Silent Victim

by Caroline Mitchell

  I could have turned the tables on him, asked how his coffee with Theresa had been, but instead I turned back to the sink and immersed my hands in the hot soapy water. The bubbles felt nice on my skin, and I squeezed the sponge as I ran it over the plates. I did not want to think about Luke, or Noelle, or the binge I’d partaken in today. I was not sure my mind could cope with it. But Alex stood over me, filling the air with hushed accusations. It was my fault I had dragged the family into this. All I did was tell a lie. I didn’t take his feelings into consideration for a second; did I love him at all? I allowed his words to flow over me, waiting for him to run out of steam. I knew he was keeping his voice down because Jamie was asleep, and I wondered if it would be better for him just to let it all out.

  By the time I had washed and dried the dishes, his outburst had come to an end. A one-sided argument could only last so long, particularly when the object of your frustrations remained unresponsive. Slowly I felt the fog in my brain clear, and I dried my hands before taking a seat at the kitchen table. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I know I’ve put you through a lot. I won’t go behind your back again.’

  Alex sagged in the chair, his energy spent. ‘When you didn’t answer the phone at the shop I thought the worst.’ He took a deep breath, his face carrying some extra worry lines that weren’t there before. ‘What’s going to happen when we go to Leeds? I mean, sure, we can move away, but are we still going to have a marriage at the end of all this?’

  Tears pricked my eyes, real emotion finally worming its way into my heart. ‘Please, Alex, don’t say that. I thought I could meet Noelle and ask her if she’d heard from him. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable. It’s driving me mad, not knowing if he’s dead or alive, if everything that’s happening is down to him, or if I’m slowly losing my mind.’ My chin wobbled as I spoke, and I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. ‘It’s killing me inside.’

  Alex’s head hung low on his shoulders, and when he raised it to meet mine, all traces of anger had dissipated. ‘You can’t afford to draw attention to yourself. Leave it to me. I’ve been working in the background, making enquiries.’ He spoke slowly and carefully, as if he was talking to a four-year-old child.

  I nodded, grateful that he was taking control. My head was swimming in confusion and I no longer felt like I could make the right decision for myself. I grabbed his shirt sleeve, hating myself for being so needy. ‘Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be here on my own.’

  ‘Of course I’m not going to leave you,’ he said, leaning over to place his hands on mine. ‘But you have to let me sort this out. Did his sister mention when she last saw him?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not since before I . . . before what happened in the paddock. Her family have broken all contact. Her mum is very unwell. Noelle seems to think that further contact from Luke could finish her off. She said he’s caused the family nothing but heartbreak over the years.’

  ‘Then it’s all the more reason for you to be careful. First Jamie and now this . . . Don’t go stirring things up.’

  I rose from my chair, my situation becoming grimmer by the minute. ‘I’m going to peep in on Jamie,’ I said, feeling like I was carrying the whole world on my shoulders.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  EMMA

  2003

  The antiseptic tang that assailed my nostrils told me I was not at home any more. I tried to bring my vision into focus as I blinked. My chest was tight and I felt like someone had poured a bag of grit into my eyes and throat. A warm hand squeezed mine and for a second my heart fluttered as I wondered if Luke had come to my rescue after all. The last thing I remembered was being dragged out of my smoking house by a pair of strong hands, and it made me melt to know he cared after all.

  ‘Hey, are you OK?’ Theresa said, and I rubbed my eyes, disappointment bringing instant tears as I realised that Luke was not there.

  ‘Shh, don’t try to talk,’ she soothed, squeezing my hand. ‘You’re lucky to be alive. You gave us an awful fright.’

  My eyes grew wide as I looked around the hospital room. A curtain shielded my bed. On the locker beside me were a bunch of carnations and a punnet of grapes.

  ‘Dad’s in the men’s ward. He dragged you out of the fire. It’s not done his lungs much good.’

  I groaned. How could I have been so selfish? Why hadn’t I just taken some pills instead of the need for all the drama? I knew why. Because I still thought Luke would come to save me, and the flames would light up the sky like a beacon.

  ‘Luke,’ I croaked, forgetting my promise to keep quiet about us.

