Deception Wears Many Faces: a stunning psychological drama that will keep you turning the pages

by Maggie James

  My only regret was that I’d have to drag Ellie into the whole sorry mess, despite her reluctance to involve the police. I dreaded to think what that might do to her mental health.

  I’d talk to my sister as soon as possible. With any luck she’d understand. She might even come with me to the police.

  My mobile was on the coffee table. I fired off a quick text. No details, just asking if she was free tomorrow morning, saying we needed to talk further.

  Armed with cloths and cleaning spray, I tackled the mess on my carpet, my ears on alert for a reply. Nothing. I considered my options. I’d go to Ellie’s place in the morning whether I’d heard back from her or not. If she wasn’t home, I’d have to text her, then head to Bridewell anyway. Whatever happened I’d be unmasking Scott to the police in the next twenty-four hours.

  I awoke the next morning after a fractured night’s rest, my sleep punctured with nightmares. Sophie, bleeding to death in a filthy alleyway. Scott, forcing a syringe of heroin into Darcy’s arm. A whisky and wine hangover pounded at my temples, causing me to groan when I lifted my head from my pillow. The first thing I did was check my mobile. No response from Ellie. Concerned, I fired off another text. And waited. Still nothing.

  By lunchtime I’d sent several messages and called twice, only to be met with her voicemail. Panic mounted within me at the thought she might have attempted suicide for the fourth time. The police would have to wait. First I needed to ensure Ellie’s safety.

  I drove to her flat in St George. I had a key, so I let myself in, checking each room. No sign of her, although everything appeared in order.

  I phoned Mum, outlining the reason for my concern. ‘Has she called you?’ I finished.

  ‘No. I’ve not heard from her for a couple of days.’ Anxiety sounded in her voice. ‘Oh, God. Where can she have gone?’

  I blew out a breath. ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Let me know the moment you find her.’

  ‘I’ll call you straightaway.’

  I paced the floor all afternoon, willing my mobile to vibrate into life. At six o’clock, my prayer was granted.

  Sorry didn’t get back to you before. Have taken the train to the cottage. Needed time to think.

  I fired off a reply. You OK?

  My mobile pinged. I just want to die. Hurting so much.

  Terror shot through me. I dropped the phone, scrabbling to retrieve it from the floor. My mouth dry with fear, I called Ellie’s number, but it went straight to voicemail.

  I just want to die. What had been the catalyst this time? Had our recent estrangement pushed my sister over the edge? But we’d rescued our relationship, hadn’t we?

  Another ping from my mobile. Can you come to the cottage? Not sure I want to live anymore. Too much guilt over Alyson.

  So that was the reason. Her best friend would have turned twenty-five next week had she survived the crash. I was betting that was why Ellie had plummeted downhill so suddenly. Thank God she’d reached out for help this time, not tried to kill herself. It was progress, and hadn’t I intended us to talk face to face anyway? This way was better. Surrounded by the lush Devon scenery, Ellie and I could work through her issues. No way would I tell her about Darcy and Sophie’s murders, or my plans to involve the police, not while she was so fragile.

  I grabbed my bag and car keys. Within a couple of hours, I’d be on the south coast, depending on the traffic.

  I tried calling her again. To my relief, this time she answered. ‘Lyddie?’ Her voice was a murmur, no more.

  I forced calm into my tone. ‘Just hold on, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  ‘Devon seems a good place to end my life.’ Such exhaustion in her voice. ‘Remember how steep the cliffs are?’

  ‘No,’ I whispered. ‘Don’t do anything stupid. Please.’

  ‘I need you. Please come.’

  ‘I will. Right away.’

  ‘Don’t bring Mum. I can’t face her right now.’

  Once I ended the call, I tapped out another text. Leaving home now. Will be with you soon so we can talk. I love you. X.

  Next I phoned our mother.

  ‘Oh, no. I’d so hoped Eleanor was on the mend. Help her, Lydia. For God’s sake, stop my baby girl from hurting herself.’ Mum’s sobs tore at my heart. I promised I’d do whatever it took to drag my sister back from the brink.

  Time to pack. I crammed clothes into a suitcase before hurtling into the bathroom. Five minutes later I ran down the stairs and out of the door.

