by NC Marshall
Shivering, I turn on the central heating, moving to the living room to adjust the thermostat, and I try Elliott’s phone again. No response. The home phone’s answer machine light is flashing, so I press play and prepare to receive another ear bashing from my dad, telling me that I should be resting. If only he knew the truth!
I return to the kitchen, stirring sugar into my tea when I hear a click, and a man’s voice.
“Hello…Megan?”
Feeling utterly bewildered I hear my husband’s voice directly behind me and I drop my cup, instantly shattering the porcelain china into dozens of pieces. The scalding fluid pools over my bare feet, but I feel nothing, I’m numb. I begin to shake uncontrollably and, frozen to the spot, am unable to turn around. I finally force myself into the hall and, although the number on the display is unknown, Johnny's voice continues to fill the room.
“Hello…look, I need to see you. Meet me at the coffee shop on Duke Street at 11.30 – see you there I hope.”
I grab the phone, but the message has finished recording and the line is silent. My heart is pounding so hard that I feel dizzy. My husband is alive and, although I didn’t really believe that, the fact that his body wasn’t found at the time has always provided a glimmer of hope that this day would arrive. We can work things out can’t we? Go back to how we were, at the beginning?
I grab my still-damp cardigan and keys. He’s alive! My husband really is alive and nothing else matters anymore… I slide on a pair of trainers and head back out into the rain, preparing to come face to face with my husband again, and to hear the truth about what really happened that day in Spain.
Chapter 33
Elliott hesitated as he reached the corner of Jack Dalton’s cottage and, tightening his hand into a fist, he banged hard, three times, on the solid, wooden door. Flecks of chipped, blue paint flaked off and drifted away into the strengthening breeze down the narrow alleyway. He stood on the doorstep for a couple of minutes, growing more and more impatient, and was just about to knock again, when the door flew open.
“Elliott! Alright mate – what you doing here?” A half-dressed Jack Dalton emerged from behind the door, squinting into the bright daylight.
“I just need a quick word.” Elliott stepped forward, shadowing Jack from the sun.
“Oh yeah, sorry,” replied Jack. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and pulled on the waistband of his jogging bottoms. “I was just getting some sleep – I’ve been working nights at the shipyard.”
Elliott nodded.
“Sorry to wake you, just need to ask you something.” He buried his hands deep into his coat pockets and wondered again if Megan was really in some sort of danger.
Jack rubbed his eyes and seemed to wake up slightly.
“Yeah, what is it El?”
“I was wondering if you’ve been in touch with Eva Cooper lately?” Elliott instantly felt awkward; although he knew Jack reasonably well from being around the same age and drinking in the same local, he didn’t regard himself as a close friend, and he thought he may be overstepping the mark with such a personal question.
Jack looked instantly confused, and stayed silent.
“Eva.” Elliott repeated her name in an attempt to jog Jack’s memory. “You remember! The woman you met last Friday night in The Anchor, with her friend, Megan. Tall, medium length blonde hair, blue eyes?”
With no obvious sign of recognition from Jack, Elliott sighed, pulled his mobile from his coat pocket and, loading up Facebook, he brought up Megan’s profile (something admittedly he’d done on numerous occasions since meeting her!). Tapping on her profile, a photo of her and Eva blinked onto his screen and he turned it to face Jack, allowing him a clear view of the girl he seemed to have very quickly forgotten about.
Still nothing – he wondered if he was still half asleep!
“You took Eva out on a date Jack!” Elliott raised his voice in frustration. “You were out all day together last Saturday.”
Jack's confusion continued, and Elliott then began to wonder if he had the right person. However, Morteford was a tiny village and he knew that there was definitely only one Jack who fitted the description Megan had given him last Saturday, when they were in the gallery café together.
“I haven’t been in the Anchor for a couple of months. Like I say, I've been working nights and unfortunately for me, that includes a Friday.”
“So, you definitely weren’t in the Anchor Tavern last Friday?”
“Nope.”
“And you didn’t meet a girl named Eva?”
Jack shook his head. Elliott was already mentally working out the fastest route to Newcastle at this time of day.
“Nope, and believe me, if I’d taken her out on a date I wouldn’t forget about it that quickly,” answered Jack, gazing at the photo. Elliott nodded and quickly understanding he moved away from the door. “No problem mate, and sorry to bother you.”
Jack smiled before reaching to close the door. “Sorry I can't help you Elliott, but I can safely say I have never even heard the name Eva Cooper in my life.”
Elliott left Jack’s and, starting a slow jog back to his car, he brought up Will’s number on his phone.
Will answered straight away.
