The Wrong Turn

by NC Marshall

  A short while later, Elliott’s taxi appears at the bottom of the drive and he heads outside. Relieved, I follow him to the door.

  “Here, take this,” he says, before he leaves. He hands me an A.W.E business card showing his, and Will’s, contact details.

  “If you need either of us, just give us a call.” He smiles and touches my arm affectionately.

  Gently shrugging off his gesture, I take the card and shove it into the pocket of my jeans. I've no intention of calling either of them anytime soon.

  Elliott turns to look at me hopefully as he reaches the taxi, and in return, I glare back. He nods, understanding my silent transmission, and pulls open the taxi door.

  “Bye, Megan,” he says, looking back one final time. Without replying, I close the door and my eyes fill with tears as the reality of today hits me with maximum force. With my back against the door, I slide down to the floor and pull my knees up to my chin.

  “Bye, Elliott,” I whisper, to the dark and quiet hallway.

  Chapter 25

  “Are you fucking serious?!” Charlotte paced back and forth in front of the desk as Tony sat back and watched her anger levels rise…again!

  “There’s nothing we can do I’m afraid – we had to release him.”

  “But…we had him, didn’t we?!”

  “You know full well that we didn’t have enough on him, and it was only a matter of time before his lawyer could get him off.”

  “Damn it!” Charlotte stopped pacing and whipped her hand across the desk angrily, sending a plastic holder, full of biros and highlighters, crashing to the floor. Tony bent down to clean up the mess.

  “How can you be so calm, Tony? You wanted Donovan taken down again as much as I did!”

  “Because I saw this coming a mile off! Remember I’ve had a lot more experience of him than you have. He’s wriggled out of things like this countless times before so what made you think this time would be any different?”

  Charlotte stamped her foot on the floor and sat down heavily in the nearest chair.

  “So, he’s still not admitting that he was driving his own car that night?”

  “Nope, he’s adamant that the car was stolen from his home the night of Megan’s crash.”

  “That’s just bullshit!” Charlotte growled.

  “Well there's nothing we can do now. The local police are still looking for the driver of the car and, to top it off, Donovan has an alibi for that night. He was apparently at a restaurant with his wife and baby son, and a waitress can remember them. They were eating at almost the exact time that Megan says she was run off the bridge.”

  “Yeah, right, so, what do we do now?”

  “Go home – get back to our day job. Emery and the Northumbria team will be keeping a close eye on Donovan; they have it covered here.”

  Charlotte nodded, although Tony knew she wasn’t mellowing.

  “What if he’s telling the truth, Charlotte? As I said earlier, he hasn’t put a foot wrong since his release from prison and he’s been out a while now.”

  “You really believe that?” Charlotte asked, her temper fading. “That he’s telling the truth and had nothing to do with Megan Cooper’s car crash?”

  “I think I do now, yeah.” Tony said, resignedly.

  Charlotte sighed loudly and rotated her neck, which was aching and stiff. A night in her own bed was more than appealing at the moment, even if her flat was a dump.

  “OK then. If you really believe that Donovan is telling the truth, and he is innocent this time, then I’ll go along with that, for now.”

  She stood and, after Tony had grabbed his jacket, they made their way to the door and switched off the lights.

  “Time to head home, DI Taylor,” Tony said, smiling. He slung his arm heavily around Charlotte’s bony shoulders, a sudden spring in his step at the mere mention of ‘home’. His focus was now on seeing his family, and Charlotte liked seeing him happy after the last few days.

  “Yes, OK boss,” she agreed, reluctantly. “Time to head home.”

  Chapter 26

  I’m in the bath, attempting to unwind and forget about the stresses of the day, when I get a call from DCI Morgan telling me that Rick Donovan has been released without charge. He assures me that they no longer believe he was behind the crash, and that they are back to their original suspicions. I want to believe him, but the expression in his voice forces me to read between the lines. Deep down, he thinks the same as me, that somehow, Rick Donovan is behind all of this. So, instead of feeling the reassurance intended by Morgan’s phone call, I now feel terrified.

