What You Left Behind

by Samantha Hayes

  Slowly they walked away from Gil’s house across the courtyard and toward the barn.

  Lana sprinted ahead suddenly, stopped, and picked something else off the gravel. “Mum, this is Freddie’s too.” She held up a small metal key ring in the shape of a peace symbol. There was one key attached to it. “I bet if you try this in Jo’s back door, it’ll fit.”

  Sonia stared at it thoughtfully and nodded. “OK, this changes things,” she said, looking around.

  Lana felt her trepidation; it was almost as if they were being watched. She stared up at the big house behind her. She’d lived there half her life, but suddenly it seemed cold and foreboding.

  “Mum, are you and Dad going to split—”

  “Not now, Lana,” Sonia interrupted. “If you’re right about these things and Freddie left some kind of trail, then it leads from Gil’s house right across to the barn. Frank was due to come round earlier and swap some charity bags. He took the wrong ones the other day. I wonder if he’s been or if he saw anything.”

  Sonia told Lana to wait there and strode back across the yard before disappearing behind the tack room. A few moments later she was back, slightly breathless. “That’s odd. His truck’s parked there but I haven’t seen him about.” She put her hands on her hips and stared down into the paddocks in case he’d gone to see the horses. He’d recently shown an interest in buying their foal.

  “You could try phoning him,” Lana suggested, not really caring about Frank. She just wanted to find Freddie, and know what was going to happen to her mum and dad. She’d never seen him lash out that hard before.

  She didn’t know whether to tell her mum about the photographs she and Freddie had found.

  Lana sighed. “I’m going to check the barn,” she said, making her way toward the red-brick building. She couldn’t ignore the things Freddie had dropped.

  The sun slipped behind another cloud, and a crow flew from the old cedar tree to sit on the gable end of the barn roof. The screeching noise it made sounded sinister in the still afternoon air.

  “Can you see anything?” Sonia said, coming up beside her.

  “It’s hard to tell,” Lana whispered, looking in through the window. She thought she’d spotted some kind of movement but it could have been a reflection. The big door was on the opposite end and seemed to be closed, making it hard to see. “Did you move all the bales, Mum?”

  “No, why?” Sonia came closer.

  “They’re dumped all over the place …”

  Lana looked again and gasped. She pushed her mother back against the rough brick. “Get back.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Mum … Oh my God …” Lana broke down into tears.

  “What’s going on?” Sonia said, trying to look through the window again, but her daughter wouldn’t let her. This time she pulled her down to the ground.

  “You’re shaking, sweetheart. What on earth is it?”

  “It’s Gil, Mum, and he’s got a knife at Freddie’s throat.”

  38

  Lana was breathless, crouching beneath the window.

  “What?” Sonia said.

  Lana tried to keep her mum hidden down low but she forced her way up, staring in and gasping. She clapped both hands over her mouth. “Oh my God,” she said as she dropped back down next to Lana again. “We have to do something.”

  “I’ll call the police,” Lana said shakily.

  “No, wait. We have to handle this.” Her mum took hold of her shoulders. “I want you to go to your dad’s gun cabinet. Bring the short-barreled shotgun. You know the one?”

  Lana nodded, terrified about what she had to do.

  “And, love,” Sonia said, catching Lana’s wrist as she scrambled up, “be careful.”

  Lana ran off toward the house. She knew her dad kept the keys to the cabinet under some old clay pots in the boot room, remembering how he’d always warned her off touching them. Her fingers fumbled as she swept them up. She went straight to her dad’s study, where the gun cabinet was built into the wall, hidden behind carved wooden doors, and unlocked both sets, swinging open the heavy metal inner doors to reveal the rack of guns.

  Lana’s heart clenched. She’d never held one before.

  This little beauty is always loaded and ready to go.

  She took a deep breath before grabbing the short-barreled gun, pulling it from its rack. Briefly, she spotted the phone on her dad’s desk, wondered whether to dial 999, but she had to do as her mother had told her so she ran back to the barn, keeping the gun pointing upward.

