You Let Him In

by JA Andrews

  ‘Holding it together,’ I reply. I can see her glancing at the wine bottles, judging me no doubt. ‘Daniel is my rock right now. He keeps me focused and distracted. My son needs me more than ever.’

  I set the scene, hoping she’s not going to write up some report about me being a terrible mother after my husband has died. Maybe I am being paranoid again but she needs to know I can cope with our son. I have Donna to support me. I have friends who are there if I need them.

  ‘What is your big news?’ I ask. We are both standing in the kitchen. I haven’t offered her a seat. ‘It sounded important?’

  ‘We believe we have found the suspect involved in your husband’s death.’ Sharon pauses while she watches my reaction. ‘The description by the witness and the camera feed from the hotel all tie up. We’re just doing some more tests. All the evidence so far points in his direction. The description fits and I am confident it is him.’

  ‘Tests?’ I interrupt her flow of conversation. ‘What do you mean tests?’

  ‘This hasn’t yet reached the press, although a statement will go out today, but the body of a man found within the Taverton Estate Hotel grounds was recovered from a stream last night,’ Sharon said, sounding more serious. ‘He fits the description perfectly. His next of kin have been informed based on the identification he was carrying. We are carrying out some blood tests to determine what, if any, drugs or alcohol were in his system. I thought you should know.’

  Drugs? Immediately I start thinking about what Lizzie told me, wondering if Michael had been there to buy drugs. I’m not going to mention anything in case I open up an unnecessary can of worms. Michael was against drugs, though. He didn’t mind the odd drink but never would he touch drugs. He couldn’t be an addict?

  ‘Thank you, for telling me,’ I reply, shaking nervously. ‘Where was he found, how did he die and what happens next?’

  I can’t really take it all in. I’m not sure how I am feeling. Another man is dead: another body, another poor family having to go through what I am. There are moments during the day when I am pleased. At least he’s dead and that is payback – but it’s not good enough. I regret having those feelings but also I don’t get answers from that low-life being dead. Why did he have to drive down that road at that speed and at that time of night? None of this will bring back my husband.

  I fear that Sharon wants to judge me. I can see her still looking at the wine bottles. I’m not a drunk. I’m always sober around Daniel. I wish I was more organised and had cleared away the bottles before she arrived.

  ‘Have you had a chance to contact victim support?’ Sharon asks, taking a sip from her tea. ‘I can arrange for some counselling sessions if you feel it’s appropriate?’

  I don’t think I could face victim support. It’s not just losing my husband that I am dealing with, it’s also finding out about what he had been up to the last few months. I need answers, not a counsellor.

  ‘Are you sure that it’s him?’ I ask, deflecting the subject. ‘The dead man, are you absolutely certain this is the same man driving the car?’

  ‘Yes. We believe it to be him,’ Sharon said. ‘The clothing he was wearing when found matches the description we have of him. Also, we have DNA from the vehicle which we are waiting to match too. I am certain we have found him. It will all be presented with fibre matches from the vehicle and images from the cameras. The witness statements will all prove it is the same man.’

  I don’t know how I am meant to feel. I look out of the kitchen window and see the sunrise through the cloudy skies. It doesn’t feel like closure while I have so many questions running around my mind.

  ‘What about the CCTV footage?’ I ask, watching Sharon’s reactions. ‘Does that show anything more?’

  ‘The team have spent hours going through various stills found on cameras in the area,’ Sharon replies. ‘In terms of suspect recognition, car recognition, we have evidence he was speeding through some red lights. In multiple areas the car is unsteady and swerving. This at the very least indicates drunk-driving.’

  ‘Why was he in the stream?’ I ask, further probing for answers, trying to understand why he might have killed my husband. ‘What possesses someone to speed down the lane, drive into my husband and then end up drowned in a stream? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Unfortunately, I can only stick to the official line, I’m afraid,’ Sharon replies. ‘Until the test results come back and we look at the evidence further, I can’t comment.’

