Trust Me: An absolutely gripping and unputdownable psychological thriller

by Sheryl Browne

  ‘I didn’t!’ Emily called after him as he walked towards the door. ‘I didn’t cheat on you,’ she repeated wretchedly. ‘I didn’t want to. I didn’t plan to have sex with him. I didn’t want to. He …’

  Jake stopped.

  ‘Jake?’ Emily moved towards him.

  ‘Are you telling me this bastard raped you?’ he asked gutturally.

  Recalling again the cloying smell of him, his hands all over her body, the words he’d whispered close to her ear – I want you – her stomach roiled violently. ‘Yes.’ She voiced it finally. ‘I should have gone to the police,’ she added quickly. ‘I know I should have, but after the court case … They didn’t believe that I couldn’t remember. No one did. They convicted him anyway, but … I couldn’t go there again, giving statements, being questioned. Not being believed.’

  ‘Bastard!’ Jake exploded.

  ‘Jake! Where are you going?’ Undiluted fear gripped her as he yanked the kitchen door open.

  ‘Where the fuck do you think?’ he seethed, grabbing his car keys as he strode to the front door.

  ‘Dad …?’ Millie said shakily, part way down the stairs.

  Jake’s step faltered. ‘Stay with your mother, Millie,’ he said throatily, then he pulled the front door open and slammed it hard behind him.

  Forty-Six

  ‘Where’s he going?’ Millie asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Coming back from the kitchen, Emily grabbed her bag from the peg and snatched up her own car keys.

  ‘Mum …’ Hearing the sob in her daughter’s voice as she reached for the front door, she stopped and spun around.

  Millie’s eyes were wide, her face, free of make-up, that of a petrified child.

  Her heart catching, Emily moved quickly towards her as she stepped falteringly down the stairs, yanking her into a firm embrace. ‘I have to go after him, Millie. Stay here,’ she said, breathing in the smell of her, the scent of her child, her flesh and blood. Her baby girl; she would always be that no matter how grown-up she was. She had to make her world safe.

  Gulping back a knot of raw emotion, she pressed a kiss to the top of her head. ‘Call Ben. Tell him we need him to come home. And stay here until I ring you.’

  Millie eased away to look tearfully at her.

  ‘I won’t be long, I promise,’ Emily assured her, giving her another firm squeeze then turning back to the door before her courage failed her.

  She wasn’t sure where Jake had gone, but the cold fear in the pit of her stomach told her he might do something terrible, something completely out of character. Though perhaps in character when it came to protecting his children. Both of his children. He had never considered Ben to be anything but his son. Even when Ben had treated him abysmally, whether because of who he was or the age he was – Emily only wished she knew – Jake had been there for him. She couldn’t let this happen. She had to stop it. She had to protect her family, Millie, Ben, Jake – the people she would die for. She knew that she was the only one who could.

  Deep down, she’d always known this day would come. I know you, Emily! I fucking love you! I’ll find you, I’m warning you. You belong to me! She heard his voice when they’d handed the sentence down. Saw his face contorted with rage, the intent in his unfocused eyes as he’d pinned her down, the night she’d foolishly gone to him. She’d fought him … until she’d been too frightened of what he might do. She’d fought the ghost of him ever since, just as she’d fought to rid herself of the ghost of her sister. He wasn’t going to go away – not unless she made him.

  She stopped a short way from the house to grapple her phone from her bag and search for the text she’d tried so hard to convince herself wasn’t what she’d thought it was, the warning she’d tried steadfastly to ignore. How she wished now that she hadn’t. She could have put a stop to this earlier, prevented so much pain and heartache. Knowing what she now knew, that Paul Lewis had been using her daughter, hurting her to hurt her, to gain access to her, she had no doubt it was him who’d been drugging her. He who’d been responsible for what had happened to poor Zoe, to Natasha.

  I’m watching you. She read the text over again, each word piercing her heart like an icicle, and then, nausea clenching her stomach, she switched to hands-free, called the number it had been sent from and drove on.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked when he picked up.

  He didn’t answer for a minute. Then, ‘You,’ he said simply.

