Psychological Thriller Series: Adam Stanley Boxed Set: Behind Shadows, Positively Murder and Mind Bender

by Netta Newbound

  Alone again, Amanda cleared her throat. "So how was your week?"

  "Great actually. I received some good news on Thursday. They finally found the driver responsible for my wife's death."

  "Oh …" Her eyebrows furrowed.

  Reading her face, he realised she hadn’t a clue what the hell he was talking about, which was hard to believe considering he knew so much about her.

  "Sorry, I thought I'd told you."

  She smiled, shaking her head.

  "My wife, Sarah, was killed in a hit and run last year. The driver wasn't at fault, but it always haunted me that they took off, without facing the music."

  Her eyebrows furrowed again. "I can imagine. It must have been awful."

  He picked up his fork and scraped at one of the prongs with his fingernail, before glancing back at her. "An old lady in her seventies handed herself in this week."

  “An old lady? Shit! I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

  “I know. I’d convinced myself it would be a total waste of space, a druggie or alcoholic. Not a terrified grandmother who’d never even had so much as a parking ticket in her life.”

  “Why didn’t she stop? I realise she must have panicked, but even so.”

  “Her driving licence had lapsed. Stupid really, she’d have saved a lot of heartache if she’d just come forward. She’s been going out of her mind with guilt.”

  "Earlier, you said Thursday—you called me on Thursday," she said.

  "Yes, that's right. I figured now the final puzzle piece is in place, it's time for me to move on. And here I am." He shrugged, giving her his best knock-em-dead smile.

  She laughed. It wasn’t the reaction he'd hoped for, which highlighted he needed more practice schmoozing women.

  "How's it going with Mary?" he asked.

  Mario returned with their wine and made a big production of pouring a splash into Adam's glass, awaiting his verdict before pouring more. He used lots of hand gestures and flicks of a white napkin.

  They both burst out laughing once he left them alone again.

  "Mary's doing well," Amanda said. "Of course we’ve had a few wobbly moments here and there, but on the whole she's amazing."

  "That's good to hear. Is she settling in at school?"

  "Yeah, she's made lots of new friends—she had her first sleepover last weekend."

  Amanda's brother left his daughter, Mary, in her care before going on the run. Amanda hadn't even known Mary existed before then, but she’d welcomed her with open arms. Andrew initially vanished at the age of fifteen. For years, Amanda feared their paedophile father, Dennis Kidd, was responsible for his disappearance. When Dennis was released from prison, Andrew returned, seeking revenge on their childhood abusers one by one.

  Adam nodded. "And what about Michael? Do you see much of him?"

  "Every second weekend when he takes the kids."

  Amanda's husband, Michael, had been having an affair at the same time as the murders. Michael even made a statement pointing the finger at Amanda as the killer. Adam had no time for the man whatsoever.

  "And no—I've heard nothing from Andrew," she said.

  "I wasn't going to ask that."

  "I guessed you'd want to know, and I didn't want the question hanging between us all night."

  Adam smiled. "That's not the reason I asked you out, you know."

  "I know."

  "And anyway, he's vanished, just like last time. I guess he won't be found until he wants to be."

  Mario came over to take their order.

  "Oh, we haven't even looked at the menus yet." Adam laughed. "Can you give us five more minutes?"

  "Certainly, sir." Mario backed away, with a bow and more flicking of the napkin.

  "You think he belongs on a stage?" Amanda asked, giggling.

  "He's his own one-man show." Adam shook his head in amazement and they both cracked up laughing again as they watched the smarmy young man rush through the kitchen doors.

  "What do you fancy?" Adam asked, opening his menu.

  "I fancy pasta but my spaghetti sucking skills need a bit of work, especially in this dress." She laughed again and sucked her lips together, twisting them in on each other in an exaggerated kissing motion.

  Adam burst out laughing too. "After that little spaghetti sucking display I recommend the lasagne."

