Dying To Tell

by Beevis, Keri

  ‘Giles!’

  ‘I need some air.’ Giles threw down his napkin, stormed from the room.

  Moments later the front door slammed shut followed by the sound of an engine revving.

  Panic crossed Alyssa’s face. ‘He’s shitfaced and he’s taking the car.’

  Jack was already on his feet, followed by Tom, Oliver, Simon and Cooper.

  By the time they reached the front door, the taillights of Giles’s Porsche were fading in the distance.

  ‘Should we call the police?’ Simon asked.

  Tears filled Alyssa’s eyes. ‘They’ll arrest him. I know he’s a jerk and he was out of order, but I love him. Please don’t call them,’ she begged.

  Jack slipped his arm around her, led her back through to the dining room. Cooper followed close behind them, whining softly. God knows where Giles had gone. Jack loved his sister, but if Giles caused an accident, like what had happened to Steph…

  Jack clenched his fist, thought of his youngest sister, and wished to hell he had never agreed to come here tonight.

  * * *

  The movie ended and Lila switched off the TV, ruing her decision to watch a horror film. Yes she had enjoyed it, but now it was over and her flat was silent, the dark rooms filled with shadows, she kept thinking back to the incident in the park and how she had been convinced someone had been following her, how scared she had been at the time.

  Over the course of the evening, her belly full of Chinese, the half-bottle of wine she had drunk comfortably mellowing her mood, she had tried to rationalise what she thought she had heard. It made no sense. There was no way that someone would be hiding in the park, knowing that she was going to walk past at that exact moment. It was a ridiculous idea. Much more plausible to believe she had mistaken the rustling of the breeze against the leaves to be a spooky voice.

  With the flat dark and silent, the creepy film still playing in her head, she was questioning everything all over again and her initial fears seemed more plausible.

  Telling herself to stop being an idiot, she undressed and cleaned her teeth, started to go through to her bedroom, but doubted herself, going back to once again recheck the front door was locked, that all of the windows were shut.

  Eventually satisfied that she was safe, she turned off the lights and crawled into bed, switched on the night lamp. It was still early – just gone ten thirty – and although she was tired, her overactive imagination was working overtime. She picked up her Kindle, figured reading for a short while might refocus her mind. Jack’s book, Something Wicked, sat top of the list – her most recent download. She didn’t want anything scary though, plus she needed to take her mind off Jack, not be thinking about him. Instead she opted for a sweet looking rom-com, something light to chill her addled brain.

  She read the first couple of chapters then, exhausted, set the book down, turned off the light and settled back against the pillows, closing her eyes.

  She had not long dozed off when a creaking noise awoke her.

  That was her first coherent thought, pulling her from her dream world back to reality with an unwelcome bump. There was a creaking noise, like the sound of a foot treading on that uneven floorboard in her room, the one she kept meaning to get fixed.

  Lila cranked one eye open, the room initially black, but as her vision adjusted, she spotted the window, the light of the moon shining through, the hooded figure that slowly moved across in front of the window. And she almost stopped breathing.

  Someone was in her bedroom.

  Suddenly her brain was fully awake, though physically she dare not move, other than the violent trembling she tried to so hard to control, her breath coming fast and shallow after she had initially tried to hold it.

  Whoever it was had his back to her, but Lila knew it was only momentarily, that he would turn again, and then what? What was his motive? Did he intend to rob her, rape her or maybe kill her? The thought of the last two things made her convulse, a violent shudder rippling through her body.

  She couldn’t afford to panic. One shot. She had one shot.

  As she was thinking about how to use that one shot, the figure started to turn and the panic she was trying not to give into came automatically. In blind fear, she grabbed for the nearest possible weapon, her crutch, and swung it hard at the intruder. He saw her at the last second, putting his arms up to shield himself and trying to move out of the way. The crutch smashed into his arms and she heard a satisfying grunt before she realised he had hold of her weapon, easily managing to wrestle it from her.