  The drive to Devon took longer than I’d hoped, the traffic being heavy all the way, and I didn’t get there until 8.30pm. I arrived frazzled, but as I turned down the lane to the cottage my thoughts remained optimistic. I switched off the engine, stepped out of my car and grabbed my suitcase from the boot. As I did, I glanced at the cottage, seeing the curtains twitch in the living room. Thank God. My sister hadn’t killed herself, and my knees almost buckled, so great was my relief. I took my key from my handbag, inserted it into the lock, and pushed open the door.

  ‘Ellie?’ My voice echoed up the stairs and through the hallway, only to be met with silence. My ears detected no other sounds in the cottage. Overwrought as I was, I must have imagined seeing the curtain move. I squashed the thought she might be at the cliffs, intent on killing herself. Hadn’t she promised she’d wait for me?

  She must be in the back garden, I decided. I dumped my suitcase on the floor, then started towards the kitchen, before stopping halfway. A faint whiff of fragrance teased my nostrils, made me inhale a slow, deep breath. As my lungs filled, recognition sparked in my brain. Followed by denial.

  Impossible. Wasn’t I tired, stressed, concerned about Ellie? I was imagining things, surely.

  Time stopped after I released the lungful of breath I’d been holding. I took another, smaller inhalation. Still the same hint of fragrance, the musky aroma causing my nails to sink deep into my palms. Aftershave, without a doubt, its scent familiar. Slowly, and with caution, I turned around.

  And looked straight into Scott Champion’s eyes.

  21

  ‘Hello, Lyddie,’ Scott said. ‘So glad you could join me.’

  I couldn’t speak, my mouth drier than cotton-wool as I stared at him. Gone was the mask he’d worn before. In front of me stood the real Scott, a smirk on his lips, malevolence in his eyes. His wide-legged, thumbs-hooked-in-belt stance reeked of arrogance served with a side dish of menace. He’d positioned himself between me and the front door. I didn’t even try to run to the rear entrance. He’d overpower me before I made it halfway. Besides, there was Ellie to consider. Oh, God. Had my sister already become his third victim?

  As if he could read my mind, Scott stepped forward, that damn smirk still on his mouth. ‘You’ll be wondering about Ellie. Where she is. Whether she’s still in one piece.’

  ‘If she’s not, I’ll kill you myself, you fucking bastard.’

  He laughed. ‘Well, aren’t you the feisty one? Be careful, Lyddie.’ He took another step towards me. ‘You’ll need to keep me sweet if you hope to see that sister of yours alive.’

  Relief overwhelmed me on hearing my sister wasn’t dead. My eyes glanced around, searching for possible weapons. Nothing. The hallway was devoid of furniture apart from a small table, on which stood the landline and a vase of dried flowers.

  ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To see Ellie?’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Not here. I have her close by, though, and she won’t be going anywhere. She’s tied up, all safe and secure.’ He gestured towards the living room. ‘Shall we? You first.’

  I complied, the familiarity of my surroundings suddenly alien. The furniture appeared the same, the way the sunlight streamed through the windows, but he’d polluted everything by his presence. The cottage was no longer the sanctuary it had always been. In my peripheral vision, I checked the room. A solid table lamp to my left, a heavy marble vase to my right, both possible weapons.

  ‘Sit.
’ Scott pointed at the armchair furthest from the door. I obeyed, my eyes never leaving his face. He squatted in front of me.

  ‘I have a question for you,’ he said.

  ‘Where the hell is Ellie?’ I demanded.

  He shook his head, his smirk widening. ‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you? The great Lyddie Hunter, believing she’d pulled the wool over my eyes. But I’m smarter, sweetheart. I’ve been ahead of you every step of the game we’ve played with each other, and hasn’t it been fun?’ His grin morphed into a glare, one that pierced me with hatred. Fear sparked in my belly. I recalled Sophie, Darcy, aware I couldn’t relax my guard for a second. Not if Ellie and I were to survive.

  Scott stood up, then leaned over my chair, his hands on the arm rests. He brought his face so close to mine that his breath fanned my lips.

  ‘I ask the questions, not you,’ he said.