  "Ha, cheeky!" Her eyes sparkled.

  Their relaxed manner in each other’s company pleased Adam. He hadn't been sure which way the date would go, considering the amount of baggage they both had.

  Chapter 10

  I got some sleep by crawling underneath Yvonne's bed, which worried me. It seemed as though my old problem had returned with a vengeance. I hadn’t slept in a bed for years as a child, but that had been almost thirty-five years ago.

  I scrambled out when Gavin called my name, and bumped into him on the stairs leading to the bungalow's two dormer bedrooms.

  "Oh, there you are, I've been looking for you. I thought you might be doing an early shift," he said, backing down the stairs.

  "No, I'm not working this weekend. I ended up sleeping in Vonny's room because you were soaking wet and wouldn't stop coughing."

  "I know. I stripped the sheets off the bed. They're sodden. Maybe the medication I'm taking has side effects, or I could be coming down with something."

  "Maybe." I followed him into the kitchen. Gavin's pills were on the worktop, but I hadn't checked them out. Didn't want to know what I had to look forward to.

  I couldn't begin to imagine a full weekend in Gavin's company. I wished I’d volunteered myself for the weekend shift.

  You need to make a plan.

  I screwed up my face and shook my head. A plan? What kind of plan?

  I filled the kettle and opened the fridge, disgusted by the meagre contents—two eggs, a sliver of cheese, a squishy, almost rotten tomato and half a loaf. I realised there was one activity I could busy myself with—grocery shopping.

  I cooked a cheese and tomato omelette for Gavin and I made do with a slice of toast and coffee.

  Afterwards, I took a bath while Gavin caught up with his recorded programmes.

  Fresh and ready to face the world, I found Gavin sitting at the kitchen table reading the front page of the paper. He jumped as I entered and opened the newspaper, turning his attention to the centre pages. An image of the dead man now faced me.

  The photograph made him appear at least two stone heavier, but there was no mistaking the eyes—cold and lifeless, even before he died. I shuddered, stepping closer to read the article.

  My stomach clenched when I read that a woman had been locked in the back of the van. How the hell did they know? My legs turned to jelly and I had to grab the edge of the table in order to keep myself upright.

  Keep calm and pull yourself together.

  Gavin, his head still in the paper, didn't appear to notice my reaction.

  "I'm going shopping, do you need anything?" I grabbed my keys off the hook and headed for the front door.

  "No thanks." His voice sounded thick and gruff.

  In the car, I tried to calm my breathing. I was amazed that Gavin hadn't picked up on my strange behaviour. I guess he'd always been self-centered.

  You need a plan.

  There it was again. I had no idea what type of plan so shrugged it off—the trusted voice had flaws after all.

  With a full shopping trolley, I headed to the checkout. Steven, a student who only worked weekends, didn't seem his usual bubbly self.

  "Are you okay, Steven?" I asked.

  He shrugged. "A bit pissed off, between me and you." He whispered, glancing around.

  "Oh?"

  "Yeah, Gabby give us all a lecture this morning. She said the till was down last night and she freatened us all wiv our jobs. I don't know why she included me. I haven't even been here since last week."

  "I wouldn't worry. She knows it wasn't you. I worked last night. How much is missing?"

  "Seventeen quid, give o
r take."

  "Probably just a mistake, these things happen." I gave him my most sincere smile, but inside, my stomach twirled.

  I hadn't even thought about the till’s balancing when I handed over the cash to Chantelle. I wasn’t a very good criminal after all and would have to be more careful in the future. In the larger stores, the operators have to balance their own money trays by the end of their shift, but not in this store. There was a daily float and the tills were used by any available member of staff. I felt guilty for getting the other staff in trouble, but not for what I’d done.

  Before heading home, I made a quick stop at the library.

  Felicity Carroll had been librarian for the past twenty years or more and had the reputation of being a terrible gossip. She eyed me as I booked a session on the internet.

  "Thought you had your own computer at home," she quizzed.