  It was at that point she finally found her voice, let out a piercing scream.

  The man glanced around. In the dark, with the hood up, he was little more than a shadow, and she couldn’t make out his features. He seemed to be debating his next move. Lila knew if he tried to attack her that her broken leg would prevent her from getting away. She was trapped, had only her voice, so she used it, screaming again, this time louder and for longer.

  A timely creak came from the floor above. It wouldn’t be Primrose. Lila’s landlady struggled with her hearing. The man wouldn’t know that though, just as he wouldn’t know the old building regularly creaked and groaned. Although Lila couldn’t see his face, she was aware of his panic as he realised he might get caught. The crutch dropped suddenly and he turned and fled from her bedroom. She heard his footsteps in the hall then a grunt and a crunch of gravel. He was outside.

  She reached across, flicked the night lamp switch on with shaking fingers. Her crutch lay on the floor where he had dropped it, her bedroom door wide open. He was gone, but he had managed to get into her flat somehow and she needed to find out where.

  Easing herself out of bed, heart still hammering, she reached for her crutches, made her way to the bedroom door on trembling legs that threatened to buckle. She was aware she was wearing just a skimpy vest and knickers, but although her state of undress left her feeling vulnerable and exposed, finding out how he had managed to get into her flat was more important.

  She flicked switches as she moved, flooding each room with light, needing the comfort and wanting to be sure there was nothing hiding in the shadows. In the bathroom, the window was wide open, the handle lying on the floor. A partial muddy boot print on the toilet seat confirmed this was where he had entered and exited her flat. Lila pulled the window shut as best as she could. He must’ve broken it when he got in. Why had he been there? What had he wanted?

  She had to call the police, report what had happened.

  Back in her bedroom, she made the call, glancing at the spot where the man had stood a few moments before as she waited for the operator to connect her. If she hadn’t awoken, if he hadn’t stepped on the creaky floorboard, what would have happened?

  She swallowed down the sob that was rising in her throat as her call was connected, surprising herself at how calm she sounded as she explained what had happened. As she waited for the police to arrive, she pondered calling Elliot, knew it wasn’t fair to ruin his holiday.

  Instead she tried Beth, frustrated when her friend’s phone went to voicemail. She didn’t leave a message, instead fired off a brief text. Someone broke into my flat. Police are on their way. Can you call me when you get this? I really don’t want to be alone tonight.

  She stared at her phone, willing Beth to call. As she waited, she became aware again of her state of undress. The police were on their way and she couldn’t answer the door to them as she was. She slipped on her pyjama bottoms and robe, knotting it around her waist, checked her phone again. Although she had turned down the volume, she hadn’t left the room so would have heard it if Beth had called, but still she wanted to be sure.

  Nothing. Her friend must be busy.

  She tapped the screen impatiently, annoyed that she was thinking about texting Jack.

  He would be with his girlfriend. Lila had no right to get in contact with him about this.

  ‘Come on, Beth. Please call me.’

  Five long minutes ticked by and
still her phone didn’t ring.

  She guessed she could try Natalie, though Joe was home for the weekend. It wasn’t fair to drag her out. Instead Lila opened up a new text message, typed in Jack’s name. She didn’t expect anything back from him, she would just send a text, let him know what had happened.

  Someone broke into my flat. Police on way.

  She pressed send before she could reconsider, telling herself she was an idiot the second the message left her phone. She shouldn’t involve him in this, especially after she had promised herself she would cut contact with him.

  A loud rap on the front door made her jump. The police were already there. It was too late to worry about messaging Jack. She needed to get this over with. Dropping the phone on her bed again, she grabbed her crutches and went to answer the door.

  * * *

  Giles hadn’t returned and Alyssa’s dinner party, which had already been a morose affair, became gloomier as the evening ticked on. She kept apologising to everyone for Giles’s behaviour while looking at her watch, noting how long he had been gone. Jack had offered to go and look for him, but she had insisted everyone stay put and finish eating the meal she had made.