  My attempts at relaxing in the bath now ruined, I escape the steamy bathroom. Wrapping myself in a towel, I pad across the landing and into my bedroom, already deciding that I’m going to call Eva and ask to stay with her and Maisie tonight. I crave the company and I really need to talk to someone about Will. I can't face telling Dad and Luke about him yet as I still need to get my own head straight before springing the news that they have a son/brother they know nothing about!

  Picking up my mobile, I press Eva’s number and wait anxiously for her to answer.

  Her soft tone greets me, “Hi, this is Eva Cooper, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Oh hi Eva, it’s just me, Meg. I really need to talk to you so I’ll head to yours now if that’s OK; if I don’t speak to you before, I’ll see you when I get there. Bye.”

  I cancel the call and bend to switch on my bedside light, which doesn’t come on. On checking the socket, and then the main light switch in the room, I realize that the power is off. This isn’t unusual for our tiny housing estate, sat right in the centre of the otherwise uninhabited countryside.

  “Shit!” I shout with frustration, as, with only a soft glow from the moon to assist, I am forced to feel around for some clothes. I rush to get dressed and shove the remainder into an overnight bag. Johnny and I had chosen this house on the basis that it was isolated and away from the hustle and bustle of Newcastle city centre, where we’d lived together for 3 years before deciding to relocate to the rural Northumberland setting. At times like this, I regret that decision.

  Running downstairs, I tip food into Tilly’s bowl and head to the garden door to call her in. I’ve grown to love her during the 2 years she’s been with me, and she has offered me much-needed companionship at my most vulnerable of times. She was actually one of the many ‘gifts’ that Johnny had spoilt me with during the last couple of years of our marriage – jewellery, expensive perfume, flowers, chocolates, ornaments and pieces of art for the house; he had given it all. I’d assumed the gifts were a cover for a guilty conscience; the textbook indicator that a man has been doing something he shouldn’t, plus there were the transparent lies. Even though I believed he was having an affair, by that point, the worst thing was, I didn’t really care!

  I’m standing in the kitchen waiting for Tilly to show up when I hear a strange sound outside. Not used to hearing many unfamiliar noises so deep into the countryside, I’m instantly alert and frozen to the spot. I glance through the half-open door, out to the far end of the garden and it's then that I see a shadow cross the blinded glass panels of the patio doors leading out to the garden beyond.

  Moving slowly, I step through onto the wooden decking below. The frosty surface immediately stings my bare feet.

  “Hello?”

  The sound of utter silence surrounds me.

  “Is there somebody out here?”

  I pull my cardigan tighter around me as a small heap of fallen leaves brush against my bare ankles. The movement activates the solar security light behind me and it’s then that I see her!

  “No, please please no!”

  I race down the steps leading to the lawn and towards the small mound of white fur, partially hidden under a bush. In the hazy light of the moonlight I see that she is motionless – a heavy pool of red spilling out from beneath her.

  “God, no, Tilly!” I put my hand up to my mouth, stifling
a scream.

  The light behind me clicks off again, plunging the garden into total darkness and I feel around under the bush, trying to locate where the blood is coming from, but it’s too dark. Bending to stroke her, there’s still no reaction and her body feels limp. Her thick fur is cold and matted, sticky with blood. It’s only when the light clicks back on that I notice a rustling in the bushes beyond my garden fence, which causes me to look upwards.

  Frustratingly, the light clicks back off again and, as I adjust my vision to the darkness, the rustling continues, louder now, until it comes to a halt directly above me. A pair of eyes glint and there’s a heavy, soft thud as Tilly jumps down from a nearby tree and lands right next to me, keen to check out what I’m inspecting.

  “Tilly – oh thank God!” I look back down at the white ball of fluff, and on closer inspection I see it’s nothing more than a stuffed toy covered in fake blood; the bright red goo that you can pick up from any supermarket at this time of year.

