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

by Amanda Brittany

  ‘Where’s Maddie?’ Dad says, looking up from the armchair.

  ‘Outside, having a cigarette.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Mmm, she didn’t want us to stay with her.’

  ‘I’ll go out there.’ He rises.

  ‘She wants space, Dad. That’s what she said.’

  ‘Well, tough.’ He throws on his coat and scarf and disappears outside.

  ‘We should stay in threes,’ I say, hanging up my coat, my head spinning. ‘That’s what we agreed, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Dad isn’t a killer, Amelia.’ Thomas glares at me from the sofa, as though he can’t believe I would think it.

  ‘I know, but …’

  He narrows his eyes. ‘I know you’ve never liked her much, but Maddie’s no killer either.’

  ‘Well someone fucking is,’ I cry, surprised how angry my words sound. Tears are close, and my stomach aches with tension. I flop down in the armchair Dad vacated, and bury my head in my hands.

  Nobody speaks for some time. It’s as though there’s a bomb in the room, and any movement will set it off.

  ‘Maybe I’ll go back out there,’ Rosamund says eventually, and I look up to see her standing by the door. She’s still in her boots and coat, her hand on the doorknob.

  ‘No, Rosamund, I’ll go.’ But she’s through the door before I can scramble to my feet.

  ‘And then there were two,’ Thomas says in a silly, creepy voice, as she closes the door behind her.

  I turn to meet his eye. ‘I’m afraid, Thomas,’ I say simply.

  He stares at me, his face so pale. ‘Me too, sis. Death is a fearful thing.’

  I have the beginnings of a headache, and I’m hungry too; my sugar level has dipped to silly levels.

  ‘I might go to Ruth’s cottage and grab some food in a bit,’ I say to Thomas, after we’d sat in silence for ten minutes. I point the remote at the TV, and flick through the channels, until I reach the weather, which looks as grim as ever.

  ‘Don’t go out there alone,’ Thomas says. ‘Wait for Dad.’

  I turn to look at him. ‘OK. I’ll wait.’ I’m glad he cares. And I mean it. I won’t be going out there alone, because in all honesty I haven’t got the courage.

  ‘I would have thought the others would have come back inside by now,’ I say. ‘How long does it take to smoke a cigarette?’ I pause for a moment. ‘We should be brainstorming. There must be something we can do. We can’t just wait around for the police, or worse the killer. In fact, maybe between us we can clear the snow enough for one of us to attempt to drive out of here.’ I rise, and begin pacing the room.

  ‘You know what that hill was like on the way in,’ Thomas says. ‘There’s no way anyone can drive.’

  ‘Well what if we walk?’

  ‘And leave me with a killer?’ He pulls a fake sad face, but I see by his eyes he’s worried that’s exactly what we might do.

  ‘Of course not – we’d never leave you alone, you idiot. But maybe two of us could attempt to get out of here.’ I know as I say the words it’s impossible. It’s too cold and already dark. ‘We must do something,’ I say, knowing I’m getting worked up, fidgety, close to tears. ‘It’s really getting to me.’

  ‘It’s getting to us all, sis.’

  ‘Yes. Yes. Sorry.’ I look at my watch, continuing to pace. ‘Maybe I ought to check on the others. Do you think Maddie’s smoking the whole box?’

  ‘My guess is the three of them are huddled on the porch discussing our plan of attack.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ I stop pacing.

  ‘On the plus side to all of this …’

  I turn. ‘There’s a plus side?’

  Thomas raises his arms above his head and stretches. ‘Yep. For once I’m not the only one who feels bloody helpless.’

  I smile, but I’m sorry. Sorry my brother, who was once so full of life, will never walk again. Sorry he feels so negative and helpless. Sorry he got in that bloody sports car two years ago when he’d been drinking.

  I head back to the sofa, and perch down next to him. ‘Talk to me,’ I say.

  ‘About what?’ He picks up a hairband and ties his hair into a ponytail.

  ‘Talk to me about Maddie.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Are you in love with her, Thomas? Because …’

  He shakes his head. ‘God, no. I depend on her; she’s my friend, but no, I’m not in love with her.’ He lowers his head. ‘Truth is, and I’m only telling you this because we’re all going to die …’

  ‘That’s not funny, Thomas,’ I say, feeling a shudder run down my back.