  Sharon is really frustrating me now. I’m certain she knows more than she’s letting on. She’ll know where this man lives and all kinds of different information that might help.

  ‘Did he know my husband?’ I blurt out directly as the idea my husband might have been collecting drugs crossed my mind. I’m sure Michael wasn’t a drug user. I’d have known. ‘Do you think he intentionally killed Michael?’

  ‘I can’t answer that,’ Sharon replies, tight-lipped. ‘There’s no evidence to support that they are known to each other, but I can check phone records.’

  ‘Thank you. I’d like to know,’ I reply, but then wonder something else. ‘Who found him in the stream?’

  ‘He was found by a member of the public who had taken his dog for a walk within the Taverton Estate Hotel grounds. Our initial conclusion is that he was intoxicated and drowned in the stream shortly after fleeing the scene.’

  ‘So, what happens now?’ I ask. ‘Do I wait until you contact me again today? Next week?’

  ‘I will follow up in the next few days,’ she replies with the same flat expression. ‘There will be an inquest too once we have all of the facts. We have to document and follow up all our leads. Again, Jenny, I am very sorry that you have to deal with this. Please, love, reconsider the counselling options?’

  I shake my head without answering. I like my own company at the moment. I have my friends online if I need to talk to them on Facebook and there’s the forums and Donna and Peter too. Even my own family are there if I need them. I’m not entirely alone.

  I have to ask Sharon this question. I know she will not appreciate me mentioning it again but I need some resolution. I can’t stop thinking about Gary.

  ‘The witness, Gary Taylor – have you made contact with him?’ I ask reluctantly. ‘My husband’s wedding ring is still missing. Have you found it?’

  ‘No, to both, I’m afraid,’ Sharon responds. ‘We’ve been focused around the work associated with the recovery of the body in the stream and also documenting what we have so far. We haven’t been able to locate your husband’s wedding ring.’

  Sharon finishes her tea and places the cup on the side. I look down at it and sigh. The ring is bothering me. It doesn’t change anything but the fact that it’s missing plays on my mind.

  ‘We might not be able to confirm if Michael was ever wearing it or not at the time of his death,’ Sharon says. ‘I’m sorry. It may have come off in the accident or he might have even removed it.’

  I know that Michael would not have removed it. We had that argument but we loved each other. Neither of us would ever remove our rings. It’s not like we haven’t had rows in the past. It’s normal for us. This just doesn’t make any sense. The witness might have seen it, though.

  ‘Can you arrange a meeting for me to meet the witness, Gary Taylor?’

  I hear the sound of her breath before absolute silence. I know I am irritating her now with my questions.

  ‘Is this really necessary?’ Sharon responds. ‘I can be the liaison person between your communications if you have any specific questions you want me to take forward. Let’s not forget this man is a witness and any information could be crucial in our investigations. I wouldn’t want any complications.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about Gary ever since I found out he was with my husband when he died. He’s part of this terrible mess. It must have been really awful for him to see my husband like that. I want to thank him for being there.’

  I also want to question him ab
out the wedding ring – but I’ll leave that until Sharon can hopefully arrange for us to meet. Seeing him, speaking to him might help me get answers. Maybe he saw my husband wearing it?

  ‘I will make some calls and get back to you,’ Sharon responds. ‘It may take a couple of days. If you are serious about meeting him, and if he agrees, I can be there with you – by your side all the way.’

  After our goodbyes, I follow Sharon to the front door and show her out. She places a hand on my shoulder and gives me an apologetic look, the type of look I recognise from when the other officers told me my husband was dead. It’s hard to tell if they really mean it when it’s their day job.

  My gut instinct tells me that Gary might be able to recall seeing a ring on Michael’s finger. It would confirm then if it was really lost. I’ve tried looking his name up on Facebook but there’s too many. I can’t message them all in case I came across a weirdo. Again, if I show up online, I’d be bombarded with messages from my friends and work. I’m not ready to face talking to them today because I have to focus on collecting Michael’s car. That’s going to be a real heart-breaking moment for me this afternoon.

