by SE Moorhead
‘We got him, didn’t we, Ky?’ Molly’s face was serious and childlike at the same time.
‘We did, Mols. Nice work with that hammer,’ she said, the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile. Molly beamed.
Kyra turned serious then. ‘He’ll die in prison.’
‘It’s what he deserves,’ Molly said flatly.
‘We’ll come and see you later,’ her mother said, turning towards the door.
‘You were great,’ Kyra said as her mum wheeled Molly out.
Jimmy came back in and sat on the chair next to the bed.
The screen in front of them was showing a newspop of Fennig’s arrest, footage of Linden House. It looked very different in the daylight, with police vehicles on the garage forecourt and officers swarming over it. Nowhere near as terrifying as it had been the previous night.
Memories began swimming in her mind like jetsam that she had deliberately discarded, but were now washing up on the shoreline of her consciousness – the banging sounds as the police broke down the door, people shouting her name, her own voice, screaming as she saw the peri-med – the uniform terrifying her, shouts of ‘she’s here!’ as they unwrapped Isabel from the duvet, herself wrestling with a peri-med who was trying to help Molly.
Then Tom, his arms around her, holding her, his soothing words.
She remembered clinging to him as he helped her down the stairs, Molly being carried out on a stretcher and placed in the ambulance, but after that … she didn’t recall.
‘Tom came for me,’ she said simply.
‘He rang me, told me what had happened, that they’d brought you here.’
‘Did he say anything else?’
Jimmy looked down and then up again. His eyes met hers. ‘He said he was sorry.’
She nodded. ‘It doesn’t matter now, anyway.’
At that moment, Tom came onto the screen.
‘Volume up,’ Kyra said.
Yes, mistakes have been made, and we must take responsibility for some of that. Our department is fully committed to working with all witnesses without prejudice to bring about swift and safe convictions. David Lomax’s appeal will be heard today and, depending on the outcome, we will accept burden of compensation, but that being said, we were up against a criminal who was determined to make it look as though Lomax had committed the crimes and, in that respect, this has been an unusual case …
‘Screen off,’ Kyra said wearily.
‘You need your rest,’ Jimmy said. ‘Get some sleep. I won’t be too far.’
Kyra watched him leave and then closed her eyes. It had been good to see him and her mother, but to hear that Isabel was doing well and to see her beloved Molly gave her a deep joy and satisfaction.
She was exhausted and her head throbbed, so when she heard the door open again, she kept her eyes closed in the hope that whoever it was might go away, leave her to drift off.
She felt the pressure on the bed as the person sat down next to her and then they began to stroke her hair.
‘You used to stroke my hair and hold my hand when I was little and I couldn’t sleep.’
That couldn’t be Molly, could it? She had just seen her mother push the wheelchair out.
It was a woman’s voice, only a whisper, familiar although somehow she couldn’t put her finger on who exactly. She felt so weary. Her mind wasn’t functioning the way it used to. She would have to accept that now.
‘You always cared for me so well. Love like that goes on for ever.’
It couldn’t be, surely? Kyra didn’t want to open her eyes and break the spell.
Instead, she wanted to lie there, let everything wash away, forget about Fennig, Tom, CASNDRA. The rhythmic stroking of her hair gave her a deep sense of peace.
‘Thank you for saving my Molly.’
Kyra felt tears of happiness brimming underneath her eyelids. She was finally free of all the guilt. Molly was safe. Fennig was behind bars where he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again.
It had all been worth it.
Kyra felt herself falling, falling.
‘You go to sleep,’ Emma whispered. ‘I’m going to look after you now.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Writing a book takes a long time, longer than I realised, but it is a task I was prepared for long before I wrote the first sentence.
I owe gratitude to so many.
My mum, Norah, gave me a love of books and stories by reading to me every night as a small child, encouraging me to go to the library regularly, and giving me my very own bookshelves in my bedroom.
My dad, Terry, gave me the confidence to be myself, and my life motto, ‘Reach for the stars and you might land on the rooftops.’