  ‘Oh, babe,’ Theresa said, ‘I know. Everyone does. It’s all come out.’

  I licked my dry cracked lips as I tried to force out the words, feeling grateful that the sorest part of my body were my lungs and throat. I could have been scarred for life. How could I have been so stupid?

  ‘Shh, just listen,’ Theresa said, looking as if she had not slept all night. Devoid of make-up, her face was pale and gaunt, her unwashed blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail. ‘You’re not in any trouble, but the police are waiting to speak to you. I don’t want you to get a fright when they turn up.’

  ‘Police?’ I croaked, fear spearing my heart. Had something happened to Luke? I imagined him rushing over to save me, a car accident maybe. Had he been killed? Had the police found my texts on his phone? I bit my lip as a wave of anxiety threatened to engulf me.

  ‘It’s OK. It’s all been sorted. You should have spoken to me. I know I’ve not been about lately, but I’m only at the end of the phone.’ She glanced through the crack in the curtain before lowering her voice. ‘They need to serve you with a harassment warning. Luke went to the police about it when he heard you were in hospital. He said you’ve been stalking him for months. I spoke to him on the phone. He said he’s sorry it’s gone this far but he had to report it to the police to stop you hurting yourself again.’

  ‘But he . . .’ I took a painful breath, barely able to believe her words. ‘He kissed me . . .’

  Theresa’s gaze fell to the floor. She didn’t believe me. ‘I know things have been tough since Mum went, but I thought you were feeling better about things. Dad said that you were improving. I had no idea that all this stuff was going on.’ She sighed, quickly checking her phone before sliding it back in her pocket. ‘You were lucky. That white spirit you used – Dad bought it from one of his cronies in the pub when he was redecorating the house but he was going to throw it out because it was so watered down.’

  I tried to swallow, my throat tight from breathing in the fumes. How much worse would I have been if it were full strength? But then again, I wouldn’t be here at all. Tears pricked my eyes as I tried to come to terms with Luke’s betrayal. He had only just called the police, which meant he was covering his back; he had no intention of saving me at all.

  Oblivious to the reasons behind my distress, Theresa kept talking. ‘There’s a bit of fire damage to the house but nothing that can’t be fixed. The best thing you can do is to accept the warning and say no more. Luke said he’s willing to forget about things if you are, wipe the slate clean, although you won’t be in his class any more.’ She gave my hand another squeeze. ‘We’re going to get you some counselling. I know you’ve not been eating properly. But we’ll sort it. Everything’s going to be fine.’ She let go of my hand to pick up a cardboard gift bag that had been on the floor. ‘Here, I got you a present,’ she said, pulling a Steiff collectable teddy bear from its tissue-paper wrapping.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, stroking its fur. I had stopped collecting teddies at the age of eleven. With an aching sense of loneliness I realised that I couldn’t confide in my sister about Luke now even if I wanted to. Theresa was a stranger to me. She didn’t know me at all.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  ALEX

  2017

  My flesh crawled as Theresa’s text came through.

  See you in one hour.

  I replied with the thumbs
up emoji, not trusting myself to say any more. It was one o’clock in the morning, and I tried to understand Theresa’s reasoning for meeting at this hour. After being made aware of Emma’s encounter with Luke’s sister, she had insisted we bring forward the dig to tonight. I suppressed a shudder. The place gave me the creeps during the day, God knows what it was going to be like down there at night. I gently shook Emma by the shoulder, not willing to slip away without making her aware.

  ‘Emma,’ I bent over, my lips close to her ear. The last thing I wanted was to wake Jamie as he slept. My son and I had eaten our supper just the two of us, me wondering if this is what it would be like should our marriage come to an end. Taking Jamie at weekends, while Emma had him weekdays. In my eyes, it was a fractured upbringing; he deserved so much more.

  ‘Mmm?’ Emma said, her words thick with sleep.

  ‘I’ve got to go into work. There’s been a flood in the Colchester office, and the caretaker can’t get hold of anyone else.’ It seemed as good an excuse as any, and she accepted it readily before turning to go back to sleep.

