The Babysitter: A gripping psychological thriller with edge-of-your-seat suspense

by Sheryl Browne

  ‘Depends…’ said one of the girls, smiling coquettishly back over her shoulder.

  Yeah, depends on how much he’s paying. Jade curled a lip and sighed inwardly, supposing it was time to flash her own assets in his direction. Clearly the man couldn’t resist a pair of tits. Glancing over her shoulder to check on Evie, who was soundly sleeping, bless her, Jade adjusted her plunge bra and tugged down her strappy top to show off maximum cleavage, and then climbed out of her car. Her phone clutched to her ear, she swept her hair from her face and stared down at her flat tyre, looking suitably flustered. And then, bending from the waist, she leaned to examine it. As she was wearing her tightest skinny jeans, she guessed he’d be enjoying the view.

  ‘An hour?’ she said despairingly, talking to no one into her mobile. ‘No, it’s just that I have a baby in the car and I have to get her back to her parents. Yes. Okay, I’ll wait. No choice really, have I?’

  Sensing a certain someone approaching, Jade sighed and ended her ‘call’.

  ‘Problem?’ Detective Sergeant Cummings said behind her, not that Jade had imagined he would be the slightest bit concerned unless he fancied getting into her knickers.

  Jade turned, making sure to look girly and wary for a second, and then hugely relieved when he flashed his ID. Plainly, he was thinking she’d be impressed, the full-of-himself prat. ‘Slow puncture,’ she said, with a helpless shrug. ‘I don’t have a car pump with me, unfortunately, and I have to get my charge back to her parents.’

  DS Cummings followed her gaze to Evie in her baby carrier. ‘Can’t you ring them?’ he asked.

  Clearly not Sir Galahad then. ‘Well, I will, obviously, but her mum’s due to go out soon.’ Jade checked her watch. ‘Hell! I’ll probably get the sack.’

  His gaze roving over her, Cummings ran a hand contemplatively over his chin. ‘I don’t have a pump in the car, but…’ He glanced at her tits, then down to her tyre, and then nodded behind him. ‘Tell you what, I’ll go and ask in the pub. The owner’s bound to have one.’

  ‘Would you?’ Jade all but wilted with relief. ‘That would be so kind. I’d be really grateful.’

  ‘No problem,’ Cummings assured her, glancing down to the hand she’d placed on his arm and then back to her face, lingering appreciatively at her breasts again on the way up. ‘Why don’t you wait in your car? You never know what sort of cretins might be hanging around a dive like this.’

  Oh, I have a pretty good idea. ‘Thank you, I will.’ Jade fluttered her eyelashes and turned back to the car.

  Cummings held the door open, all the better to ogle her as she climbed demurely inside, bum first, threading her legs slowly in and smiling suggestively up at him.

  ‘Don’t go anywhere.’ He winked, looking pleased with himself, as he turned to jog keenly back to the pub.

  Five minutes later, Jade looked on in suitable awe as DS Cummings inflated her tyre. ‘So strong,’ she said, smiling coquettishly, God help her. ‘You have a wonderful pumping action,’ she breathed, her voice loaded with sexual innuendo.

  He paused in his wonderful pumping action to scan her eyes questioningly. ‘So I’m told,’ he said hopefully, and most definitely weighing his chances.

  Jade lowered her eyes, perusing the length and breadth of him slowly before coming back to his face. ‘I can see why,’ she said, running the tip of her tongue provocatively over her lips.

  At which the guy looked positively orgasmic and pumped harder.

  ‘You’re an absolute hero,’ Jade said, once she was good to go, her eyelashes now unashamedly in overdrive. ‘I honestly don’t know how I can thank you.’

  At that, his mouth curved into a lurid smirk. ‘Oh, I can think of a way,’ he said, taking the bait. ‘How about you let me buy you a drink?’

  ‘It should be me buying you one,’ Jade pointed out.

  ‘Tomorrow night?’ he said, pushing it. ‘I could pick you up, if you’d like?’

  ‘Better not. I’m a babysitter – live in. Might not go down well with my employers. I’ll meet you here. Seven thirty.’

  ‘Excellent,’ he said, having a last inspection of the goods he no doubt fancied sampling. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing you then.’