  Dessert was served, followed by brandy for everyone except Jack, who had coffee. Beneath the table, Cooper had eventually stopped whining and had fallen asleep.

  It was almost eleven by the time they helped Alyssa clear up, still no sign of Giles, and Jack was getting ready to make a move. Oliver and Simon were planning on crashing the night, so at least Jack knew his sister wouldn’t be alone; and he planned on giving Tom and Imogen a lift home.

  As he carried glasses through to the kitchen, Jack felt his phone vibrate in his jeans pocket. He set the glasses down by the dishwasher and reached for his phone, surprised to see Lila’s name on the screen. She had pretty much hung up on him earlier, so why was she texting him this late?

  He read her message then reread it, his mouth dry. Hitting “call”, he strode out of the room, pacing the hallway as her phone rang, swearing when it went to voicemail. Annoyed, he tried again. ‘Damn it, Lila, answer your phone.’

  ‘You okay out here?’

  Jack glanced at Tom, ignoring him as he hit redial. This time when it went to voicemail he left a message. ‘It’s me. I just got your text message. Call me back.’

  He looked at his brother again. ‘I have to go. Lila’s in trouble.’

  ‘What kind of trouble?’

  ‘Someone broke into her flat. That’s all I know. She’s not answering her bloody phone.’

  Tom nodded. ‘Of course, go. Immy and I will get a cab.’

  Tom and Imogen lived up on the coast, a couple of villages away from him. Completely the wrong direction to where he was heading. ‘Shit. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay, Jack. Go check on Lila.’

  ‘Lila?’ Alyssa asked, joining them in the hall, Cooper at her heels.

  ‘I have to go. Tom’ll explain.’ Jack already had his car keys in his hand, the front door open.

  ‘You’ve forgotten Cooper.’

  Shit, the dog.

  ‘He can stay here.’

  When Alyssa frowned, Jack attempted a brief grin, hurrying back inside to peck her on the cheek. ‘Please, Alyssa. It’s just for tonight. I’ll come back for him in the morning, I promise.’

  ‘Jack! You can’t just leave–’

  ‘His biscuits are in the kitchen. I have to go, but I’ll be back for him in the morning.’

  Ignoring her protests, he got into his car, put his phone on hands-free, dialled Lila’s number again as he swung out of the driveway. Still it went to voicemail. Aylsham was twelve miles from Norwich, a twenty-five minute journey. He could do it in twenty if he put his foot down.

  17

  ‘You’re sure you’ve never seen this man before?’ Detective Constable Galbraith questioned, tapping his notepad.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. It was dark.’

  ‘You said he was wearing a hood. Can you describe him other than that? I know you couldn’t see his face, but can you give us an idea of height or build?’

  Lila’s mug shook in her hands, tea sloshing over the edge and onto her pyjama bottoms, as she tried to recall the man she had seen standing in her room. She had been relatively calm when she had let the officers into her flat and made the drinks, but now she was sat down and trying to recount what had happened she couldn’t stop shaking.

  Galbraith’s partner, DC Jones: a dark-haired woman with kind eyes, smiled gently at her. ‘Try taking a few deep breaths, it will help relax you.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, love. You’ve had a traumatic experience. Anyone would be shaken if they woke to find an intruder in their home.’

  Lila nodded, doing as instructed, and sipped at her tea. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. So far she had kept them at bay, but her emotions were all over the place, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold them back.

  ‘I was in bed and it was dark, so it’s hard to tell how tall he was. Maybe five eight or nine… I’m sorry, I don’t know.’

  ‘How about build?’ Galbraith’s tone was patient, his greying moustache twitching slightly as he waited for her to answer.

  ‘Average build, not too skinny, not too fat. That’s not much help, I know.’

  ‘Everything helps, Miss Amberson.’

  ‘Why do you think he broke in?’ Lila whispered the question, knowing it was a stupid one, that the police had only been there twenty minutes and hadn’t even started investigating. Still she had to ask, needing some kind of reassurance that the motive hadn’t been sinister. ‘Do you think it was a burglary?’

