Lies: The stunning new psychological thriller you won't be able to put down!

by TM Logan

  As she showed me out, I remembered why the mention of Alex Kolnik’s visit to her house had fired a connection in my brain. The car park of the Premier Inn, Thursday night. A black Range Rover came down the ramp just as I was leaving.

  ‘One other thing, Beth. The Range Rover that Kolnik came to your house in. What colour was it?’

  She thought for a moment.

  ‘Black. Jet black.’

  43

  As soon as I stepped through the front door of my house, something felt wrong. At first I thought it was just because it was weird to be coming home at 2 p.m.: last period on a Tuesday was 8C, currently reading The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. I liked 8C, they were a good bunch.

  But then my skin registered a breeze coming through the house from the kitchen. I stopped, listened, and eased the front door shut very, very slowly. Taking care not to let the lock click into place.

  Someone had been here. Maybe they were still here.

  And then only one thought. Only one possible culprit.

  Ben.

  I stood still again, listening for any sound. The house was quiet. Weapon? There were a couple of umbrellas in a stand by the front door, a paperweight on the dresser, a vase on the windowsill. None of them great, especially if he was armed with a shotgun. I grabbed the paperweight, a snow globe of New York City, and crept through into the kitchen. Stopped again by the sink, listened, heard nothing. An artery in my neck pulsed hard and I swallowed against the sensation, picking up the rolling pin from the drying rack. The smooth wood had a decent heft to it. I moved through into the conservatory.

  The back door stood slightly ajar. Its top half had nine square glass panels – the one nearest the handle was smashed. Jagged pieces of glass were scattered on the floor, the key nowhere to be seen.

  I looked around trying to see what had been stolen.

  A pair of speakers were still on the end table, a pot half full of coins on the windowsill. Nothing seemed to be out of place in the kitchen either. The family iPad was still there. Then the lounge, where the TV and DVD player were still in their proper places. I went upstairs. Mel’s PC was in the study, untouched, and nothing else looked like it had been disturbed. In the bedroom drawers, and Mel’s jewellery box, everything seemed to be in its proper place. There was no mess anywhere.

  I stood on the landing, trying to work it out. What was Ben looking for? Perhaps he’d been disturbed. Perhaps he had still been here until a few minutes ago, and had bolted when he heard my car. Or perhaps he hadn’t gone at all.

  Perhaps he was still in the house.

  Gripping the rolling pin tighter, my heart thumping, I stood very still and listened for any noise, any creak of the floorboards that might give him away. Silence. Behind the silence, in the distance, the ever-present dull hum of traffic on the North Circular. My house suddenly spooked me. Ben. Just in case he was hiding I went from room to room, quickly pulling open wardrobes, looking under beds and behind doors. A full sweep of the upstairs, followed by the same in every downstairs room.

  There was no one. I finally began to relax and went back into the kitchen to return the rolling pin. That was when I saw it on the kitchen counter, next to the kettle.

  A shotgun cartridge.

  It was pink, standing upright, with a brass base and lettering up the side. Eley Hi-Power #00 Large Game. It was thick and heavy and I wondered suddenly what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of the lead shot inside.

  I didn’t own a shotgun, and only knew one person who did.

  There was a note underneath the cartridge, A4 letterheaded paper from Ben’s company, Zero One Zero. He had once told me what his company name meant, something arcane and techie to do with programming language or binary code or something similar. I couldn’t remember exactly. On the paper were just five words, written with a thick black marker.

  STAY AWAY FROM MY WIFE.

  I stared at the paper for a minute, my pulse thrumming in my ears. Until now this had felt like some stupid game where I didn’t quite get the rules, but for the first time I was genuinely worried, frightened. What if William had been here? What if Ben came back tonight, in the middle of the night? What do you do if you wake up and a man is standing over you with a shotgun? It didn’t bear thinking about. But the fact was that he was out there, armed and dangerous, and able to break into my house.

  I called the police and reported the break-in. The operator spent five minutes going through my personal details, then asked me to describe what I thought had been stolen.

  ‘Nothing’s been taken. At least not that I’ve found so far.’

  ‘There are no items missing from the property?’ she said, a sceptical tone in her voice.

  ‘Don’t think so. But he left a shotgun cartridge.’

  ‘Beg your pardon, sir?’

  ‘A shotgun cartridge and a note, a warning, were left in my kitchen.’

  Her tone changed. She gave me a crime number and said an officer would come over this afternoon to collect the evidence, telling me not to touch anything that might have fingerprints on it. I rang off and stood in the middle of my kitchen, unable to take my eyes off the white sheet of paper with five black words scrawled across it.

  STAY AWAY FROM MY WIFE.

  I was too worried to really appreciate it, but the irony was so thick you could cut it with a knife. This man, who was breaking up my family and had tried to take my wife away from me, was warning me off further contact with his wife. It sounds naive, but it was only then – at that moment – that I realised what a sick bastard he really was. He actually meant all of this. I thought of Beth, and what she’d told me earlier. Ben must have driven by his house this afternoon, seen my car outside, and it had spooked him. Was this payback for getting closer to finding him?