  Job done. Jade was going to enjoy seeing this disgusting, drug-pushing creep get his just deserts. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said, planting a soft kiss on his cheek and noting his sharp intake of breath with satisfaction.

  Forty

  LISA

  ‘In your own time, Cain,’ DCI Edwards said, drumming his fingers impatiently on Mark’s desk and looking hugely unimpressed.

  ‘Yes, sir. It’s here somewhere.’ Mark scrolled through his inbox again, obviously not finding what he wanted, and looking like shit. Dark circles under his eyes, four o’clock shadow, he looked as if he hadn’t slept for a month. The distinct whiff of whisky Lisa had already caught wasn’t going to go down well either. Edwards, who had a nose like a sniffer dog, was bound to notice that.

  Lisa glanced across to Mark, rolling her eyes as Edwards exaggeratedly checked his watch, as if he’d been waiting half an hour rather than a couple of minutes. ‘Got it,’ she called across. ‘Sending it over now, sir,’ she said, emailing the forensics report Edwards had asked for across to him.

  ‘Thank you,’ Edwards said curtly. ‘My office, DI Cain. Now, please,’ he added, twirling around to march in that direction.

  Leaning back in his chair, Mark thumped the heel of his hand against his forehead, and then looked royally pissed as Cummings, who’d just strolled in late from lunch – a liquid lunch, by the looks of him – walked past with a smug smirk on his face.

  ‘Sleeping on the job, sir, tsk, tsk. More water with it, mate,’ he suggested. ‘And maybe a few less night-time excursions?’

  ‘You should do stand-up, Cummings, you really should. Preferably in the middle of the motorway,’ Lisa snapped, reaching into her desk drawer for her emergency supply of extra-strong mints. She’d had occasion to sit up pondering her problems through the bottom of a glass herself. Mark, however, looked as if he’d been brooding over his at the bottom of the bottle.

  ‘Make sure you swallow it before you go in,’ she advised, tossing the mints across to him.

  ‘Cheers, Lisa,’ said Mark, getting wearily to his feet.

  ‘Fancy a drink after?’ Lisa asked as he bypassed her desk, thinking he might need to offload a few things.

  Marks smiled wryly. ‘Probably not a good idea, but thanks. And Mel’s cooking anyway.’

  ‘Ah.’ Lisa nodded. ‘Another time then. Good luck,’ she added, as, running a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to smarten himself up, Mark headed for the high jump.

  Cooking? Lisa knitted her brow. Well, that was progress, she supposed. From what she’d gathered from Mark, life on the home front had lurched from bad to worse, though she only had to look at his dishevelled appearance to realise that. His decision-making was a bit awry, as well. Yesterday he’d deployed uniforms to premises that had already been thoroughly checked. Walking away from his computer and leaving confidential information on the screen, Lisa had noticed that too. All of which had given her cause to worry, particularly about Miss Baywatch Babe, who’d appeared on the scene around the same time things started going pear-shaped. It had been convenient for Mel and Mark that she’d just happened to be there – a homeless, fully qualified babysitter, looking for a job – but Lisa couldn’t help thinking that the situation had been extremely convenient for Jade as well.

  Could the au pair, whose house renovations seemed not to be imminent anytime soon, be causing problems between them? Mark loved his wife and kids more than life itself, Lisa had no doubt about that, but it was a bit of a coincidence that Mel was suddenly imagining that Mark was having an affair – albeit with her. Mark Cain was a good-looking bloke, and under other circumstances, Lisa might have been tempted, but they were nothing more than good friends. She wondered at Mel’s madness, allowing a pretty young woman to live with them. And, a
lthough she really shouldn’t be judging her, from what she’d seen when she’d met her, the babysitter had been a little underdressed for the job.

  She glanced towards Edwards’ office, where Mark was shuffling awkwardly on the spot as Edwards bollocked him, loudly, to Cummings’ amusement. She might be barking up the wrong tree, probably fuelled by the fact that she was upset about her own cooled relationship with Mel, but…

  Lisa was only marginally surprised when Google coughed up sweet FA about Jade Hart. Had Mel done all the checks? Had Mark? Had they actually seen the woman’s paperwork? Though, she wouldn’t have any paperwork, would she? Not hard copies anyway. All burned to a cinder, presumably – and also too conveniently for Lisa’s liking. Mel might not have pursued it once they’d decided Jade was an angel sent directly from heaven.

