Lies Love Tells (Eastcove Lies Book 1)

by Gina Dickerson

  ‘I’ll leave you to tuck her in,’ he whispered before leaving the room.

  I gently worked Daughter’s quilt from under her sleeping body and lightly covered her. She mumbled in her sleep and flicked her eyes open. ‘Are we home?’

  ‘Yes, sweetheart.’ I reached for the toy, Zizi, which Mr Dry had bought and pressed it next to her.

  Daughter hugged it and pulled the quilt up to her chin. ‘Is the window locked?’

  ‘Of course.’ I kissed her. ‘Are you worried about it?’

  Daughter nodded sleepily. ‘I don’t want Kelly getting in. She’s gone all weird.’

  ‘Were you very frightened?’ I asked gently.

  ‘Yeah. Kelly made me run to her car and she put the scarf on my face so tight it hurt. She was being really weird, like, really weird, Mum.’

  ‘You’re safe now,’ I soothed. ‘The window’s locked and police officers are outside. Time for you to go to sleep.’

  ‘What about Dad?’ Daughter asked, her thumb finding its way back into her mouth. ‘He won’t come here, will he?’

  ‘No. Are you frightened of him?’

  Daughter’s head rustled against the pillows as she nodded again. ‘He really scared me. He said he had a present for me, a rabbit, but he had a big knife and he killed it!’

  ‘How could you tell what he was doing if it was dark?’

  ‘It was dark,’ Daughter replied patiently. ‘Dark on the walk to see Dad. He had a torch where he was, and a tent. That pop-up one of ours. He cut the rabbit into little pieces and said that’s how you get evil out of people. But rabbits aren’t evil are they?’

  ‘Of course they’re not,’ I said in shock. ‘Your father’s not well. That’s why the police are looking for him, so he can’t hurt anyone.’

  ‘He wants to hurt you, Mum, like he did the rabbit. I asked him to stop but he just laughed. He said I eat meat so I should know how we get meat. The rabbit made these loud noises and there was so much blood. I don’t want him to hurt you!’ Daughter broke down into huge, wracking sobs, her head tipped back, her mouth opened wide and she screamed.

  ‘He won’t,’ I said, sounding braver than I felt. ‘I love you.’ I smoothed her hair from her hot forehead and pulled her onto my lap. ‘So very much.’

  Her wailing died down to whimpers but it was some time before I could leave her.

  I left the door to Daughter’s room half-open before going to close the dining room curtains. The light from the dining room lamps made it difficult to see outside. Sightless, I felt extremely vulnerable. I reached to draw the velvet curtains and screamed. A face!

  ‘What?’ Mr Cool flew into the room.

  I pointed at the window. ‘There’s someone outside.’

  Mr Cool flipped the latch on the window, flung it open, and stuck his head into the darkness.

  ‘Don’t!’ I hissed. ‘It could be him!’ Visions of Mr Him slicing Mr Cool’s neck flashed through my mind. I grasped onto the back of his jumper and tugged at him. ‘Close the window.’

  ‘I can’t see a damn thing.’ Mr Cool drew his torso inside and closed the window. ‘Did you see who it was?’

  I shook my head. ‘Just a face close to the window. It all happened so fast.’

  ‘I’ll let the patrol car know,’ said Mr Cool grimly

  It was with a trembling hand I locked the window and pulled the curtains tight to block out the impending dark.

  ‘Well whoever was outside has long gone.’ Mr Cool returned to the flat.

  ‘Do you think it was him?’ I asked fearfully, running to Mr Cool. His hands were cold on my back but his body heat radiated through his jumper.

  Mr Cool squeezed me. ‘I don’t know. Would you like me to stay with you tonight?’

  ‘I’d love you to but you have to be at school tomorrow. You’ll need a change of clothes,’ I pointed out.

  ‘I could leave early in the morning?’

  I shook my head bravely. ‘Honestly I’ll be fine. What could possibly happen with two police officers outside?’

