I threw up all over the pavement. And then I left. I couldn’t risk him seeing me. Although this was all the evidence I needed, I no longer wanted to confront him. I couldn’t. He was Freya’s dad and leaving him would have far-reaching consequences for the rest of her life. I couldn’t do that to her, I had to keep our family together.
So weeks passed and I said nothing. It wasn’t because I was being weak, accepting what Zach was up to – it definitely wasn’t that. But my focus turned to Josie and I couldn’t get her out of my mind. She was barely into adulthood and it sickened me that Zach could find anything attractive in, anything in common with, someone so much younger than him.
But I knew there had to be something about her. Zach would never have been interested only in someone’s body; it was minds that attracted him. And this made me loathe her even more. This cut me even deeper.
I investigated that girl’s life. Googled her at every opportunity. She didn’t have a Facebook or Twitter account, but I did find an interesting article about an attack that had happened when she was eighteen. I should have felt sorry for her but instead I was even angrier. Here was a young woman who’d been through hell, so why was she now inflicting a different hell on someone else? Her family sounded awful; dysfunctional didn’t even come close to describing it, so she must have known what breaking up Zach’s marriage would do to Freya.
But she didn’t care. She continued to pursue my husband, weaken him, because I was sure he would have put up a fight – at least initially. Zach is not a nasty man. I’ve never doubted that he loved me and Freya.
What I didn’t bargain on, when I decided not to confront him, was that my whole life would fall apart. He became increasingly distant and I found it harder to cope. I’d never been depressed before but now I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into a bottomless hole.
How would I ever free myself? How would I ever get Josie Carpenter out of my head? She haunted my dreams, sabotaged every waking moment of the day so that I, too, was just going through the motions with Freya. Feeding her, keeping her clean, making sure she had enough exercise and play, but never really being present with her.
That’s what did it: the thought that I was losing time I’d never get back with my daughter. Josie Carpenter had now stolen my whole family.
It is surreal now to recall what happened next, as if it wasn’t me at all. I’m watching someone else take the steps I took. It’s not me I see stepping into that Internet café, researching drugs, checking whether or not they would leave a trace once they’re dissolved in water.
I smiled when I came across a suitable one: Ketamine, a horse tranquilizer. It would guarantee death almost instantly. Better that way. Kinder. I wasn’t a monster, after all – I had a heart. It proved difficult to get hold of any, but eventually I managed to find a dealer who could point me in the right direction.
The night I went to her flat was warm. I remember I didn’t need a jacket. Zach had taken Freya to his parents’ house and was planning on staying there. To give me a break, he’d said. ‘Because despite being superwoman, you look exhausted.’ He didn’t know the half of it.
Once again I was numb when I knocked on her door, observing myself from above, not part of any of this. Perhaps I wouldn’t have used the ketamine, maybe I needed it for reassurance, just in case, but when the door opened and it was Zach standing there, something inside me snapped.
His mouth hung open and he stumbled to get any words out. ‘Mia, what? What are you doing here?’
I didn’t answer but stormed past him, not even noticing my surroundings. I searched every room but there was no sign of Josie.
‘Mia, I can explain.’ Zach looked distraught, following me around, and this made me even angrier. If his being there had been innocent then he wouldn’t have been so anxious, would he? He would have already explained what he was doing in one of his students’ flats.
He grabbed my arm and led me into the living room. It was bare and ugly, with only a dirty cream sofa and a sideboard in it. Zach didn’t belong here. Neither of us did. Although we’d both lived in far worse places, we had long ago put our student days behind us.
Zach guided me to the sofa and then sat beside me. I let him because I was still numb – I still wasn’t me. We stared at each other for what seemed like minutes, but must have only been seconds, before he finally began to talk.
‘Mia, I’m not sure how you came to be here, but I promise you this is nothing weird. One of my students, Josie Carpenter, lives here and I’ve just been helping her out. She’s… she’s been having a really tough time this year and has been through a lot. I know what this might look like – oh God, I really do – but I am not involved with her. You have to believe that.’
I stared at him, somehow able to control my rage. ‘Where is she, Zach? Why are you here and she’s not?’
He took a deep breath. ‘Basically she got upset about something and stormed out. She left her keys so I was just waiting for her to come back. She won’t be able to get in if I go so I’ve had no choice but to stay here.’ His words seemed to merge together and I didn’t really hear any of them.
‘What was she upset about?’
My question hovered in the air between us. It was make or break time for Zach. He was either going to lie to me or tell me the truth.
‘This is really hard to tell you but she… she tried to kiss me. I’m so sorry, Mia, I should have known she was falling for me. I should have kept away from her. I’ll never forgive myself for letting it get that far. But I swear to you, I never touched her. Not once.’
And with that lie, Zach sealed his fate.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I’m going to go home now. We can talk about this later. Can I use the bathroom?’
Zach’s eyes widened. ‘Um, yeah. It’s the door past the kitchen on the left.’
I expected him to follow me, to not let me loose in his girlfriend’s house, but he stayed where he was, perched on the sofa with his hands resting on his knees. That was his next mistake.