  ‘Truth is …’ he repeats, ‘any chance of love went when I had my accident.’

  ‘You were in love? When you were in the US?’ A memory of hearing about his accident filters in – the call from Mum saying he may never walk again.

  He nods. ‘It was pretty serious. Almost meet the parents time.’

  ‘Really?’ I feel a lump rise in my throat. My little brother in love, and it all slipped away from him. ‘So where is she now?’

  ‘Back in the US. She was a TV presenter, doing well.’ He smiles. ‘I follow her on Twitter with a fake name, in a non-stalker kind of way.’

  ‘Sounds pretty stalker-like to me.’ I half smile. ‘So you’re not in touch?’

  He shakes his head, and looks down at his hands. ‘The course of true love never did run smooth.’

  ‘It was true love then?’

  He shrugs. ‘I never told her about the accident.’

  ‘What? Why not?’

  ‘She would have stood by me, and it would have ruined her life, or worse, she may have taken off – deserted me. I couldn’t live with either scenario. I called her from the hospital, told her it was over, that I was heading back to the UK.’

  I grab his hand and squeeze it. ‘Oh, Thomas, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I didn’t deserve her, sis. I was drunk at that party, and I took a bloody car out on a racing track.’

  ‘But those idiot so-called friends encouraged you – handed you the keys to the car, let you into the racetrack.’

  ‘And I got behind the wheel and turned the key,’ he says. ‘I can only blame myself.’

  I sigh deeply. ‘Still. You should call her.’

  ‘That’s what Maddie says.’

  I ignore a pang of envy that he told Maddie before me.

  ‘Maybe I will if we get out of here. These kinds of things have a habit of making you evaluate your life.’

  The front door slams open, and we look up.

  It’s Dad. He’s carrying Maddie in his arms, and, leaving the door wide open, he limps across the room, his face distorted. He lays her on the floor by the fire. ‘She’s alive – just about. Concussed, I think.’

  ‘Jeez, what happened?’ Thomas cries, and makes an automatic attempt to rise, and I see the frustration in his face when he can’t.

  ‘All I know is there’s blood on her head,’ Dad says. ‘Finn said earlier branches are falling. It could be what’s happened, but with everything else … well, I just don’t know.’

  ‘You think someone attacked her?’ I drop to my knees, and put a cushion under Maddie’s head, blood from an open wound coating my fingers.

  Dad shrugs. ‘I couldn’t find her when I went out there. I was worried she could have been taken, you know, like Elise, so I took off looking for her.’

  ‘You should have told us,’ I say. ‘You shouldn’t have gone off on your own.’

  ‘You’re an idiot, Dad.’ Thomas is angry – upset. ‘There’s a bloody killer out there. What the hell were you thinking?’

  ‘I wasn’t. All I could think was another young girl wasn’t where we thought she was.’ He pauses and takes a deep breath.

  ‘Is she going to be all right?’ Thomas says, and I feel his frustration that he can’t get close to her.

  ‘I don’t know. She’s in a bad way.’ Dad reaches for a blanket, and as he attempts to cover Maddie, he lets out
a cry of agony, and grabs his calf. There’s a six-inch rip in his trousers, blood oozing from a deep gash.

  ‘Jesus! What the hell happened to you?’ I meet his glassy eyes. There’s no doubting his pain.

  ‘Caught it on a branch when I was searching for Maddie. I’ll be fine.’

  But colour drains from his cheeks. ‘You don’t look fine, Dad.’

  At that moment, Maddie’s clenched fist falls open, and a Monopoly top hat tumbles to the floor.

  I pick up the tiny silver top hat and roll it around in the palm of my hand. It must be the piece Maddie picked up from Rosamund’s cottage.

  ‘Maddie, can you hear me?’ I whisper, close to her ear, hoping my darkest fear is wrong. That she hasn’t been attacked. She doesn’t stir. ‘Maddie, what happened?’

  I see a dark stain on her ski suit. The fabric is torn.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I cry. I gingerly place my hand on her stomach. Blood coats my fingers.

  ‘Shit!’ Thomas drags himself onto the floor, and takes her hand. ‘Maddie! Maddie, wake up!’ But she doesn’t stir. She’s far too still. ‘Oh God, she’s dead isn’t she?’ he cries.

