CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
ALEX
2017
I sneezed three times in quick succession, making my car wobble in the road. My vision was blurred by a pair of flashing headlights as the oncoming driver’s horn blared loudly in frustration. After breaking the speed limit, I was back in Essex, filled with a sense of dread. A beeping noise and a flash from the dashboard alerted me that I was nearly out of diesel. I groaned with frustration. All I wanted was to get Emma away from that house and the horrible memories that came with it. I would help get her better, nurse her back to health. I clicked down the indicator to pull into the next petrol station. Call it a sixth sense; I just knew something bad was about to happen. I checked my watch. The tide was still in. The island owned Emma now.
After paying for my diesel, I headed back on the road. Soon I was parked at the wrong end of the tide, willing the waters to part. I patched through a call to her phone. No answer. I ground my teeth as I tried Theresa again. She answered almost immediately. ‘Alex, I’m driving. What’s the matter?’
‘I can’t get through on Emma’s phone. Why isn’t she answering?’
‘I told you, she’s asleep. Look, I’m going back there now. Where are you?’
‘At the other end of the causeway. Where are you?’
‘On Mersea. I’ll be back at the house in a minute.’ She sighed. ‘Emma’s not been herself today. I just nipped out to pick up some milk from the all-night shop.’ I frowned, wishing she had not left Emma alone.
‘Seeing as I’m stuck here,’ I said, imagining Theresa on the other side of the tide, ‘you may as well tell me what’s going on. Because you’re hiding something, aren’t you?’
‘My divorce papers came through, that’s all. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you when you get—’
‘I don’t believe you,’ I said. ‘I’ve confided everything in you. Isn’t it time you did the same with me? Who did we dig up that night?’
‘I’ve got to go,’ Theresa said.
‘Why? What’s the hurry, Theresa?’ But the only response was a dead dial tone. I exhaled a long deep sigh. She didn’t deny that the body wasn’t Luke. Judging by the state of the remains, they had to be at least ten years old. And then, just like that, the answer crept into my mind. Theresa sobbing over the skull. How she had carefully and gently wrapped it before taking it with her. There was never any question of me disposing of the body – because it meant so much to her. Emma and Theresa’s mother had not walked out on them. She had been murdered. Was that what this was all about? Theresa genuinely loved Jamie, and now we were taking him away. I couldn’t believe that Theresa would want to hurt her family, but something strange was going on. I gripped the steering wheel as I stared at the ebb and flow of the tide. If I risked driving through it, I could be stuck there even longer. But Emma could be in serious trouble. I might already be too late.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
EMMA
2017
The phone call from my husband had only served to pause proceedings. From what I gathered, he was stuck on the other side of the tide. Luke had stood over Theresa as she lied, his hand tightly gripping the back of her neck. I had not imagined the fear in her eyes.
‘Please,’ I whimpered, barely able to find the breath to form my words. ‘I don’t want to die.’
Theresa turned to Luke, stilling his motions.
‘Wait,’ she said, and relief swept over me as she saw sense. But it was short lived as she took a piece of paper from the dresser drawer and scribbled. ‘We should leave a suicide note in her bedroom, just like before. We don’t want this coming back to us.’
‘But it’ll burn in the fire,’ Luke said, his eyes narrowing as he looked from me to my sister.
‘There’s a tin box under her bed. If you put the letter in there, it’ll preserve it from the flames.’
‘No! You can’t do this!’ I fought for my life as I squirmed in the hard wooden chair. I couldn’t believe my own sister could turn against me in this way.
‘Jamie will be safe with me,’ she said, her words plunging me into despair. ‘He deserves more than you can give him. I’m sorry. It’s for the best.’
I screamed her name, but she didn’t flinch, just reached out and handed Luke the notepaper. ‘You’ve got to leave the second you light the fire. I’ll call the fire service once it takes hold. There’s an extinguisher in the kitchen,’ she said. ‘I’ll make it look like I’ve been trying to put it out.’
Luke nodded and left to place the note in my bedroom. On his return he sneered in my direction, his enjoyment at my predicament plain to see.
‘C’mon, we’re running out of time,’ Theresa said, disappearing briefly to the kitchen before returning with the extinguisher. Luke watched her warily, his expression revealing pleasurable surprise that my sister would betray me in this way.
‘Please,’ I cried, my throat raw from screaming. ‘I’m sorry. Please let me go. I won’t say a word . . .’ I coughed, the smell of petrol cutting my words short.