  ‘What have you done with my sister?’

  ‘Oh, Lyddie. Didn’t I make myself clear?’ With that, he stepped back, his hand cracking a vicious blow across my left cheek. A cry of pain issued from my mouth, my body twisting after another slap landed on my right side. A stinging pain exploded through my face, and with it, rage. To hell with this shit. Instinct kicked in and I launched myself at him, my fists pummelling his chest, fury in every cell I possessed. He was too big, too strong, however, and within seconds he held my wrists tight in a savage grip.

  ‘I’ll tell you again. I ask the questions, not you. My first is: where’s the money you stole from me?’

  That puzzled me. If he’d abducted Ellie, why hadn’t she told him I’d given it to her? My fragile sister wouldn’t have lasted five seconds with this version of Scott before she crumbled. He must know she had the cash. Perhaps he’d killed her in a fit of rage before getting his answer, and my legs buckled with terror. If Scott hadn’t been gripping me so tightly, I’d have dropped to the floor like a discarded tissue.

  ‘And I have a second question. How did you find out I wasn’t the loving boyfriend I pretended to be?’

  I snorted in derision. ‘I paid a surprise visit to the real Scott Champion in Southville. After that, everything fell into place.’

  A frown twisted his lips. ‘I did wonder whether I’d overplayed my hand in renting the Airbnb room. Not that it matters anymore.’

  ‘You cocky bastard. Yeah, you overreached yourself all right.’

  ‘You need to watch your mouth,’ he ground out, his spittle landing on my chin. ‘I have the advantage here, remember. How did you discover where I was living? Open the safe?’

  Despite his warning, I couldn’t help myself. ‘I have a question for you, dickhead. How did you guess it was me who took your money?’

  Another harsh laugh. ‘I knew straightaway who the thief was.’

  His words stunned me. Impossible, surely? I wetted my dry lips. ‘How?’

  ‘You really don’t know?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Let me see. What did her last post say?’ His voice rose high in a parody of a woman’s. ‘“Wow! You rock, girl! The bastard had it coming to him”.’ He grinned. ‘Recognise that, do you?’

  Bitter understanding hit me, another piece of the puzzle falling into place.

  ‘Heartbroken Helen isn’t so heartbroken, it seems. She’s proved very helpful.’ Another grin.

  I was stunned. ‘She’s one of your stooges? Like Darcy?’

  ‘No. Not like Darcy.’ He stood watching me, that smirk back on his lips. When I didn’t reply, he continued, ‘You stupid bitch. Don’t you get it? I’m Heartbroken Helen.’

  If I hadn’t been so terrified, I’d have cried. For Sophie, and her mother, both betrayed by Anna’s posts on Love Rats Exposed. And for myself, unmasked by my own revelations.

  Scott laughed. ‘There you were, bragging about how you got the better of me. Who’s the one choking on humble pie now?’

  My gaze shot daggers into him. ‘I hate you.’

  ‘Never try to con a con artist, Lyddie. I guess you’ve learned that lesson the hard way.’

  Yes, I had. I’d been blind, and stupid, and arrogant. A mere pawn, when I’d fancied myself queen of the game.

  ‘You should see your face,’ he jeered. ‘Not that long ago you were flashing those cow-eyes at me, banging on about how you loved me. God, that made me laugh. I suckered you well and truly, and you were too moonstruck to realise.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ I ground out. ‘You killed Darcy, didn’t you?’

  ‘Never trust a drug addict. She’d have set fire to her own mother to get her next fix, but she’d served her purpose.’

  ‘And Sophie Hannigan. You murdered her too. Through Darcy.’

  ‘She had it coming to her. The bitch was intending to blab to the police.’

  Scott lowered me back into the chair, leaning over me once more.

  ‘You have something that belongs to me,’ he said. ‘I want my money back.’

  ‘I don’t have it anymore. Ellie does.’

  ‘That’s not what she told me.’ Confusion filled me; why had she lied? She’d known the danger this man posed. Why risk her life that way?

  ‘You have my money. I have Ellie. A fair swap, wouldn’t you say?’

  I thought fast. The bundles of cash must still be at her flat, surely?

