The Evidence: A completely unputdownable psychological thriller with a shocking twist

by K. L. Slater

  But when Brooke returned five minutes later and saw I’d kicked the quilt to the bottom of the bed, she raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You’re boiling hot now?’

  I nodded, dabbing my damp forehead with the back of my hand and jutting out my bottom lip to blow air up into my face.

  Brooke walked across the room and cracked open a window. A delicious wisp of cool breeze filtered in and fanned my blazing cheeks.

  ‘Freezing cold and boiling hot within minutes… I don’t need to tell you that’s not a good sign,’ she said sternly. ‘You’re going to have to stay in bed until you feel better, Esme.’

  She spoke to me like a mother addressing her child. It was quite a novelty to be on the receiving end of Brooke’s care and concern, and if it wasn’t for my suspicion of her newfound empathy and the disastrous situation I’d found myself in, I’d be lapping it up. It was a shame I wouldn’t be able to follow her advice.

  ‘I can’t afford to be ill, Brooke. There’s Zachary to think of and—’

  ‘Zachary is fine,’ she interrupted. ‘I can stay here as long as necessary, and while I’m around, you’ll have absolutely nothing to worry about.’

  A colossal understatement yet again.

  ‘I’m very grateful,’ I said weakly. ‘But Michelle is in hospital and it’s touch and go still. I have to see how she is, I can’t just leave her in there all alone.’

  ‘I thought you said she was unconscious?’

  ‘She is, but the nurses say you can’t be sure if someone can still hear or not. I want her to know I’m there.’

  Brooke gave me a pitying smile. ‘You’re not thinking straight, Esme. Do you think, for a moment, they’d let you into ICU sweating and shivering like you are at the moment? You could seriously harm the patients in there if you have a fever or some kind of a virus.’

  She was absolutely right. I wasn’t thinking straight at all. A tear rolled down my cheek and plopped onto the quilt.

  ‘Now come on. Don’t get all down about it. Would you like me to call the hospital and get an update on Michelle?’

  I nodded. ‘Thanks.’ I couldn’t get used to this new, apparently helpful Brooke. I wasn’t convinced by her at all.

  She left the room again. On her return she brought a cool, damp flannel which she folded and lay across my forehead. ‘See, everything can be sorted out, Esme. All you need to do is relax, get some rest and get better. You can leave everything else to me and Eric. Zachary is completely safe in our hands.’

  I closed my eyes again, the end of her sentence seeming to fade into nothing. When I heard her leave the room, I opened them again and stared out of the window.

  I’d gone from controlling all the parts of my life so easily to relying on my domineering mother-in-law for the simplest tasks.

  Where would it all end?

  Fifty-Five

  Later on, Brooke surprised me yet again.

  ‘I brought you these. I found them in the bathroom cupboard.’ She handed me a brown paper bag. ‘I don’t know if they’ll be of any use to you.’

  I felt relieved when I saw the familiar packets of tablets that nestled inside the bag. It contained the leftover medication the doctor had prescribed following Zachary’s accident and I’d already rifled it for a sedative the night before… but Brooke didn’t need to know that.

  I longed for that blunted feeling again, a temporary respite from the cloying fear that nibbled at the edges of me.

  Brooke watched as I pulled out a packet of tablets and inspected the small print. They were still a few months in date. I remembered these particular ones just took the edge off the panicky feelings. If I could just get on a level again, I’d be able to get back in the driving seat and feel more in control.

  ‘We’ll soon get you fighting fit, and in the meantime you can leave everything in my capable hands,’ Brooke said.

  It didn’t sound like a choice.

  For the next couple of days I drifted in and out of a kind of fog. I felt so ill, apart from saying two words repeatedly – ‘Zachary’ and ‘Michelle’ – I could barely manage to utter anything else.

  I thought I heard voices on a couple of occasions but couldn’t surface for long enough to see what, if anything, was happening around me.

  I had no concept of time, just of drifting in and out of unpleasant hallucinations, anxiety dreams and the vague knowledge that I was sweating or shivering.

