by Dawson, H A
She changed positions, pressing against the arm of the sofa. 'She told me how close they were . . . best friends in fact. They did everything together. I don't think they had many other friends. But then Saskia married Ron and everything changed. Verity told me that Saskia didn't love him.'
He scribbled into his notepad.
'I think it was for the money. Their family was poor and Ron was wealthy. Verity said she didn't like him . . . said there was a personality clash. She didn't say any more about it, but I sensed that Saskia's relationship with Ron was what had caused them problems.
Ben spoke: 'Verity had lost her sister and best friend to a man she didn't like. It's understandable that she'd feel a little jealous.'
'What makes you say she didn't like him?' Luke asked.
'It's just the way she spoke,' Megan replied. 'I think she said he was possessive. But this is not about Verity and Ron, and I don't see it matters how they felt about each other. They both loved Saskia . . . or at least I think they did.'
'What did Verity say about Saskia leaving?'
She reached for a glass of water and took a sip, before telling him how her departure had been unexpected and that Verity had been devastated.
'And Saskia was pregnant,' she added, 'Verity found out via a letter.'
'Was it Ron's?'
'Verity didn't know. That child has to be me.'
His expression was calm and focused. 'It could explain why she left. Did Verity say if Saskia had had an affair?'
'No, she didn't. She did emphasise, though, that the dates in the letter weren't clear and that she could have got pregnant later. Do you think Verity knows something?'
'Quite possibly. Would you say she was being evasive?'
She nodded. ‘I reckon Verity killed her. Look at the letters . . . they say as much.'
She told them her theory about Saskia's swift return and the hurried adoption, and Luke remained impassive. His lack of comment and emotion was infuriating, and her irritation rose.
'Ron will know what they were arguing about,' she said, 'you have to speak to him.'
'We intend to.'
'But when? This needs to be sorted. It's no fun for me not knowing who’s after me.'
'Just try to be patient.'
'How can I be patient when I don't feel safe going out? I'm trying to make a new life for myself, but I don't know who is safe to talk to and who isn’t. My life is on hold . . . and so is Ben's.'
'I understand that, but you have to try. It's much safer for you if you let us do the investigating.'
Ben placed his hand upon her lap, gave her an encouraging smile, and then looked at Luke. 'Someone followed us on Friday. They pushed Megan into the river.'
'That was . . .' she paused, catching sight of Ben’s disappointment, and withdrew her comment. How could he deny the truth? He knew David had been responsible. If she could recognise the shape of his fading gait, so could he. ‘It was nothing.’
'It doesn't sound like nothing,' Luke said.
'It was a kid playing a prank.'
Accepting her reply, he turned to his notes. Did he believe her? Was he taking this seriously? He was unlikely to investigate the case any better than she was. She, at least, was motivated to avoid her own death.
He looked up. 'Are you sure you won't be regressed?'
'I'm sure.'
'If you change your mind, let me know. It could help your case.'
She rose to her feet. ‘We have to go. We've taken up enough of your time.'
He thanked her, and she headed back into the radiant heat of the reception area with Imogen on her trail.
'Please be vigilant,' she said.
Having said their goodbyes, they headed back to the car, weaving by a group of men in suits then opening the car doors to allow the searing heat to escape into the relative coolness. Even so, as she settled, sweat oozed from her, causing her blouse to stick to her skin and her jeans to feel like an airless blockade, tight and claustrophobic. She turned on the engine, eased out of the parking bay, and continued along the road to the main highway.
The steering continued to be stiff. She brushed aside her concerns, and instead wondered why she had relented to Ben's pressure and visited Luke. His calmness and apparent disinterest in the case was annoying. He only seemed to have one motive, and that was to hypnotise her. It was unprofessional and caused to reconsider investigating Saskia herself.
She had to discover as much as she could from anyone who had known her. She needed to learn about her personality and her likes and dislikes. She also needed to discover who the father of her child was, especially if, as seemed to be the case, that she was that child.
Ron was a likely consideration. It was the first time she had considered him in such a manner and decided it would explain why she believed he was innocent of any crimes. Determined to speak to him soon, she pulled onto the duel carriageway and followed the traffic out of the town centre.
A service station appeared. She indicated left and headed into the car park.
'Where are you going?' Ben asked.
'For a wee.'
'Why didn't you go at Luke's?'
'Because.'
'Because what?'
'Because I didn't want to.'
She eased the car to a standstill and turned off the engine.
He opened the door. 'I might as well go too.'
'Why are you always so difficult?'
'You're the one that's difficult. This would all be over if you agreed to be regressed.
She harrumphed, reached for her handbag, and exited the car. 'Is that what this is about? Just because I won't do what you say, you go all moody.'
He strode away. She trotted after him.
He spun around. 'Can't you see that any difficulties you might see are there because I care? I don't want anything to happen to you.'
Ignoring him, she headed into the toilet block, took a deep breath, and strode into the cubicle. She was tired of all the arguments, the stress, and the strain. Where was the fresh start she had hoped for? She hated to admit it, but she might have been better off in Halifax.