The kitchen was bare, but clean in comparison to the rest of the place, and I silently searched through cupboards, looking for the right thing. When I spotted a small bottle of Evian in the fridge it almost felt too easy, like it was meant to be. Fate. There was nothing else there to drink, so she was bound to get to it eventually. It didn’t matter to me whether it was that night or the following week, as long as she drank it.
Reaching in my bag I pulled out the ketamine and poured it into the bottle, shaking it, even though it was colourless and odourless, so there would be no sign of it in the water. Then, feeling nothing in my heart and nothing in my head, I placed the bottle back where I’d found it.
Then I went to the bathroom, just to flush the toilet so Zach wouldn’t think I’d had time to go in the kitchen.
I walked right past him on my way out and glanced at him but didn’t stop to say anything. That’s what hurts the most now. I had no idea that would be the last time I’d catch sight of him. How could I have foreseen that he’d drink Josie’s bottle of water?
I just wanted Josie dead. Not Zach. Never Zach.
But that’s just what I’ll have to live with. That is my punishment. I’ll also never know what really happened to Josie, who disposed of her body and why.
Alison denies it, of course, and she’s had a complete breakdown now, which isn’t surprising after everything that’s happened, so she’s not fit to stand trial for anything. Besides, there’s no real evidence, is there? And that’s what it always comes down to.
There is a chance Zach didn’t drink the water until much later, so maybe Josie did come back and they had a huge fight. He would have known he’d lost me at that point, and maybe his pain turned into anger. But I cannot comprehend that it was Zach who did that to her; he was always so calm, never angry with anyone. But then again, who knows what’s really within us? I would never have thought myself capable of taking someone’s life either.
I’ve thought long an
d hard about what Alison meant when she begged me to tell the police the truth. She knows I was there that night, she must have seen me. One thing I can’t understand is why it took her five years to track me down, but then the workings of an unstable mind are never easy to fathom. It’s possible she didn’t know who I was until she came across my website – perhaps when she was looking for a new counsellor – and saw my picture. Then maybe it all clicked into place in her head.
Of course, she won’t have any evidence that I’m responsible for Zach’s death, but it doesn’t look good that I never came forward. But then neither did she.
This certainly helps explain the real reason for her tracking me down. When she told me she was there that night, of course I wondered if she might have seen me, but I had to bide my time. I had to wait to see what she would do, and always ensure I was one step ahead of her.
She wanted justice for Josie, and I was the one who had to pay. Perhaps she hoped I would confess, but her mental illness really obscured her judgement because she didn’t bargain on me pointing the blame at her.
It’s Dominic I feel sorry for. He knew she was troubled, but had no idea to what extent. It’s just sad that half of everything Alison said was actually true, and the rest she said only to catch me out. That’s why she initially tried to make out that Dominic was abusive, that he had something to do with Josie’s death. Everything she said, and did, was to set a trap for me. I’m still not quite sure what she hoped to achieve by claiming Dominic had something to do with Josie’s death, but it must have been an attempt to throw me off the scent. She didn’t want me to think she suspected me of anything. Not until she was ready to confront me.
What a tangled web we have woven. But at least now I have my closure. No more panic attacks. I am safe.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Josie
* * *
It’s my birthday today but nobody knows that. They don’t even know how old I really am because I’ve added on two extra years, just to make sure nobody can track me down. So now I’m twenty-eight, not twenty-six. But time no longer matters. Every day is the same, every minute identical to the one that’s gone before, and this is the way it will be for me forever. Josie Carpenter is dead, and now I am someone else, someone without the past she had. I’ve made sure of that.
Over five years it’s become easier to remember I’m no longer Josie, easier to say Joanne instead. Or Jo, just in case I start to slip up. I had to pick something similar to Josie – it’s too easy to get caught off guard.
But no matter what I do, I will always be waiting for that knock on the door. The one that will tell me it’s all over. My time is up.
I’m not sure why I chose Cornwall to be my home – perhaps, after being in Brighton for so long, I needed to be near the sea again. There’s something about it that makes me feel free, as if I could just dive into the water and keep on swimming at any moment. The sea can take me anywhere I want to go.
‘Hey, Jo!’ Someone on the other side of the road calls my name. My head flicks up, but it’s only Alfie, the elderly man who lives further down my street. He’s out for his usual morning walk with his dog, just as I am, and he crosses over to greet us, a huge smile on his face. He has no idea how such a small thing can do so much to lift my spirits.
‘How’s she doing today?’ He leans down to give Pepper a stroke.
‘Hot, I think. She’s got too much fur.’
He laughs even though what I’ve said isn’t really funny. But maybe that’s just me – it’s hard to find anything funny any more.
Pepper starts to jump up and begins excitedly sniffing Boxer. I pull her away and apologise, even though it’s the same every time the two of us bump into each other when we’re walking our dogs.
Pepper is good company for me, but I really got her for Kieren. I got him the dog he always wanted. I still live in hope that one day I’ll see my little brother again, even though I know the chances of that are slim.
He’ll be ten now. Ten years old and I have no idea what he looks like. What his favourite colour is, or whether he can ride a bike. I have no idea what Liv is like with him as he grows older, but I pray he at least has the courage to stand up to her, just like he will have seen me doing.