Luke gave me one last ghoulish smile before standing at the door, still holding the lighter. He flicked the wheel and it burst into life, the small flame signalling what was to come. Throwing the lighter to the floor, he turned his back on me as flames sprung to life in the room. I could not believe they had both left me here alone. Within seconds, the room was alight. My home was like a matchbox, providing kindling for the fire. I prayed for Alex to reach me in time. Wouldn’t someone see the flames? But by that time, it would surely be too late for me. My consciousness fought two battles, trying to understand my sister’s betrayal while coming to terms with the fact that I was going to die. Tears streaked down my cheeks as flames licked the walls of the living room, spreading towards the furnishings until the circle was complete. I felt like an object up for sacrifice and lowered my head into my shoulder as I tried not to breathe in the acrid smoke. If I could just get away. My heart beat double time, the bindings tearing the skin on my wrists and ankles as I fought. But the fumes made my vision blur, and within seconds the room began to spin. I closed my eyes as searing heat engulfed me, only to be tugged awake as something pulled at my wrists. My eyes snapped open, the sudden movement making me cough. It was Theresa. After releasing the contents of the fire extinguisher, she was undoing my ropes. Was she trying to make it look as if I had taken my own life? Surely, anyone finding me would know my hands had been tied? I should have pretended I was unconscious, got away when her back was turned, but my lungs burned in my chest, forcing me to splutter as I heaved for air.
‘He’s gone,’ she said, frantically undoing the knots that bound me. ‘Sorry. It was the only way I could think to get rid of him. The police wouldn’t have got here on time. Stay with me, please. I can’t lose you too.’
Overwhelming relief washed over me as I realised she had been pretending to play along. If she had screamed at Alex to call the police then Luke would have killed her too. With the tide in, they would never have reached us in time. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes as I struggled to speak. ‘Come on,’ she growled, tugging at the bindings.
‘Just get me out,’ I croaked, the crackle and hiss of the wooden floors almost deafening. The contents of our tiny fire extinguisher had only served to dampen the flames, not put them out. We’d have to move fast if we were to get out alive.
‘Go!’ she said, picking up the fire extinguisher and turning it back on. But the tiny expulsion of foam was not enough to fight the fiery war from within. I watched horrified as pictures peeled and curled from the walls, as everything I knew became blackened and disintegrated. My legs like jelly, I pulled the neck of my sweatshirt over my mouth, masking the fumes as the furniture took hold. A slice of fear rose up as I saw Luke, his features contorted with anger, stumbling into the living room in front of us.
‘Fucking bitches!’ he roared, shielding his head with his forearms as he ran through the flames to get to us.
Disbelief scored my brain.
He was unstoppable. Just when I thought I was safe, he was back. Drawing back his fist, he punched me hard in the stomach, making me drop to my knees in pain. The circle of flames was growing stronger now, burning my flesh, the fumes invading my lungs. I was wasting precious seconds. I needed to get outside, to claw back some air. Black circles spotted my vision. I was too weak to fight any more.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
ALEX
2017
After waiting what felt like a lifetime, I put my car into gear. Water still flooded the road, but as long as I drove steadily, I was confident I could get through. I held my breath as the sea splashed against my windows, the reflection of the moon appearing in hazy zig-zags before me. Having found purchase on the road and come out the other side, I put my foot down on the accelerator, aware that my drenched brakes could fail, but all I could think about was Emma and the need to get to her as quickly as I could. My heart sank in my chest. There was no sign of Theresa anywhere on the road. I raced through the traffic, aware of a blue flashing light in my rear-view mirror. I didn’t care if they came up behind me, I was not stopping until I got to my wife. Thoughts spread through my mind like wildfire, my brain trying to work things out.
I pulled on the steering wheel as I negotiated a bend, sending stones flying from the ditch and rattling against the paintwork of my car. In the distance, the flashing lights were advancing as I sped down the twisty lane. That was good, wasn’t it? But what if it were not me they were after? What if something had happened to Emma?
As I turned the corner, my worst nightmare became reality. The sky was flamed with red, and the sight stole the breath from my lungs. It was only then that I realised it was not the police gaining in the distance, but a fire engine – on its way to our home. But where was Emma? ‘Please God, don’t be inside,’ I whispered, my words laced with dread. Pulling up my handbrake, I skidded on to our drive. Flames leaped from the top of the building, the heat beating me back. I focused my gaze on a man running in through the open front door. Was that Luke? What was he doing here? Stumbling over my own feet, I ran to the house, but the whole of the entrance was engulfed in flames. ‘Emma!’ I called, praying for a sight of her, but whoever had run inside was making no sign of coming back out. I scrambled around to the side of the house, trying to find a way in, but the searing heat beat me back every time. My heart hammered against my ribcage. I could not lose her, not now. I was getting her out – even if it killed me.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
EMMA
2017
Sweat slicked my skin, the heat of the flames making it hot and blistered. Fingers pressed into my flesh and shook my shoulder hard. Slowly, my eyelids fluttered open, and I realised I had passed out on the floor. I recoiled as I saw Luke beside me, blood pooling beneath his head. A horrible sense of déjà vu encompassed me, and the scene took on a surreal tone.
‘Get up,’ Theresa coughed, grabbing the fire extinguisher and turning it back on. The butt of the metal was streaked with blood. With one hand, she wrenched me from the ground. ‘Out the back. I’ll keep you covered.’
I stumbled through the smoke and flames towards the back door, my legs like rubber bands. Light bulbs popped and fizzed overhead, sprinkling us in glass. In the hall, the smoke alarm beeped beneath the full roar of the hungry fire. Hissing and spitting, it consumed all in its path, and soon we would be next. Plunged in darkness, I had only the flames to light my way. My lungs felt like they were caving in on me as I heaved for breath. I fought to stay conscious as my world closed in. I presumed Theresa was behind me until I heard Luke call her name. He was still going, still after us – still alive. I was in the kitchen now, and the scene took on a dreamlike quality as I turned around to find her. But my legs buckled beneath me as darkness closed in once more.