After taking a few minutes to freshen up, she purchased a chocolate bar and strode outside. Ben was storming towards her, his face red and contorted.
'The car's gone!'
Megan was mystified.
'Where are the keys?'
She reached into her bag and then searched her pockets. Bewildered, she shook her head.
They had not been home long when Ben's phone rang. Soon after he answered, Megan could tell it was regarding the car, and kept a low profile, keeping her gaze fixated on the newspaper and her ears tuned into the conversation. It was clear the news was not good and her heart raced. Drawn to the silence, she peered at Ben through strands of her hair, and within moments, he ended the call. With the phone in his hand and his face washed of colour, he gawked, open-mouthed. She raised her head and passed him a questioning gaze.
'The man died,' he said. 'He drove at speed, straight into a wall.'
'Oh Lord!'
'Someone saw him struggle with the steering wheel.' He puffed out and shook his head. 'It could have been suicide but . . .'
She shuddered. Her vision blurred. Her warmth lost.
'Megan . . . was the steering okay?'
Her trembles extended the length of her body. It should have been them; they had been the target, and instead someone else suffered. This could not go on, and instinctively she knew what she must do. Despite her entrenched fear, she had to let Luke regress her.
Chapter 16
They snuggled together under a cotton sheet and blanket in silence, both of them unwilling and unable to express emotion, yet Megan's mind raced with a torrent of unanswered questions, and not least she craved a sighting of her faceless pursuer. With her head throbbing with anxiety, she fidgeted and wriggled, and searched for a moment of elusive calmness.
Ben was motionless and staring at a spot high up on the opposite wall, expre
ssionless and calm. Burdened by adrenaline and irritated by his ability to control his once ragged emotions, she freed herself from his grip and turned away, her energy persistent and rampant. She kicked with her legs, she tussled with the sheet, and she bunched up the flattened pillow. Inside, she continued to howl.
If it hadn't been for her forgetfulness and their petty argument, they could both be dead. Her skin turned cold. It was too terrifying to comprehend. How could death come without warning, without reason? It seemed unfair. The good died, the bad lived - just as had been the case with little Joshua.
Now it was time for her punishment.
She had suffered and she had grieved, but had she received punishment? She buried her head under the covers, hiding from the emerging day, and fought for an alternative to explain away what seemed to have been a deliberate attempt on her life.
Maybe the crash was a suicide, or perhaps the car had a pre-existing mechanical fault. She crossed her arms over her chest, raised her knees, and inhaled the stuffy warmth. It was a reasonable assumption to make; there was no proof of tampering . . . yet.
The mattress shifted and a rush of cool air wafted across her body as Ben climbed out of the bed and started to dress. His breathing seemed strained, as was common first thing, yet his movements were sedate. She wondered if his turmoil was as great as hers was. Maybe he was considering returning to Halifax, escaping the madness that besieged her. And who could blame him?
In fact, they both could leave. They could be out by the end of the day, tomorrow at the latest. She shuffled herself up the bed, manoeuvred the pillow to rest against the headboard, and started to consider her chores. There would be the food to pack, the clothes in the washing basket to gather, and the house to clean. She glanced around the bedroom for her personal assets, noting few. There were a couple of photographs, a few pieces of jewellery, deodorant, perfume, and a magazine. It wouldn’t take long. Perhaps she should tell Ben her decision.
However, as soon as the thought entered her mind, she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it. This was her path, and for whatever reason, whether it was because she had witnessed the murder or God forbid, she had Saskia's spirit within, she could not deny that her need to understand what had happened was innate. For her entire life, Rodley had been in her thoughts. She could not walk away.
Could Luke be right? Could the truth be buried deep within her brain?
She reached for her phone and dialed his number.
'Luke Adams speaking, how can I help?'
'It's Megan.' She took a heavy breath. 'Someone tried to kill us.'
'What happened? Are you okay?'
'Yes. After we left your place, we stopped at the service station just up the road from you, and I left the keys in the car. The man who stole it crashed the car at full speed into a wall. He died at the scene.'
Silence.
'It should have been us.' Her voice was breaking. 'Ben has been asked if there was a steering problem. I . . . I think someone tampered with the car.'
More silence.
'I'll be regressed, but you have to promise me you won't delve into my life, at least not after my adoption. There's stuff-'
'You have my word.'
'And there is something else. I wasn't entirely honest with you. I've always felt a connection with Rodley, and when I arrived, I had a strong sense I'd been here before. There were people I felt I knew, thoughts that weren't my own.'
'You had better start at the beginning.'
She made herself comfortable and told him everything.
Ben was waiting for her downstairs next to the breakfast table. He was cheerful, greeting her with a wide smile and sparkling eyes, and offered to make her whatever she wanted. She craved eggs, free-range with a beautiful orange yolk and poached. He told her to sit down and scurried away. Moments later, David appeared.
'Sleep well?' he asked.
She frowned. 'As always.'
'I'm not sure I’d be able to in your position.'
She tightened. 'The car had a mechanical fault. It wasn't a deliberate attack.'