  “Where have you been, girl?” I gasp. Relief washes over me as I pick her up and head inside. However, as I’m closing the door, I hear yet another sound from outside, and once again, the panic sets in.

  Letting go of Tilly, now safely inside, I reach for a pair of plastic, summer flip-flops that I usually pop on when tending to the garden, or hanging out the washing. Another sound coming from the garden cuts through the silence. There’s definitely someone out there!

  I don’t hang around long enough to find out and, even Tilly, hearing the same sound, decides to abandon her food and bounds past me for the stairs and the safety of my bedroom.

  I hurry through the hall after her, not daring to directly look to the top of the stairs because, out of the corner of my eye, I can imagine the pale, lifeless shape of Johnny, willing me to stay.

  “It’s not real, it’s not real. You’re just stressed out, Meg!” I say aloud, reaching for the door and yanking it open.

  Racing out into the empty street, I jump into the car, flinging my bag on the passenger’s side. My heart’s leaping out of my chest and from nowhere tears sting my eyes. Was it Donovan out there? It had to be didn’t it?! Does this man really want to hurt me and, if so, why? Too many jumbled questions run through my mind.

  I drive for 5 minutes until I’m safely away from home, then pull over onto the side of a quiet country lane, reaching for my phone and searching the recent call list. I press redial for DCI Morgan – it rings a few times before being picked up.

  “Hello, this is Detective Constable Riley, how can I help you?” A young-sounding female answers and, thrown slightly, I try to contain my nerves before replying.

  “Erm, can I speak to Chief Inspector Morgan urgently, please?” My voice is shaking and I take a deep breath to try and calm down.

  “I’m sorry madam, DCI Morgan and DI Taylor left to travel back to Manchester earlier today. Can I help you?” she asks politely.

  I’m about to respond, but hesitate.

  “No, it's alright, it doesn’t matter.” I sigh, finally and, regaining composure, I’m suddenly aware of my overreaction; it was probably just my imagination and there was actually nobody out there. The toy covered in ‘blood’ was probably nothing more than a late Halloween prank; after all, the teenagers next door are known for playing tricks, and have done that type of thing before.

  Rick Donovan isn’t after me! I’m just tired, upset and acting a little crazy after finding out about Will. I cancel the call without any further explanation.

  ***

  Within 30 minutes I’m at Eva’s house and, pulling onto the drive, I don’t even register that the house is empty; it's only when I reach her front door that I see that it’s in complete darkness. I try the doorbell, just in case, but it’s clear she isn’t at home. Reaching again for my mobile, I call her, but her phone again goes straight to voicemail. Turning back to my car, there’s an almighty bang, and I instinctively duck, covering my head with my hands.

  The night sky lights up in an explosion of pink and green; I slowly remove my hands, standing up straight and feeling slightly pathetic! How could I forget? It’s 5th November, and Eva and Maisie will be at the local annual firework display.

  “Damn!” I stamp my foot against the frosty pavement, aware that I can’t stand here all night. I pull my cardigan over my chest, trying to force some warmth into my body, and not savouring the thought of returning home.

  I suddenly see headlights turning the corner, which pull up alongside my car on the drive. Relieved, I think at first it must be Eva, but disappointment strikes when it’s not.

  “Oh hi Megan, what are you doing here?” Sylvia, Eva and Johnny’s mum, climbs out of the car, followed by their dad Stuart.

  “Hello pet, yes, what are you doing here?” repeats Stuart, looking slightly surprised. He opens the back door of the car where Maisie is sitting.

  “Oh, I came to see Eva.” I pull my cardigan even tighter around me, aware of how I must look to my ‘ex’ in laws, and continue, “but she’s not in!”

  Sylvia looks a little confused. “We took Maisie to the firework display, but we had to cut it short because she isn’t feeling very well.”

  I glance down at Maisie standing in the shadows, half hidden behind Stuart’s left leg.

  “My tummy hurts,” whimpers a little voice.

