The three of us are immersed in the television program when Maya walks into the living room.
“Thank you, Mrs P.” Her face is flushed and her eyes are red. It’s obvious that she’s been crying. But I cannot afford to let my guard down. “You’re welcome. Where’s the report?”
“I left it on your desk.”
Scrambling up, I walk to the study, panicking for a moment about having left her alone in there with the report. My sudden mistrust shocks me. But there it is, the stapled sheaf of papers where Maya left it.
Chapter 40
The following day I ask Jennifer to hold my calls and bury myself in paperwork. But I cannot concentrate. With Chloe’s case over I should be getting my life back, spending time with my family. Instead I’ll be going home to a husband who can barely look at me. Who has gone back to sleeping in the spare bedroom.
Shaking my head I try to focus on the document in front of me. But my eyes keep clouding over, the words dancing in front of my eyes. In the end I close the file and pack my bag. I have to get out of here, get some air, go home early. Show Miles that I’m making an effort to be around more.
Popping my head into Jennifer’s cubicle I ask whether there were any important messages. “I was just typing up an email,” she says, handing me my work mobile phone. “Nothing pressing but you did get a call from Detective Brown.”
“Yes?” I respond, trying to keep my voice steady as my pulse starts racing. “Did he say what he wants?”
“No, he wouldn’t, said he’d like to speak to you directly. All he said was that there’s been a breakthrough.”
“Ok, thank you.” My legs feel like jelly as I walk the few steps back to my office and close the door, leaning against it as all the energy seeps out of my body. My feet feel rooted to the spot as shock spreads across my whole body. I feel like I cannot move. I can barely even breathe. I realise after a while that I’m holding my breath.
Long moments go by until I feel strong enough to push myself upright and gingerly take a step into the room, hoping that my legs won’t buckle beneath me. Taking small steps, I make my way to my desk.
My world stops spinning every time Detective Brown calls. Is this it? Does this mean that they’ve made the link? That all these years of keeping such a big secret are coming to an end and the future is completely unknown. I’m overcome by fear for myself but also for my family. The children will grow up without a mother. My parents will have to come to terms with what I did. The embarrassment that this will cause Miles.
My hands are trembling so much that I keep hitting the wrong button as I dial Detective Brown’s number. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four rings until the machine picks up. But I don’t know what to say and hang up without leaving a message.
Instead I call his office. His secretary’s chirpy voice hurts my ears. “He’s out until Monday.” And so is Detective James, she adds when I ask for her.
Putting my head in my hands, I lower it towards my desk, as my desperation intensifies. A breakthrough could mean anything but it can’t be good. They must be getting closer to finding me. Somehow they must have come across evidence leading back to me.
How am I going to wait until Monday to find out what they have about me, what the development is?
There is only one thing I can do. I can spend time with my family. I need to stop wasting precious moments in a dark office and instead rush home. I can try to get there in time to connect with the children, tuck them into bed, tell them how much I love them. And then I can try to patch things up with my husband, get him to forgive me, try to save our marriage, before it’s too late.
Chapter 41
My head is pounding, my eyes bleary by the time I pull into the garage. Miles’ car is already there. I’m surprised. Even though we’ve barely spoken in the past days, he still tells me when he’s leaving the hospital. Not today. I haven’t heard from him for hours, thought he must still be in surgery. He’s in the living room, sitting on the sofa. But for once he doesn’t have a book or a journal in his hand. He’s staring straight ahead, not even turning when I walk into the room until I call his name.
“Where are the kids?” I ask, looking at my watch, confirming that it’s still before their bedtime.
He turns his head to face me slowly, as if the motion requires a lot of effort. “They’re asleep.”
“Already?” I cannot keep the disappointment from my voice. “I wanted to say goodnight. Maybe they’re still awake.” I start walking away, wanting to rush upstairs on the off chance Miles is mistaken. But he calls after me.
“Elizabeth, come over here please.” His voice is stern, a sharp edge to it. “We need to talk.”
Not tonight, I think. I feel an enormous urge to run away, as far from here as possible, to avoid the confrontation. Tell him that I need to take a shower, buy myself some time. Tell him about Detective Brown’s message. But I know deep in my heart that it would only postpone the inevitable. I need to get this over with now.
So I turn around and walk towards my husband. Putting my bags down, I take a seat next to him. He shuffles backwards, away from me, and it feels like a dagger to my heart.
Miles keeps me waiting. He stares ahead, then holds his head in his hands, wrestling with the thoughts inside. Eventually he speaks. “I’m sorry Liz, but I cannot keep your secret. It’s too much for me. It’s crushing me. It’s all I can think about. I’m terrified that at any moment you’re going to be found out. I can’t concentrate on anything else. I can’t cope in the operating theatre.”
Warmth moves up my body, inching its way to my head. The room spins around me. I feel the air knocked out of me and have to steady myself against the back of the sofa to stop myself from slumping forward. Of course he couldn’t do that for me. I knew another person couldn’t. And now I have so much to lose.