  As the cold truth sinks in I sob. Crushed. Broken. Scared. I turn to Thomas who sobs too, and we fall into each other’s arms.

  ‘No! No, she’ll be OK, you’ll see,’ Dad cries.

  But I know she won’t be. I know because she looks as Mum did the day we lost her.

  After a few moments, Dad accepts Maddie’s no longer with us, and covers her face with the blanket, and I rise, and dash into the kitchen. Who would kill her? Who? Who would do this? My mind races, and suddenly everyone’s a suspect – Finn, Rosamund, Julia – even my dad. I hate how distrusting this has made me, but two people are dead, and Elise is still missing. I breathe deeply, trying to gather my thoughts.

  A stranger did this, I tell myself. It’s got to be. I refuse to believe anyone here is capable of murder.

  I rummage in the kitchen cupboards on the off chance there’s a first-aid kit for Dad’s leg, but there’s nothing. So I fill a bowl with warm water, and grab a couple of clean tea towels and some scissors from a drawer, returning to the lounge ready to cut the bottom off Dad’s trousers and do my best to stop the bleeding.

  The wound is deep, and jagged, about two inches long, and as I clean it he winces in pain. ‘You’ll need stitches,’ I say, placing one of the tea towels across the wound, trying to avoid the sight of Maddie’s body, and cutting the other to hold it there. ‘For now, hold this against your leg.’

  ‘You should have been a nurse, love,’ he says, with a strangled smile, tears on his cheeks.

  After a few moments I ask him, ‘Where did you find Maddie?’

  ‘At the edge of the forest, near the top of Vine Hill.’ A pause. ‘She was just lying there.’

  Thomas thrusts his head into his hands. ‘Oh God, this can’t be happening.’

  I brush away my tears with my sleeve, and sniff. ‘Did you see Rosamund out there?’

  ‘Christ! She’s not out there too, is she?’

  I nod. ‘She went out to be with you and Maddie, and didn’t return. We thought you were all together. You’re sure you didn’t see her?’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘Do you think Rosamund did this to Maddie?’ Thomas asks. He hasn’t taken his eyes off Maddie’s lifeless body for a moment.

  ‘Why would she? In fact, why would anyone do this to Maddie? Why would anyone kill Ruth? Abduct Elise? None of it makes any sense.’

  Dad shrugs, and shakes his head once more.

  And through the silence come unwanted memories of how I treated Maddie – how angry I was with her. The fact she’d said those words on her vlog, that rang in my ears after Lark disappeared.

  Lark’s sister, Amelia, raced back to London to be with her partner, William, a week after the disappearance, leaving her father and disabled brother to take care of their terminally ill mother.

  Maddie’s words had hit hard at the time, bringing my guilt into focus – haunting me. I should have stayed longer, helped my family cope.

  ‘Such a sad day,’ Maddie had said at my mum’s funeral, the first time I’d seen her since she’d posted the vlog, and I’d turned, met her red-rimmed eyes.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Amelia,’ she said.

  ‘Are you?’ I said far too loud.

  She reached out to touch me, but I jolted away, spilling wine over my black jumper.

  ‘You OK, sis?’ Thomas had appeared by her side in his wheelchair.

  ‘I’m on top of the world. Mum’s dead, and our sister is still missing – life’s just peachy. But it’s OK because I’ll take off to London soon, and leave my disabled brother and Dad to take care of everything.’

  As soon as I’d spat out the words, the room fell silent.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Amelia,’ Maddie repeated. ‘I realise my vlog post wasn’t one of my best.’

  My cheeks burned with anger and alcohol. ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘I’m not sure what I was thinking.’ Her eyes glistened. ‘Do you want me to take it down?’

  ‘What’s the point? The world’s already seen what an uncaring sister and daughter I am,’ I said, lowering my voice a little.

  Two women from Dad’s am-dram society watched as I scuttled away, tears rolling down my cheeks. ‘What?’ I snapped at them, and they both looked down.

  I dashed towards Dad alone in the kitchen. He took me into his arms and I sobbed. But I wasn’t crying about Maddie’s vlog post, not really. It was the thought that Mum died without knowing where Lark vanished to. That they never said goodbye.