Looking up into the face of my husband I wondered if I was dreaming. A flashing blue light illuminated the night as he hovered over me. The cool night air touched my blistered skin, and I realised I was outside. For a second time I tried to call out Theresa’s name. ‘Thank God you’re OK,’ he said, answering my question. My lungs were burning as I drew in air, feeling as if I was breathing in hot coals. I grimaced as I tried to swallow, barely able to raise my head from the ground.
‘Shh, stay where you are. The ambulance is on its way.’
I blinked through the pain of crusted eyes as I watched my house go up in flames. The roof had caved in, and I knew whoever was still in there would not be coming out alive.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
EMMA
Twelve months later
The playground seems different today, and I’m glad Alex managed to persuade me to visit Mersea again. I watch as Jamie reacquaints himself with the equipment, his face alight with pride as he negotiates the slide he was too scared to climb before. I hold my husband’s hand as we stand side by side, watching him. I can’t believe we made it, after all we’ve both been through.
Alex has felt the change in me too. The couple who were going to buy our house in Mersea went ahead and bought the land. It felt strange to see new foundations on the site where our old place used to be. Given what had happened, it was probably for the best. Too many bad things had happened there. Malevolence had seeped into the very framework, causing misery and misfortune to its dwellers. The deaths within would be enough to put most people off, but luckily our buyers were willing to put aside such reservations.
Our new home in Leeds is so bright and airy in comparison. I wake up bathed in sunlight, which sets me up for the day ahead. Josh has made such a success of managing the Colchester branch of Something Borrowed that he’s had to take on extra staff. I’ve learned how to work the online side of things and am content with that for now. It frees up more time with Jamie and I love chatting with the other mums when I pick him up at the school gates. It feels good to envelop him in the warm hugs I was deprived of as a child. Alex’s family have embraced me into the fold, none the wiser of Jamie’s true parentage. Call it magical thinking, but Alex and I have come to an agreement. We are Jamie’s parents. The DNA test results have been destroyed. I didn’t deliberately set out to deceive my husband, because deep down I always saw Jamie as his. I’m still coming to terms with Theresa’s death but have finally managed to free myself from the shackles of guilt and remorse that kept me bound. She’s buried beside Mum in Colchester, and I’m visiting their graves later today. Josh has been so kind, placing flowers in my absence.
There’s only one dark cloud on the horizon. In the quiet times, he creeps into my thoughts. Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of him: a man sitting in a passing bus, a hooded figure in the distance. Other times I feel his eyes on the back of my neck. I know he’s dead but I half expect him to return. I think of the day I almost killed him, how he taunted me about all those girls. I take comfort in the knowledge that he cannot prey on such innocence again. At least everything is out in the open now. I told the police the truth, and after months of investigation, Mum has finally been put to rest.
Releasing my hand, Alex hoists Jamie on to the swing.
‘Higher, Daddy, higher,’ he giggles, and this time I am happy to let him fly. I’m not going to waste another second of my life fretting. I sit in the swing beside him, push it back as I stand on my tiptoes and launch myself into the air.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you for reading Silent Victim. The subject of grooming and abuse is one I have encountered many times in my career, having worked in specialised roles dealing with vulnerable victims and sexual abuse cases. For each case I have handled, there are many more which have gone unreported owing to fear, unwarranted shame or social stigma.
I would urge anyone in such circumstances to find help, whether it be from the police, a family member, or one of the many helplines available to people in need. It is important for victims to know they are not alone, and equally important to report past abuse to ensure it doesn’t happen again.
If you have enjoyed this book, I would be immensel
y grateful if you could write an Amazon review. Just a couple of lines can help new readers discover my work. Perhaps you could recommend my books to friends, family or your local book club. I’m also on social media if you’d like to get in touch. I do hope you can join me for my next offering.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to:
The wonderful team at Thomas & Mercer, particularly to my editors, Jane Snelgrove, Sophie Missing and Jack Butler, who have given great thought into shaping this book to being the very best it could be.
Madeleine Milburn and her team, in my opinion the best literary agency in London. I feel truly blessed to have them at the helm.
The amazingly wicked group of authors I’m a part of. I’m very fortunate to belong to this scene.
Mel Sherratt, Angela Marsons and Lindsay J. Pryor, who have encouraged me from day one. A nicer trio of authors you couldn’t meet.
The book reviewers and clubs who have championed my books and spread the word.
Last but not least, my friends and family. Your support means so very much to me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A former police detective, Caroline Mitchell now writes full-time.
She has worked in CID and specialised in roles dealing with vulnerable victims – high-risk victims of domestic abuse and serious sexual offences. The mental strength shown by the victims of these crimes is a constant source of inspiration to her, and Mitchell combines their tenacity with her knowledge of police procedure to create tense psychological thrillers.
Originally from Ireland, she now lives in a pretty village on the coast of Essex with her husband and three children.
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