For days I’d known that I would have to confess. That this eventuality was unavoidable. But its reality now stops me in my tracks. Perhaps it’s the wrong move. I want to argue, beg him not to make me do this, force him to understand that there’s another way. That just like I’ve managed to live with this secret for all those years, so will he. We can support one another, talk to each other. Finally glancing up, I’m ready to put my thoughts into words but the stony look on his face stops me. His usually soft eyes are cold, devoid of emotion.
“Miles, the children…” I start.
“No,” he interrupts, holding his open palm in front of me, inches from my face. “You’re not going to use the children as an excuse. The children have already been affected. Your constant nightmares, your jumpiness, your fear of a simple colour. The children will be worse off if you’re found out, dragged out in handcuffs in the middle of the night. What will all this teach them about facing up to their mistakes, about consequences, about truth? We cannot live our lives waiting for you to be found out, especially if there’s someone out there who knows what you’ve done, who’s been threatening you.”
“We could leave the country, move somewhere far, try to put all this behind us.”
But Miles shakes his head. “Our lives are here. This is the place the children know. We’re not taking them away from everything for a gamble.”
Any energy I had feels like it has been sucked right out of me and I have to struggle to stop my body from going limp. Hanging my head I stare down at my hands, twisting them in my lap, my fingers looping around each other. There’s no point telling him about Detective Brown’s call. It would only re-affirm his belief that I need to turn myself in. My biggest nightmare is happening right now. And this time I know I cannot wake up.
My mind is whirring, questions booming inside my head, getting louder and louder. Will our marriage survive or will Miles leave me? What will happen to my children? Will I even be allowed to see them? Do I want them to come visit me in prison? The image of Julian and Leah seeing me behind bars is unbearable and tears spring to my eyes. They are so young and I’m making them go through something no child should
ever experience. What sort of mother am I? I abandoned one child and am turning the lives of my other two upside down.
It’s as if Miles reads my mind. He reaches out and covers my hands with his. It’s the first time he has willingly touched me in days and I allow myself to savour the moment. “I will do whatever I can to support you,” he says. “But you need to come clean.” His voice is barely a whisper, his eyes downcast. “Otherwise I’m going to have to do it myself.”
“Please Miles, let’s not take any hasty decisions.”
He moves his hand away. “This wasn’t a hasty decision. I’ve given this a lot of thought and it’s the best for our family. For our children.”
“What? Me going to prison?”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” He stands up and starts walking out of the room, before turning back. “But you’re going to have to face the consequences of your actions. All of us will have to.”
For long minutes after he leaves I am rooted to the spot, unable to move. I have to force myself to stand up and drag myself upstairs. Lying in the empty bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, sleep evades me completely. For years I have felt the pressure of fear at times almost suffocate me. But I’ve always held strong, refusing to break down, trusting my methods, and the more I put into the life I’d built, the harder I worked to stop it from crumbling if I let the truth slip.
Even though deep down I always knew my past would one day catch up with me, I feel completely unprepared. My priority has been to keep the truth hidden and I did nothing to prepare myself for the opposite. This shift knocks the breath out of me as I feel the whole world come crashing around me.
But now that the decision has been taken out of my hands, there’s a part of me that yearns for release. Finally I’m going to be able to lift the burden off my shoulders. I will no longer need to be constantly looking behind me, terrified of being discovered.
But the thought of Maya finding out, her reaction when she realises that the person she’s been looking for has been right down the road, terrifies me. How could she not hate me for not telling her, and detest the deceitful way I’ve been so close to her? She might see me as the monster who killed her father.
My thoughts turn to Ellen, the anguish she is going through, and the anger I know she’ll feel if I come forward. Shaking my head I try to rid myself of that image, force myself to get some sleep. But for hours I lie on my back thinking the same thought about how my life has been turned upside down simply because I made the mistake of getting into John Larkin’s car.
Miles has agreed to give me until Monday to put the wheels in motion. By then I will know what the detectives have found out. I might not even need to confess. I have one last weekend. And then the life I’ve worked so hard to build could be over.
Chapter 42
“Ellen?” I say, looking out onto the dark entryway. It’s late in the evening on Saturday. “How are you? Come on in.”
Opening the door wide, I wait for her to enter, but she remains rooted to the spot and I notice her face is hard with anger.
“How could you do this to me?” Her words dig into me.
The hot flush of guilt spreads through my body, starting from my feet and travelling upwards, until it reaches my face. Multiple scenarios rush through my head, heightening my fear. The detectives must have called her, told her about my connection to Maya. That has to be it. Or she finally realised I was the girl at the hospital. “Why don’t you come in so we can talk?”
She starts shaking her head. The front light goes on at the house next door and Ellen glances towards it. We hear voices coming from that direction. Ellen takes a step towards me and I move back, making space for her. “Let’s go into the study,” I say, leading the way.
Closing the door behind us, I look at Ellen. There’s a fury in her eyes that I’ve never seen before. Her jaw is clenched, her lips set in a thin line. For long moments she’s immobile, staring at me with contempt.
