Silent Victim

by Caroline Mitchell

  ‘You want me, you always have,’ Luke said, nuzzling my neck as he began undoing the buttons of my blouse. ‘It was your jealousy that inflamed you, not concern for those other girls. We’ll keep it our little secret. Nobody else needs to know.’

  I caught another whiff of his aftershave, the same scent he used all those years ago. It felt like I was back there, a teenager once more. I could not bear to become the subject of gossip all over again, for my words to be disbelieved. My legs were trembling as I tried to work out what to do. He pulled up my skirt, then asked me if it was what I wanted, just like before. I nodded. He smiled because deep down he thought it wasn’t true. But all I could think of was getting pregnant. I would not have given in for anything less.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  LUKE

  2013

  I thought I’d feel recompensed after my encounter with Emma, but the whole episode had been one big anti-climax. True, she had baulked when she’d seen me in her doorway, and bringing the sunflowers had been a nice touch, but as she fixed her clothes I had caught a look of triumph, as if she actually had wanted me to screw her after all. It had left a bitter taste in my mouth, and as I sat in my car outside her front door, my anger resurfaced. She was in there, thinking she had gotten one up on me. Perhaps she had, pretending to act frightened all along. Sex was not enough of a payback for everything she had put me through. Hell, maybe I had done the bitch a favour. Perhaps she wasn’t getting it from her husband any more.

  My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. I had always suspected that she was the one who had tipped off Sophie Smith’s parents, and her failure to deny it answered the question that had been bugging me for some time. The anonymous letter Sophie’s parents received had pinpointed our meeting in the beach hut that night. I’m only grateful that we were both fully clothed when they caught us. A large pay-off from my mother had at least stopped them calling the police. I became much better at covering my tracks after that. But my promise to Emma had not gone unforgotten, and I spent many happy hours thinking about inflicting my revenge.

  I knew I should drive away, draw a line beneath it all. But my reputation had been smeared. Mud sticks. Emma’s meddling had put an end to my career before it even began. If only she had died during the fire in her home that day. I remembered receiving her text, how hopeful I had been that she would carry it through. Then the searing disappointment when she was pulled out alive. But if at first you don’t succeed . . . I surprised myself with the thought. Could I? Commit murder? As I sat there, I imagined how it would feel to finally watch the bitch burn. And why not bring her home down with her? The life she’d managed to build for herself that eluded me. She was unstable once. I could slowly break her down. Then, when she was alone, I would recreate her suicide attempt – but get it right this time. I smiled as my plan unfurled itself in my mind. Tomorrow. I would return to taunt her tomorrow, tease her about my future conquests, really stick the knife in. Her infidelity would ensure her silence, at least until I carried out my plan.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  ALEX

  2017

  My eyes flitted from the road to the caller display on my dashboard as I tried for the third time to contact Emma. At least the hands-free system allowed me to drive, saving precious time. It would take at least another couple of hours to reach Essex. I groaned aloud. By the time I got there, the tide would be in, cutting Emma off from the outside world. It was not as if I could call the police. What could I tell them? Given Emma’s state of mind, she could end up blurting out everything. Why wasn’t she answering her phone? If I had any sense, I’d go back to Jamie and leave Emma behind. But I was like a moth drawn to the flame. No matter what she did to me, I would always return to her.

  Using voice commands, I patched through another call. The phone answered after five rings.

  ‘Hello?’

  I sensed the hesitancy in Theresa’s voice but tried to mask my concern. ‘Hi, it’s me. Is Emma with you? I’ve been trying to ring but her phone’s switched off.’

  ‘She’s asleep. I turned off her phone so she could have some rest, bless her; she was in quite a state after you left, but she’s OK now.’

  ‘Can you tell her I’m on my way? I shouldn’t have left. I should be with you around one in the morning.’

  ‘Is Jamie with you?’ Theresa said.

  ‘No, he’s back in Leeds. I’m just coming to pick up Emma and bring her back.’ I took a deep breath, my throat raw from my oncoming cold. ‘There’s something I’ve got to ask you.’

  ‘Me? What’s that?’

