No Place Like Home_a gripping psychological thriller

by Rebecca Muddiman

  ‘She’s lying to you,’ I say. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You know she’s delusional.’

  Cathy shakes her head. ‘No. She told me. She wrote things down,’ she says. ‘You’re going to pay for it.’ She starts to dial.

  ‘It was him. Can’t you see what he’s done. What he’s done to me?’

  Cathy shakes her head, raising the phone to her ear. Phil stands behind her, and I wonder why he’s still here. If he’s just making sure she tells on me, like some pathetic little kid. I wonder how he’s going to explain his role in all this, or if he’ll just blame my injuries on Jacob.

  ‘Cathy, please,’ I say as I hear the tinny voice on the line.

  ‘You killed him. Like you killed her,’ she says, and I find myself moving. My hand is on the knife. I’m running. I see Cathy’s face drop, the phone spills from her hand. Phil lets out a cry and then I’m standing over Cathy, the knife in her chest, her blood on my hands.

  Phil turns and runs out the front door. I think I can hear his feet slamming into the pavement, but it could be the blood rushing in my ears.

  I can hear the voice on the line, and I don’t know what to do. I think about hanging up. But what would I do then? Run away like Phil?

  I pick up the phone, gasping, and tell the voice that he’s killed them both. That he tried to kill me too. Send help. Please.

  I disconnect and look around the room. I pick up the discarded tights and wrap them around my neck, pulling tightly until I’m dizzy. I lie down beside Cathy, my hands on her chest as if I was trying to save her. And then, I wait for help to come.

  55

  I lie there on the floor, thinking. I have to get things clear in my head for when the police ask. Phil broke in, he hurt us. He killed Jacob. Maybe he knew Jacob, wanted revenge for something. Or money, maybe. And then, I guess Cathy showed up. My friend Cathy. She must’ve seen me and Jacob on the floor, thought we were both dead. Called the police. But Phil was still here, and when she confronted him, he killed her too. I woke up as he ran away. I crawled to Cathy and got the phone. I tried to help them, but it was too late.

  And what about the house? What do I tell them about the house?

  And what if Phil shows up again? Will they believe what he tells them? No. He’s a criminal. No one will believe him. Besides, why would I lie about all this? What reason would I have to lie? Unless they can work things out through science. They can do all sorts these days. But why would I still be here? Why would Phil run away if he hadn’t done anything wrong?

  I can hear a siren. I don’t know if it’s the police or the ambulance, but there’s a blue light outside. It’s giving me a headache.

  I see someone come into the room. Paramedics. Two of them. They look at Jacob and Cathy and then at me.

  One of them squats in front of Cathy and says something, gives a shake of the head. He moves to Jacob and does the same as the other man leans over me. I’m alive. This one’s alive.

  The paramedics talk to me, but I say nothing, and they move me as the police come in. There’s lots of talk, but I can’t focus enough to hear what they’re saying, because Jacob is dead and Cathy is dead, and how did it come to this? I just wanted them out of my life.

  One of the police officers is talking. I hear the word murder, and I think I better tell them about Phil so they can find him. So this can be over.

  I’m taken to the hospital. They take my clothes, take swabs. They ask me a few questions, but the doctors tell them to back off.

  I wonder when it will be a good time to ask about the house. I guess not yet. And besides, the police might not know. And I don’t want to seem like I’m money grabbing, some sort of gold digger.

  ‘I’m going to send you for some x-rays,’ the doctor says, interrupting my thoughts. ‘You’ve really taken a beating. You’re lucky you got out of there alive.’ He stands and leaves the cubicle, and I’m alone for the first time since this morning. This morning when I was happy. I was positive everything was going my way.

  I wonder if I’d been right to go into the house when I saw him in there. If I’d been stupid to put myself at risk. But I needed to stand up for myself. I couldn’t let him think he could treat me like that. And how was I to know he’d have someone with him, especially a murdering psychopath like Phil.