  I parked as close as I could to the field. I could have walked the whole way, but I had told Emma I was going to work, so needed to take the car. I was grateful for the full moon as I trudged along the muddy path. All I could hear were my boots being sucked in by the mud and the rustle of nocturnal creatures startled by my night-time visit. I could feel their eyes on me, watching my every movement. I gripped my torch tightly, my senses on edge as I listened for every sound. The moon reflected against the frame of the digger, casting the metal in a blue-grey hue. As I approached it, I could not believe what I was about to do.

  ‘Boo!’ Theresa shrieked, jumping out from behind the machine. She was wearing a long black coat and woollen hat, and I had not seen her approach.

  I clasped my hand to my chest as she dissolved into fits of giggles before me. ‘You nearly . . . gave me a heart attack,’ I gasped, and despite the grotesque situation, I found myself laughing just the same. But it was dark humour, mingled with a sudden sense of dread. It was several seconds before we gathered our strength, ready to focus on the task ahead.

  ‘If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry,’ Theresa said, handing me the keys. ‘Know how to work one of these things?’ Leading me to the cab, she showed me the controls. She flicked a switch, casting a spotlight on the ditch. With the help of the mini-digger, it wouldn’t take long to get into the drain.

  A sudden flapping noise rose from the oak tree overhead. I ducked as a white feathery creature screeched its disapproval before flying away.

  ‘It’s just an owl,’ Theresa said. ‘God, you really are a city boy, aren’t you?’

  I tried to laugh it off, but this time I struggled to raise a smile to my lips. Goosebumps rose across my flesh as I thought about the implications of our actions. Granted, I had apparently spoken to Luke, but what if we uncovered something? We could be digging up a grave. How would I feel if I unearthed the corpse of a man Emma had killed? Could I look at her the same way again?

  I turned the keys in the ignition. The rumbling sound of the engine provided comfort, anything to break up the hoots and screeches of this dark observing world.

  With Theresa instructing, I tore the bucket of the digger into the soil. I breathed in through my nose, strong, steady breaths, stopping to survey the land as we dug down the first foot. Just as Emma had described, there was no trace of any corpse, and I grew a little more relieved with each scoop. Soon we reached three feet down, and I was making short work of it with the digger. I tried not to imagine Emma with her shovel, the tang of metal against the earth as it sliced through the soil. But she had described the moment with sickening clarity, and the image came just the same. I was ready to call it a night when we’d dug four feet down, but Theresa insisted we keep going, just in case. I couldn’t imagine Emma digging this far down with a shovel. Could her adrenalin have fuelled her? Just how accurate had her memory been? On I dug, the controls vibrating under my grip, the machine screeching as it swivelled left to right, dumping the black, insect-infested soil. Under the light of the moon the world took on a surreal aspect, and I was working on autopilot when Theresa shouted at me to stop. Her call was loud and piercing, easily heard over the rumble of the digger. I switched off the engine, my hands still buzzing from the vibration of the controls. Theresa was pointing frantically into the bucket, which held the freshly dug soil. Something in there was white, glinting in the moonlight, and I jumped out for a closer look, my legs feeling like jelly as I walked. Our breaths laboured, we approached the bucket, aiming our torches for a clearer view.

  I felt like I was in a scene of a horror movie as I approached the digger bucket. My legs and arms moved under their own steam as if they weren’t a part of me any more. It would have been easy to convince myself I was dreaming, that any minute I would wake up to find that none of this had been real. But there was no reprieve as we peered into the dirt, both rooted to the spot. Theresa was not laughing now, instead her mouth forming a perfect O. In this moment, I knew that my life was going to change for ever.

  ‘Steady,’ Theresa said, as I almost lost my footing in the mud. We stared at the subject of our torch beams, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Neither of us wanted to touch the bone jutting out of the soil.

  ‘It could be an animal,’ I said, realising I was whispering, and not knowing why.

  ‘Look,’ Theresa said, diverting her torch to the bottom of the pit we had just dug. A long thin bone lay on top, attached to what looked like a skeletal hand.

