-entered the kitchen. Having placed the knife on the bench, I blew out a long breath, satisfied that I was alone and no longer needed to gumshoe around my own house like a burglar. I stepped into the dining room and came to a stop in front of my computer. The place where my nightmare started.
I attempted to think through the mayhem. Then my mobile rang.
Lee’s name flashed onto the screen. With my head reeling, I cancelled the call. Three times. Then sent him a quick text:
‘I’m fine. I’ll phone later. C.’
Laura shouted, “Hey,” through the letterbox. Her spare key clicked in the lock.
I set my mobile down, and then stood in the centre of the room facing th
e open door that led to the hall.
On entering the dining room, Laura’s expression rearranged.
“I found Daryl’s phone.” I paused to let my words sink in. “Your number’s in it. How do you explain that?”
A sour look crossed her face and she fiddled with her engagement ring. She spun the diamond round and round her finger at speed with her other hand. I figured she was unaware of her own nervousness.
“What’s going on?” I demanded. “We’re back here again, aren’t we? You’d better not hold out on me this time.”
I stepped closer.
Laura shifted sideways.
We mirrored each other, stomping in a circle between the sofa, desk and window.
“How do you know Daryl?” I asked. “It was me who called you from his mobile. I know you were surprised, after all, why would a dead guy phone you?”
Her gaze plummeted to the floor.
“Look at me, Laura.” I tried to engage her eyes. “I am your friend, so talk to me. I know you’re the link to Daryl. I need to know why.”
Slowly, she lifted her gaze. “Are you alone?”
I nodded.
She peered back into the hall, which suggested to me that she thought I’d lied. “Lee’s definitely not here?”
We exchanged an irritated glance.
“It’s just you and me, so get on with it. Spill.”
She blinked several times. Tears welled in her eyes.
I sensed straight away I wasn’t going to enjoy her explanation.
“I had a… fling… with Daryl.”
I coughed out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding in, then said, “Bloody hell! I didn’t expect that.”
Laura scanned the room again, as if wanting to dive for the nearest exit. “I ended it about a month ago.” Her voice sounded cold and broken.
I wasn’t sure about my feelings. Was I disappointed, shocked, angry on Paul’s behalf? Not knowing my friend as well as I thought really hurt me. “But Laura, you’re marrying Paul. What on earth were you thinking? How did it all start?”
“Well, you know Daryl is…” She paused. “Was a psychiatrist? I had a few sessions with him after my parents died.”
“I thought he rented one of your houses or something. The word ‘landlord’ was next to your name in his phone.”
“Oh, that. It’s nothing. Daryl lists clients by profession, you know Jo the builder, John the doctor. It helped him put a face to his clients quicker. Anyway, then I bumped into him several months ago and we went for a drink. Things just... happened. Whenever Paul was at the gym or somewhere, we got together.”
“I see.” I tried to get my head around Laura being unfaithful to Paul with the dead man I only knew from a photo.
“It sounds so wrong now, but at the time…”
Laura seemed so smitten with her ‘perfect’ Paul that I found it difficult to believe she’d ever cheat on him.
Looking at my computer pulled my thoughts back to the main problem. “Where do the email threats fit in?”
She sniffed. “The emails aren’t death threats. I’ve been telling you that all along. Your life is definitely not in danger, Chelsea.”
“But someone broke into my house. So, what in the hell..?”
Laura made a throaty sound as if her next words would choke her. “The countdown timers are a deadline.”
“A deadline for what?”
She sucked in a shaky breath. “I thought Daryl sent the emails at first. He was angry and upset after we broke up.”
I nodded. “And?”
“After his death, my emails kept coming.”
“Who do you think is sending them, and why am I involved?”
“The emails are warnings. Someone was going to expose my affair to Paul. You’re a trial run, Chelsea.”
I blinked fast. “A what?”
“Whoever’s doing this threatened to tell you first, so I’d believe he, or she, is serious about telling Paul next.” Laura shrugged. “That’s as much as I know.”
“Why would someone send me cryptic emails with ticking clocks and stab my bathroom wall?”
“Stab what?”
“Didn’t I tell you that part? It was more than just writing. It scared me. Anyway, it would be easier just to tell me straight, or better still, send the messages to Paul. Are you absolutely sure that no one wants to kill me?”
Laura nodded. “Positive. I wouldn’t lie about something like that. Look, no one’s tried to attack you tonight, have they? The death threat is a bluff.”
The weight behind her words started to convince me she was right. Yes. I was still here, breathing.
Laura continued. “The word ‘slag’ in the email refers to me, not you. If someone stabbed your wall, that was also just to scare me, not you. I’m sorry that you’ve become involved.”
