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

by Sheryl Browne

  Sinks blocking up, kilns breaking down, the freezer… A hand going involuntarily to her breast, Mel drew in a long breath. The key. Poor Hercules.

  She breathed out. Mark confiding in another woman, the excessive texting between them, the lies. She had not imagined any of it.

  The only thing that was wrong was this house, which she’d once loved the very bricks and mortar of, and everything in it. Mark was wrong. What he was doing was wrong. He had two children, for God’s sake. Evie was so tiny, so vulnerable. Poppy worshipped the ground he walked on. Why would he do it? Why would he send the woman she’d once considered a friend to check up on her, and then blatantly text her while she was in the house? Why would Lisa go along with it? Were they colluding to drive her out of her mind, or to leave? Why? She had no money. Her inheritance was tied up in the house. Unless it was the house he wanted? She had nothing else, nothing worth…

  The children?

  Was that it? He knew she would never part with them. Ever. And he wanted – needed – to be part of a family. But if he didn’t want her, as a wife, as a mother to his children, what better way to eliminate her from that role than to label her an unfit mother? To label her insane? Have her sectioned? Take power of attorney over her affairs. Take everything. Mel’s stomach tightened, certainty running coldly through her like ice in her veins.

  She had to get out.

  Mel pulled herself to her feet, nausea immediately washing over her. She had to go. Reeling, she forced herself unsteadily on, another bout of dizziness assaulting her as she made it to the bathroom. She needed to shower, but there was no time. Jade would be back soon with Poppy. She needed to be ready.

  She needed not to take the fucking tablets.

  Leaning over the toilet, Mel tried to make herself regurgitate those she had taken, but only managed to retch painfully. Her stomach was empty and raw. As raw as her heart.

  Evie. Turning to the sink, Mel ran the taps full force and splashed cold water over her face. Stumbling back to the bedroom, she tore off her shirt, Mark’s shirt, feeling as though her chest might tear in two as she did. She pulled on jeans and a clean T-shirt, and stuffed her feet into her flip-flops. She would come back for the rest. All that mattered now, though, all she wanted now, were her children.

  Going to the nursery, mentally listing the few essential baby items she would need to take, she went straight to the cot – and stopped dead. Empty. The cot was empty. But where…? Jade hadn’t taken her. She’d heard her crying earlier, and not in her dreams. She’d heard her.

  Mark. He’d been here when he should have been at work. She’d lost track of time, but she was sure of that. He’d taken her. But where? Would he come back? Again, she saw the impenetrable coldness in his eyes, dark and unforgiving. He would keep Evie close, hold on to her. She couldn’t fight him physically. She couldn’t call the police. Couldn’t call anyone. Couldn’t…

  She couldn’t fight him.

  Oh God… A sob escaping her, Mel clamped her hand to her mouth and stepped away from the cot. Please don’t let him do this. Sick, giddy with nausea, she staggered back another step, felt for the wall behind her and sank to her haunches. Make it stop. Please, make it stop.

  Forty-Eight

  MARK

  Hearing Hercules whining sorrowfully upstairs, Mark parked Evie in the hall. ‘Go and get yourself some ice cream, Poppet,’ he said, nodding Poppy towards the kitchen.

  ‘Yes! Vlanilla and Gorilla.’ Poppy dumped her bag and shot off.

  ‘Yup, that’ll do,’ Mark called after her, knowing that was a safe food option for her. ‘Just the one though.’

  Going on up, he paused apprehensively on the landing. Realising where the sound was coming from, he closed his eyes and offered up a silent prayer. But when he stopped at the nursery door, a mixture of disbelief and relief washed through him.

  She was crying. The dog’s head resting gently in her lap, she was sitting on the nursery room floor, quietly sobbing.

  ‘Mel?’ His heart breaking for her, Mark crouched down in front of her, as Hercules looked dolefully up at him.

  Mel met his gaze. Her eyes, frantically searching his, were swollen and red, awash with hurt and confusion. ‘Where is she?’ she asked him, running a hand shakily under her nose.