But one day I’ll know all about him. I can’t let Zach’s death be for nothing. Something good has to come out of something so terrible.
‘Are you okay, Jo?’ Alfie says. ‘You’ve gone a bit pale.’
I snap to attention. ‘Oh, yeah, just a bit dehydrated, I think. This heat! It’s too much, isn’t it?’ I have always preferred the icy-cold sharpness of winter.
‘Yep, it sure is. Hey, listen to us – we moan when we don’t get any sun then when we do actually get some we complain about how we can’t take it! No pleasing us, is there?’ He chuckles and I almost want to reach out and hug him. He is a kind man, proof that good, decent people do actually exist in this world. People like Zach.
We say our goodbyes and Alfie crosses back over the road, heading towards his house.
I watch him walk away and it doesn’t feel real. Nothing I see or do these days ever does. But that’s because I’m no longer real.
As I head off in the direction of the beach, with Pepper marching in front of me, I think about Zach, as I do every day, and once again I tell him I’m sorry. There are so many things I have to apologise to him for: being unable to hide my feelings for him, drawing him into my life, leaving him in my flat while I ran away. Not to mention the worst one of all: making it look as though I’d been killed, spilling my blood everywhere so that it was more convincing.
I had to disappear, Zach, I’m sorry.
On the beach I let Pepper off the lead and sit down, pulling my notebook and pen from my bag. I scribble some notes for my next chapter while my only companion hurtles across the sand, chasing after her ball.
Every word I write is for Zach, to prove that he wasn’t wrong about me; that I can make something of myself. I didn’t get to finish university, but one day I will take up my studies again. Finish what I started. And in the meantime, when my book’s finished, I plan to get it published. At least this is what I tell myself. But the reality is that I can never admit to anyone who I really am, or go public with what happened, because I committed an awful crime.
Tears splatter onto my notebook, blurring the words I’ve just written. Perhaps today nothing more will come. No more inspiration. I have days like that. But then I just move on to the next.
I pull out my phone instead and Google my name, just as I do every day, to check whether anything new has been discovered. I tried not to do this at first, five years ago, but it ate me up inside that I didn’t know what was happening in the outside world, what Josie Carpenter’s presumed fate was. So I gave in and checked, and now every day it is my morning ritual, along with this walk to the beach with Pepper.
There’s been nothing new for so long that for a second I think my mind is playing tricks on me when I see the article. Alison Frances has been arrested and held for questioning. I read every word, my body heating up, feeling like I will explode any moment.
Police have arrested Alison in connection with my disappearance. Apparently she was stalking Zach’s wife, and they now think Alison is the one who killed me and hid my body.
I feel sick to my stomach but carry on reading. Apparently Alison has suffered some sort of breakdown, so they haven’t been able to get anything out of her, other than her claims that it was Zach’s wife who killed him – not suicide, as they’d originally suspected.
My pulse races and it’s a struggle to stay calm. What does this mean? Why would Alison think Zach’s wife had anything to do with it? I’ve never believed that Zach committed suicide; I have always thought it was me who did that to him. But is there any chance I’ve been wrong all this time?
I have never been able to come to terms with doing that to him. I was a hardcore drinker in those days, but I never once blacked out to the point where I didn’t remember
what I’d done. And surely doing something so dreadful as killing someone would have to come back to you, even in stages? My excitement grows as I consider the possibility that I may have been wrong. That I may be innocent.
I know how unstable Alison was, even all those years ago, so can’t imagine what state she’s in now, but if there’s any chance I can help her, and free myself at the same time, then I’ve got to grab it.
At the bottom of the page is a link to an interview with Josie Carpenter’s mother. Anger burns inside me as I read how ‘distraught’ Liv Carpenter has not only lost her beloved daughter, but now she’s had to let her son, ten-year-old Kieren, live with his father in Spain. According to Liv, she has fallen apart so much that she feels it best to let Kieren’s father bring him up, even though she will visit him as much as she can. ‘For his sake,’ she says, apparently with tears rolling down her cheeks.
But I know the truth of it will be very different from this. Liv will have reached her breaking point with Kieren, probably because she just wants to be alone with Richard, and will have been only too happy to get rid of him.
Despite seething with rage at her actions, I’m glad he is free of her. Glad that he will never have to go through what I did. I only hope his father is doing right by him. Whoever he is, I doubt he is anywhere close to the monster she is. I wonder how she tracked him down, and how she convinced him to take Kieren.
From across the beach, Pepper runs back to me, kicking up a spray of sand as she goes and dropping the ball in front of me. I throw it back out. ‘Last time,’ I say. ‘We have to get going in a minute.’
I gather up my things and place them back in my bag. I feel lighter than I ever have, as if this is the first day of the rest of my life.
Perhaps I always knew that Josie would have to be resurrected one day. But I’m ready. I need to help Alison; I cannot let her take the blame for something she had nothing to do with. She was never a bad person, she just got lost in her life, and I know how easily that can happen. I will finally get to apologise to her. And I don’t know how or why Zach’s wife is tied up in this, but I will make sure the whole truth is finally set free.
Silent Lies: A gripping psychological thriller Page 27