  Checking my rear-view mirror, I indicated and overtook the car in front of me. ‘I hired a private detective to track Luke down. Apparently he’s alive, and friends with you on Facebook. Why did you lie to me, Theresa?’ My words broke off in a cough.

  ‘What? I’m not friends with Luke. Am I?’ Silence fell between us as she searched for answers. ‘I use Facebook for work, I accept requests from lots of people . . . I don’t know them all.’

  The irony of her words hit home. How could people qualify as friends if you didn’t know them? It was the very reason I hated the whole social media thing. You didn’t know who you were talking to. Anyone could bung up a fake profile picture and snoop on your movements. But there was another question playing on my mind. ‘If Luke is alive, then whose body did we unearth?’

  Theresa hesitated. ‘I don’t think we should be discussing this over the phone. We’ll talk about it when you get here.’

  But I was not so easily deterred. ‘I’ve been doing some research. Bodies don’t reach the skeletal stage until after at least ten years in the ground.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Alex, this is not an appropriate conversation!’ Her breath ruffled the line as she exhaled loudly. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, trying to regain her composure. ‘I’ve had a rough day.’

  In the background I heard scuffling, a movement of furniture. I strained to listen, but it grew distant as Theresa walked away. ‘Is that Emma?’ I said. ‘Put her on the phone. I need to speak to her.’

  ‘It’s just the storm. I told you. She needs her rest, and I don’t think she should be going anywhere tonight. You can sort things out when you get here.’

  ‘I could sort things out now if you told me the truth. What’s going on, Theresa? What are you not telling me? Who was buried in that grave? Because it wasn’t Luke, was it? Funny how you insisted we keep digging down after I wanted to give up. Why was that?’

  ‘This is family stuff. It’s none of your concern,’ Theresa snapped, before disconnecting the call.

  I thumped the steering wheel with my fist. What the hell was going on? I replayed our conversation in my head. Why did she ask if Jamie was with me? I patched a call through to Mum.

  ‘Son? Is everything OK?’ Mum said, answering the phone after one ring. I asked how Jamie was doing, making her climb the stairs to his bedroom to ensure he was safe. But Mum plagued me for answers, her voice brittle with worry.

  I pulled a tissue from my pocket and paused to blow my nose. ‘I’m not sure what’s going on, Mum; all I know is that Emma needs me. She’s with her sister, but something’s not right.’

  ‘Isn’t there anyone you can call who can check on them? What about your local constabulary? We’ve got a lovely PCSO near us. They’re so helpful. I’m sure if you give your local station a ring they might send someone out. When Mrs Connor wasn’t answering the door, we gave them a call and . . .’

  I exhaled a terse breath. I had heard the story about Mrs Connor and her fall a thousand times before. ‘No. There’s no need for police. I’m just checking that Jamie’s OK.’

  ‘Well, call me when you get there. It doesn’t matter what time it is. I’m sure I won’t sleep until you do.’

  I ended the call, inching up the speed dial as I pressed my foot on the accelerator.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  EMMA

  2017

  My eyes fluttered open as
I awoke from my nap. It had been Theresa’s idea, an hour’s sleep to ease my nerves before working out my next steps. She had calmed my anxiety to get to Leeds, telling me to allow the dust to settle before galloping up there and upsetting everyone. But a black cloud loomed on the horizon. A succession of silent phone calls told me that Luke was close to hand. I hadn’t expected to get any sleep, but when I woke, a whole hour had passed and the house was cloaked in darkness.

  ‘Tizzy?’ I said, shuffling blindly in the hall. I had reverted to her childhood nickname, seeking comfort as fear crept up my spine. I flicked the light switch with no response. She must have blown the fuse box, I told myself, trying to quell my rising panic. It was situated in the living room, and I groped the walls as I made my way there. I listened intently to the usual creaks and groans of the house under the oncoming winds, my heartbeat feeling as if it had doubled its pace. ‘Tizzy?’ I said a second time, and her lack of response made me want to bolt for the door. But I could not leave my sister. As I entered the living room, the figure before me rooted me to the spot.

  ‘Theresa?’ I said, my heart stalling as I caught sight of her. Tied to a chair, she sat in the centre of the room. I recognised one of my scarves, which was now wrapped around her mouth. I followed her line of vision too late as I turned to look behind the door.