  Scott leaned over me, his face a mere inch from mine. ‘Answer me, bitch.’

  ‘I don’t have it, I swear.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter. You can get it for me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You’re not exactly poor. From your savings, of course.’

  He was right. Most of my funds were tied up in stock market investments, but I kept a healthy chunk of money in a bank deposit account. Enough to give the arsehole what he wanted.

  ‘Here’s what will happen,’ Scott said. ‘You’ll log onto your bank from your phone and transfer the cash. I’ll be watching you, so don’t pull any stunts. Just return what you stole and we’ll call it quits. Then you’ll get your sister back. Alive.’

  I nodded. What else could I do? Although a sliver of hope flickered within me.

  ‘That’ll create a trail,’ I said. ‘From my account to yours. And that’s good. You know why? Because it’ll act as an insurance policy. If I go missing, and the police investigate, they’ll find the bank transfer and dig deeper.’

  His lips curled in contempt. ‘You stupid cow. Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?’

  I stared at him, unable to spot any flaw in what I’d outlined.

  ‘You reckon Darcy was the only junkie who’d do anything I asked to get her next fix? I’ve already made arrangements with a coke-head I know. It’ll be her bank account I’ll use. She and I go way back but the police will never connect us. I’ll collect the money in cash from her tomorrow.’

  ‘Good luck with that. Your tame druggie will do a runner with it.’

  A snort of derision. ‘The bitch knows I’d slice her into a thousand pieces if she ever double-crossed me.’

  God, had I underestimated him. My main concern was Ellie and how best to ensure we both survived. I promised myself I’d rescue her somehow. After all, I was a strong, well-built woman, with a car waiting outside. I’d need to act fast, and on instinct, then outrun him and make it to my vehicle. First, though, I needed to know her location.

  ‘I’ll transfer the money,’ I said. ‘On one condition. That you let me speak with my sister. Proof of life and all that.’

  He grinned. ‘I thought you might make such a request.’

  I waited. He didn’t move, simply stared at me.

  ‘Let me speak with her,’ I repeated.

  ‘Persistent bitch, aren’t you? I’m a decent guy, though. Sure, I’ll allow you to talk to Ellie.’

  Surprise, mingled with relief, filled me.

  He pulled his mobile from one of his jacket pockets. ‘Everything’s set up for you two to chat. I’ve taped her phone to her hand. She can move her fingers enough to answer calls and put them on s
peakerphone. With any luck, she’ll be conscious by now.’ He tapped a few times on his mobile before laying it on the side table. Within two rings, Ellie’s voice, high and panicked, sounded into the room.

  ‘Lyddie?’ My heart twisted with love and relief. ‘Lyddie, is that you?’

  ‘I’m here, Els. What the hell happened?’

  ‘He broke into the cottage not long after I arrived. He didn’t expect me to be here, of course. Called it an unexpected bonus.’ A strangled sob. ‘I told him you were on your way, and that you’d phone the police, but he just laughed. Told me he intended to lure you to the cottage anyway. Said he liked how isolated the place is.’

  I shuddered at the implication. ‘He’d better not have hurt you.’

  Another sob. ‘He knocked me unconscious and tied me up. Blindfolded me too, so I can’t see anything. There are rats here though. One of them ran over my foot.’ From my peripheral vision, I saw Scott grin.

  ‘He wants the money. Why didn’t you tell him where it is?’

  ‘Because I don’t have it anymore.’

  ‘You see my problem, don’t you, Lyddie?’ Scott said.

  ‘What do you mean, Els?’

  ‘The bag of notes you stole from him. I couldn’t help thinking the money was tainted. So I gave it away. Like you told me to.’

  I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly. ‘You did what?’

  ‘Yeah, that was my reaction too,’ Scott interjected. ‘The stupid bitch took a bus into town, found a few down-and-outs, and handed them bundles of cash. My cash. Wasted on a load of bums who’ll blow it on drugs.’ Fury burned in his eyes.

  Typical Ellie. Impulsive, her judgement often poor following her head trauma, she’d taken my suggestion of donating it to charity literally. The result? Both of us had become pawns in Scott’s game and he’d almost forced us to checkmate. Unless I found a way to overcome him.