“Alright, mate? Are you on your way to Newcastle yet?”
Elliott could hear the echo as Will spoke to him using hands free.
“I’m just about to leave now, so I’ll be about an hour behind you.”
“Great! You manage to speak to Jack Dalton yet?”
Elliott rubbed his eyes with his free hand as he rounded the corner to the car park. An icy blast of air hit his cheeks, and the coldness gripped him, causing a shiver to shoot down his spine. He was overcome by a colossal sense of unease.
“Yeah, I’ve just spoken to him.”
“And?”
“He hasn’t got a clue who Eva is, Will.”
“Eh, what d’you mean? I thought he took her out last weekend?”
“Apparently not. He said he was working, and that he’s never met or seen Eva before.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense! Why would Eva lie?”
“Your guess is as good as mine mate, but whoever Eva was with, it certainly wasn’t Jack Dalton.”
Chapter 34
The coffee shop that Johnny suggests we meet in is where we used to go. He worked long hours most days, and a quick lunch in the café on the outskirts of Newcastle city centre was often the only chance we got to see each another properly in a 24-hour period. Some days, he would be home so late from the office that I would already be asleep, and he would have also left by the time I woke the following morning.
The coffee shop meetings were a half-hearted attempt on both our parts to spend more time together, however, closer to Johnny’s death they had seemed more of a chore, and an obviously failing, last ditch attempt to save our marriage.
The rain’s still falling heavily and the streets are eerily quiet. I pull onto double yellow lines, jump out of the car and run into the café, scanning it before the door is even fully open. I feel sick, but head to the counter and order a coffee before settling into a window seat and taking another look around – it’s gone 11, but he isn’t here.
I’m suddenly aware of my breathing and begin the fight to control the short, heavy rasps escaping from my tight chest – my heart is pounding so hard that I’m sure I’m about to collapse.
I hold the steaming cup of coffee tightly in my hand and it stings my cold fingers, the burn cutting sharply into my skin. Instead of putting the cup down, I clench it tighter, desperate for any sort of sensation to keep a grasp on reality. I feel I’m trapped in a nightmare and am about to wake up any moment, but that doesn’t happen.
I stare at my phone and the numerous missed calls from DI Taylor. I know I should call her back; it could be important, but I presume she wants to tell me what I already know, that Johnny is still alive.
The door to the café opens and then clicks shut again, a
small bell chiming on its frame. I look up, preparing to see Johnny. I wonder what he’ll look like; if he’s aged in the 14 months since I last saw him, and if he’ll think the same about me. However, it’s not him, it’s a middle-aged woman who catches me staring and gives me a polite nod. I fidget anxiously in my seat, and continue to wait.
Almost an hour later, still sitting in the same spot, my full mug of milky coffee is beginning to curdle and I know now that Johnny’s not coming. I wonder if I should call the police, or DCI Morgan? Perhaps they could trace the call somehow and find out where he was ringing me from? Maybe he’s in some sort of trouble? Although I’m confused and shocked that my husband is still alive, I’m also petrified that he is in danger or has come to harm.
Resigned, I walk towards the door, searching for my car keys, when I bang hard into someone’s chest blocking my way.
“Sorry,” I say, and look up to see my husband, staring straight back at me.
Chapter 35
Tony slammed his foot on the brake, jolting Charlotte forward in her seat.
“Bloody hell Tony, you need to slow down, or you’re going to kill us both before we even get to Megan!”
Tony eased off the accelerator and glanced in his rear-view mirror, where he could just make out Will Travers’ car a few vehicles behind on the busy dual carriageway. The fact that the two men were now as desperate as Charlotte and him to ensure Megan’s safety, only cemented the fact that they were both innocent in all of this. Travelling to Morteford today to question them in person had wasted more time and they needed to get back to the North East as quickly as possible. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Megan was in danger.
“Any luck?” he asked Charlotte, as she hung up her phone and rubbed at her forehead, clearly frustrated.
“They say Megan’s husband, Johnny, died 14 months ago; drowned whilst on holiday in Spain with his family, but that his body was never recovered.”
“Yes, we know that already.”
“His sister Eva, and his 5-year-old niece, were the only people present at the time and the beach was deserted when he went missing.”
“So…what are you saying?”
“Maybe he didn’t die that day, but he wanted it to appear as though he did?”
“You're saying he faked his own death and managed to stay under the radar – until now?”
“Possibly.”
“Why on earth would he fake his own death? Up and leave a lovely wife, a happy marriage and a beautiful home?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about the happy marriage part, Tony! Reading between the lines of what Megan told me at the hotel this morning, their marriage was as good as over when he died.”
