I Lie in Wait: A gripping new psychological crime thriller perfect for fans of Ruth Ware!

by Amanda Brittany

  We reach Ruth’s cottage, and I try the conservatory door. It’s open, as I hoped it would be.

  ‘Elise!’ I call, stepping inside. I flash the torch around the room, the light bouncing off the windows, and onto the pine table where we sat this morning.

  Maddie sniffs the air, as she steps in behind me and closes the door. ‘Something’s burning.’

  She’s right. We head across the conservatory, the torchlight guiding our way, and through into the main house. As we creep down a narrow hallway, the throat-cutting smell gets stronger.

  Once in an old-fashioned kitchen, I turn off the oven where a beef Wellington has been charcoaled, feeling a jolt of sadness that Ruth always took such pride in her cooking, imagining how upset she would be.

  I flash my phone torch around the room, picking out the sparklingly clean butler sink, the double fridge, and the floor-to-ceiling pale-green tiles. I step towards the window, lean my head close to the glass, and peer out into the darkness. Outside is Finn’s quad bike, parked up against a wooden shed. I could have sworn Rosamund said he’d gone to get it.

  Maddie flings open the door of a larder, and I turn to see inside tins stacked high, and more vegetables than I could eat in a lifetime. But there’s no Elise crumpled in the corner scared for her life, or worse.

  Back in the hallway, I call Elise’s name again. Maddie does the same as we step into the lounge. It’s small. Cosy. I peer behind the sofa, behind the curtains, before leaving the room and leading the way up the staircase.

  There are photos on the walls – two or three of Drummondale House at varying angles, at different times of year, and several of a wide-eyed young boy. There’s no doubting it’s Finn.

  Two bedrooms and a bathroom lead from the small landing. The bathroom seems empty – a shower curtain pulled across the bath. I step into the room, as Maddie hovers on the landing, take a deep breath, and yank the shower curtain back. I sigh with relief to find it empty.

  ‘Elise?’ I call again, as I leave the bathroom and we enter the first bedroom.

  There’s a TV and a single bed, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. This is Finn’s room. It feels bare. There’s nothing here that tells us who he is – nothing to reveal his true personality. It’s as though he doesn’t plan to stay – that he’s waiting for the right moment to break the news to Ruth that he’s leaving. A wave of anxiety I can’t quite explain clouds my thoughts, followed by a tug of sadness at the thought of him discovering his mother’s been murdered.

  We check the room thoroughly, before entering Ruth’s bedroom.

  ‘Elise,’ we continue to call, but it’s useless. She’s not here.

  I flick the torch around. It’s a pretty room, decorated mainly in yellow, with pine furniture, and duck-blue curtains at the window. The bedspread is duck-blue too, with tiny lemon flowers. We check the wardrobe and under the bed. The curtains are open, and there’s a perfect view of the snow-covered ruins. I shiver, my heart racing too fast.

  ‘Hey, look at these.’

  I turn. Maddie sits on the edge of the bed, Ruth’s bedside cabinet open beside her.

  ‘What are you doing? You won’t find Elise in there.’ I’m cross she’s invading the dead woman’s privacy, but I admit I’m curious about the photo album she’s looking through with the aid of her phone torch. ‘And I thought you’d turned that off to save the battery.’

  I sit down beside her, and look over her shoulder, as she goes back to the beginning. The photos on the first page are of a young and beautiful Ruth, holding a baby in a lemon blanket.

  ‘It’s Finn, I should think,’ I say.

  Maddie turns the page. What follows are photos of a pretty blonde girl, a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. She grows as Maddie turns the pages. The final image in the album is of the girl at about fifteen years old.

  ‘A friend’s daughter, maybe?’ But a spark of memory invades of Finn mentioning last time I was here that he’d had a sister who’d died. I rise. ‘Put the album back, Maddie. This isn’t finding Elise. And please turn off your phone to conserve the battery.’

  We head out into the cold once more, closing the conservatory door behind us, and make our way up towards the main gate. It feels as though we’ve been walking for miles, and I stop for a moment to catch my breath, my whole body aching.

  ‘Still no signal,’ I say, looking at my phone screen as she stomps on ahead of me.

  The gate is still another fifty yards away, and I’m not sure I can make it.