  She’d only been gone a few minutes yet it felt like a lifetime. Lana’s arms trembled as she held the gun, crossing the courtyard.

  “Mum?” she called out when she couldn’t see her.

  She looked around, panicking, praying it wasn’t too late.

  “Mum, where are you?” she said as loudly as she dared. “I’ve got it.”

  There was no reply, so she ventured round to the big doors at the other end of the barn. She hovered outside, swallowing down her fear, before pushing against the wood and going in.

  She kept the gun pointing up, moving forward slowly, and crept around the stack of bales she’d seen Freddie standing on. She hardly dared look up, but when she did she saw that his face was purple, his feet unstable on the straw, and his hands were tied behind his back. He was gasping for breath. Then she heard voices and her parents came into view.

  “Mum?” she said, not believing her eyes.

  Her dad had his hands outstretched, cajoling Sonia into giving up the knife she was threatening him with.

  “What are you doing?” Lana screamed. “Stop it!”

  “Your mum’s not well, love,” her dad said, glancing quickly at her. He took another step toward Sonia. “I was trying to rescue Freddie but your mother turned on me.” He was shaking, sweating, as scared as she was. “She’s gone mad. Keep away from her.”

  Lana nodded, wide-eyed, and glanced up at Freddie again, the gun swinging round in her hands.

  “Mum?” she said. “Why are you doing this? Just give Dad the knife. Please, Mum.”

  Sonia turned to face her. Her eyes were crazy and spit foamed on her lips. Her father was right.

  “He’s lying, Lana,” she said, jabbing the knife in her dad’s direction. “He’s the crazy one. For Christ’s sake, Lana, you have to believe me!”

  Then Lana heard sniffling and crying coming from the corner. Her head whipped round and she saw Gil curled up beside some old crates, his hands over his face, his head bowed.

  “Lana, listen to me,” her dad said. “I need you to give me the gun. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  He reached out his hands to her, shuffling forward a couple of steps, glancing at her mum, then looking back at her earnestly. For a second, the images on the laptop flashed into Lana’s mind; but this was different now, this was her dad trying to help.

  “OK, OK, Dad,” she said quietly, her voice barely working.

  She stole one last glance up at Freddie before stepping toward her dad. His eyes were huge and staring and his face had swollen to the color of ripe plums.

  Sonia rushed to get between them, brandishing the knife at Tony. “Lana, no! Don’t be stupid. You’ve got to listen to me. Do not give him the gun. Pass it to me, then take Gil and get out of here. Lock yourselves in the house.”

  Lana was in tears again, switching her gaze between her parents. “Mum, I can’t. You’re not well.”

  The gun was almost in Tony’s hands when Sonia suddenly lashed out at him with the knife, slicing his forearm. The wound seeped blood as he recoiled, shrieking.

  “You stupid woman!” he yelled, doubling up, before reaching out for the gun again. He got his fingers around the barrel.

  “Lana, no! Your father killed Simon and he’s going to kill Freddie too! You have to listen to me!”

  Lana froze, then with a scream yanked the gun away.

  For a moment everything was quiet. Then Tony went mad, kicki
ng and swiping at the bales and destroying the stack beneath Freddie. Sonia leaped onto his back, trying to stop him, plunging the knife into his shoulder, but the tower swayed and collapsed.

  Lana screamed, watching helplessly as Freddie suddenly dropped and hung above them all by his neck.

  39

  Lorraine was sitting with Jo in the garden while Adam took Malc to the Old Dog and Fox for an hour. “It’ll take his mind off things,” he’d said. Lorraine had urged him to find out about the card, as well as where Malc had been on the night of Lenny’s death, even though she felt treacherous doing so.

  “I’ve been thinking about you and Malc,” she said.

  “That’s nice,” Jo responded sourly, taking a slug from her wine glass. “What did you conclude?”

  “That he loves you,” Lorraine said honestly, hoping against hope that it was pure coincidence that Malc’s writing seemed identical to Lenny’s suicide note.

  “And how did you work that out, Detective?”