  I wasn’t aware of time passing, but I could feel a cool breeze and I heard a noise in the bedroom. Then a pleasant humming of a song. I had a sense of coming up, coming to the surface, and I opened my eyes and there was Brooke, smiling down at me.

  Welcome back to the land of the living,’ she said.

  ‘Wh – where’s Zachary?’ I stammered.

  ‘Zachary is fine. In fact, he really seems to have brightened up in the last day or so. I think he’s enjoyed the new routine. I’ll ask him to pop up and see you in a few minutes; he’s on the phone to his grandad and they’re talking about dinosaurs.’

  ‘Has Zachary been to school?’

  ‘Of course he has! I’ve ordered him some new uniform too, his trousers were getting too short on him.’

  I immediately thought about Michelle, my heart quickening at the thought of her alone in the hospital.

  ‘Michelle…’ I whispered.

  ‘Michelle’s readings have improved a little, apparently. I’ve kept in regular contact with the hospital on your behalf.’

  Brooke had already told me the only person she cared anything about was Owen. So although I hoped it was true that Michelle had improved some, I knew I wouldn’t rest until I heard it myself from the hospital. ‘Thanks for speaking to them. Have the police been in touch with any news about the attack?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Do you feel up to sitting for a short time? I’ve made you some asparagus soup.’

  My appetite was non-existent but I knew if I didn’t build up my strength I’d never get back on my feet.

  She helped me shuffle up into a semi-seated position and pummelled the pillows behind me to offer some additional back support. ‘I expect you’re worrying about Owen, too,’ she said, fixing me with a cool look.

  I wasn’t so out of it that I’d thought about Owen’s welfare.

  ‘Yes. I’m worried about how Zachary is going to feel about the fact his dad nearly killed him and then lied about it.’

  ‘Owen’s predicament is not as straightforward,’ Brooke said, as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘On Bruce’s advice, he’s retracted his admission about being involved in the accident. Turns out, as I suspected, he was put under certain pressures.’

  Hope lurched in my chest. ‘So, he didn’t knock Zachary down?’

  Brooke busied herself pulling the quilt straighter. ‘There are circumstances to be taken into consideration, as I’m sure you’ll understand.’

  ‘I need to speak to the detectives myself,’ I said. ‘Could yo—’

  ‘Asparagus soup coming up,’ Brooke called as she headed hastily for the door.

  What I really wanted to do was to jump out of bed and see Zachary and then get dressed and head for the hospital to see Michelle, but I felt far too weak. Perhaps Brooke’s soup would fortify me.

  I reached for the glass of water at my bedside and sipped it thoughtfully. It was hard to tell exactly what had happened with Owen at the police station, and Brooke, ever the defensive mother, wasn’t the best person to level with me. I needed someone like Justine or Mo to find out exactly what was happening on my behalf.

  I reached into the drawer of the bedside table to get my phone. Pressing the buttons, I soon realised it was out of charge and I tossed it back in, frustrated.

  ‘Here we go, homemade soup. There’s a full two bunches of asparagus in here so we’ll soon have you full of beans again.’

  My mouth watered at the delicious smell. Brooke placed the tray carefully on my legs. She’d even cut some bread to go with it.

  ‘Could I trouble you to
bring my phone charger up, Brooke? It should be in the kitchen.’ I took a small mouthful of soup. ‘This is delicious. I’d like Zachary to come up when I’m finished.’

  ‘He’s in his element, all the attention he’s getting from me and regular telephone calls from his grandad. I’m not sure how much time you get to spend doing stuff with Zachary but Eric doesn’t agree with children being left to their own devices, playing on computers all day long. I have to say the boy seems to have got into quite a bad habit of doing so.’

  Hidden in her tone was a clear echo of disapproval, but I didn’t rise to it. Brooke and Eric were of a different generation, an age at which some didn’t really get that technology was now an integral part of kids’ lives, and I did monitor Zachary’s screen time. Nevertheless, it would be nice for him to see a bit more of his grandparents, and whatever I thought of them, they were Zach’s family, too. I hoped this would be the start of a new relationship for them all.