  Maddie peers at me over her shoulder. ‘You OK, Amelia?’

  I’m not. My legs below the knee seem to have turned to jelly and suddenly collapse from under me. I smash knee-first into the snow, and sink into the cold.

  ‘Oh God!’ Maddie hurries back to me, and attempts to lift me from behind, her hands under my arms, her fingers pushing into the fabric of my jacket. ‘We’re never going to get a signal,’ she says, making little progress in hauling me up. ‘We should get back to the cottage.’

  ‘Hang on!’ I cry. ‘Just give me a minute.’ She releases me, and I fall back down. After several deep breaths, I attempt to rub life back into my legs.

  ‘Who’s that?’ There’s a tremble in Maddie’s voice, as she stares across the snow towards the forest.

  I look to where she’s pointing. Someone is standing there, partly shielded by trees.

  ‘It could be the killer.’ She’s stepping backwards, away from me – away from the figure.

  ‘Maddie. Wait. Help me up.’ But she’s spun round, scrambling to turn on her phone, and switching on the torch, her boots thudding the snow as she attempts to run. ‘Maddie. Please,’ I call after her, frantically rubbing my legs, hoping to bring them back to life. ‘Christ!’ I can’t believe she’s taken off and left me – only thinking to save herself.

  I look back to where we saw the figure, but can no longer see anyone. I glance about me, shivering. Whoever it was could be anywhere. There’s nothing else for it, I’ll have to crawl back to the cottage.

  I realise as I crawl like a baby through the deep snow that every part of me that isn’t numb aches. If I pass out, I’ll smash face first into the snow. I’m going to die.

  I hear heavy footfalls thudding on the snow behind me. Oh God, I’m seriously going to die. I keep on going, crying now, so close to sobbing – tears freezing on my cheeks.

  The footfalls get closer.

  And closer.

  Strong hands lift me to my feet.

  ‘Jesus! Finn!’

  He’s injured – there’s blood on his forehead. He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, and as I moan and groan, tears plopping onto the snow below, he carries me towards the fire – a frenzy of flames whipped by the wind – outside Maddie and Thomas’s cottage.

  It’s as we approach the front door a pungent smell, like burning paper, wafts in the air. I turn to see a piece of clothing in the fire, almost turned to ash.

  *

  ‘You left me to die,’ I cry at Maddie as Finn carries me across the lounge and lays me on the sofa like a wounded soldier.

  Maddie, who is standing by the wood burner, looks over at me as I shuffle from my wet jacket, then back at Finn who is taking off his coat and hanging it by the door.

  ‘Finn. What a relief,’ she says, ignoring me. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘You left me, Maddie,’ I say again.

  Her eyes are back on me. ‘I went to get help.’

  ‘I don’t see any help.’

  ‘Well, Rosamund is upstairs asleep, so I was waiting for your dad to return from finding more wood.’

  ‘I could have frozen to death out there.’

  ‘Yes, but you didn’t. And I knew it was Finn anyway.’

  ‘No you didn’t. You thought it was the bloody killer.’

  ‘Killer?’ Finn says, puzzled. ‘What are you on about?’

  Oh God.

  ‘Hey!’ It’s Thomas coming from his bedroom. ‘What’s the racket?’

  �
�Your sister thinks I abandoned her,’ Maddie says, kissing his head. ‘When I was simply going for help.’

  But suddenly I’m barely listening. Finn’s eyes are wide, as he tries to follow what’s being said. He drops down in the armchair, and tugs off his soaking socks, to reveal bright red feet. He has no idea his mother is dead.

  ‘What happened to you, Finn?’ I say, delaying the awful news.

  ‘The quad bike wouldn’t start, so I set out on foot.’ He touches his head. ‘A hunk of wood hit me; trees are losing limbs out there. I was out of it for a bit. Disorientated. Then I saw the fire. Good thinking whoever started it.’

  Thomas grins. ‘My idea,’ he says like a proud child.

  ‘Talking of the fire,’ I say. ‘Did anyone notice there’s a piece of clothing burning on the fire? The remains of a top or maybe a jacket, I think.’

  Everyone shakes their head, none of them seeming to see what I could see – that it could belong to the killer. I open my mouth to suggest it, then catch Finn’s eye. It’s more important that I tell him what’s happened to his mum.