  A sudden searing pain told hold as a blunt object hit me from the side. My legs weakening, I gave in to the darkness, and the last thing I remembered was a strong hand clamping around my throat, a pair of cold blue eyes piercing my soul.

  The next thing I knew I was squinting as the lights flicked on, the click of the trip on the fuse box returning me to consciousness. I caught sight of Theresa sitting across from me, her eyes wide with fear. ‘Theresa,’ I moaned, my head throbbing as white starry flashes speared my sight. I blinked, trying to focus my vision as footsteps broke the silence, coming in from the other room. I swallowed back a whimper. I had not imagined the face in the window. After all these years, Luke was still alive. He loomed over me, dressed in black, laughing in response to my terrified expression. It was a thin, brittle sound, his humour failing to reach his eyes. ‘Oh come on, little puppy, you must have known this wouldn’t end well.’

  I swallowed, my throat tight as I realised my hands and feet were bound just like my sister’s. I still held the memory of the pressure of his thumbs on my windpipe as he had clamped down hard and squeezed. All that time I had craved his touch, and yet it had ended like this.

  Luke circled me like a shark as he explained the motive behind his presence. ‘It’s time for you to face up to what you’ve done.’

  ‘What do you want?’ I said, knowing that screaming was pointless. Out here in the windswept landscape, there was nobody to hear.

  ‘What do I want? You tried to kill me. You must have known I’d come back one day. I planned it well, don’t you think?’ he said, his eyes flashing under the light of the bulb hanging overhead. ‘The flowers, silent phone calls, slipping in after hours to slash that wedding dress.’

  ‘It was you who let Jamie out of the car,’ I said, the fear of that day rising up to greet me. Thank God Alex had taken him away.

  ‘I can take credit for most of those things, but I wouldn’t hurt a child. You can thank your own stupidity for that one.’

  As Luke’s words filtered in, I remembered back to that day: it was raining, I was late. Had I pressed the wrong button on the car key and blamed it on him instead? I hadn’t been looking. My fingers were wet. All at once, I knew that I had been the one to blame.

  Luke paced the room, taking pleasure from his captive audience. ‘I have a lot of plans for my son. Only there’s one problem with that, isn’t there? Your husband’s taken him away.’

  I sucked in a breath, fighting against my bindings as I tried to break free. How did he know? I hadn’t told anyone about what happened that day. Had he worked out the timings, come back for his child? The thought of Jamie brought my protective instinct to the forefront. I had to get away. I pushed my head back against the chair as I tried to wriggle free. I squirmed as Luke’s face entered my field of vision, his breath tainted with alcohol and cigarettes. His proximity made me shrink back. I had to face up to the past because even if I got away, what would I say? Nobody would believe me, certainly not my husband, that much I knew. He had made his feelings apparent the minute he walked out the door.

  ‘Theresa,’ Luke said, tearing his gaze away from me as he turned to my sister. ‘I was just having a little chat with Emma here. What’s it they say? “Beware the person who stabs you then tells the whole world they’re bleeding”?’ He touched the back of his head, his gaze returning to me. ‘If I only knew what a fucked-up little girl you were when we met. I lost everything because of you.’

  Theresa struggled against her bindings as she muffled a helpless cry.

  ‘Let her go,’ I said, wincing from the pain of my sudden blow. ‘Please. This has nothing to do with her. I’ll take what’s coming to me but you’ve got to let my sister go.’

  ‘I don’t have to do anything,’ Luke said, walking towards her and loosening the scarf around her face. ‘So what do you think, Theresa?’ he said, a bemused smile on his lips.

  She licked her lips, her eyes narrowed with determination. ‘I think she’s right,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘Do what you want with her. Just let me go.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  EMMA

  2017

  ‘There’s no reason we can’t wipe the slate clean.’ I wriggled against my bindings. ‘Please, Luke, just let me go.’ My gaze fell to the container in Luke’s hands.