  ‘Who?’ Mark asked gently. Noting the way she was looking at him, guardedly, mistrustfully, he felt the foundations beneath him shift another inch. ‘Where’s who? Mel, what’s—’

  ‘Where’s my baby?’ Mel shouted desperately over him. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Downstairs!’ Panic gripping him, Mark answered quickly. ‘She’s downstairs,’ he repeated, as Hercules sat up and barked, clearly as concerned as he was. ‘I’ll fetch—’

  ‘Mummy,’ Poppy interrupted worriedly from the doorway, ‘what’s wrong?’

  Mark snapped his gaze to her. Her ice cream was dripping, little white rivulets running down her chin, down her hand. She was close to tears. ‘Nothing’s wrong, Poppet.’ Mark got to his feet and went to her. ‘Mummy’s…’ What? What could he say to explain this away?

  ‘I’m fine, sweetheart.’ Wiping a hand over her eyes, Mel smiled shakily towards her daughter. ‘I tripped over one of my flip-flops, that’s all. I landed on my bottom. Ouch!’

  Frowning, Poppy surveyed her uncertainly for a second. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘A little bit.’ Mel’s voice caught in her throat.

  ‘Don’t cry, Mummy.’ Propelled by her obvious anguish, Poppy flew towards her, throwing her arms, plus dripping ice cream, around Mel’s neck. ‘Daddy will rub it better. He has magic hands. He can make the hurt go away.’

  They would have laughed at that once, until they’d both cried. Together. But now, Mel didn’t even glance at him.

  ‘I think I prefer cuddles from you,’ she said instead, burying her face in Poppy’s hair and hugging her tight.

  He’d lost her. Mark’s heart cracked in his chest. There was no way to reach her. ‘I’ll fetch Evie,’ he said, turning for the stairs. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving Poppy alone with her, but she was safe, he felt, for now. Still, he unbuckled Evie quickly.

  Forty-Nine

  JADE

  ‘So, you’re thinking of running your own nursery then?’ the delightful DS Cummings asked. Taking a huge gulp of his pint, he wiped his hand across his mouth and addressed Jade’s breasts, prominently displayed in her minuscule top.

  ‘Eventually,’ Jade said, leaning forward to offer him plenty of cleavage as she picked up her wine, which she’d made sure he paid for. She’d already had to fork out for a taxi to get to here. Still, it would be worth it. She was sure their meeting would be productive. ‘It really depends on whether I can get the planning requirements through.’

  ‘Ah, well’ – Cummings finally focused on her face – ‘that’s where you’ll find me a handy copper to have around. Friends in the right places,’ he said, tapping the side of his nose and then giving her a slow wink.

  ‘Really?’ Jade said, looking hugely impressed.

  ‘I know a few people. Reckon I could pull a few strings.’ Cummings picked up his glass, swishing the contents around and holding her gaze meaningfully.

  His meaning was clear: he would coerce a few people and expect to be amply rewarded for his efforts. Jade got the not-so-subliminal message. ‘That would be amazing,’ she gushed. ‘I’d be so grateful for any help you could offer.’

  Lowering her eyelashes coyly, Jade looked up at him with eyes full of innuendo.

  Cummings’ mouth curved into a slow smirk. Clearly, he’d got the message: you scratch my back, and you get certain parts of your anatomy serviced in return. ‘Let me have the details. I’ll make sure any requirements go through,’ he said, his gaze drifting lustfully down again, before coming back to her face, or rather her lips.

  ‘You’re an absolute hero,’ said Jade, and then, smiling appreciatively, she flicked her hair back and adjusted her top, thrusting her breasts forward and further whetting hi
s disgusting appetite. God, the man was transparent, and utterly loathsome. The thought of him slobbering and sucking away at her caused her stomach to recoil, but needs must.

  ‘At your service.’ Cummings winked again and picked up his glass. ‘So, where are you working now?’ he asked, tipping his beer to his mouth.

  Jade hesitated for a second, and then decided that, contrary to being put off by her disclosing who she worked for, the cocksure bastard would probably be turned on.

  ‘For a colleague of yours, I think,’ she said, taking a casual sip of her wine. ‘Detective Inspector Mark Cain and his wife. Do you know them?’

  At that, Cummings promptly choked on his beer. ‘Shit!’ he spluttered, lowering his glass and wiping a dribble from his chin. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Er, yes, I do. He’s my boss.’