  It was his fault really. Him and Jacob. He’s got no one to blame but himself. And Cathy. Why was she even there? If she hadn’t poked her nose in, none of this would’ve happened.

  56

  I constantly shake with the police in my presence. I gave them a description of Phil last night, and they seemed content to leave me alone and go off and find him. I thought that would be the end of the questions, but it’s not.

  The detective who comes to ask me questions is kind. He’s older than all the other officers I’ve seen by a long shot, almost too old to be still working is what I think when I see him, but he has a kind face and he’s gentle with me. Part of me suspects it’s an act, to try and get me to confess something or trip me up, but the other part of me wants to believe he wants to help. I want to believe he’s a good person. He wants to find Phil and punish him for all he’s done.

  ‘We’ve found CCTV footage of him fleeing the scene just after your friend called 999,’ he says. ‘It looked like he had blood on his clothes and between that and his history, we’re very keen to find him. You don’t have any ideas where he could be? An address or somewhere he hangs around?’

  I shake my head. ‘I don’t know him,’ I say. ‘I didn’t even know Jacob knew him until…’

  He nods sympathetically. ‘He was inside with Jacob for a while. He’s not long been out again. Has a pretty nasty history,’ he says, and taps his pen on his notebook. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll find him sooner or later.’

  He asks me to tell him what happened, right from the start, and he’s patient while I talk and try to remember everything. He asks a few questions now and then, but mostly listens to me talk. It feels good to let it out.

  I met Jacob six months ago. Well, actually I met him about thirty odd years ago. We were at school together right from infants until we left. Jacob was bullied, always the boy other kids picked on. I always liked him and tried to be his friend, even if it made me unpopular too. I remember one time he had a birthday party and his mum invited the whole class. Most didn’t show up at all, but a few did come, but they were only there to laugh at him and find new ways to torture him after they’d been in his house and met his mum. I was the only one who stayed, and Jacob always liked me for that.

  After school, I went to college, but, of course Jacob didn’t. He was always different. I don’t want to say slow, but he had difficulties. Maybe if they’d diagnosed things like that in those days, he’d have stood a better chance. But the world doesn’t work like that and people who are weak, who are vulnerable – like Jacob – they end up being taken advantage of and end up at the bottom of the heap. I didn’t know what happened to him after school. I went my way, he went his. But I thought about him a lot. I always liked him.

  And then a few months back, I ran into him. We got talking and it was nice to catch up. After I left him on the bus, I wished I’d given him my number or something so we could talk again, but as luck would have it we saw each other again, a few times actually. It was like fate.

  We started meeting up, going for a drink. I enjoyed his company. He told me his mum had just died. He was really broken up about it, and I think he needed someone to talk to. I didn’t mind. I liked him. I’d liked his mum. And I knew what it was like trying to care for a parent. After a while, we started seeing each other a lot. I’d go round to his house, I’d cook for him, clean. He wasn’t coping well, but when he was, I don’t want to say normal, but I suppose that’s the best word… When he was normal it was great. I was starting to fall in love with him. And I know people can’t get their heads around that because of how he was, but it’s true. I really loved him.

  I had a flat with some frien
ds, but I’d started staying at Jacob’s most of the time. He’d get upset if I left. And the place was in such a mess, I thought I couldn’t just leave him like that. He needed someone to take care of him. I guess his mum had done that until she died.

  I didn’t mind. I liked helping him. It was tiring, sure, especially with having a full-time job and taking care of my mum too. But I didn’t mind.

  And then, one day, Jacob asked me if I wanted to buy his house. He’d obviously inherited it from his mum, but he couldn’t take care of the place. I don’t think he wanted the responsibility. I’d mentioned before I’d like a house of my own, but there was no way I could afford it. So, he asked me to buy his.

  I thought he was joking. I couldn’t afford that place. I thought he was just being daft. But then, he’d written up this agreement. God knows where he got such an idea. And I don’t know how legally binding it would be, do you? But anyway, he wanted me to start paying him, whatever I could each month. It was crazy. But to be honest, I liked the idea of living there. I knew it would never really be mine, and of course Jacob would still live there. I could hardly turf him out of his own home.