  He exposed his teeth in a narrow smile. ‘How did it feel, falling victim when nobody believed you? Because that’s how it was with me. No matter how much I protested my innocence, I still had to leave my job. Your infatuation clung to me like a stinking boil.’ Placing the container on the floor, he began to unscrew the lid. ‘Well, now it’s time to give that boil a good lancing.’

  The smell of petrol rose in the air, making fear chill the blood in my veins. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Please. I don’t deserve this.’ I knew what was coming. Luke was recreating the fire I had lit in the past, only this time my father would not be there to save me. After listening to Theresa, he had replaced her gag. She had been frightened, that was all. Surely she had not meant what she said?

  Luke jabbed his finger to his chest as he leaned over me, expelling spittle with his words. ‘Did you really think I’d just forgive and forget?’

  ‘What do you want from me?’ I shouted, trying to buy some time. I knew he wanted to make this look like I had struck the match. I imagined Luke, encompassed by hatred and disgust, plotting to teach me some elaborate lesson with far darker things in mind.

  ‘An eye for an eye, isn’t that what the Bible says? You used to go to church, didn’t you? Did you stop because of me? Perhaps now is a good time to say your prayers.’ He picked up the container and began splashing its contents around the room. My eyes watered as the fumes filled the air.

  ‘Wait,’ I begged for the second time. ‘Please, Luke, let my sister go.’

  Theresa worked the gag loose from her mouth as she rubbed her chin on her shoulder. ‘Luke, listen to me,’ she said, her words suddenly commanding. ‘I wish you’d approached me from the start, because I agree with you.’ She nodded in my direction. ‘Everything that went wrong in my life is because of her. You’ll be doing me a favour, now she’s signed over the business to me.’

  Luke raised an eyebrow at this sudden act of betrayal. ‘You’re not serious,’ he said.

  But Theresa was not going to stop now. ‘You said it yourself. She’s poison. Why do you think I let you friend me on Facebook?’ She paused, delivering the parting shot sure to win him over. ‘She’s not fit to raise a kid, but I am.’

  I stared horrified as Luke nodded in agreement. ‘So you knew that was me?’ A ghost of a smile played on his lips.

  ‘Yes,’ Theresa said. ‘But fi
rst get rid of any evidence you were here. Alex is on his way back, but the tide should hold him for now. When he gets here, I’ll say I went out to the shops and when I returned, I was beaten back by the flames. It makes a lot more sense for her to be torched rather than the both of us. Don’t forget, I can help you get Jamie back.’

  ‘I don’t even know if he’s really mine, not for sure,’ Luke said, which proved he had not really thought beyond this day.

  ‘He is,’ Theresa said. ‘Alex had a DNA test done.’

  ‘No!’ I screamed, unable to believe what I was hearing. ‘This is murder. Theresa, how could you!’ But as he untied my sister, my words fell on deaf ears. I screamed and cried until I’d exhausted myself. It was like I wasn’t there.

  ‘Don’t pour it on her directly,’ Theresa warned, as he sloshed the last of the accelerant around me. ‘We have to keep it like it was before.’

  Luke delivered a sickening smile. ‘See? We’re being kind.’ He pointed to the doors. ‘I’ve sealed them up, so air won’t get in. There’s a wad of newspapers stuffed up the chimney too. You’ll pass out from lack of oxygen long before the fire gets you.’

  ‘Alex is coming . . .’ I choked a cough as the acrid fumes infiltrated my airways and reddened my eyes. ‘They’ll put you away for life.’ Clenching my fists, I fought against my bindings, feeling a small give in the rope. But it was not enough. This was not my Dad’s watered-down white spirit being spilled on the floor. As soon as Luke added a spark, I would go up in a ball of flames.

  ‘That’s the beauty of it,’ Luke said. ‘Your long-suffering husband is going to turn up just in time to watch you burn. We had a drink together. Nice chap. Maybe we could become friends. I could let him see Jamie . . . every now and again.’ He cocked his head to one side, regarding me like a crow about to pick at a worm. A row of white teeth glistening under the artificial light as he smiled. ‘I did enjoy playing with you.’ Giving the room one last glance, he stood at the door. ‘Goodbye, Emma. Enjoy your time in hell.’ Flicking back the lid of his lighter, he positioned his thumb over the wheel. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it would be quick.