Silent Victim

by Caroline Mitchell

  ‘Sorry,’ I said quietly. ‘Perhaps you should stay for a couple of nights while I give Alex some space. We can talk things through; we could do with a proper catch-up.’ It would be good for her to have some company, and I was scared to be alone in case Luke returned. Alex had disturbed his game-playing last night, but I had nobody to protect me now. I checked my watch. ‘I’d better be getting back. Do you need a hand cleaning up before I go?’ I eyed the bedroom. If there were a drainage problem, surely it would be coming from the bathroom instead? Whatever it was, she didn’t want me to know about it, or perhaps she was just ashamed I had caught her out.

  ‘No, you get back to Josh, I’ll take a shower and join you in an hour. And, Emma, don’t try ringing Alex. He’s back on the road now. It might not be safe. He said to tell you that Jamie’s fine and he’ll speak to you soon.’

  I nodded dumbly, the guilt making me feel like my heart had been wrenched from my chest. I knew I had frightened Jamie last night, and for that I was thoroughly ashamed. To be honest, I had frightened myself. I was on an emotional see-saw, experiencing cycles of lucidity and aggression, with a hazy fog of confusion in between. The slashed dress, the incident in the car park . . . had I orchestrated it all myself? It was a chilling prospect. But I had received phone calls . . . hadn’t I? I knew it was him. I had not imagined a hooded face at the window. It had been dark outside, but it was Luke . . . it had to be. I said my goodbyes to Theresa, my thoughts tormenting me. Perhaps if I saw a doctor, cleared my head, then these torturous feelings would go away. I needed to eat, to make myself strong. I had to fight for my family if I had any hope of winning them back. And somewhere in my mind was the thought that I was not the only one with secrets. Theresa was hiding something too.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  ALEX

  2017

  I hadn’t intended to call Theresa, but the further I got from home, the guiltier I felt. I thought about how I’d feel if I was the one back in Colchester, completely oblivious of the fact my son had been taken away. I knew Emma would be checking the webcam and would panic when he didn’t show. Yet again I found myself relying on my sister-in-law to bridge the ever-widening gap between my wife and me. I could only hope that she would make her understand.

  Mum’s house in the suburbs was warm and welcoming. Deep luxurious carpets graced the floors, and floral sofas dressed with plump cushions and soft throws made the living room a very inviting place. I inhaled deeply as the enticing aroma of freshly baked Victoria sponge teased my senses. It felt good to be home. Jamie loved it here too, and it did not take long for him to settle in. I wished that we’d moved here earlier, but Emma had expressed reservations. She’d needed time to dig up the body on our land, of course. I wondered what Theresa had done with the remains and felt my appetite fade. Shuddering, I directed my focus to Jamie, who was sitting on the living-room floor. Wearing a huge smile on his face, he tore open the wrapping on the present my mother had bought.

  ‘A Nintendo DS!’ he squealed, taking it from the wrapping paper, pausing only to give Mum a hug.

  ‘You shouldn’t have gone to so much expense,’ I said. ‘He’s only four, he’ll barely be able to play.’

  But my words fell on deaf ears. Mum was positively glowing in his presence. Despite our regular phone calls, it had been hard for her, living so far away. It was a part of our relationship that Emma could not understand. Mum and I were close, but it was not something Emma had experienced, and once I saw her rolling her eyes as Mum called us for the third time that day. I caught my thoughts. What was I doing? Trying to justify leaving my wife? I had a good reason. I had unearthed more than a body last night. Simmering resentment had risen to the surface too. But I could fix this. I had to. We were over the worst. Emma would be by my side when she was well enough to join us.

  ‘If I can’t treat my only grandson then who can I treat?’ Mum said smugly. She was only five foot one, and with her short permed hair and colourful clothes, she was the sweetest person you could ever meet. But Mum was like me: fiercely protective of her brood. I knew she was desperate for the truth. ‘Besides . . .’ She lowered her voice. ‘You made it sound like he’s going to be here for some time. I didn’t want him getting bored.’