“Okay. So, how does someone know you haven’t already told me and Paul about the affair?”
Laura held out her palms. “I don’t have all the answers. And I don’t know why they’ve gone about it this way. Who knows what’s going through their sick head?”
“My timer runs out…” I sidestepped, shot my gaze to the clock in the kitchen then back. “Anytime now. So why hasn’t someone contacted me yet to spill the beans on your affair?”
Judging by Laura’s strained face, I hadn’t heard the worst of it.
Something occurred to me. “You said someone was going to expose the affair? Was. What changed their mind?”
A daunting few seconds of silence seemed to chill the house as she clammed up and gave me a hard stare.
I returned it. “Well?”
“I gave in. Keeping my secret comes at a high price.”
“You’re being blackmailed?” My voice jumped up an octave. “You’re shittin’ me.” I could hardly believe it. Poor Laura.
“Yes. Blackmail.” She sounded like a vulnerable child, and plonked herself onto the sofa.
I dropped down onto the sofa beside her, staring blankly across the room, stunned. Although relieved to hear that my life wasn’t on the line, uncovering the truth by no means thrilled me. “So, you think this is just about money?”
She nodded.
“But you let me believe someone was trying to kill me!” I gushed. “How could you do that?”
Laura shook her head fast. “No. Never. I kept saying you’d got it wrong. I didn’t want you to know I was unfaithful.”
“I see.” Laura’s version of the emails was different to mine from the start. How could I have expected her to see it from my point of view when she had so much plaguing her mind? I pictured the emails, realised they never quoted ‘death.’ That’s just how I’d interpreted it, encouraged by Lee and the mystery surrounding his dead brother - now apparently Laura’s ex-lover. “This is some crazy shit, Laura.” I wondered how I could help her.
Laura curled her legs up to her thighs on the sofa and muttered, “Sure is.” She looked twisted, frail, as though she’d break apart if she moved. She needed comfort, needed her best friend. Me.
I hugged her.
She shuddered at first then relaxed in my arms.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
She felt warmer now, and snug, but inside I knew she must have been broken and listless. When we ended the hug, I looked at her, silently trying to convey that we’d find a way to work things out together. She attempted to smile, but I’d also just learned how well she could cover up her true feelings.
I broke off and held her at arms length. “How much money do they want?”
“A lot.”
An image of cash flashed into my mind. “So that money I found in your wardrobe—”
“Yep.” She nodded. “Bang on thirty-five grand.”
I cupped my chin, at first unable to close my gaping mouth. “Jesus! That much? I get it now, why you yelled at me for snooping. So who’s doing this?”
“The only person I can think of is Lee.”
I gulped.
“D
aryl must have told him about us.”
I closed my eyes, picturing Lee’s handsome face. Is that what it looked like from her perspective? No wonder she wasn’t happy about me spending time with him.
I tilted my head as if to plead. “It must be someone other than Lee. Who did you tell?”
“I didn’t even tell you, Chelsea.”
“Then someone saw you.”
“Perhaps, but we were discreet. Lee is the obvious suspect.”
“Obvious doesn’t mean guilty. Could Daryl have told someone?”
“You mean apart from Lee?” she fired back.
I stood, then stomped across the room in silence for a moment, wheeling ideas through my head. “What about contact details and text messages? Love notes? Could someone have read them? Did you write Daryl’s number anywhere? Could someone have found his number and put it together?”
“No. I had everything covered. His number was only in my mobile and programmed as ‘Emma.’”
“Oh!” I said. “Bet that confused you.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Not really. The last two digits of his number were sixty-nine.”
I rolled my eyes. “That figures.”
Laura spent the next few minutes apologising for getting me dragged into her messy affairs.
Though nothing actually changed, for a moment, in my mind, the lights blacked out, background noises faded, and the floor tilted. The world was collapsing in on me. I shut my eyes and swayed, experiencing Laura’s shrinking hell. No wonder she wanted to bury the truth. Her recently odd behaviour had been a smokescreen and nothing more.
“Daryl is the reason why I went to that pole-dancing bar on my hen evening,” Laura said. “He liked the place, which surprised me once I saw it. But he said it was good for unwinding. I couldn’t risk being spotted at the funeral, so figured if I went there, it’d be a bit like paying my respect.”
“Did you know Lee would be there on the same night?”
“Hell, no,” Laura said with a cold chuckle in her tone. “If I’d known that, I’d never have set foot in the sleazy place.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t feel able to talk to me about any of this,” I said. “You know I’d never tell Paul.” I felt a smile coming on and sat down. “The fact that Lee didn’t tell me about the affair tonight means it isn’t him.” I put power into my voice. “He’s innocent.”