My elder brother, Damian, gave me a curiosity for serial killers and forensic science (the books he read and the films he watched, not his actual activities.)
My younger brother Justin gave me the support through the writing process as he was working on his PHD dissertation at the same time and I can think of no one better to have been my writer-support-partner.
The writers’ groups I have belonged to gave an ear and constructive criticism to my work in its early stages; Rose Lane Writers, The Inklings and the Wordsmiths.
My friend Sarah Parry gave me encouragement, honest feedback and support when I was trying to emerge as a writer. I don’t think I could have done it without her.
My brilliant agent, Nelle Andrew, gave me a chance (although she slept on it!) and then she put me through my paces and knocked me into shape so that even though with no formal training in creative writing I was ready for the challenge.
My wonderful editor, Sam Eades at Trapeze, saw potential and gave me the chance to pitch an idea. Sam encouraged me to keep learning and striving to write the best story I could.
My other wonderful editor at Trapeze, Phoebe Morgan, who gave me the confidence to get over the final hurdle.
I’m so lucky to be surrounded by my friends – beautiful, intelligent, funny, capable women who give me constant love and support - Poppet, Mary, Maz, Cath, Mags, Claire and Fran.
And last, but not least, my family, Seán, Paddy and Tadhg, for their support, love, understanding and patience – you’re my world!
CREDITS
Trapeze would like to thank everyone at Orion who worked on the publication of Witness X in the UK.
Editor
Phoebe Morgan
Project editor
Shyam Kumar
Copy-editor
Nicky Jeanes
Proofreader
Anne O’Brien
Editorial Management
Alice Davies
Jo Whitford
Charlie Panayiotou
Jane Hughes
Jake Alderson
Production
Fiona McIntosh
Katie Horrocks
Claire Keep
Design
Lucie Stericker
Loulou Clark
Joanna Ridley
Nick May
Rabab Adams
Helen Ewing
Clare Sivell
Audio
Paul Stark
Amber Bates
Contracts
Anne Goddard
Paul Bulos
Marketing
Sarah Benton
Tom Noble
Anna Bowen
Publicity
Maura Wilding
Alainna Hadjigeorgiou
Sales
Jen Wilson
Victoria Laws
Esther Waters
Frances Doyle
Ben Goddard
Georgina Cutler
Jack Hallam
Ellie Kyrke-Smith
Inês Figuiera
Barbara Ronan
Andrew Hally
Dominic Smith
Deborah Deyong
Lauren Buck
Maggy Park
Linda McGregor
Sinead White
Jemimah James
/> Rachel Jones
Jack Dennison
Nigel Andrews
Ian Williamson
Julia Benson
Declan Kyle
Robert Mackenzie
Sinead White
Imogen Clarke
Megan Smith
Charlotte Clay
Rebecca Cobbold
Operations
Ben Groves-Raines
Jo Jacobs
Sharon Willis
Lisa Pryde
Lucy Brem
Rights
Susan Howe
Richard King
Krystyna Kujawinska
Jessica Purdue
Louise Henderson
Finance
Jennifer Muchan
Jasdip Nandra
Afeera Ahmed
Elizabeth Beaumont
Sue Baker
Tom Costello
About the Author
Born in Liverpool, S.E. Moorhead has told stories since childhood and uses writing as bubblegum for her over-active brain – to keep it out of trouble. Fascinated by meaning, motivation and mystery, she studied Theology at university.
Over the last twenty-five years, apart from teaching in secondary school, S.E. Moorhead has attained a black belt in kickboxing, worked as a chaplain, established a Justice and Peace youth group, and written articles for newspapers and magazines about her work in education and religion.
She still lives in her beloved hometown with her husband Seán and two sons.
Copyright
An Hachette UK company
Copyright © S.E. Moorhead 2020
The moral right of S.E. Moorhead to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library.
ISBN (eBook) 978 1 4091 80340
www.orionbooks.co.uk