  Posted: 22:30 2 Sazements

  SxyGrrl: I know I sound like a broken record but I’m really worried about you. Call me if you need anything, no matter what the time is. ((((hugs))))

  Saze Monnivan: I have closed this blog for now. No further comments can be made. It’s back to the handwritten diary for me, for now! I will bring this blog back to life as soon as I can. Thanks for reading, and sticking with me so far. I’m too scared to keep posting on here.

  ***

  Knocking on My Mind.

  I dug out my journal from the bottom of my wardrobe. The book was half full and had lain untouched since I began my blog. I would need to copy and paste the blog entries into a document to print out else, in years to come, the journal would be incomplete.

  Coffee swilled in my mug as I played with it, dripping over my fingers but I didn’t feel its heat. All I heard was tapping and knocking. Coffee splashed across the kitchen table top as the knocking worked its way towards me; a tormented rhythm in line with the racing beat of my heart.

  Knock, tap, knock, tap, BANG.

  Suddenly it was at the back door, rapping on the glass pane obscured by a slatted blind. The mug slipped from my grasp and clunked on the table, spreading its contents darkly across the surface before dripping over the edge.

  I was frozen; hands poised in mid-mug grip. My breath quickened and the rushing of blood filled my ears, fear smothering me in a blanket of uselessness. I knew I should move to check the noises but what if they were more than figments of my imagination?

  The ten steps to the back door may as well have been a plank above a pool of alligators. With the hairs on my arm prickling, I raised a hand to push the blind to one side.

  My breath stopped in my throat.

  The thudding of my heart filled the silent kitchen.

  Outside was empty.

  23:30

  My phone beeped signalling the arrival of a text message. I hoped it was Mr Cool checking up on me.

  “Are you okay? Thinking about you. Call if you need me.”

  It took me a while to think of an adequate response. After all, he had stormed off only a few hours ago in a strange mood. I thumbed a response back to Mr Dry.

  “Thanks for your help. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”

  23:41

  The ringing of my phone washed away my fears about Mr Dry.

  ‘I really meant it, I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ I gushed into the receiver. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Please,’ whispered a strange, female voice. ‘Listen.’

  ‘Who is this?’ The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I looked at the screen; the number was withheld.

  ‘He’s going to kill me,’ the voice shook with fear. ‘He said he’s going to…’ The voice cracked as the caller broke into tears.

  On autopilot I rose from the kitchen and flew to the flat door. ‘Is this some kind of a sick joke?’

  ‘No! He said he’d cut out my tongue if I tell you my name!’

  I opened my flat door and ran to the main door. I knew I had to give the call over to the police officers outside.

  ‘He said if you step outside of that blue door,’ whispered the voice weakly. ‘That’s he going to start cutting… me… up… before… I’m… even dead!’

  ‘Oh, God!’ I screamed. ‘I don’t know what to do!’ My hand hovered over the latch on the main door. What if she was only in the group of trees on the green across the road? What if he was watching me?

  ‘I’m Alison,’ she sobbed. ‘Alison King and I’m twenty-four. I live with my boyfriend and my one year old—’ Her voice broke off abruptly.

  My stomach fell, sweat broke out across my skin, prickling it in fear. Tears swum in my widened eyes. I hardly dared to talk. ‘Hello?’ I opened the door and signalled to the police officers in the car. ‘Hello!’

  ‘I’m not allowed to tell you about myself,’ Alison came back on the line. ‘He wants me to te
ll you he is going to kill me… I don’t want to die!’

  I burst into tears. It was difficult to control my own panic but I knew I had to, I had to listen and I couldn’t do so if I was falling apart.

  ‘My baby, I want to see my baby!’

  That did it, my heart broke.

  The officers reached me quickly and I activated the speakerphone, shoving the phone into the hands of one of them while I fell to the floor, a blubbering, shocked mess.

  ‘It’s dark,’ Alison said in desperation. ‘There’s a bird watching hut and trees—’ Her voice broke off again.

  The officer with my phone nodded at the second to escort me inside. ‘This is the police. Can you tell us anything else to help us find you?’

  The hallway filled with the sound of Alison’s sobbing. ‘I’m not allowed to speak any more. He’s going to kill me now and he wants Saze to know… please, tell my boyfriend I love him, tell him not to let my son forget me, tell him—’ Alison’s voice erupted into blood curdling, gut wrenching screams.