  I knew the remark was a request for further information, but I was still raw from recent events. ‘I’ll fill you in later,’ I said, with as much reassurance as I could muster. I slid my mobile from my pocket, activating the screen to bring up a recent missed call. ‘I’ve got a phone call to make, can you watch Jamie for five minutes while I take it outside?’

  ‘Of course. I’m not going anywhere,’ she said, throwing me another enquiring look.

  ‘Thanks. There’s some business I need to take care of that can’t wait.’ I pocketed my phone and walked into her small garden.

  Before we had left for Leeds I’d conducted a hurried online search and hired a private detective to dig into Luke’s whereabouts. Since our grim discovery in the field I had come to my own conclusion. But I still needed to know the identity of the man I had met in the pub. There might have been a grain of truth in what Emma had said about seeing someone at the window, but it was surely beyond a coincidence that the man calling himself Luke Priestwood had contacted me. I returned the missed call, nibbling my bottom lip as I was put through. The private detective, a man by the name of Edwin Burrows, sounded more like a grandfather than one of the all-action types who usually portrayed such roles on TV. Pleasantries over, he launched into the reason for his call. ‘I thought you’d like to know that I’ve tracked down your Luke Priestwood. Seems he’s been keeping tabs on you through social media.’

  I frowned. I had been waiting for him to tell me there was no trace of him.

  ‘Are you sure it’s definitely him?’ I said, scratching my head.

  ‘Without a doubt. I’ve checked out his credentials. He taught art in Colchester before leaving under a cloud. He’s worked various jobs since then. His credit history’s nothing to write home about. He’s had a few relationships; doesn’t seem to hang on to them for very long.’

  ‘And now?’ I said, trying to come to grips with this latest revelation.

  ‘He works in the York art gallery, but I wouldn’t bother visiting, he’s on leave for the next couple of weeks.’

  ‘How?’ I said. ‘I mean, you said he was keeping tabs on social media. I’m not on Facebook and neither is my wife.’

  ‘But her sister is,’ Burrows said. ‘I friended her myself. Seems she’s not too fussy about who she accepts. You should have a word with her, she’s sharing images of your son online and saying how much she’s going to miss him when you move. They’re innocent enough, but she should change her privacy settings and only friend people she knows. Anyone can hide behind a fake name and a phony profile picture. She’s too trusting by far.’

  I ran my fingers through my hair as life took another twist. How I’d missed having normal friends, good company, an ordinary life. It was all within my grasp if I could just figure out what was going on.

  My forehead creased as an image flashed in my mind. If the man I’d spoken to really was Luke Priestwood, then who had we just dug up? I thought of Theresa, insisting we keep digging. Of her tears as she gently wrapped the skeleton in the cloth. A sudden sense of urgency bloomed. I had to get hold of Theresa and find out what the hell was going on.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  EMMA

  2017

  Despite Theresa’s reassurances, I felt forlorn. I had wanted to leave work, catch a train and get to Leeds to see my son, but an influx of customers gave us all a busy afternoon. Theresa had advised me to give my husband some space, assuring me that she wasn’t letting me out of her sight. But the day had dragged on as I continuously checked my phone, waiting for Alex to call.

  Now, with evening drawing in, I was finally back in Mersea. Theresa’s holdall thumped against the front door as she entered the living room. I’d told her I’d be going to Leeds as soon as I had
cleared it with Alex. There was no way I could stay away from my family for very long. Besides, Luke was closing in, and I didn’t feel safe here any more. I picked up Alex’s letter from the kitchen table and read it three times before it sank in. What did he mean, ‘I know everything?’ How was that possible? How could he possibly know?

  ‘Storm Jessie’s in full flow. I reckon we’ll lose a few roof tiles tonight,’ Theresa said, her eyes dancing around the room. She carried the same nervous look that accompanied every visit, but I could not think about that now.

  I shrugged, the weather the least of my concerns. The house seemed so cold and unwelcoming without Alex here to light the fire and stir some warmth into the place. I unwound the silk scarf from around my neck and hung my coat on the back of the kitchen door.