  Jade noted the look: irritation bordering on contempt, though he tried to hide it. ‘Your boss?’ She widened her eyes, feigning surprise. ‘Oh.’ She paused, chewing worriedly on her bottom lip. ‘I hope that’s not going to be a problem. It’s just, well, I like you, and…’

  ‘No, no problem. My personal life is my own,’ he assured her, folding his arms as he leaned back in his chair to appraise her once more; the look in his eyes, Jade detected, now one of quiet triumph. He was definitely getting off on the thought of fucking his detective inspector’s babysitter.

  And fuck him she would. Entice him to games that even in his most perverted fantasies he wouldn’t have dreamed of. And then she would gain her own satisfaction from presenting herself at the station with substantial bruising as evidence of his sadistic attack. Given his reputation, Jade suspected his colleagues, particularly his female colleagues, would believe him capable of anything. No one messes with my man and gets away with it, soon-to-be-ex detective.

  ‘Good.’ Holding his gaze, Jade ran a finger around the rim of her glass, dipped it into her wine and then pushed it slowly into her mouth.

  No one.

  Fifty

  MARK

  Mark had worried about leaving Poppy and Evie with Mel, even for the time it took to fetch Mel’s tablets. Now he was regretting it bitterly.

  ‘Mel, for Christ’s sake, open up!’ He banged on the bedroom door again, aware he’d be frightening Poppy, but not sure what else to do. He was frightened. He thought about ringing one of the numbers Dr Meadows had texted him, and felt himself free-falling into a dark place from which there would be no return.

  ‘Mel, please,’ he begged. ‘Just for one second. I need to talk to you. I don’t want to shout it through the door. The kids…’

  No answer.

  He could hear Poppy whispering inside. Mel was telling her it was a game. A game! Trying to stay rational, Mark pressed his hands either side of the door and leaned his head tiredly against it. What could he do? Force it? He felt like dropping to his knees and weeping. Who else could he call? Talk to? He’d lied to Edwards – said he was fine, just overwrought, would be back at work within the week. He’d avoided telling Lisa too much in case she tried to talk to Mel, which would only make matters worse.

  For the sake of Poppy and Evie, he couldn’t let this go on.

  Resigned to make the only call he could, Mark tugged in a deep breath and took a step away. Then the door squeaked open.

  ‘I want the children with me. They’re staying with me tonight,’ Mel said coolly.

  Seeing the gritty determination in her eyes, knowing there was no way to get the kids out of there without arguing in front of them, Mark nodded slowly and looked away.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, his throat tight. ‘Okay. Just…’ He looked back at her, imploring her, through whatever madness was in her mind, to understand. ‘Please don’t lock the door, Mel.’

  Mel didn’t say anything, just looked him over as she might a stranger.

  ‘I’m terrified there’ll be a fire, Mel,’ he admitted hoarsely. ‘Please, don’t lock the door.’

  Fifty-One

  JADE

  Finding the house in semi-darkness, Jade was intrigued. But finding Evie and Poppy’s rooms empty and Mark sitting on the landing floor, his head resting on his arms and apparently fast asleep, she was furious. What had that pathetic excuse for a wife been up to now?

  Jade crouched to gently shake his shoulder, and Mark almost shot out of his skin.

  ‘Christ.’ He ran his hands over his face and glanced towards the bedroom door beside him.

  ‘Mark?’ Jade looked him over, concerned. ‘What’s—?’

  Mark pressed a finger to his mouth, and quietly eased himself to his feet, gesturing her to follow him to the stairs.

  She’d follow him anywhere. To the ends of the earth. The poor man looked like death, he really did. That bloody woman. Jade might bring all this to an abrupt halt and strangle her and be done with it.

  His gaze constantly flicking towards the bedroom, Mark outlined what needy Melissa had been up to, telling her about the extra bottles he’d found. It confirmed Jade’s suspicions, she admitted reluctantly, that she had been a bit tipsy on occasion.

  ‘There’s more,’ Mark said, looking suddenly nervous, as if scared what her reaction might be. ‘The cat…’

  ‘Felix?’ Jade prompted him, a surge of excitement running through her as she guessed what he might be about to confide.