  Never before had I heard such pure sufferance of pain. It obliterated everything else so her pain was all I could hear. My own tears dried abruptly. It seemed as if my heart held itself in suspended animation as all we on the receiving end of the phone could do, was listen. The hallway became hot and I wondered why the walls were moving. Even with my hands over my ears Alison’s screams pierced through. Screams from a horror film could never touch Alison’s. They scared me, terrified me. I prayed for her to be okay even though I knew it to be futile.

  Alison screamed a final time before the line went dead.

  ***

  Thursday, 14th March 2013

  Can’t See Through The Trees.

  Evil touched me; the heaviness its hand left behind weighed on me. Everything felt different. I could see the darkness in the corners which children fear. Cold whispered to me from underneath the sofa; a cool breath of a hidden monster testing my bare ankles. Even the eyes of some of the many officers in my flat shone, reflecting my image at me. I was frightened; I knew now a beast could live behind such mirrors. I was not allowed to call anyone considering my phone was evidence in a possible murder. Time lost meaning. The officers in my flat awaited news from those descending the local woods to the bird watching station by the lake.

  From between a forest of legs, Daughter emerged, bleary eyed and clutching the wolf-toy to her chest.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Fearfully she eyed the police officers. ‘Mummy? Who was screaming? I heard it but I was afraid to come out of my room.’

  I hurried to Daughter and scooped her up like I used to do when she was small. I knew she was worried as she hardly ever called me “Mummy” anymore. Slowly, and with difficulty, I carried her back to her bed. ‘I had a strange phone call the police needed to listen to.’

  ‘Was it Dad?’ Her fingers fiddled with the tail of the wolf-toy.

  I tucked her quilt around her cold body. Her feet were cold; she must have been standing behind her door. ‘It wasn’t your father.’

  ‘So he’s not coming here?’ She rubbed the toy’s tail against her lips in a comforting gesture.

  I shook my head. ‘No, darling, he’s not.’

  Daughter snuggled under the quilt, her arm hugging the toy. ‘Good,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t want him to hurt you. Mummy, I love you. I don’t love him.’

  ‘Sweetheart,’ I replied, choked. ‘I know you’re confused but you are still allowed to love your father. He’ll always be your father, no matter what.’

  ‘I don’t want to love him. He scared me.’

  ‘Don’t worry I’m not letting you out of my sight. There will be no school for you for this week.’

  ‘Good, I don’t want Kelly waiting for me outside school. Or Dad.’ Her bottom lip wobbled and I didn’t know what to say to make her feel better.

  00:45

  The officers left without giving me any further information, and with my mobile phone. Luckily, I kept a phone book so I phoned Darrelle and Mr Cool and told them about Alison before I remembered the police had told me not to divulge any information. Mr Cool’s taking the day off work to drop off the furniture I had completely forgotten about.

  ***

  Love Collides.

  07:15

  Mr Dry answered his mobile phone after three rings.

  ‘It’s me,’ I said.

  ‘Is everything okay? Do you need me? Has something else happened?’

  I do need you, I do. ‘I don’t have a mobile phone,’ I babbled. ‘I wanted you to know in case you rang and thought I was ignoring you. I’ll buy a new one today but I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to… I don’t know if the police will let me go out shopping on my own, surely they won’t want to trail around the shops behind me, it won’t be very interesting for them.’

  ‘Stop,’ Mr Dry commanded. ‘Is that the only reason you rang?’

  I broke into tears. There was something about the tone in his voice which made me yearn for his protection. By the time I had composed myself, he had rung off.

  The buzzer split my thoughts and I plodded to the door, groaning. The familiar tall, long-legged frame of Mr Dry strode towards me and he stopped abruptly on the mat, head tipped to allow access under the doorframe. His eyes glittered intensely dark; unreadable.

  ‘How did you get here so fast?’ I asked suspiciously, although I was relieved to see him.

  ‘I could hardly bloody well sleep after the fiasco with your daughter last night,’ he replied briskly. ‘I was worried sick.’

  ‘But how did you get here so fast?’