  I can’t face collecting his car alone.

  I go upstairs and check on Daniel who remains sleeping peacefully in his bed. I know I must have a good hour before he wakes, expecting his breakfast. He’s dealing with Michael’s death as well as can be expected too. I have the odd question thrown at me about where’s Daddy and he knows something is seriously wrong. He’s the spitting image of his father and a constant reminder of my husband. I remember when Michael was at the birth; he took a whole week off work to be by my side so that he never missed a moment. Michael was attentive: patted my head with cool flannels in labour, held my hand throughout and cried with me shortly after the birth.

  I will call Michael’s parents and ask if they can drive me to the hotel. I can make the journey home with Michael’s car – I have no choice – but I’m preparing myself to come nervously face to face with the very spot where Michael died. Another tough day ahead – and many more to come.

  Hopefully I might find his wedding ring.

  Ten

  Jenny

  Splashes of rain hit my face while a gentle breeze lifts my hair out of place. Not that I can be bothered to make much of an effort with my appearance. My mental state is constantly reminding me of my loss. I’m fixated on the tyre marks and the indentation in the verge. A muddy bed of earth remains at the very location where Michael had died. I keep my eyes glued on the very spot that changed my life forever.

  Why did this have to happen to us, Michael?

  The drive to the Taverton Estate Hotel with Donna was emotional. I knew this would be another moment of being faced with the shock of Michael’s accident. I hold his car key in my palm while I turn to see the car parked in the bay area exactly where he left it just days ago. The anticipation of having to drive it home has been playing on my mind all day. I’m dreading it. The last thing I want to do is lose concentration and crash the car – which is why Daniel is better off driving home with Donna and Peter.

  My breathing is heavy and my chest thumps with the anxiety of being seen in public. I feel that everyone around me is watching my every move as the grieving widow of a man who was crushed to death by a reckless driver under the influence of alcohol or drugs. All I can think about is my husband lying here in the dark with the agony of dying without his family by his side and a stranger comforting him while I sit at home in bed contemplating a break in our marriage.

  What sort of wife am I?

  The intense pressure of guilt is eating away at me – but it’s not like I could have known when he walked out of that door after our argument that I would never see him again.

  I couldn’t feel any worse if I tried. A scattering of flowers lie close to the spot up against a tree. All these names in the attached cards – unimportant in our lives, but touching that they have taken the time and effort for a man that no one knew better than myself. My perfect husband.

  I miss you so much.

  Donna kneels beside me, perusing through the cards and reading every message one by one. I hear her read them aloud but her voice is a blur in the distance as I simply stare at the ground, wondering whether, if Michael had taken a different direction on the road, he could have survived; knowing that if he had stayed at home that night, I wouldn’t be here now. I go through stages of blaming myself, blaming him and then wishing I would wake up from this terrible nightmare. Never did I expect that I would be dealing with the loss of my husband at my age. I’ve been robbed of a future in what appears to be nothing more than him being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  ‘Is this all we have left of him, Mum?’ I ask Donna, who faces me with a clueless expression. ‘A handful of rotting flowers and cards written by no one we know?’

  Donna stands up, walks towards me with open arms and gives me a hug that offers comfort and release. We burst into tears while holding on to each other.

  ‘I miss him terribly,’ she replies. ‘I still can’t believe this has actually happened.’

  ‘Why, Mum?’ I respond, shaking with a cold chill. ‘Why did this happen to us; what did we do that was so wrong in this world to deserve this?’

  ‘Why was Michael here in the first place?’ Donna asked, wiping her eyes dry with a tissue. ‘Who was he here to meet?’

  I look at her with a distracted glance. I’ve told her already.

  ‘You already know why he was here,’ I snap. ‘He was here for work. He was meant to meet some new clients.’