  And now Maddie is dead, and I wish I hadn’t confronted her that day – wish I hadn’t rejected her apologies when we first arrived at Drummondale House.

  I rise, and head towards the front door to close it. The temperature in the cottage has dropped several degrees while it has stood open.

  ‘Where are you going, love?’ Dad’s voice is full of anxiety.

  ‘Just closing the door, that’s all.’

  ‘Good,’ he says. ‘Listen, I’m going to take a couple of painkillers and lie down for a while. I’m drained of energy, I need to recharge.’

  ‘Use my room,’ Thomas offers, and Dad limps through the door, closing it behind him.

  I stand in the doorway, and stare out into the cold silence. ‘Whoever did this to Maddie and Ruth is out there somewhere,’ I whisper to myself, stepping onto the snow-covered porch. The clouds are heavy and dark – but the snow is easing. My eyes flit from the ruins, to Ruth’s cottage, and then to the forest.

  I’m about to step back inside, when a piercing scream echoes in the trees, and my heart races. There’s nothing to see, but when another scream rings out, I’m sure it’s female. Rosamund? Elise?

  ‘Did you hear that?’ I cry, racing inside, and grabbing my coat, a surge of strength I can’t quite explain rising inside me.

  ‘Hear what?’ Thomas says.

  ‘The scream – outside – someone’s in danger.’

  ‘Yeah, and that’s one good reason to stay inside, sis. Close the door and lock it. Don’t leave. Please.’

  But I ignore him, and pull on my boots and coat, then race into the kitchen. I grab a knife from the rack and shove it into my pocket.

  Back in the lounge, Thomas is fretting. ‘Please don’t go out there on your own, Amelia. Wait.’

  ‘For what? Nobody’s coming to help us, Thomas,’ I yell as I fly past him and out of the door, determined to find out who screamed. Knowing I have to do everything I can to stop whoever killed Ruth and Maddie from killing again.

  Chapter 37

  Present Day

  Amelia

  I zip up my jacket, and hurry across the snow, brandishing my phone torch as I head for the trees, surging adrenalin keeping me warm.

  A recent track of footprints leads from the area near the top of Vine Hill towards Bluebell Cottage, droplets of blood telling me they are Dad’s heavy boot prints fr
om when he carried Maddie. I use his imprints to help me walk faster.

  I reach the trees, and glance back over my shoulder at the sheets of snow stretching behind me, deadening sound. The silence rings in my ears. The cottages are all in darkness, except the one I’ve just come from, and I feel desperate, sad, confused, my blood pumping too fast. This is such a beautiful yet tragic place.

  I beat back tears, turn, and take a deep breath. ‘Rosamund?’ I call, disappearing into the wood, trees covering me, making visibility difficult. Panic surges through me, as I spiral deeper and deeper into the wood. ‘Elise?’ Memories of the ghost walk that Finn, in his top hat and cloak, had taken us on a year ago touch my thoughts. But I’m not afraid of ghosts – I’m afraid of real life.

  Finally I emerge beside Kyla’s bench, and walk up behind it, gripping it to steady myself, to catch my breath. It takes a moment before I see a phone lying on the snow-covered wooden slats. I’ve seen it before. It belongs to Elise. The pink case with a glittery “E” is distinctive. I pick it up, and look at the screen. The phone is on, and I look at the screen, before looking about me. ‘Elise!’ I call. ‘Elise?’

  My eyes back on the phone, I find myself searching the address book. She hasn’t many friends, but I recognise her dad, and Rosamund.

  There’s no password, and I search her text messages. Two sent recently – to Rosamund:

  Why bring your stepdaughter to Drummondale House? You know what happened to Lark.

  I told you you shouldn’t have brought Elise to Drummondale House, but you didn’t listen.

  The freezing air suddenly buzzes with the presence of another person.

  The snapping of branches startles me.

  I drop the phone with a clatter.

  Before I can turn, someone presses up against my back. So close I hear their raspy breathing. I try to turn, but my coat rips. Something sharp touches my spine.

  I want to cry out, but the blade silences me for a moment, before words bubble up. ‘What do you want?’ My voice shakes, a sob so close. ‘What have I done? What have any of us done?’

  A gloved hand grabs my arm, and with a jolt I’m thrown against a tree.