  And I’m ashamed to say that at one point, I did wonder if he was trying to scam me somehow. Get money out of me and then throw me out when he was done with me. But Jacob wasn’t like that. He was honest. He was too nice to do something like that. So, I agreed. I started paying him what I could and moved in.

  It felt odd, to be honest. I knew I probably wouldn’t ever own the house, that we’d need a solicitor to draw something up, but I didn’t want to do that, in case anyone thought I was taking advantage of him. So in the end, I just lived there with him and decided it was sort of like paying rent. And Jacob got what he wanted, and we could be together. It wasn’t so bad.

  And then, he changed. He started forgetting things and blacking out. He even hurt me a few times. I thought about leaving. But I knew he didn’t mean it. He didn’t even know what he was doing.

  I made him go to the doctor, and they were going to do tests, but Jacob refused. It was like he didn’t want to get better. It was hard, but I stuck with him.

  And, yes, then things got out of control. He lost it. He hurt me and ran off. I was scared and called the police, but I knew deep inside that it wasn’t really him. Maybe I shouldn’t have got the police involved, I don’t know. Maybe that just made things worse.

  He was always apologetic when he came back after an episode. And I believed him. Even when he said he was going to get help and never did. But I think it was too late this time. I think he came back to the house that day, after he’d attacked me, and saw the police and panicked. He didn’t come home for a while. I was so worried, but I thought if I call the police again, they might arrest him for what he did to me. So, I just waited for him to come home.

  And he did. Finally. But I guess he got involved with this Phil again. I came home from work. I saw Jacob in the house as I came up the street. It didn’t occur to me that anything could be wrong, I was just relieved he was home.

  I went rushing in, and Jacob tried to warn me, but it was too late. This guy, Phil, he hit me. He tied me up. I think Jacob must’ve blacked out again because he didn’t do anything. He was so distant. I was screaming for help, but it just made Phil angrier. When he’d tied me up, he started trashing the place. He was looking for something, I think. Money, maybe. I don’t know.

  He was hurting Jacob, too, and I was begging him to stop. He knocked Jacob out. He was lying on the kitchen floor. I was desperate to help him, but I couldn’t. I could hear Phil moving around. And then, finally, Jacob woke up. He untied me, and we tried to get away, but Phil got hold of me. He went crazy and attacked me, tried to strangle me.

  Jacob ran at us. Phil threw me to the ground, and he had the knife, and the next thing, Jacob was on the floor too. There was so much blood, but I didn’t know what’d happened. I didn’t know he’d stabbed Jacob. He just stood there, and Jacob tried to grab him, but he pulled away. And then, he went for me again, and I think I remember seeing someone at the window. Cathy, I suppose. Phil let go of me, and I was sort of drifting in and out. He ran towards the back door, and then, the next thing I remember was waking up and seeing him stabbing her too.

  He ran away, and I tried to get to her. I saw her phone. She’d called the police. I tried to stop the bleeding, but I couldn’t. And then, I think I passed out again. All I remember is the paramedic standing over me.

  God, poor Cathy. I don’t know why she came over then. She looks after my mum. Oh, God, is Mum okay?

  I don’t know, I guess Phil must’ve broken the window when he was trying to get in. I don’t know if he got there before Jacob or not. I don’t know…

  That’s right, I’d changed the locks after the last incident. I was scared, I suppose. But I never intended to keep Jacob out. I just panicked. I was glad when he came home. Or I was until I saw Phil there too.

  I don’t know what I’ll do now. Jacob’s gone. Cathy’s gone. Phil’s still out there.

  And what’s going to happen to the house?

  57

  The detective says he’s spoken to Sasha and Kimberley. They were concerned about me and confirmed I’d found a boyfriend and had moved in with him. They didn’t know much, though. I was a private sort of person. They passed on some mail that’d come to the old flat, including a letter from work. A formal warning about my attendance. The callous bastards.