  I rise from the sofa, my legs feeling less numb, and crouch at Finn’s knees. I rest my arm on the armrest and twiddle a strand of my hair around my finger. ‘There’s something you need to know,’ I say, placing my other hand over his. ‘It’s awful news. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What is it?’ A shadow crosses his eyes. ‘You’re freaking me out, Amelia.’

  ‘It’s your mum—’

  ‘Mum?’ He covers his mouth as though he knows already what I’m about to say.

  ‘She’s dead, Finn,’ I say, and squeeze his hand. ‘Someone killed her.’

  Chapter 31

  Present Day

  Amelia

  Finn is in bits, his eyes wild, his body shaking, as he struggles to take off his coat. Dad arrived back moments after I told Finn about his mum. And at Finn’s insistence, he took him to see Ruth’s body.

  ‘What the hell was she wearing?’ Finn says now, as though that’s important.

  I jump to my feet and take his arm, lead him to the sofa, and sit down beside him. ‘I’m so sorry, Finn,’ I say, as he thrusts his head into his hands and sobs. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

  Eventually, like a lost child, his sobs slow to small jolts of sadness, and he lays his head on my shoulder.

  Tears burn my eyes. I’m devastated for Finn. But I’m afraid for us all.

  *

  It’s gone midnight, and the wind howls around the cottage, rattling windows. There’s still no power, and the wood burner and candles have almost burned out. The silence is unbearable. We have no answers to Elise’s disappearance or Ruth’s death. The only comfort I hold on to is that we are together – safe, for now.

  Dad is sitting on the floor, his back to the wall. ‘Tomorrow we’ll start again,’ he whispers into the silent room.

  We haven’t seen Rosamund since she went up to bed earlier. She must have been exhausted, and I remember how tiring pregnancy can be. Better she sleeps, than lie awake, her mind whirring with worry about Elise, when there’s nothing any of us can do.

  ‘Goodnight,’ Thomas says, raising his hand, as Maddie pushes his wheelchair into the downstairs bedroom. She closes the door on him, and heads upstairs to her own room without a word.

  Finn is sleeping next to me on the sofa, and I rise, grab a blanket from a pile Maddie got from the airing cupboard earlier, and move to one of the armchairs. Dad gets to his feet and drops into the chair Maddie vacated. ‘I’m knackered,’ he says, closing his eyes.

  I wonder, once we are all settled, whether I will actually sleep. My head feels thick and heavy, as though I’m carrying rocks inside my skull. They bump against my thoughts and worries, bruising them.

  The candles snuff out one by one, and eventually the fire is nothing more than red embers. Dad and Finn snuffle and snore, and as the wind cries, whipping around the cottage like a phantom, my eyelids finally fall heavy over my eyes.

  Chapter 32

  A Year Ago

  Amelia

  Despite the long day at the beach, and feeling so tired at dinner, Amelia struggled to sleep, her mind whirring with thoughts of the ridiculous game of Truth or Lie, followed by Elise’s outburst, and Rosamund calling her stepdaughter a liar.

  She tossed and turned for several hours, before rising and padding towards the window, gripping her Kindle in her mitts, intent on reading the night away.

  She pulled back the curtain, and sat down in the wing-backed chair positioned so she could take in the view of the ruins and forest, the full moon lighting the area.

  It was around midnight a flash of white in the forest disturbed her reading. Had she imagined it? Someone dressed in white flitting through the trees? A child perhaps? A shudder ran down her spine, as she peered closer to the window, the memory of Finn claiming ghosts wandered there – his dead sister – fresh in her mind. She swallowed. She was being ridiculous, and being spooked wasn’t going to help her already overactive mind. She pulled the curtain across, and continued reading.

  It was almost 2 a.m. when she heard a distant scream. Heart beating way too fast, she leaned forward and peered through the gap in the curtain like a nosy neighbour. The sky was clear of clouds, the moon high above the ruins. She shuddered, her eyes flitting to and fro. But all was silent and still. It must have been an animal. The other cottages were in darkness. Everyone was sleeping. She returned to the bed, propped her body against the headboard and began reading once more.