  Guessing at Jade’s age, Lisa was checking yearly college student intakes when she heard Edwards raise his voice. He wasn’t happy. By the sound of it, neither was Mark. ‘I was out last night,’ he yelled heatedly back. ‘Yes, I had a few drinks. Since when did that become a criminal offence?’

  ‘Since you’re obviously so hungover you can’t see straight! You’re exhausted. Go home!’

  Wincing, Lisa glanced in Cummings’ direction. He was just loving this, the smug bastard.

  ‘Immediately, DI Cain,’ Edwards called after him, as Mark emerged furiously from his office.

  Lisa closed down her search window and hurried over as Mark yanked his jacket from the back of his chair. ‘That went well then?’

  ‘It just gets better. I’ll text you… ring you tomorrow.’ He stormed to the door, and Lisa saw his jaw clench as Cummings stood to open it for him.

  Forty-One

  MARK

  Attempting to calm down, Mark selected some soothing music as he drove around for a little while before going home. Chopin’s ‘Piano Sonata No. 2’, though, served only to heighten his anger and frustration. Was he being monitored on overhead cams by Cummings, he wondered, for whatever perverse reason that would no doubt become clear? Probably. Bastard. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, Mark selected Vaughan Williams’ ‘The Lark Ascending’ instead – one of Evie’s favourites – and tried to get some perspective on his life. Edwards was right, of course. He wasn’t capable of doing his job. Mark dearly wished he hadn’t dragged him over the coals in earshot of that wanker Cummings though, who would probably get off on it.

  He was exhausted, weary to his bones. He needed to do as Edwards had advised and take some time. He was no use to anyone like this. At least he wasn’t being put on ‘voluntary’ gardening leave for the foreseeable future, as he’d half expected to be. That was something.

  Feeling more in control, Mark turned for home. He couldn’t help wishing it felt more like a home, that he could turn the clock back, or forward. That he could make this whole mess go away. He couldn’t. No one could. All he could do was be there. And he would be. If Mel was fighting, he’d fight alongside her.

  Mel’s car wasn’t there, he noticed as he pulled up, which meant that Jade and the kids weren’t back yet. That was good. As much as he loved his children, it would be nice for Mel and him to have some space.

  Mark parked up and let himself in, and his heart nose-dived. Cosy conversation wasn’t going to happen, he realised, any more than dinner was. Clangs and curses were coming from the kitchen, followed by ‘For God’s sake, Hercules, get out of the way!’ Mark headed in that direction, stopping confounded in the doorway as a scene of utter chaos greeted him.

  ‘Mel?’ he said. The first thing he noticed was the open red wine bottle on the island, half empty, he noted, his heart plummeting further. Warily, he turned his gaze towards Mel, who appeared to be fishing wormlike spaghetti from the overflowing sink. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked, trying hard to reserve judgement.

  ‘This bloody house happened!’ Mel swiped her hair from her face, clanged the colander on the drainer, and turned to glare at him. ‘The bloody sink’s blocked up. I told you the plumbing was packing up. Everything’s packing up. Hercules! Get out!’ She scowled down at the dog, who was helping herself to the spaghetti on the floor.

  Mark’s heart skipped a beat as Mel grabbed her roughly by the collar and attempted to drag her out.

  ‘Jesus, Mel, don’t.’ Mark stepped in, herding Hercules towards the back door. ‘She’s just doing what dogs do.’

  ‘Yes, scavenging!’ Mel snapped, dropping down to scrape up the spilled spaghetti. ‘Because you didn’t take her to training lessons, because you were too busy working! As usual. She’s been asleep in the middle of the kitchen floor for the last hour. I’ve had to keep walking around her while I’m trying to cook. She’s completely out of control.’

  What? Mark definitely couldn’t get his head around that one. The demands of work meant he’d missed one or two sessions, but the dog had been to training lessons. Not eating spaghetti off the floor hadn’t been covered, but he decided for the sake of argument not to point that out. Christ! About to help her clean up, he headed fast for the gas hob instead, where he realised there was a pan close to catching fire.

  ‘Shit!’ he cursed, grabbing the handle without thinking and then dropping it as fast as he’d picked it up. It landed with a crash, spewing the contents across the ceramic tiles to add to the mess already there.