  ‘Yes, I knew that bit, but who was he meant to be meeting?’ she responds with an attitude. ‘I know you have said why, but who? Because I still have no idea. I’m going to walk down to the hotel and ask them at reception.’

  ‘Mum. No,’ I reply forcefully, then stop for a moment to catch my breath. ‘They’ll only tell you they can’t divulge that information due to privacy laws. We needed the extra money. That’s why he was here. It was for work.’

  Donna places a hand on her hips and frowns at me. I notice the rain is now dampening her clothing as it starts to pour harder. I remind myself she is grieving too – but I have to do this for myself.

  ‘I’m sorry for snapping,’ Donna replies. I can see the disappointment written all over her face. ‘You could have asked Michael’s father and me for help if you were both in need of extra money. You shouldn’t be ashamed to talk about anything with us. You’re just as much a part of this family as anyone else.’

  I nod my head at her. Little does she know the extent of our issues. I know we had enough with his salary to pay the mortgage and my income helped with the food shopping, but we had no life outside of our own home. All I desperately wanted and needed was a break away to feel connected with my husband again. Michael, for the last year, had put his work before his family. I tried to fix things but he was so obsessed with trying to get more contracts. He said his firm had lost a lot of work.

  ‘Thank you,’ I reply to Donna, not wishing to get involved in a conversation with her about our problems. ‘It doesn’t matter all that much now, but thank you all the same.’

  I also have the missing wedding ring on my mind. I fix my eyes on the road, walking down to the spot on the ground where it happened and almost hoping to see a small glistening ring looking back up at me. I check near the kerb. I walk around the scattered flowers and back again. The grass is wispy but not overly long. If there was a gold ring on the ground, you could easily see it from the corner of your eye. I stand still for a second and wipe the damp droplets away from my forehead that have run down through my hair. The rain is starting to pour harder.

  Maybe someone has picked it up and returned it at the hotel reception?

  ‘Mum, I’m going to ask at reception if anyone has handed in Michael’s wedding ring. It’s definitely not on the ground – not that I can see anyway,’ I state while still walking around in circles. ‘If it had come off in the accident, someone
would have handed it in, wouldn’t they?’

  Donna shrugs and nods. She doesn’t understand the importance of the ring to me. I can’t accept that he removed it. Our marriage was stronger than that.

  ‘It can do no harm in asking,’ Donna replies, looking down at the ground for the ring. ‘If you go on inside, I’ll head back to the car now and see how Pete and Daniel are getting on. I think Pete has given him his phone to watch those weird little cartoons he likes online.’

  ‘Yeah, we’re getting wet out here.’ I say. ‘Are you still all right to have Daniel in your car while I drive Michaels back home alone?’

  ‘Absolutely, you just lead the way or follow behind us,’ Donna says, wrapping her arms around herself to warm up. ‘He’s our grandson. He can stay with us a few nights if you wanted some time alone too.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘No, he keeps me busy. Without him, I’d be too much on my own with my thoughts. He needs me.’

  Donna walks to her own car while I slowly move further down the path to the hotel entrance. I lower my head as I see more tyre marks etched into the road with small traces of blood. I shake with emotion as I envisage the brutal scene and imagine Michael dying on the road. Not only am I dealing with the grief and loss of my husband but my mind is playing tricks on me. I keep thinking of him in gory details with his body wrapped around the wheel of a car. I am punishing myself because I wasn’t there for him at the end and my grief comes in emotional waves of guilt.

  I feel like I was pushing him away.

  I must remind myself that Sharon and the police officers said it all happened very quickly. They’re convinced that Michael suffered very little pain and died within minutes of Gary reaching him. I keep visualising him on the road in agonising pain and blaming me for everything.

  Walking with my head lowered, I see people around me: families, couples, children laughing – those with daily lives and routines that haven’t been affected by tragedy in ways that shatter their world.