  Before she’d even finished a chapter, she fell into a deep sleep. Within the midst of a strange dream, she heard a squeaking sound. It was real – outside the realms of sleep – she felt sure of it, but however much she tried, she couldn’t break free of the dream.

  It was a car engine starting up that finally woke her, followed by a squeal of car tyres. She glanced at her phone: 2.30 a.m. She leapt from the bed and raced towards the window.

  Outside, red tail-lights disappeared into the distance. Someone was leaving Drummondale House.

  When the car was out of sight, she returned to bed once more, and squeezed her eyes closed. Trying to forget the scream, the squeaking, and the disappearing car, she pulled the duvet over her head, burying herself in it, as though it was a cocoon. One thing was certain: Drummondale House was making her increasingly uneasy.

  *

  Amelia was on the sofa, cradling a cup of tea when an urgent hammering on the cottage door broke her from her trancelike state.

  She opened the door to see her mum in her dressing gown and beanie, a look of panic etched on her face. ‘Amelia—’

  ‘Whatever’s wrong?’ Amelia said, ushering her inside. ‘Are you feeling OK?’

  ‘Robert,’ her mum said, looking up at him on the stairs in his pyjamas, his hair standing on end.

  ‘What’s wrong, Caroline?’ He dashed down towards her, took her arm, and lowered her onto the sofa.

  ‘It’s Jackson and Lark,’ she said, grabbing a tissue from the box on the table, and pressing it to her nose. ‘They’ve gone. Disappeared.’

  He lowered himself onto the edge of the armchair. ‘What do you mean gone?’

  ‘Jackson wasn’t in bed this morning when I woke.’ Her eyes avoid his, the words clearly difficult to say. ‘And Lark’s bed hasn’t been slept in. I’ve tried calling them both, but their phones go to voicemail.’

  Amelia’s forehead furrowed. ‘Should we call the police?’

  ‘Bit of an overreaction, sis.’ It was Thomas, wearing his boxers and a Marvel T-shirt, holding a copy of Lord of the Flies, Maddie pushing him from the downstairs bedroom. ‘They’ve probably gone for an early morning walk. Why the panic, Mum?’

  She shook her head, shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, her eyes filling with tears once more. ‘You’re probably right, Thomas. I guess I felt so alone when I woke up to find them not there, and had a bit of a meltdown. I’m being foolish.’

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Maddie said. She was alre
ady dressed in an emerald green jumper and black jeans, her hair in a sleek, high ponytail. She made her way into the kitchen, always so helpful – so practical.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ Amelia said, trying to force down the events in the night. ‘I’m sure they won’t be long.’ She stroked her mum’s back, watching her dad rise and head towards the window.

  ‘Breakfast is at eight,’ he announced. ‘They’ll be back for that – you’ll see.’

  Chapter 33

  Present Day

  Amelia

  I wake at 5 a.m. pretty sure five hours’ sleep isn’t the recommended amount needed to track down Ruth’s killer. My mouth is dry, and although the wood burner is flickering once more, I’m cold. I pull the blanket up around my neck, shivering.

  Dad and Finn are no longer in the room, and I hear the clink of mugs and spoons in the kitchen, the kettle bubbling before reaching a crescendo. The light is on. The power is back.

  ‘Dad?’ I call towards the open kitchen door.

  Finn appears, hair standing on end, eyes bloodshot. ‘Tea? Coffee?’ he says with a sad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

  ‘Coffee please – three sugars.’

  ‘Three?’

  ‘It’s a one-off; I need the sugar rush.’

  He sticks his thumb up, and disappears.

  Soon he’s back with two mugs of steaming coffee.

  ‘You OK?’ I ask. Stupid question.

  ‘Feel a bit numb, if I’m honest.’

  ‘I’m so sor—’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks. I get that. You don’t have to keep saying it.’

  ‘Been up long?’ I ask after a beat, as he puts the mugs on the table, and sits on the sofa.

  ‘About twenty minutes.’ He rubs his temples. ‘Your dad’s upstairs getting a shower while there’s power.’

  ‘Ah … right.’ I nod, pick up the coffee, take a sip.

  ‘We need to call the police as early as possible,’ he says. ‘We’ll try and get a signal when it’s light. It’s stopped snowing, at least.’