“Ellen, what happened?” I ask, my voice barely audible over the rhythmic thumping in my ears.
“This is what happened,” she snaps, thrusting a sheaf of papers in my hand. I don’t need to look to know it’s the report on Nora Larkin.
“I don’t understand. We already discussed this. What’s wrong now?”
“I found this in Maya’s bedroom,” she hurls at me. “How could you give it to her? How could you go behind our back and tell her about that woman?”
It doesn’t make sense. Maya left the copy I showed her in my office. I’d made sure she didn’t take it home with her, wanting to avoid this exact confrontation. “Ellen, I didn’t give her this.”
“Then how come she has it?” Ellen’s eyes are blazing as she stares at me.
“I don’t know, did she tell you I gave it to her?”
“No, of course she didn’t. She’d never tell on you. She treats you like an idol. Especially since you took her to the hair salon,” she spits out.
“Maybe she found your copy?” I suggest.
“Don’t try to blame me! I checked and my copy is in the safe.”
“Ellen, I didn’t give her this,” I repeat. And then I am overcome by anger. I should be spending time with my family, playing with the children before they go to bed and not having this pointless discussion. “Some trust would be nice after all I’m doing for you,” I lash out.
“You’re not doing us any favours. We’re paying a lot of money for your services and then you go behind our backs and give Maya this.”
“I did not give this to her!” The lie sounds hollow to my ears, despite trying to convince myself it’s the truth, that I didn’t give Maya the report, only allowed her to see it.
She snatches the document from my hands in uncharacteristic aggression. “Tom warned me about you,” she spits at me. “From the beginning he said there was something wrong with you. That you were too cold, always in control, like you were hiding something. But I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, be your friend. I liked you. I allowed my daughter to spend time at your house, take care of your children. And instead of gratitude I get this.” She hits the document with the back of her other hand. “You went behind my back and did the one thing I specifically told you not to.”
Before I can respond, she pivots around. As she storms out of the office, her flowing cardigan catches a thick glass vase sitting on one of the shelves. It topples precariously on its side, wobbling for a split second, before starting its descent to the ground. The sound of glass hitting the hardwood floors and breaking shatters through the silence.
For a moment I find myself transported back in time, to that night, the moment when he dropped the beer bottle, the noise piercing through my hope of getting away. That was the instant when my fate was sealed, when my opportunity to escape was lost. I have often wondered how different my life would have been had I managed to get away, had he not woken up. I would not be here right now, fighting with someone I had long hoped could be a real friend.
Shivers go down my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck spring upwards as the shards of glass scatter and bounce upwards before settling in a messy circle around the point of impact. I slam my hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming.
Ellen stares at me and for a moment I think a softer look crosses her face. But after a fleeting second her icy glare returns. “I’ll send you a cheque for this,” she says, motioning to the broken glass. Then she turns around again and marches out of the room.
The front door slams shut. My legs are weak. I’m still struggling to catch up with what has happened. How did Maya get a copy of the report? It was on my desk before she left. How could she betray me after everything I said? What was I thinking to go behind Ellen’s back, and get this so wrong?
The sound of the TV interrupts my thoughts. But I don’t go back into the living room. My suspicion aroused, I boot up my laptop and look through my sent emails. There’s nothing strange. Then I go through my deleted emails. And there it is. An em
ail sent from my computer to Maya’s address, the report on Nora Larkin attached.
“Fuck.” Her deception stings. Clenching my fists, I bite them to keep myself from letting out the scream of frustration that’s building in my throat.
Chapter 43
My fingers are tight around the phone, my knuckles white as I wait for Detective Brown to get on the line. Traffic whizzes by, its sound muffled by the closed windows of my car. As soon as my phone rang I had pulled up on the side of the road, suspecting it might be him.
A couple of minutes have passed. Classical music comes from the other side of the line, its intended calming effect completely lost on me. Finally the line crackles and Detective Brown’s booming voice comes on. “Eliz… Mrs Perkins, thank you for holding on.”
“Ye…” The lump in my throat gets thicker and I have to stop and clear my throat before continuing. “Your message said there was a breakthrough.”
“Yes, we finally might have got lucky. I wanted to let you know so you can speak to Mr and Mrs McBride.”
He pauses and I will him to continue but don’t dare say anything, worried that he’ll hear the fear in my voice, confirm any suspicions he might have.
“John Larkin has a cousin that he was close to. Terence Smith.” The pounding in my heart intensifies as the detective continues. “He’s in prison, has been in and out for many years. Quite the trouble maker…”
His voice trails off and I hear someone talking to him. Come on, come on, I urge silently.
“So, as I was saying, we went to speak to this man, to try to determine whether he knew anything that could lead us to Maya’s mother. He said…”
The booming horn of a passing truck blocks out his voice. “Sorry, can you repeat?”
“He said he knows the name of the killer, has known all along, and will give us her name in exchange for immediate parole.”
If You Only Knew Page 28