  Mel looked up sharply. ‘Why in God’s name did you do that?’

  ‘It was hot!’ Dammit. Shaking his scalded hand, Mark headed for the sink to run it under the cold tap. He cursed silently when he realised he couldn’t.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Mel asked, concerned now she’d realised he’d hurt himself.

  Mark reached for the tea towel, wetting it and wrapping it around his hand. ‘No,’ he said tightly, turning to face her. ‘Have you been drinking?’

  Mel shook her head, confounded. ‘What?’

  Mark looked at the ceiling, willing himself not to lose it. ‘The wine?’ He nodded towards the bottle.

  Cocking her head to one side, Mel studied him curiously. ‘It’s one you opened. I put a spoonful in the bolognaise sauce. Would you like to breathalyse me? Scrape some up from the floor and get your forensics team to test it?’

  Great. Mark blew out a long breath. ‘Mel…’ He stepped towards her. ‘I’m sorry. I just…’

  ‘Assumed?’ Mel finished.

  Sighing, Mark nodded wearily. ‘Wrongly,’ he admitted. ‘I’m sorry. I…’ He trailed off, not sure what else to say.

  Mel studied him a second longer. ‘So am I,’ she said disappointedly, pulling her unimpressed gaze away from his and walking into the hall.

  * * *

  Mark had cleaned up, fetched his toolbox, and was about to investigate the situation under the sink when Jade and the kids arrived, Poppy chattering excitedly as they bustled through the front door. About her teacher’s big belly, Mark gathered, as they came towards the kitchen.

  ‘But how did the baby get in there?’

  Mark winced as he heard her ask.

  ‘Little baby Jesus put it there to keep safe and cosy until it’s fully grown,’ Jade answered smartly.

  ‘Like we put Dory in the fish bowl to keep safe and cosy till she’s grown?’ Poppy asked.

  ‘Just like that.’

  Well done, Jade, Mark thought, smiling as the babysitter and her charges arrived in the kitchen. He wasn’t sure how he would have fielded that one.

  ‘Daddeee!’ Poppy did her usual and flew over to him, regardless of the under-sink paraphernalia Mark had in each hand.

  ‘Hi, gorgeous girl. How was your day at school?’

  ‘Good.’ Poppy nodded, unhooking herself from his neck and allowing him to straighten up. ‘We felt Miss Winters’ tummy. It’s huge!’

  So were Poppy’s eyes. Mark couldn’t help but laugh.

  ‘They’re learning about the birds and bees early,’ Jade said, as she lowered Evie carefully down in her carrier.

  ‘God, I hope not.’

  ‘The child-friendly versio
n, I think.’ Jade smiled as she walked over to him, and then frowned as she peered in the sink. ‘Oh.’ She eyed him sympathetically.

  Mark shrugged, feeling for Mel. He owed her one hell of an apology. He just hoped she’d accept it, once he’d unblocked the sink and sorted out an alternative to spaghetti bolognaise.

  ‘What’s for dinner?’ Poppy stood on tiptoe and peered into the sink.

  ‘Takeaway McDonald’s,’ Jade said, steering her away. ‘You can come with me to fetch it.’

  ‘Yay!’ Poppy whooped, obviously all in favour of that.

  Mark breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, Jade,’ he said, feeling indebted, yet again.

  ‘No problem,’ Jade assured him. ‘I’ll take Evie too. She’s not due a feed for another hour or so. We should be back by then.’

  Grateful, Mark went back to the under-sink cupboard. ‘Fuck,’ he uttered, extracting something that didn’t belong there.

  ‘Daddy!’ Poppy whirled around. ‘That’s a really naughty word.’

  ‘I, er… It is. An extremely bad word. Sorry, Poppet. I banged my head.’ He smiled tightly, his eyes travelling to Jade, who’d clearly gathered the reason for him cursing out loud.

  ‘Oh no!’ Looking alarmed, Poppy hurried across to him. ‘Does it hurt?’ she asked, her little brow now creased with sympathy.

  ‘Yes. It does. It hurts quite a lot,’ Mark said throatily, turning to park the bottle of vodka he’d fished from the cupboard on the work surface.

  Forty-Two

  JADE

  Noting the number of the incoming call, Jade left Poppy to her cereal and dashed out the back door to answer it.