  Forty-Seven

  Jake

  Blind anger burning inside him, Jake struggled to concentrate on the road. He should call the police. The fact that this Paul Lewis had been stealing drugs from the surgery was enough to make sure he was investigated. But he couldn’t do that without implicating his daughter, something that piece of scum had undoubtedly factored in.

  He slowed for a second, his breathing ragged, sweat beading his forehead. If he did inform the police, potentially risking Millie’s whole future, would it even be enough to put this animal back where he should be, behind bars? Lewis was obviously responsible for everything. Jake’s gut twisted as he pictured Natasha lying bleeding in the road. She could have died. Had it been him in Zoe’s flat? He obviously thought it was his right to abuse any woman he fancied. Would Edward have been a target too, a man who would have given his life to help other people, only to almost have it snatched away because he’d made a mistake? One single mistake. Jake felt sick to his soul imagining the pain he must have been in as he’d tortured himself with what he believed was his failure. And Jennifer Wheeler: the bastard had taken away everything she’d thought had made her life worth living.

  This vermin, Paul Lewis, Louis – bile rose in his throat even thinking his name – had hurt his daughter. He’d hurt his wife, more than Jake could ever have contemplated. And he had contemplated it, many times over the years; he’d tried to understand why she’d seen another man after he and she were together. Why hadn’t she trusted him enough to tell him? How could she have thought that one day he wouldn’t find out about Ben? Ben didn’t look like him, and wasn’t anything like him in character. He’d watched Emily worry about it, been close so many times to asking her to be honest with him.

  A simple blood test when Ben had had suspected appendicitis as a child had told him what he’d needed to know. And he’d waited, and he’d hinted, and he’d prayed that she would tell him. He’d waited in vain. Finally she’d broken his trust in her. What did he do with it? he’d asked himself. What did a man do with that information when he still loved his wife despite it? His family. His daughter. His son. He’d loved Ben from birth. He was his father. No one could ever take that away from him. Even with Ben pulling away from him lately, he’d made up his mind he wouldn’t let that happen. And now this. His world was disintegrating all over again because of this bastard. Millie would have to live the rest of her life with the psychological damage he would undoubtedly have caused her. Emily had lived with it for years, for some inexplicable reason feeling unable to confide in him.

  Jake doubted that an individual who clearly revelled in people’s suffering would experience any kind of remorse. He didn’t deserve to live.

  Hatred settling like ice in the pit of his stomach, he pushed his foot down, heading to the surgery. The man wanted drugs; he would have them. The worst fucking trip of his life.

  Half an hour later, he reached the address Millie had given him, a run-down car repair shop on the road out of the village towards Worcester. Lewis apparently lived in the flat above it. Jake slowed, his heart hammering like a freight train. Was he really going to do this? Seeing again his daughter’s terrified face when he’d found her cowering in the doorway of the surgery, knowing this monster had used her, coerced her, that he’d abused his wife in the worst possible way, he knew he couldn’t walk away. He’d made mistakes. Several. He’d failed to put his trust in the people around him he claimed to love. He’d imagined his father possibly capable of this evil, he’d accused Emily, h
e’d even doubted Ben, to his shame. He’d sat in judgement on Emily all these years for not telling him the truth, and then, when he’d finally given up hope that she would, he’d made an irrevocable mistake, one he’d lived to regret. On top of all that, busy with his own life, shut away in his office feeling sorry for himself, he’d let his daughter down. He should have been there for her, for his family. He hadn’t been. He needed to put right some of those mistakes.

  His mind made up, he checked his jacket pocket, making sure the syringe he’d collected was easily accessible, as well as some extra ampoules of morphine should he need them.

  Forty-Eight

  Emily

  Icy fear gripping her stomach, Emily climbed the concrete steps leading up to the flat, a forties-style brick-built property with metal windows, one of them boarded up. The paintwork on the front door was peeling.

  He’d left it open.

  The bastard was so sure she would come, that he would get what he wanted, he’d left the door open for her to walk straight back into his life. He’d been right to be sure. He’d said he knew her, that day in the courtroom when she’d prayed she would never see him again. Perhaps he did, after all, enough to be certain she would never let him hurt another member of her family. This time she would make damn sure that he paid properly.