  Theresa caught my glance. ‘Why don’t you sit down. I’ll rustle us up some supper.’

  ‘You’re my guest, I should be doing the cooking,’ I said half-heartedly.

  ‘I’ll end up eating lettuce leaves if that’s the case,’ Theresa said. ‘Sit yourself down.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, pulling the latch tight on the kitchen window as memories of Luke’s face filtered in. Soon a pot of chicken soup bubbled on the stove, something Theresa had concocted from the leftovers in our fridge.

  I took two bowls from the cupboard and laid them on the table. ‘Alex is right. A fresh start is just what we need,’ I said. I had to think positively. I would go to Leeds and win back my husband’s trust. I would book myself into a clinic if I had to, as long as I was close to my family. I slipped two soup spoons from the drawer and placed them beside the ceramic bowls.

  Theresa’s face took on a serious aspect. Taking the bread knife from the block, she began slicing the tiger loaf she had bought on the way over. ‘I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.’ Her face grew more serious as she sawed at the bread. ‘I always seem to end up the one that gets left behind.’

  There was a depth of emotion behind her words. I knew she felt she had been given a raw deal.

  I poured the soup, waiting for her to join me. ‘There’s something I wanted to tell you. I’d been waiting for it to be finalised, but now seems like a good time.’ I looked over my shoulder. ‘Come, sit,’ I said. ‘It’s good news. I’ve cut you into the business.’

  Dropping the knife, Theresa carried the bread from the counter to the table. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, her face pale.

  ‘Dad should never have cut you out of the will. My inheritance – I spent it on the business in the hope that it would grow so we could split it one day.’ A smile broadened my lips as I relayed the good news. ‘I’ve signed over fifty per cent to you. I’ve easily enough money to start another shop in Leeds. The Colchester branch is yours to run. I’ve had the papers drawn up. You can rent your flat to Josh if you like, give yourself a pay rise and buy a house of your own.’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know what to say,’ she said, her mouth falling open.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything. It’s yours.’ Dad’s legacy had left a bitter aftertaste, and I was relieved to be able to put things right. The fact that Theresa was my half-sister was never discussed – she was only a baby when Dad took her and Mum in. But it had obviously been a deep-rooted issue for him, and I wondered if that was why she had left home at such a young age. As a child, I was too wrapped up in myself to notice, but now I wondered, had she felt like an outsider all along?’

  I sipped a spoonful of soup in silence. This was not the reaction I expected. The back door rattled on its hinges. Outside, the storm had taken hold. Usually I would be figuring out how I was going to expunge myself of calories, but I could see Theresa’s thoughts were troubled, and I leaned across the table, touching her hand. ‘Sis,’ I said, flinching as she withdrew. ‘What’s wrong? I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘I don’t deserve it,’ she said. Her eyes reached mine, but they were cold and troubled. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t accept your gift.’

  My heart flickered in reaction to the intensity of her gaze. It was as if a mask had dropped from her face, and her true expression was revealed. I clasped my hands together, the fingers of my right hand touching my wedding ring on the left. Suddenly I felt very alone.

  Theresa cleared away the bowls, even though I had barely touched a drop. There was no coaxing me to eat tonight. No gentle words.

  ‘Dad cut me out of the will for a reason. I don’t deserve anything from you.’

  I winced as she gathered up the dishes and cutlery from the side and threw it all in the sink. Pots, pans, everything went in, and I pressed my palms against the table to rise. ‘We’re some family, aren’t we?’ She emitted a humourless laugh. ‘Some people have skeletons in their closet. Ours has a whole graveyard.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said, feeling bewildered. But she barely heard my words as she mumbled under her breath.

  ‘I thought things would improve after you left, that maybe you didn’t need to know. God knows, you and Alex have enough troubles of your own.’

  I rose from the table, watching her hang her head as I rested my hand on her shoulder. ‘Sis, what is it? What’s wrong?’