  ‘Eric is hoping to come down and stop over for a few days,’ she said lightly. ‘Owen needs all the support he can get.’

  I never thought I’d say it, but I would have been in a far worse position if Brooke hadn’t been around. But soon her domination of us all would have to stop. I seriously doubted I could survive Eric joining the Painter takeover of our home.

  I needed to get my strength back and then get my mother-in-law out of my house and out of my life.

  Fifty-Six

  JUSTINE

  Toby, the new assistant, was an absolute pain. He couldn’t seem to use his initiative to do anything useful, and yet always seemed to be hanging around watching Justine at the most inconvenient times.

  She’d taken a break from her clandestine activities, and had instead been looking at the unauthorised Facebook page Esme had shown her. She’d found some baffling and conflicting details she could do with speaking to her about. She’d called her a couple of times but her phone had been turned off. But the more she looked into it, the stranger it seemed, so she’d decided she’d focus on the details before involving Esme.

  Justine had actually felt very sorry for Esme a couple of days ago when she’d asked for her help. She hadn’t wanted things to turn out this way. If she could have avoided taking the necessary action before things had got so bad, she would have done. She wished she didn’t have to disappoint her. But life often had a way of surprising you, and there was nothing left to do in these circumstances but deal with it.

  And that’s what Justine was doing. She was dealing with the circumstances the best she could and trying not to get caught.

  She hadn’t wanted to lie through her teeth to get into ICU to see Michelle, but she did. And she’d managed it, too. It was crazy how lax people and policies could be. She’d been shocked at just how easy it had been to get in there once she’d name-dropped Esme and pretended to be Michelle’s other sister. So much in life came down to whether people liked you. They’d willingly shelve a surprising amount of red tape if they did.

  Justine had sat by Michelle’s bedside for half an hour and talked to her solidly. The nurse had said it was unlikely Michelle would hear her, but you never knew. That had been all the encouragement she’d needed. From the moment she sat down she talked, explained why she’d had to do it, and, in a funny sort of way, it had made her feel better.

  Whether or not Michelle understood in her comatose state, Justine didn’t know. This was never meant to happen but now it had… well, maybe it was for the best.

  Now, as part of her plan, Justine had to somehow speak to Esme without anyone else around. She’d heard from Mo that Owen’s interfering mother, Brooke, had taken control of the family home, and that Esme had had some kind of meltdown.

  Justine had only met Owen’s parents once, when she’d been at the hospital at the same time as them, visiting Zachary after his accident. They were the kind of people who had this way of sort of dismissing you with a single look. Justine had sympathised with Esme, having to put up with them.

  Mo had apparently visited the house yesterday and tried to insist on seeing Esme, but the old battle axe had kept him at arm’s length, insisting Esme was ill in bed and didn’t want visitors.

  Justine’s phone beeped now as an incoming text arrived. She opened it up and punched the air. She read Esme’s message again and bathed in the warmth of a good plan falling into place. This was an unexpected bonus indeed.

  Hi Justine, could you call in at the house? I really need your help and could do with someone to talk to.

  Justine punched in her reply and pressed send.

  I’ll be there within the hour.

  This was the chance she’d been waiting for, and she had no intention of wasting it. The time had finally come.

  A heavily made-up Brooke Painter opened Esme’s front door. She was wearing an emerald velvet lounge suit paired with pale gold flat pumps and, judging by Justine’s impromptu sneezing fit, had recently drenched herself in YSL’s Opium.

  ‘Who are you?’ she said without welcome.

  ‘We’ve met before. I work with Esme. I’m—’

  ‘Are you another one at that office who approves of fraternising with convicted murderers?’ Brooke said, not giving Justine chance to reply. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m here to see Esme.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’ve made a wasted journey. I told your colleague yesterday that Esme’s not well right now,’ Brooke said, blocking Justine’s access. ‘She’s not taking any visitors.’