  Pushing the door open, she stepped into the hall, a fresh bout of nausea swilling through her as the unmistakable smell of cannabis reached her nostrils. Noting the damp wallpaper speckled with black mildew, her stomach turned over. This was where Millie had been going all those nights she was away. Where he’d taken her innocence and broken her life to satisfy his own urges, to … what? Throw her away? Murder her? Wasn’t that his ultimate turn-on?

  Fury unfurling steadily inside her, her heart leapt when he stepped into the hallway. And then it hardened. It was him. His hair was shorter. He was still good-looking and as tall and muscular as she remembered. Still wearing the cocksure smile that had permanently adorned his face, still with that glint in his eyes she’d mistaken for admiration or love.

  ‘Hi, sweet cup,’ he said, his smile widening languidly. ‘Long time no see. I’ve missed you. Bet you’ve missed me too, haven’t you? Did you think about me?’

  ‘You’ve cut your face,’ she said, her eyes going to the angry gash across the bridge of his nose.

  ‘A parting memento from your daughter.’ His smile slipped, just for an instant, a flash of humiliation now in his eyes. ‘She’s as feisty as you are. She obviously inherited your genes. Come in.’ He nodded behind him.

  To the bedroom, Emily gathered, having noted the living room to her side, the kitchenette beyond it.

  ‘I’m just packing a few things,’ he said, turning.

  To make good his escape, presumably. With her? Or was it her fate to go the way of her sister? Her hand curling around the sharp boning knife in her pocket, she followed him, her heart squeezing painfully as her eyes fell on Millie’s pretty crystal hairclip on top of the chest of drawers, the only furniture in the room apart from the bed. Her heart turned to stone.

  ‘So, what now?’ he asked, collecting a handful of T-shirts from one of the open drawers and stuffing them into a holdall on top of the duvet. Stopping, he glanced at her. ‘You know we’re destined to be together?’

  Emily said nothing, and tried very hard not to communicate her feelings through her facial expressions.

  ‘We share a secret, Emily,’ he went on casually. ‘One we’ll both take to the grave. We both know who really pushed Kara that day, don’t we?’

  Liar! Emily seethed inwardly. He’d told her all those years ago that she’d killed her sister out of jealousy. Deeply shocked, grieving, not trusting her own memory, she’d believed him. Unbidden, scenes from that terrible day crashed into her mind. She wasn’t even supposed to be there. It was Kara that Lewis had agreed to meet on the canal bank that day, not her. But Kara had been angry. Emily saw her, her flaxen hair wild, her violet eyes full of fire, spitting fury, telling him what a vile bastard he was, that she would rather die than let him anywhere near her again. Emily hadn’t pushed her. He had.

  ‘Leave them alone,’ she said. ‘My family. Leave them alone and I’ll come with you.’

  He studied her narrowly, for a long, bone-chilling moment. ‘Ben’s my son,’ he stated flatly, and went back to his packing.

  He was insane. Surely he couldn’t hope to have anything to do with Ben after all that he’d done?

  ‘We can start afresh.’ She kept her voice even.

  ‘Right.’ He smiled cynically. ‘So you’ll give your family up to be with me? Your perfect husband with his big fat salary? You’re lying, Emily.’ His eyes flicked back to hers. ‘You’re blushing. Didn’t I tell you I know you?’

  She didn’t flinch. ‘I’m not lying. I’m nervous. I’m bound to be after everything.’ She glanced down and back. He didn’t know her that well. Couldn’t see that it was white-hot rage burning her cheeks. ‘I’ve only ever wanted to be with you. I thought you didn’t want me.’

  ‘And that’s why you tried to push me away the last time we were together?’ He eyed her sceptically.

  ‘I was angry.’ Emily told him the lies he wanted to hear to salve his ego. ‘Because of Kara.’

  He thought about it. ‘So you don’t love him then, the upstanding Dr Merriden, with his flashy car and his big house? You don’t love your nice lifestyle, your fine clothes,’ he looked her over, a hint of contempt in his eyes, ‘your fancy holidays. You love me.’