  It took every ounce of my strength not to drop my torch and run. ‘Christ,’ I said, my stomach turning over as a sudden wave of nausea took hold. ‘I must have beheaded it with the digger.’ The taste of tomato-flavoured bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed it back, fighting to keep the contents of my stomach in place.

  Theresa’s face had lost all colour, even her lips had paled from shock. Closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep breath, pulled back her jacket sleeve and checked her watch. ‘Right. We have to finish this by hand. Do you want me to get into the hole?’

  The last thing I wanted was to do was to volunteer, but Theresa was shaking, and I would not be much of a man if I looked on. ‘I’ll do it,’ I said, forcing my feet towards the digger bucket. ‘But first, we need to get rid of this.’

  I worked through the mud with gloved fingers as Theresa looked on, carefully plucking the bone from the digger bucket. My heart hammering, I brushed away patches of dirt to reveal a human skull. I stared into its hollowed eyes. Its sockets were thick with mud. Wisps of hair still clung to the bone, finding life as the cool night breeze took them. ‘God,’ I said. ‘It’s him. It’s really him,’ I breathed the words, my voice hollow with disbelief. Thoughts flowed like ice water through my veins. I shuddered. My wife. A murderer.

  ‘Emma must have buried him deeper than she thought,’ Theresa said.

  I nodded. Emma had been telling the truth all along. She had killed Luke, and now she was driving herself insane, punishing herself over and over for her crimes. I heard something rustle behind me and saw Theresa holding out a bin bag. At least she had come prepared. I had not planned on what we were going to do if we actually discovered a body, or the remains of one. I stiffened at the thought of Jamie at home with Emma. I could not afford to waste time. We had to finish this.

  Pulling a sheet from the bag, Theresa offered it up to me. ‘Place it in here,’ she sniffed, and I realised she was crying. ‘It deserves some respect. I’ll find a way of disposing of it later on.’

  Gently I wrapped the skull in the cloth before placing it into the bag. ‘I can’t ask you to take this,’ I said. ‘It’s implicating you in a crime. You could go to prison for a very long time.’

  ‘Only if we’re found out,’ Theresa said. ‘This is our secret now. Besides, I’m implicated already. It was me who hired the digger, don’t forget. There’s no walking away from this – for either of us.’

 
A thought struck me. ‘If this is Luke . . . then who was I talking to in Leeds?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Theresa was ashen. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, streaking her skin with mud. ‘I can’t think about that right now. Please let’s just hurry up so we can both get out of here.’

  Reluctantly I jumped into the ditch, trying to push back the feeling I was climbing into my own grave. Above me, the machinery loomed, and I almost expected the wail of police sirens to scream into life. But there was nothing apart from the soft rustle of the oak tree overhead, and Theresa sniffling in the background. I clawed at the ground until I recovered the remains of the skeleton. I worked automatically, disassociating myself from my task in order to carry on. So much had happened that my brain was barely able to take it all in. Using my torch, I searched for pieces of clothing, any extra clues to the identity of the skeleton beneath my feet. But there was nothing but bones and scraps of white material. Theresa and I exchanged a glance as I handed her the last of the remains. Her breath thick with the exertion, she reached out a hand to pull me up from the hole.

  A light sprinkling of rain began to fall on my face. Time was running out. ‘Cover it in as quick as you can, then we’ll pull some branches across.’ I admired her strength as she took control and told me what to do.

  ‘I can’t believe that’s all that’s left,’ I said, watching as Theresa carefully wrapped our finds. ‘No shoes, no personal effects. I’d have thought there would have been more.’

  ‘It’s been here years. They could have disintegrated, or maybe Emma disposed of them elsewhere so he wouldn’t be recognised.’ She glanced over her shoulder at me. ‘C’mon, you need to get moving. We can talk about this later.’

  ‘But where are we going to put him?’

  Theresa gave me a knowing look. ‘Leave that to me. The less you know about it, the better.’ She closed the bag and stepped back out of the way. ‘Emma’s my sister; this is my mess too. I should have been there for her.’ She looked at me as if to ask why I was still standing there. ‘Quickly. We don’t have much time.’