He smirked. 'You know that for sure?'
'Do you know something?'
'What would I know?' he said.
He was hiding something, or was that what he wanted her to believe? Perhaps he knew nothing more than she did.
'You don't trust me, do you?
She straightened her back. 'You've never given me reason to.'
'I've never given you reason not to.'
He reached for a bowl, added the cereal and milk, grabbed a spoon, and started away. 'Then there is no point telling you what I know . . . your loss.'
He dropped onto the sofa. The cereal crunched in his mouth.
'What do you know?'
'No point me telling. I can't be trusted.'
'David! Tell me!'
He glanced at the doorway, looking for Ben, and signaled her to draw closer. She obliged, although under duress.
'You are sexy when you're angry,' he whispered.
She jerked back. He grabbed her wrist with his free hand.
'Leave me alone!' she hissed, tussling free.
'Larry thinks so too. He wants Dad gone . . . sees him as competition.'
'You’re lying. Larry is just a friend.'
'If you don't believe me, ask him.'
Her eyes darkened, her glare intensified. 'Stay away from my friends.'
He grinned. ‘No way! I'm watching your back, as Dad asked me to. And anyhow, you'll never know when you might need me.'
'I need you as much as I need a hole in the heart.'
'One day, you'll regret saying that.'
'Unlikely.'
Disgruntled, Megan returned to the table. David held a self-satisfied, lascivious expression. He was sick in the head, and she struggled to understand why he was always so determined to annoy her. Wilful in her decision to remain nonchalant, she forced her facial muscles to relax and flicked through advertising blurb on the table.
There was nothing of interest within, but it served a purpose and focused her attention until Ben arrived. The food was exquisite, the poached eggs were evenly shaped and the toast soaked in butter. It was tantalising. She shuffled closer to the table and offered him her utmost appreciation, mostly for David's benefit. Annoyingly, he seemed to be absorbed with the television.
'Fancy doing something different today? Ben asked.
'Haven't you got to work?'
'I have time owed to me, so I've arranged to have the day off.'
'What did you want to do?'
A smile swept across his face. 'I want to surprise you.'
'I don't want to go anywhere.'
'Of course not, and anyway, it would be a bit difficult without a car.'
Her enthusiasm drained away and she lowered her head. 'About that-'
'Don't you think I am just a wee bit happy you left the keys in the car?'
'I suppose.'
He cut through the toast with his knife. 'I want today to be stress-free. We should forget about everything that has happened and relax. Today is about you and me.'
She felt more inspired to spend the day wallowing in self-pity, curl up on the sofa, and watch something mundane on television, yet she agreed, persuaded by his obvious buoyancy. However, as he stuffed the remaining food into his mouth, and then started to clear away the table, her regrets mounted.
They had done little but argue since his arrival. Spending more time together when they both felt tense and frazzled was bound to cause more animosity. She was just about to voice her concerns when he started to hum. She recognised the tune; it was a Queen track, from one of his favourite all-time bands. Perhaps she could play along, at least for a while.
A small load lifted when David announced his departure from the house. She flopped onto the sofa, her body stretched and her eyes shut.
'No time for that,' Ben said, appearing from the kitchen. 'We're going to the beach.'
'I thought-.'
He place
d his finger to his mouth. 'Just play along.'
He stepped towards the armchair and pushed it against the wall, and then he did the same with the coffee table. The sofa was next.
'You had better change. You might want a swim.'
'I haven't got my swimming costume with me.'
'So put shorts and t-shirt on. You can always go skinny-dipping. I don't mind.'
Her eyes narrowed. 'Okay.'
Moments later, she returned wearing a soft cotton top and canvas shorts. Two large towels were on the floor and by the side was a tray filled with flour.
'What's that?'
He grinned. 'The beach. We're going to make a sandcastle.'
'No way!'
'Yes way. Look,' he reached to the floor for a cup of water, 'we even have the sea.'
'I can't hear the waves.'
He rushed across to his laptop that was resting on the dining table. 'I've thought of that. Now lie on the towel and shut your eyes.'
Megan obliged. In the distance was the sound of the waves, and swooping overhead was the squawking cry of the seagulls. Only heat from the sun and the salty aroma of the sea were lacking. He shuffled into position by her side, lay flat, and reached for her hand.
'Imagine we're back in Tenerife,' he said, 'happy and relaxed. It's hot. We've been drinking all day, and you can barely stand up.'
'That was you. I was sober remember.'
'Not that sober. You dropped your ice cream. It dribbled down your chest.'
'I didn't do that because I was drunk.'
He raised himself onto his elbow. 'Now she tells me . . . you wanted me to lick it off!'
She chuckled.
'You brazen hussy!'
Her body tingled with the memory. 'I don't recall you complaining.'
He leaned towards her, gently removed her hair from her face, and caressed her facial skin with his finger. 'I'd been trying to get you alone all day. Those friends of yours wouldn't leave you alone.'
'When they did you made up for it . . . couldn't keep your hands off me.'
'And you insisted on playing volleyball.' He leaped to his feet. 'Talking of which . . .'