  He was jealous. Emily couldn’t quite believe it. Of Jake. Of what she had with Jake. Was that what had driven him to do what he’d done, to destroy so many people’s lives? Pathetic creature. She would have given anything to tell him just how disgustingly contemptible she found him, but she kept her counsel and held his gaze instead. ‘I’ve never loved him,’ she said, the words almost choking her. ‘He’s looked after me, looked after Ben. I care about him, but I don’t love him.’

  He swept his gaze over her. Her flesh crawled as she watched the incredulity in his eyes give way to lust. ‘Prove it,’ he said, nodding to the bed. Removing the holdall, he dropped it on the floor and then looked back at her, a challenge now in his eyes.

  Emily’s insides lurched. Bile rising in her throat, it took her a second to find her courage, to make her legs move.

  Walking across to him, she noted the stunned disbelief on his face as she snaked an arm around his neck, heard a groan deep in his throat as she pressed her mouth over his, her tongue seeking his, the taste of second-hand cigarette and cannabis smoke in her mouth, the familiar scent of him, sickly-sweet lemon mingled with body odour, assailing her senses.

  He pulled back after a second, reached to free himself of his T-shirt, yanking it over his head too fast for her to be ready. Greedy lust in his eyes, he scanned her face briefly, then leaned back into her, his mouth covering hers, his body hard against her, his hands all over her as he steered her around, urging her backwards towards the bed.

  Emily’s heart thundered. Her fingers found cold steel. Now she was ready.

  The point of the blade was a millimetre from the vertebrae in his back when her blood froze, her shocked gaze pivoting to the man with a syringe in his hand and cold murder in his eyes.

  Paul Lewis looked ludicrously surprised as the needle slid smoothly into the side of his neck. Then his eyes darkened, his face contorting with rage as he whirled around.

  Jake stepped back as he advanced towards him.

  One hand pressed to his neck, the other a white-knuckled fist at his side, Paul Lewis took another step. ‘What have you given me?’ he snarled.

  ‘Just ketamine,’ Jake said, his mouth curving into the reassuring smile Emily had seen so many times. There was no reassurance in his eyes, though. What she saw there, a mixture of hatred and burning anger she would never have believed him capable of, shook her to the core. ‘A large dose. Nothing a big man like you can’t handle, though, hey, Louis?’

&nb
sp; ‘You bastard,’ Paul spat, taking another step towards him.

  Jake took another step back. He didn’t look fazed, though Emily’s heart was banging so fast she thought it might explode.

  ‘I’ll fucking kill …’ Paul started. Then he stopped, his legs buckling, the drug Jake had injected into him bringing him heavily to his knees.

  ‘Probably best not to fight it,’ Jake advised, moving back towards him. One shove with his foot was all it took, and Paul Lewis keeled over.

  Moving fast, Jake reached past him to grab Emily’s arm. ‘Out,’ he instructed.

  ‘But … what do we do?’ Emily asked, terrified, as she watched the man’s eyes roll. ‘They’ll know; the police, they’ll know it was—’

  ‘It’s not enough to kill him,’ Jake said sharply. ‘I doubt he’ll be going anywhere near the police. We need to go, Emily. Now.’

  ‘Were you going to …? Once he was drugged, did you intend to kill him?’ Emily struggled to speak the words as, his hand firmly under her arm, he guided her out of the flat, almost dragging her down the concrete steps.

  ‘Yes,’ he snapped. ‘I’m still fighting the urge not to. Keys?’ he asked, as they approached her car.

  She fumbled in her pockets.

  ‘Are you okay to drive?’

  She nodded and pressed her key fob.

  ‘Go,’ he instructed, pulling her door open. ‘Straight home. I’ll be right behind you.’

  She’d started the engine and was reversing when she heard him shout. ‘Ben! For God’s sake, don’t!’

  Emily slammed on the brakes. Shoving her door open, she looked towards Ben, who was facing away from them, taking a draw on his cigarette before tossing it towards the workshop. Her mind didn’t register what was happening until Jake threw himself towards him, pushing him to the ground just as a whoosh of flames spewed out.