  Mel would be here in a couple of hours. I thought about ringing her but decided against it – better to tell her face-to-face. Instead I found the spare key for the back door, nudged it shut with the toe of my shoe and locked it again – taking care not to put my fingerprints on anything else.

  The phone still in my hand, I added a new message to the conversation with David Bramley.

  Stay away from my house, Ben.

  The reply came back within a minute.

  STAY AWAY FROM MY WIFE

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  Irony klaxon going off here.

  His reply was almost instant.

  You shd get better security on your back door BTW big fella never know who might b waiting 4 you one of these days

  I typed a reply, deleted it. Took a breath and typed it again – without the swear words this time.

  You come to my house again, you’ll be leaving feet first. That’s a promise.

  As before, his reply came back quickly.

  Wd love to see your face today bet its an absolute picture!!!

  I slammed my fist on the kitchen table, making cups and plates jump. Calm down.

  A minute, two minutes, five minutes. Nothing more. It looked as if he might have gone offline. I wonder if he’s with Mel right now?

  No, that’s a stupid idea.

  Is it?

  There was the familiar dull ache in my chest that I got when I thought about my wife now. Like I wanted to shout until my throat was raw. Wanted to be with her, wrap my arms around her and hold her close, tell her she was forgiven. Tell her we could start again. Maybe all of those things at the same time.

  I texted her. Told her that I would be able to pick William up from after-school club today. Then made a cup of tea to calm my nerves, and had drunk most of it before she replied:

  OK. Love you. xxx

  3.23 p.m. Mel mob

  Staring at that text, feeling the lump in my throat, I knew that despite nine years of marriage I really had no idea whether she meant it or not.

  I grabbed my car keys and headed back out.

  44

  William was embroiled in a complicated game of toy cars with his friend Lucas at after-scho
ol club, the two of them lining up all the cars they could find around the edge of the room until it stretched around in a long line, bumper to bumper. I signed him out in the carers’ register and fetched his coat and book bag, watched him for a minute while the two of them finished creating their miniature traffic jam. There was something wonderful about the simplicity of my son’s routine, his games, the patterns of his life. For a few moments, watching him, I was able to forget the madness of the last few days.

  But then it all came crashing in again, Naylor’s words ringing in my ears, and it felt like everything was spinning away from me once more. Things were happening too fast. My family, my life, my world – everything that mattered – was about to go over a cliff.

  It was up to me to stop us falling.

  Back home in the kitchen, the phone in one hand and a spatula in the other as I made William’s tea, I looked again at the last message he’d sent.

  Wd love to see your face today bet its an absolute picture!!!

  He was trolling me, deliberately provoking me to get an online slanging match going. In the last five years, it seemed, the world had suddenly filled with trolls. Full of bravado when they were anonymous behind a screen, but would no doubt shit their pants at the thought of saying anything face-to-face. How about it, Ben, you going to show your face? Or just keep on trolling me until I’m charged with murder?

  I stared at his message.

  Bet your face is an absolute picture.

  Your face.

  That was it. A picture.

  All I needed was one picture of him, walking around, large as life, and this would be over. He had taken covert pictures of me at Kilburn Police Station – all I had to do was return the favour. But I needed something that was tempting enough to draw him out, make him break cover and come out into the open.

  He wouldn’t break cover for me.

  But he might for Mel.

  If she gave him the right motivation. If she pretended she wanted to get back with him. It might work.

  She picked up on the second ring.

  ‘Mel? Can you get home early tonight? I’ve got a plan.’

  I watched Mel as she sent him the text, telling him she was sorry for breaking it off, she couldn’t live without him and she was desperate to see him again. Kingsway, one hour, the usual place. A shopping centre not far from our house. She signed off with three kisses.

  ‘Where’s the usual place?’ I asked, my voice low.

  ‘Starbucks.’

  ‘That’s where you used to meet?’

  She looked down and away from me.

  ‘One of the places.’

  ‘There were other places, were there?’

  She nodded, but said nothing, and we both lapsed into a loaded silence. The only things I could think of to say would make me sound wounded and resentful, so I clamped my teeth together and said nothing.

  We waited for five minutes, ten. William came into the kitchen rubbing his eyes and asking for his bath. Mel picked him up and moved to take him upstairs.

  I held out my hand to her.

  ‘Give me your phone.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Need to be sure that you don’t warn him.’

  She looked like she’d just been slapped.

  ‘I would never . . . Don’t you trust me?’

  ‘I don’t know who to trust any more. But trust is earned, and we have to start from scratch on that score.’

  She nodded, eyes down, and handed me the phone.

  ‘Daddy’s got all the phones,’ William said, his chin on Mel’s shoulder.

  I followed them upstairs and stood in the bathroom doorway as Mel ran our son’s bath, tested the temperature, helped him get undressed, checked the temperature again, and helped him up onto the plastic step and into the water. She sat on the little stool and played with him in a way she’d done when he was a toddler, filling cups and saucers with foamy water and talking with William as he chattered away happily, asking if she wanted tea or coffee or beer or soup or hot chocolate. Each drink had a different price. Watching them play together brought a lump to my throat.