  She swallowed, and her face seemed pained as she faced me. ‘It’s Mum. I know where she is.’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  LUKE

  2003

  The light of Emma’s bicycle had now been replaced by one of a scooter. The tinny sound of the 50cc engine tore through the night as she drove to the beach hut to meet me. I had only half expected her to come. It seemed that there were a few kickings left as far as Emma, my little puppy, was concerned. Despite everything I had done, I only had to click my fingers and she would appear. Her phone had been singed in the fire, along with all the things she had stolen from my room. Of course, I knew what she had taken, having made a careful inventory before telling her my house would be empty for the day. It paid to think ahead, and it had worked out beautifully when I had gone to the police and reported the items stolen. That and my concerned chats with my colleagues were enough to convince them that she was at fault. It was fortunate that I had conditioned her to delete her texts, when all I had to show them were insistent requests to meet up from her. Yes, that side of things had worked out very well. I had enjoyed our little games, but now I had needs to be met, and she was becoming a real thorn in my side.

  The bike engine extinguished as she parked it around the corner, and minutes later she was at my door. Just like before, she was red faced and flustered, but I sensed something different in her expression this time. Gone was the neediness I had enjoyed feeding off in the past. Tonight her dark eyes regarded me with contempt. That I had not expected.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ I said, walking past her to slide the bolt across the beach hut door. ‘We don’t want to be disturbed, given your brush with the law,’ I explained with a half smile. ‘You’ve taken a chance turning up here.’

  ‘I’ve been waiting to have it out with you for a very long time,’ Emma said, her words low and menacing. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

  Gone were the floaty skirts and the tight tops. Her long, slender legs were encased in a pair of flared jeans, a quilt patchwork jacket zipped up over her T-shirt. She’d had quite a transformation since the fire and it wasn’t just her wardrobe. It led me to wonder if I had kicked this puppy for the last time.

  ‘If you’re looking for burn scars there aren’t any,’ she said, catching my lingering gaze. ‘No thanks to you.’

  ‘Oh, please,’ I said, narrowing my eyes in a look of disdain. ‘I knew I’d never get rid of you that easily – and besides, you lit the match, not me.’

  ‘I’m glad my dad found me in time. You weren’t worth dying for. I must have needed my head seeing to, getting tangled up with you. You’re nothing but a predator.’ She gave me a look of unveiled disgust. ‘As if you’re capable of loving anyone but yourself.’

  I took a step towards her, closing the gap between us.
‘You couldn’t get enough of me. Remember? On this table, how I hitched up your skirt and—’

  ‘What did you call me here for?’ she said, taking a step back. She was looking less sure of herself now, her eyes telling me it hadn’t been such a good idea to come here after all.

  ‘I hear you’ve been trying to befriend Sophie Smith. I want you to back off. Stay out of my business.’

  I felt a flicker of anger rise from within as a smug smile appeared on her face.

  ‘I’m just biding my time until I catch you in the act. I might not be able to follow you about, but there’s nothing to say I can’t look out for her.’

  I stabbed the air with my finger. ‘I’m warning you . . .’

  ‘And I’m warning you,’ Emma said, surprising me by answering back. ‘She’s only fifteen. Leave her alone.’

  ‘She’s sixteen soon,’ I said. ‘And if you don’t stop getting in my way I’ll call the police, tell them you’ve been harassing me again. You could get sent away this time.’

  Sudden laughter erupted from Emma’s mouth, dark and throaty. ‘And what are you gonna do? Report me for protecting her from becoming your next victim?’ She shook her head. ‘Do you know what you’ve put me through over the last year? Do you? You were my first kiss. Then you took my virginity. Two things in the world most precious to me. But I let you have them because I thought you were special. I thought you cared. It was bad enough that you dumped me so callously, but then you fixed it so I couldn’t talk to anyone about it.’

  Her chin wobbled as she spat out the words. ‘I had to bottle it all up, because confiding in anyone could explode in my face. I’d be called a slapper – sixteen years old and sleeping with my teacher. But it didn’t stop the whispers in the girls’ toilets after class. You drove me to attempt suicide. But you weren’t happy with that. After you called the police, I knew nobody would believe me. I was a silent victim. But not any more.’