  But at least Doctor Turner confirmed things, probably because he felt guilty for letting it go so far. He should’ve been more proactive, should’ve done more to help Jacob and me.

  Ethel from next door admitted she’d heard shouting and carrying on but was devastated she hadn’t done anything to help. She’d thought it was the TV. Jacob had always had the TV on too loud. She’d told him Cathy had been to her house a few days earlier, asking about me and Jacob. She’d seemed concerned about something. It’ll have been because Jacob had hit me, I said, and that seemed to satisfy him.

  There was no one else to talk to, really. Cathy’s husband, of course, but he knew nothing about why Cathy was there – she didn’t talk much about work.

  I was glad the temp had left, he couldn’t mention our little transaction.

  So really, it was just Mum left, and I wondered if they’d think her fit enough to talk to. I guessed they’d at least speak to other people at the home as this concerned Cathy now. And that made me nervous. What if Mum had been talking to someone else? And then, there was all this stuff about writing things down. I needed to see her and find out for myself.

  I was released from hospital a couple of days after Jacob died. I knew I had to organise the funeral and make arrangements for so many things. It was hard being responsible for Jacob, and I would be glad when it was all over.

  I didn’t know what would happen with my job or, more importantly, with the house. No one seemed to be able to tell me one way or another. It was frustrating. I just wanted to move on with my life. ‘I don’t know where I’ll go,’ I say to the detective as he helps me get into a waiting taxi outside the hospital. It was Kev who came.

  ‘You can get back in the house. We’ve finished in there,’ the detective says. ‘That’s if you want to go back there, of course.’

  ‘I do,’ I say.

  I know there’s a chance I will have to leave my house, that I will have to find some other place, but for now, I smile at him and climb into the taxi, and before I close the door, I say, ‘I just want to go home.’

  Kev chats away to me as he drives, but I’m not paying attention. All I want is to go home and sleep and not think about things for a while. But I can’t. I know I have to go and see Mum so I ask him to go back and drop me at the care home.

  Kev looks puzzled, as if he wants to ask if I’m sure, but thinks better of it and just does as I ask.

  We’re at the home in a couple of minutes, and I realise I have no money, but Kev waves me off anyway. ‘Just ring when you’re done,’ he says, and
I can feel him watching me as I walk up to the building and he waves as I turn and look.

  I walk into the home, down the corridor to Mum’s room and can feel people staring at me. I know I must look terrible, but I wonder if they know. I suppose they must. They’ll have heard about poor old Cathy by now.

  I’m almost at Mum’s room, trying to work out what I’ll say to her when someone stops me. I turn and find Nora standing there, a funny look on her face. Behind her stands Dean, wearing the same strange expression. I wonder if they know, if Cathy talked or Mum did. I wonder if they believe it.

  ‘Ms Cooke,’ Nora says, and looks back at Dean before reaching out to me, a totally different woman to the one who’d been so rude before. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says, and gives me a hug.

  I pull back and nod. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘And I’m sorry too. Were you close?’

  Nora looks at Dean and then shuffles me towards the family room. I try to see into Mum’s room, but the door is closed.

  ‘Cathy was a lovely woman,’ I say. ‘I’m just sorry she got mixed up in it all. I don’t even know why she was there. She–’

  Nora closes the door to the small, stuffy room, and Dean stands there, his hands behind his back.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I say.

  ‘It’s your mum, Polly,’ Nora says.

  ‘Has she had another stroke?’

  Nora takes a deep breath. ‘Your mum passed away. That’s why Cathy came around. She insisted on telling you in person. She was very upset. She’d gotten close to your mum.’

  I can feel my chest tighten, and the world blurs at the edges.

  Mum’s gone. That’s what Cathy came to tell me.

  Like you killed her.

  I remember her words, hadn’t paid attention at the time. You killed him. Like you killed her.