  "Internet problems." I smiled.

  I chose the computer furthest from Felicity and kept her in my sight at all times. I didn't need her peeping over my shoulder. Satisfied she couldn't see, I typed my question into google.

  How to track my partner?

  Thousands of sites came up with hundreds of suggestions. I read a few. One woman put her husband’s hunting dog collar in the boot of his car and managed to track him, catching him in the arms of his mistress. She humiliated him and threw him out of the house.

  Maybe that's all I need to do, throw him out. What he did afterwards would be down to him and none of my business.

  He won't stop spreading his disease, so you will have to.

  I nodded in agreement. Gavin couldn't see any wrong in his continued sexual proclivity.

  I glanced back at the screen. Other sites suggested a private detective, which wouldn't work in my case. I already knew what he was up to, I just needed to know when and where.

  The top answer was to download an app to his phone. I'd recently taken a Computers for Beginners course which enabled me to master how to retrieve my emails and do a google search, but not much else. However, I read each step and felt pretty confident by the time I left the library. First, I would need to upgrade my own phone.

  I made a detour to the cell phone shop in the high street.

  Half an hour later, I walked out with a snazzy little phone fitted with all the bells and whistles. Finley, the sales assistant, gave me a comprehensive training session. I knew I wouldn’t remember it all. However, I had the weekend to master it.

  Gavin helped me unload the car and seemed pleased that we finally had some food in the house. It's true what they say—you don't appreciate something until it’s gone. Food had never even occurred to Gavin before now. I'm sure he thought the magic pantry fairies stocked the shelves while we slept, never mind helping to carry the bags from the car.

  So, although we were behaving civilised in each other’s company, things were far from normal. Yet neither of us wished to discuss the problem.

  Gavin picked up the mobile phone bag and peered inside, a puzzled look on his face.

  "I lost my old phone," I explained. "The salesman talked me into getting a smart-phone, says they're all the rage."

  "You should have talked to me. I'd have recommended an IPhone, I love mine."

  "This one will do me fine."

  Later on, I downloaded the Find my Phone app, then the find my friend’s phone app. I didn't add Gavin's details yet. The website said he would need to allow me access to his whereabouts and would be sent an email for confirmation. I needed to get my hands on his phone before I could go any further.

  I didn't have to wait too long. When I went through to the lounge, Gavin had fallen fast asleep on the sofa. I slid his phone off the coffee table and scurried to the bathroom.

  Within minutes, I'd downloaded the app onto his phone and hid the icon into a folder I renamed instruction manual. I accepted the request when the email arrived before deleting it, and voila—done.

  I tiptoed back into the lounge and replaced the phone, then drove to the end of the street.

  The app had no problem telling me the whereabouts of Gavin's phone, showing me the address. The map even showed the exact position inside the building.

  I whooped with delight.

  Chapter 11

  The following Tuesday Gavin told me he intended to stay away for the night. I panicked, terrified of what this meant for me.

  I tried to talk him out of it, but he looked at me as though I'd gone stark staring mad.

  I'd never been bothered in all the years he'd stayed away, and he couldn't understand why I'd make such a song and dance about it now.

  “It’s my job, Mel.” Was all he said before shrugging me off.

  After he had left for work, I rang Gabby.

  "Sorry to drop you in it, Gabs, but I won't be in tonight." I felt terrible for letting her down but figured she had the whole day to arrange cover.

  "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

  "You could say that,” I said. “I'll explain when I see you." At least I'd have a couple of days to think up a story.

  Obsessed with my new gadget, I'd watched every move Gavin made yesterday, although he'd spent most of the day in his office. Today I intended to do the same.

  He spent the morning in his office, visiting the village around lunchtime and returning to the office ten minutes later.

  At two thirty, he hit the road, heading to London. I figured I should get going myself, giving me plenty of time to plan my next move.

  Dressed once again in black, I rummaged in the back of the airing cupboard where I’d hidden the wrench. I couldn’t find it.