  Galbraith exchanged a brief look with his partner that only served to deepen her fears. ‘You fell into the path of a bus last week. I know it appeared to be an accident, but you said when my colleague spoke to you that you’d been pushed.’

  Lila’s heartbeat quickened. ‘I had.’

  ‘And that the man who pushed you wore a hood.’

  Her hands were shaking again and she attempted to set the cup down on the coffee table, spilling more tea as she did. ‘You think it was him?’

  Another exchanged look.

  ‘You think he wanted to hurt me.’ This time it wasn’t a question. Lila sucked in a breath, held it, willing the tears not to fall, furious when they did. ‘Why?’ she demanded, angrily swiping them away. ‘Why is he doing this?’

  Jones smiled sympathetically. ‘We don’t know for sure. This incident could be unrelated. At the moment we are theorising and trying to connect dots.’

  ‘Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt you?’ Galbraith asked. ‘Anyone you’ve pissed off lately?’ It was his attempt at humour; Lila could see that from his half-smile, obviously he was trying to lighten the mood slightly. Unfortunately it wasn’t working. Someone had pushed her in front of a bus and it was likely that same person had broken into her flat with the intention of hurting her.

  ‘There’s no-one.’

  ‘You’re certain?’

  ‘No.’ She wracked her brain, frustrated. She was a fairly easy-going person, wasn’t she? She tried to be kind to people and didn’t have enemies. Sure there were probably people who found her annoying – you couldn’t please everyone – but she would like to think that none of them would want to physically hurt her. She thought about the earlier incident in the park, still unsure if it had been her imagination. Given what happened that night maybe it hadn’t. ‘I thought I was being followed earlier.’

  ‘You did?’

  She went over the incident in the park, feeling a little stupid that the details were so scant, guessing the detectives would think she was being paranoid. They didn’t though, Galbraith making plenty of notes and asking a lot of questions. It seemed they were taking her suspicions quite seriously, wondering if the intruder had followed her home and waited until he knew she was asleep before breaking in.

  ‘He entered through
the window–’

  Galbraith was interrupted mid-sentence by a loud banging on the front door. Lila jumped, clutching at the arm of the sofa, as she looked to the two detectives for support.

  ‘I’ve got it,’ Galbraith told her, getting up.

  Still she started shaking again as he opened the door to her flat, disappearing momentarily as he unlocked the main door to the house. She heard voices, first the detective constable, his tone calm and rational then another more familiar voice, raised and angry in response.

  ‘Lila?’

  Her heartbeat quickened. ‘Jack?’

  She got up from the sofa, had started to reach for her crutches when he appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Jesus, Lila, I called you a dozen times on the ride over here. You didn’t pick up.’

  ‘I was…’ Her words were lost as he caught her in an unexpected hard hug.

  ‘You scared me. What the hell happened?’

  ‘There was a man. I woke and…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. Jack was warm and comforting and familiar, and she held on to him, needing that for a moment.

  Eventually he eased her back, sat her down on the sofa, though took the seat beside her, his arm around her, keeping her close.

  ‘Someone broke in while she was asleep?’ he demanded of the detectives.

  ‘Through the bathroom window,’ Jones told him. ‘We’re still trying to establish the motive. You’re Miss Amberson’s–’

  ‘Friend!’ Jack snapped.

  She nodded, smiled, as Galbraith jotted that down.

  Yes, friend, Lila reminded herself. Jack already had a girlfriend. Clearly an understanding one if she had let him rush over here. It had been wrong of Lila to text him, unfair, but he had come and she really needed the support. She could beat herself up about it in the morning.

  ‘And your name is?’

  ‘Jack Foley.’

  Galbraith glanced up from his notebook. ‘Stephanie Whitman’s brother.’ He nodded. ‘You were with Miss Amberson that day in Cromer, right, when she was hit by the bus?’