  “Come on little one, let’s get you inside.” Stuart takes Maisie’s hand and then fishes in his pocket for the key to Eva’s house, giving me a smile and an affectionate pat on the back as he heads for the front door.

  “Hmm, so Eva’s clearly not with you tonight?!” comments Sylvia, watching as her husband and granddaughter disappear inside.

  “No,” I answer, “I haven’t seen her since Sunday when we bumped into each other at the cemetery.”

  “That’s strange then, because she told her dad and me that she was going out with you tonight!”

  “Nope, definitely not with me,” I respond, feeling puzzled. There had been a few times in the past, mainly in our younger days, when I would tell a white lie to Sylvia and Stuart about Eva’s whereabouts. Usually it was to cover for her meeting Steve when they first started seeing each other. Now, occasionally, she would still tell them little lies. The twins were Sylvia and Stuart’s only children, and now, with Johnny gone, Eva is all they have left. They’ve always been pretty overprotective, worrying excessively about her, but it’s definitely intensified more since Johnny died.

  Sylvia chuckles.

  “Not to worry! No doubt she’s out being wined and dined by some young man, and she didn’t want to worry her dad.”

  I smile and nod.

  “How are you anyway, Meg? Eva said you’d been in a nasty car accident and I’ve been meaning to call to see how you’re doing?”

  “Oh, I’m fine now, thanks Sylvia. You know me – made of strong stuff.”

  “Yes, my love, you certainly are!” Sylvia pulls her coat around her and glances towards the open door of Eva’s house.

  “Do you want to come inside love? You look half-frozen! Eva said she’ll be back home by nine.”

  I look at my watch and shake my head. It’s only just gone 7 pm, and I’m aware that 2 hours of pretending to Sylvia and Stuart that everything is fine is more than I’m capable of at the moment.

  “Oh no thanks Sylvia, it’s OK – I’d better get going. Will you tell Eva I’ll give her a call tomorrow please?” I manage to retain an upbeat tone.

  “Yes, will do love.” Sylvia reaches out to give me a warm hug and I fight the urge to collapse into her arms. She has always been a loving and caring woman and is the closest thing I now have to a mother.

  I climb back into the car and start the ignition. Pulling away from Eva’s house, I have every intention of driving to Luke’s flat, which is just around the corner. However, when I reach the end of the street I suddenly change my mind and, instead of turning left, turn right, heading towards the city centre.

  Chapter 27

  I burst into the hot
el lobby and walk quickly to the reception desk. Retrieving Elliott’s business card, thankfully still in my jeans pocket, I lean against the desk and focus my attention on the girl behind it.

  “Could you tell me which room Elliott Fletcher is staying in, please?” I ask, stuffing the card back in my pocket. It occurs to me that, until now, I didn’t even know his surname.

  The receptionist looks back at me, wide eyed. I glance down and once more pull my cardigan across my bare chest, only now aware of the fact that I forgot my bra in the rush to get out of the house. My hair’s still damp and I’m clearly not appropriately dressed for the cold weather outside.

  She flashes me an obviously well-practiced smile and taps on a computer keyboard in front of her.

  “We do have a Mr Fletcher staying here tonight – he called to make a reservation earlier – but he hasn’t checked in, sorry,” she responds tightly.

  I look at her, confused. Elliott left me well over an hour ago so surely he would have arrived by now?

  The receptionist registers my expression and her manner softens.

  “Maybe I’m wrong! I’ll check the system again.”

  “No, it's OK, he’s probably just decided to stay somewhere else,” I offer, bemused.

  I move away from the desk, turning full circle. Elliott definitely told me that he was staying here because he said this is the only hotel he and Will ever stay in when they visit. It’s one of the most popular in the city, so why would he choose elsewhere? Alternatively, maybe he managed to catch a late flight home?

  My questions are answered when I approach the revolving door and spot Elliott, standing a few metres away from the hotel and talking to a man wearing a long, dark coat, who has his back to me. They finish their conversation and, as Elliott enters the hotel, I move in front of him as he heads to the desk.