  I hit Adam’s number in my phone. I had not spoken to him since the debacle at the pub on Sunday – out of shame at what he’d seen – but now I needed his help.

  He seemed to have other ideas.

  ‘I er . . . can’t look after William tonight, mate,’ he said, his voice hesitant.

  ‘Just for an hour?’

  ‘Got to take the girls to their ballet lesson.’

  I checked my watch.

  ‘At this time of night?’

  ‘Sorry, mate.’

  ‘Please? I wouldn’t ask unless it was important.’

  His voice dropped, as if someone was listening in.

  ‘What’s going on with you, Joe? Kate said you got arrested for beating some bloke up. She saw it on Facebook.’

  ‘I wasn’t arrested. It’s bullshit.’

  ‘Really?’ a note of disbelief in his voice.

  ‘Yes, really. I wasn’t arrested.’

  He made a hmm noise on the line as if he was considering my answer, and for a moment I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t instantly on my side.

  ‘Adam, you do believe me, right?’

  ‘Kate heard you got suspended from school as well.’

  ‘That’s bullshit too. A smear campaign. Listen, mate, I really need your help. William won’t be any trouble.’

  He hesitated.

  ‘Sorry Joe, I just can’t. Give me a bell at the weekend, we’ll go for a pint or something, yeah? Gotta go.’

  He hung up.

  The other phone beeped in my left hand as Ben texted a reply to Mel’s invitation.

  Knew you’d change your mind beautiful girl 8 p.m.? xxx

  6.29 p.m. Ben mob

  I checked my watch. Eight o’clock was feasible.

  ‘Mel,’ I said. ‘He said yes.’

  She stood up and dried her hands as I showed her the message.

  ‘Tell him yes,’ I said. ‘Say it in the way you would have done while you were . . . together. You know what I mean.’

  She nodded, blushing, and typed a reply.

  Will b there. Can’t wait 2 see you again Mr D xxx

  6.30 p.m. Me

  Staring at the string of messages, it felt like I had stumbled into a private conversation between two strangers and was intruding on their intimacy. It made me feel hollowed out all over again. Focus. One decent picture of Ben was all I needed to clear my name and keep my family intact. For the first time in days I felt like I was in control for once, guiding events rather than being bounced from one situation into the next.

  Ben had taken the bait.

  I’ve got you now, finally. This ends tonight.

  ‘Get changed, put some make-up on. Get ready like you’re going out on a date.’

  Mel’s cheeks were red with embarrassment.

  ‘A date?’

  ‘As if you were meeting him again.’ Even saying the words, my throat was tight.

  ‘What about William? It’s his bedtime.’

  ‘We can drop him at Beth’s for half an hour, it’s on the way.’

  Mel looked aghast, as if I’d suggested leaving our son with the Child Catcher.

  ‘You’re not serious?’ The colour was draining from her face. She looked as if she might be sick.

  ‘Alice won’t mind looking after him. Do you have a better idea?’

  My parents lived near Bath, and Mel’s mother lived in Tamworth, so both of them were out of the question for short-notice babysitting. The truth was, there were very few people we could drop William with, out of the blue, on a week night, without arranging it well in advance.

  ‘Joe, I can’t, she won’t . . . I can’t go there. She’ll go ballistic. I can’t do that again.’

  ‘There’s no one else that we can leave William with.’

  She put a hand on my arm.

  ‘There must be som
eone else, Joe. Please.’

  ‘Adam couldn’t do it. You said Emma and Peter are away for the week. We’re out of options.’

  She slumped, defeated.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘You can stay in the car. I’ll go up to the house.’

  ‘It’s just not a good idea, leaving William with her – who knows what she might do? Anything’s got to be better than that, surely?’ She seemed genuinely alarmed by the idea of leaving our son with Beth. ‘You saw her at the Stratford on Sunday. She’s mad, crazy, maybe psychopathic. What if she takes it out on William?’

  ‘She’s not crazy. She wouldn’t hurt him, it’s not in her nature.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Mel looked unconvinced.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  45

  Mel was right, as it turned out.

  I had to press the doorbell four times to get a response. Eventually Alice opened the door, the brass security chain snapping taut, and she stood peering at me and William through the gap. She was holding her mobile, earbuds plugged into both ears.

  ‘Hi,’ she said cautiously, removing one earbud.

  ‘Hi Alice, is your mum home? I need to speak to her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Need to ask her a favour. I tried ringing earlier but no one was picking up.’

  Alice unhooked the chain and opened the door fully, looking a bit sheepish. She was dressed almost entirely in black.

  ‘I had my music on.’ She took a step back and pointed towards the lounge. ‘Mum’s in there.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Joe?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Did you talk to Mum earlier?’

  I nodded. ‘What did she say about it?’

  ‘Nothing, she’s just been . . . acting really weird since I got home from school.’ She looked at the floor. ‘And she’s taken some tablets.’

  ‘What tablets?’