  Mr Dry coughed. ‘I’m not discussing anything in the corridor.’

  I stepped aside. He locked the door behind him and I followed his strides into the lounge, albeit at a slower pace.

  ‘Well?’ I made myself comfortable on the sofa.

  Mr Dry leant against the window cill and removed his gloves before replying. ‘I was around the corner at someone’s house.’

  Pain stabbed at the part of my heart which Mr Dry occupied. ‘I see.’

  Mr Dry’s mouth twitched, his eyes danced and he peeled off his heavy overcoat. ‘Is that a hint of jealousy?’

  ‘No,’ I answered quickly. ‘Most definitely not.’

  Mr Dry tossed his coat onto the arm of the sofa. ‘I recognise jealousy when I see it.’

  ‘What makes you such an expert on me?’ I bristled.

  Mr Dry laughed. ‘Maybe you like me more than you care to admit.’

  ‘You’re so conceited,’ I replied huffily. I watched him draw the curtains back and open the blinds.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered. ‘What’s he doing here?’

  ‘Who?’ I looked at my watch, wondering who it could be.

  ‘Lover-boy,’ Mr Dry spat from his sentry at the window.

  I followed his gaze to where Mr Cool was opening the back of a large van under the circle of the street lamp. ‘Damn, I’d forgotten about the furniture.’

  ‘Who’s that?’ Mr Dry asked slowly as long legs slid from the passenger side of the van.

  ‘That’s Darrelle,’ I answered. ‘I’ll have to help them.’ Mr Dry didn’t follow me.

  Darrelle and I carried in curtains and lamps while Mr Cool struggled with a mirror.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ purred Darrelle, spying Mr Dry at the window.

  Mr Dry turned to her stiffly. ‘Good morning.’

  Darrelle dropped the mound of curtains on the floor and relieved me of the lamps. ‘What an unexpected pleasure. Shall I introduce myself? Darrelle Winteres.’ She held out a slender hand, her fingernails expertly manicured. Mr Dry looked at it in disdain and she placed it instead upon my arm. ‘I didn’t anticipate meeting a friend of Saze’s today. Especially,’ she said with a soft smile. ‘So early in the morning.’

  ‘Why?’ countered Mr Dry. ‘You’re here early.’

  ‘I’m merely thankful Saze wasn’t alone last night after all she was forced to endure,’ Darrelle responded coolly. She
reached for my hand and entwined her fingers with mine. ‘But she need not worry; I’m here to look after her now. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?’

  Mr Dry picked up his coat and gloves. ‘I didn’t throw it.’ He stormed out, barging past Mr Cool without even so much as a goodbye.

  ‘Well, excuse me!’ Mr Cool wobbled on his feet under the weight of the mirror. ‘Damn rude fellow. I don’t know what you ever saw in him.’

  ‘Me neither.’ Darrelle shuddered. ‘I don’t like him; his eyes are far too dark. I assume he was a contender for your affections?’

  I nodded somewhat sadly. ‘Was being the operative word.’

  ‘That didn’t take long.’ Mr Cool sunk onto one of the gold chairs in the dining room. ‘What would you like done with your old furniture? Shall I take it to the tip or a charity shop? The large shop in the High Street accepts furniture donations.’

  I collapsed on the chaise beside Darrelle. ‘Charity’s a brilliant idea.’

  Mr Cool jumped up and kissed me firmly on the mouth. ‘That’s what I love about you, you’re a giver.’

  I must’ve appeared dumbstruck at the mention of the “L” word because Mr Cool laughed loudly. ‘Oh dear,’ he said with a characteristic wink. ‘I’ve let the cat out of the bag.’

  09:30

  “Eastcove Local” had already posted an entry about the murder:

  “DEAD CALL – BREAKING NEWS –

  We can exclusively reveal Cut-throat Casanova is officially a Serial Killer.

  Cut-throat claimed his fourth victim at around midnight last night. Police officers failed to reach the victim in time.

  In a bizarre twist of events our source informs us the victim was forced to telephone an unknown local woman.

  What part does this local woman play in this grisly game? Is she the killer’s next intended victim or is she orchestrating the entire murderous situation?”