  Lorraine sighed. “I wasn’t snooping, I promise, but …” She saw the look on Jo’s face and decided not to mention the poem. “Don’t you think there’s any chance you could work things out with him? When Freddie comes home, it’ll be good for him too.”

  Jo closed her eyes. “If he comes home,” she said quietly.

  “He will.”

  Lorraine moved closer to her sister.

  “To be honest, I want to work things out with Malc. I miss him, you know.” She laughed. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s natural,” Lorraine said kindly, hoping to God she’d got this all wrong.

  “I tried to end it recently,” Jo said. “With Tony, I mean. But …” Her face crumpled with worry. “He got really possessive. He told me no one ever left him. That he owned me.”

  “That’s scary,” Lorraine said.

  “When I said our affair had to stop, he kept phoning me, hanging around outside the house, following me whenever I went out.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have done something.”

  Jo shook her head. “Why do you think?” She sipped more wine. “He kept sending me texts, emails; he wrote me notes and poems. He said things like ‘you flow in my veins’ and ‘you make my heart beat.’ ”

  Lorraine sat up. “He said what?”

  LORRAINE GLANCED AT Gil’s cottage as they approached, having run all the way with Jo. The door was locked, so she peered through the window. She couldn’t see anyone in the single room downstairs, and they’d already tried banging on the Manor’s front and back doors with no reply. She glanced at her phone. Adam hadn’t replied to her text.

  “How did the affair kick off?” she asked her sister as they walked briskly toward the courtyard.

  “Malc and I were in the pub having a quiet dinner a few months ago. Sonia and Tony were at another table. I knew Sonia, but we didn’t socialize as couples. That came about after Tony and I started seeing each other. He thought it would be good cover if Sonia and I became good frien—”

  Lorraine had held her hand up to silence Jo. “Did you hear something?” They were in the middle of the courtyard.

  “No,” Jo said.

  They both stopped to listen. Lorraine strained her ears, turned to face the house, then toward the old barn ahead. The gardens and paddocks lay beyond.

  “I swear I just heard someone cry out. Sorry, you were saying …”

  They walked on.

  “Well, Tony kept looking over at me and smiling. Not a smile like just ‘hi,’ but a smile that had real meaning. Malc’s smiles never—”

  They both heard the scream this time.

  “Hurry,” Lorraine said, running off in the direction of the barn.

  There was another scream, shrill and piercing, as she flung open the wooden doors. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they did she stuck out an arm, preventing Jo from getting any closer.

  Jo became hysterical when she saw her son hanging from the beam. “Freddie, oh God no, Freddie!” Lana was screaming too, pressed against the back wall of the barn.

  “Stay back!” Lorraine cried, but Jo ignored her and charged over to where Sonia was standing on some fallen bales, holding on to Freddie’s legs, desperately trying to lift him up, prevent him from choking. Her face was scarlet with the effort.

  Lorraine searched around for something to stand on, not immediately noticing that Tony Hawkeswell was holding a shotgun, and pointing it straight at her.

  “Get out,” Tony yelled, “or I’ll shoot.”

  “No,” Lorraine said, angry but trying to stay calm, refusing to be stopped. Her eyes flicked down to the knife lying on the floor. Her heart thumped in her chest as she grabbed it and shouted, “Drop the gun!”

  The weapon was only a few feet from her face. She stared into Tony’s eyes—a dark and bitter place—and then saw where the rope was secured to the wall behind him. She had to get to that hook.

  “The police will be here any moment, Tony, so just put the gun down,” she ordered, praying that Adam had called for backup.

  “No … no …” he muttered, his voice faltering, the barrel unsteady. “I … I …”

  There was simply no time for delay. Lorraine charged past Tony, intent on hacking through the rope. The shot momentarily stopped her in her tracks, the deafening sound ricocheting through her head, but she forged on and sawed frantically at the rope with the knife until it was cut in two. She swung round in time to see Freddie falling into the straw and Tony drop to the ground. She leaped over him to get to Freddie, kneeling down beside her nephew. Jo was already there, stroking her son’s hair, burying her face into his shoulder.