  Justine stood her ground. ‘Esme herself texted me. Asked me to drop by for a chat.’

  Brooke’s face darkened. ‘She’s taking prescribed medication so is quite confused most of the time. She’s sleeping now.’

  Justine craned her neck to look over Brooke’s shoulder. The house did seem very quiet. Then Zachary appeared at the end of the hall.

  ‘Hi, Zach!’ she called, raising her hand. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Of course he’s OK, he’s with his family. What do you expect?’

  Zachary took a few tentative steps down the hall. Brooke spun around.

  ‘Get back in the kitchen and don’t move until you’ve finished your reading,’ she snapped. Zachary’s face blanched and he slunk back, out of view. Brooke turned back to Justine. ‘As you can see, we’re up to our eyes in it here.’

  Justine tried again. ‘It’s just… well, Esme did text me a short time ago, so could you just check if she—’

  ‘I have a thousand and one jobs to do.’ Brooke folded her arms. ‘She’s sleeping. Understand? You’ll have to call back another day.’

  ‘Justine?’ a faint voice called from within the house.

  Surprised, Brooke took a few steps back and Justine took the chance to slip inside.

  ‘Esme? Get back into bed!’ Brooke thundered, rushing to the stairs. ‘You’re supposed to be resting.’

  Justine was shocked to see Esme appear at the top of the stairs, holding on to the bannister for support. She looked so frail, dressed in pale grey sweatpants and a thin white cotton top.

  Brooke began to climb the stairs. ‘Esme, you must get back into bed at once. You haven’t the strength to—’

  ‘I want to see Justine!’ Esme wailed in a thin voice.

  The look on Esme’s face was one of pure panic, and so Justine moved forward.

  Brooke reeled around. ‘What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just barge in this house. You need to leave, now!’

  ‘I want her to stay,’ Esme said, her voice so weak now, Justine expected her to collapse at any moment.

  Justine continued to advance upstairs. ‘You heard her, she wants me to stay,’ she said, more confidently than she felt. ‘This is Esme’s house and a quick chat isn’t going to do her any harm. I won’t stay long.’

  Brooke’s face reddened. Justine could see she was fighting a full-blown temper tantrum. This was a woman used to getting her own way, completely unaccustomed to being challenged. Esme slumped against the wall.

 
Justine rushed forward to assist her and helped her back into the bedroom.

  She plumped the pillows behind Esme and helped her take a few sips of water.

  Esme seemed too exhausted to speak. While she gathered herself a little, Justine took a look around the bedroom. The first thing she did was open the curtains a touch. Instantly, the room looked less gloomy and Justine spotted a pile of medication on top of the chest of drawers.

  She picked up several empty foil packets and inspected them, frowning before returning to sit at Esme’s bedside.

  ‘Did the doctor come out to see you?’ Justine asked.

  Esme shook her head. ‘I think it’s been the shock of everything that’s happened. I just became exhausted, it knocked me off my feet.’

  ‘There’s quite a bit of medication there. Looks like you’ve been popping pills for England.’

  ‘Brooke rescued my old medication. They’re the same drugs I took after Zachary’s accident, they just take the edge off. I figured if I could relax properly and get some rest…’

  ‘Are they sedatives?’

  Esme shrugged and swallowed more water. ‘They’re supposed to have a calming effect, that’s all. But I’ve felt really out of it. Brooke doesn’t know but I haven’t been swallowing the tablets today but I was able to gather the strength to shout downstairs to you.’

  ‘Well, thank God you texted me.’

  ‘Zachary secretly brought my charger up and that’s how I could finally contact you. I’d asked Brooke for the charger a few times but she conveniently kept forgetting. I realised I’m no match for her in this state; she’s basically taken over.’

  ‘She’s formidable. I’d tried everything to reason with her but I was on the verge of walking away when you shouted downstairs.’

  Esme nodded. ‘I’ve not seen Zachary today and I can’t visit Michelle in hospital. I’m feeling better without the drugs until I stand up and then I feel so weak again. I really need your help, Justine.’