  ‘Mel said you, er… She said you got rid of him?’ Mark looked at her questioningly.

  Jade furrowed her brow. ‘I said he’d run away,’ she said, pondering appropriately. ‘It was a bit strange, because he was a homey sort of cat. I wondered if he’d been run… Oh no.’ She clamped a hand to her mouth. ‘Has something happened to him?’

  Nodding sadly, Mark closed his eyes. ‘He… It looks like he was suffocated. I’m sorry, Jade.’

  ‘Suffocated?’ Jade repeated, aghast. ‘But… how? Where?’

  ‘Polythene,’ Mark said, his voice almost failing him. ‘I found him in the workshop. In the clay bin. Jade, I am so, so sorry. I couldn’t not tell you. I…’ Blowing out a breath, Mark trailed wretchedly off.

  ‘Oh God.’ Looking horrified, Jade searched his face and then allowed her grief-stricken gaze to fall slowly to the floor. ‘Poor Felix,’ she said tearfully. ‘Poor Mel.’ She glanced back at him, and then came over quite faint.

  Mark reached for her immediately, helping her as she lowered herself shakily to sit on the stairs. ‘I’ll fetch you some water,’ he said, as she clamped her hands to her tummy and dropped her head to her knees.

  Smiling gratefully, Jade took the glass when he returned, sipping the water and taking several slow breaths.

  ‘Okay?’ Mark asked, his expression so anxious, it was all Jade could do to stop herself reaching for his hand.

  She nodded sadly, as if accepting the tragic news about her beloved cat bravely. ‘I’m all right, Mark. Honestly, I’m fine. It’s Mel we need to worry about. Has she had her medication?’

  Mark trailed a hand through his hair and shook his head. ‘She’s refused it,’ he said, looking sick to his soul. ‘She’s refusing to eat. I think she thinks I’m trying to poison her. She won’t let me near the kids.’

  He stopped, squeezing the bridge of his nose hard between his thumb and forefinger. ‘I have no idea what I’m going to do, Jade,’ he admitted, his tone wretched. ‘None.’

  Jade got to her feet and stepped towards him, her heart aching. She couldn’t keep his children from him! That was just too cruel, the callous bitch. ‘Let me try,’ she said, keen to ease his obvious anguish. She was also keen to find out just how far needy Melissa was from the edge. A few more little pushes in the right direction and she would do something drastic – jump or leave him. It was a matter of days. Jade felt a bubble of sweet anticipation growing inside her.

  ‘I’ll make her some soup. She might take it from me, and she’ll at least keep that down,’ she said, taking the opportunity to press a reassuring hand to his worried face. She looked into his eyes, the pain she saw there cutting her to the core. He didn’t lo
ok convinced, but he nodded wearily.

  Yearning to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders, which were far too burdened with the weight of all this, Jade restrained herself. ‘I was thinking…’ she said, her brow knitted thoughtfully. ‘You might not agree, but… You don’t have any sleeping tablets, do you?’

  Mark looked curiously at her. ‘They’re in the top kitchen cupboard. Why?’

  From his wary expression, though, Jade guessed he was one step ahead of her. ‘I think it might be an idea to crush one up and pop it in her soup,’ she suggested, making sure to look reluctant. ‘I know that looks like you’re doing exactly what she thinks you are, but… At least she’ll sleep, until morning hopefully.’ Or longer. Jade had no intention of putting just one tablet in there. ‘Which means Poppy and Evie will get a decent night’s sleep, too. God knows they must need it.’

  Mark drew in a tight breath and eyed the ceiling. Obviously, he would be unwilling, being such a naturally kind man, but eventually he acquiesced with a tired nod.

  * * *

  Jade tapped lightly on the bedroom door. ‘Mel,’ she called, ‘it’s me. Can I come in?’

  There was a brief silence before Melissa padded to the door to pull it open an inch, peering warily past her as if expecting to see Mark about to charge in. This was good. The woman was definitely close to cracking or leaving. But she couldn’t take Evie with her. Jade couldn’t allow that.

  ‘I brought you some soup,’ she said, going in as Melissa eased the door further open.

  Melissa wrapped her arms about herself, eyeing the mug suspiciously as Jade turned to face her.