  Where is it? Panic tore at my nerve endings until my hand gripped the pillowcase and I dragged it forward. My legs weakened with relief.

  Catching my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I froze.

  What the hell am I doing? This is ridiculous. This isn't me.

  Stop being a coward. You need to do this.

  Over the past couple of days, the voice had changed. Just subtle differences at first, but now I knew exactly who it was.

  My mother.

  As a child, I'd never argued with my mother. As far as I remembered, no-one else had and come out on top.

  "I'm not a coward, but why is all this down to me? I'm a victim too," I said aloud.

  If you stand by and allow this to continue, Melissa, then that makes you no better than the snivelling creep you married.

  Now get in the car. You are doing this, unless you want to be responsible for harming more innocent people.

  She was right again, as always. But I couldn't bear the thought of seeing that death stare ever again. Carl Pilkington's eyes haunted me every time I tried to sleep.

  What you're doing is the lesser of two evils. Right?

  I hesitated and refreshed the app on my phone. It showed Gavin still on the motorway.

  I might have known you'd change your mind. You always were a snivelling idiot.

  "I'm not a snivelling idiot," I said. "What do you want from me? I'm not a killer. The plumber was an accident."

  That's exactly what you are if you allow this to go on. Imagine if your precious Vonny or Stella was married to the disgusting specimen Gavin meets tonight. His wife is someone’s daughter JUST LIKE THEM.

  He might not be meeting anybody—just because he's staying away.

  Have you heard yourself? To tot up figures in the hundreds, he must get his end away every chance he gets. Now pull yourself together, this minute!

  I rushed to the sink as fiery bile projected from my stomach, coating my tongue and gums with acrid acid.

  Once my stomach settled, I drank a glass of milk to quell the burn.

  Of course, everything Mum said was right. What choice did I have?

  I grabbed my stuff and headed for the car.

  ***

  "Was that the last patient, Denise?" Joe asked as the surgery door closed behind the elderly client.

  "Mrs Gillespie was booked in for a filling but she hasn't arrived." D
enise shrugged.

  "Oh well, that's her hard luck. I'm not waiting around now—she'll have to re-book. You might as well get off, it's almost five anyway. I'll switch the phones over."

  Denise didn't need telling twice. She jumped up and snatched her green waxed jacket from the coat stand.

  "Thanks, Joe. See you in the morning."

  Joe smiled as she almost fell over herself to get out of the door. He thought she liked her job, but he'd never seen anyone more eager to get out of the door every day.

  She'd been his receptionist for three years and he knew no more about her private life today than he had three years ago. Once he made the mistake of trying to question her, and she told him, in no uncertain terms, that it was none of his business.

  Although a bit of a dragon, she proved to be fantastic at her job. He no longer had unpaid accounts—she told the patients what she expected and nobody argued.

  Locking the front door behind her, he watched as she crossed the busy high street and ducked down the side of the building opposite, heading to the multi-storey car park.

  Joe glanced at his watch. Five more minutes and he could switch the phones over to the after-hours call centre. He walked behind reception and sat down in Denise's still warm, leather chair.

  He pressed a button on the telephone console for an outside line and dialled his home number.

  Bethany answered on the first ring. "Helloo-oo."

  "Hi gorgeous. How's your day been?"

  "Great. Your mum's been here all afternoon. She fed Chloe up on sweets though—I reckon she'll be up all night." She laughed.

  "She likes to spoil her only grandchild, what can I say …"

  "I'm just kidding. She seems to love her new home, reckons it's the best place she's ever lived and wishes she and your dad moved into the retirement village years ago."

  "They hadn't retired years ago."

  "I know. But apparently you can move in there at fifty-five."

  Joe shrugged and shook his head. "Anyway, just ringing to remind you I'll be late tonight."

  "I remembered. Sonya's gonna call in after work for an hour or two so take your time. It's ages since we've had a catch-up."