  “Is he breathing?” Lorraine said, grappling the noose away from his neck. He was bruised and in shock, but she heard the rasping in his throat as his lungs gulped in air.

  “Mum?” he murmured, already beginning to return to his normal color. He rubbed at his neck.

  “Get him into the recovery position,” Lorraine said, dialing for an ambulance.

  She turned and stared back at where Tony lay. Most of his face and the top of his head were blown open from where he’d shot himself, fragments of blood and flesh spread in a circle around him.

  40

  Lorraine had to work hard to encourage Gil to come out of the corner. His arms were clamped round his body as he stood up, terrified, trying not to look at Tony lying on the ground. Slowly, he walked toward Lorraine, keeping his eyes fixed low. Sonia had already taken Lana off to the house.

  “Everything’s OK,” Lorraine said to Gil, putting her arm around him and leading him toward the doors. “You’re safe now.”

  She turned back to Freddie, who was sitting up, his mother refusing to leave his side. “Can you walk?” she asked him.

  “I think so,” he said, nodding and wincing as Jo helped him to stand, and hooking his arm over her shoulder.

  “Tony can’t be angry with me now, can he?” Gil asked Lorraine as he pushed the big doors open. “After I saw him kill Simon he forced me to keep quiet. I tried to stop Tony going into the barn and finding Simon with his boyfriend because it was a secret but I didn’t so it was my fault he killed Simon and Jason and now I just draw pictures to make everything better otherwise it hurts too much.” He took a big breath.

  “No, he can’t get angry with you now,” Lorraine said.

  “Tony said I had to keep quiet forever or else Lana and Sonia would get hurt, but Sonia knew that Tony killed Simon too, that’s why she is always sad.” Gil was panting, pulling at his clothes. “And then I saw the motorbike crash and Lana told me I had to keep quiet about that as well but it was really hard because things kept bursting out. And I’m sorry Freddie, I didn’t mean to scare you with the knife. I was trying to cut you down but then Tony and Sonia came and were fighting so I just went and hid because I was scared too.” Gil stretched his mouth wide and covered his face. “I would like to go to bed soon if that’s OK.”

  “You’ll be able to shortl
y, Gil. Come back into the house with us now.”

  Lorraine glanced at Jo and reached over to give her hand a squeeze before she ushered them all inside the back door. She sent them on in and waited outside because she’d spotted Adam running down the drive. His eyes were wide as he skidded to a stop beside her. Malc was following on behind.

  “You OK?” he said, grabbing Lorraine with both arms.

  “I’m fine. We found Freddie. He’s safe.”

  Lorraine explained quickly what had happened, including what Gil had just told her.

  Inside the crowded kitchen, Lana was sitting beside Freddie, staring down at her fingers. Gil was on the other side of her, his big arms ensnaring her. Lana had tears in her eyes and Freddie was comforting her. She looked up when Lorraine went over to them.

  “It’s all our fault,” Lana said. “We should never have got Lenny to steal the laptop. Now him and my dad are … are dead.” She fell into another sobbing fit. “I should never have told you to give that ring to Abby either, Freddie. When I found it, I should have just chucked it in the lake.”

  Lorraine did her best to reassure her, knowing now wasn’t the time to press her for more details. That would come later, when she made a statement.

  Freddie stood up, clutching his shoulder, hugged his mother and Malc, then took his aunt aside.

  “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused, but it wasn’t without good reason,” he told her.

  He looked utterly exhausted, and his voice was not much more than a croak, but Lorraine thought how grown-up he suddenly seemed.

  “I was hiding at Gil’s place and found some awful pictures on Tony’s laptop.”

  Lorraine held up her hands to spare him. “Yes, I know, love. Your mum and Tony.”

  “No, there was more than that,” he said quietly. “I discovered an invisible folder.” His cheeks reddened. “There were some really vile pictures in it. As Gil said, Simon was murdered, and that’s why Tony was after me.” He bowed his head. “The laptop is still in the barn.”