“Did she give a reason for that?”
“Not directly, no, it just seems they’d drifted apart. He was apparently spending a lot of time at work and they didn’t get much chance to spend time together. I get the impression she felt like he was hiding something from her, but she wasn’t sure what.”
“Donovan?”
“Yes, maybe. It would certainly explain the lies and the money, and, to be honest, if I’d got on the wrong side of Rick Donovan, I think I would fake my own death!”
Tony drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.
“It just seems bizarre to me that, if Johnny had faked his own death back in Spain, why would he risk returning now?”
“Your guess is as good as mine on that one, Tony.”
Tony switched on his indicator and swerved as a car narrowly missed ploughing into the side of them. He held his hand on the horn and shook his head at the other driver, who had clearly been in the wrong.
“Learn to drive, you moron!” he shouted, loudly.
“Tony, do you want me to drive?” Charlotte asked. She was witnessing another episode when he actually lost his temper, although she wasn’t surprised – they were both exhausted and ready for home. Tony had clearly been looking forward to seeing Liv and the kids and, instead, he had spent the best part of the day on the road.
“Have you tried ringing Megan again?” he asked, finally relaxing slightly as the traffic began to ease.
“Yeah, still no answer – there’s a couple of officers on their way to her house.”
“What about Eva? Has anyone been in touch with her?”
“She’s being brought in for questioning as we speak.”
Tony pressed the accelerator and guided the car into the fast lane, shortly followed by Will who was now directly behind him.
“Good, now for God’s sake let's get to the bottom of all this!”
Chapter 36
Eva had been kept in the same, poky room at Newcastle police station for almost 2 hours, when the door suddenly opened and two detectives ambled in. She took a deep breath and held it, counting to 10; her whole body was shaking and the taste of her tears was beginning to sting her dry, chapped lips. The detectives introduced themselves, and she knew they had been the ones to visit Megan the day after she had arrived home from hospital.
“Miss Cooper, this is DCI Morgan, and I’m DI Taylor. We want to ask you some questions regarding Johnny and Megan Cooper.”
Eva gripped the side of the table in front of her and, to prevent more tears, forced down a gulp of water from a plastic cup.
“I’ve already told the police everything I know,” she replied defensively.
“Yes, I realize you’ve already been through everything, but we have a couple of things we would like to clear up,” replied the female detective.
“You think my brother’s still alive – don’t you?” asked Eva. The thought of Johnny still being alive made her stomach flip. She’d replayed the last time she’d seen her twin brother so many times in her head that even she couldn’t be sure of what really happened. One minute he was there; the next he was gone. She wasn’t sure if the feelings she had were of excitement at the thought of seeing Johnny again, or the total shock of possibly finding out that he didn’t drown that day.
“We’re not sure if Johnny is alive,” replied the male detective. “And we want you to know that the possibility is a slim one.” Eva looked at the detective and managed a smile. At any other time, with an attractive man in such close proximity, she would no doubt initiate some innocent flirting, but on this occasion, she was just thankful that someone was at last being honest with her.
“Eva, we really need to find Megan.” said DI Taylor, moving closer. Eva could smell her strong, flowery perfume and recognized it as one that Megan used to wear, back when she and Johnny had first got together. He always commented on how good she smelt.
“She’s not at home, and she isn’t answering her mobile. Can you think of anywhere at all she might be?”
“I haven’t seen her since we got back from Morteford,” Eva replied, feeling a stab of guilt.
“Oh! I thought you two were close?” DCI Morgan took a step forward, forcing Eva to shift back in her seat. What Megan had mentioned about him was correct; he had a very intimidating presence.
“We are close! She’s my best friend.”
“But you haven’t seen her since your trip away together? That was almost a week ago,” stated Taylor. “When precisely was the last time you saw Megan, Eva?”
“Oh, actually, she was at the cemetery – it was last Sunday afternoon after we’d got back from Morteford, and I bumped into her after she’d visited Johnny’s grave.”
“And you definitely haven’t seen her since then?”
“No, not since Sunday.”
“Have you spoken to her at all?”
Eva crossed one leg over the other, “No.”
“Any reason for the lack of contact?” asked Morgan. “After all, she’s been through quite an ordeal with the accident.”
“I just haven’t had the time,” replied Eva, guiltily. “I normally text her quite a bit, but I’m in the process of getting a new phone because I lost mine while we were away. I was planning on texting her as soon as I got a new number.
”
The detectives remained silent causing Eva to feel even more uneasy.
“And, I’ve, erm, just started seeing someone.”
Eva looked at the floor, feeling slightly embarrassed and extremely guilt-ridden that she had been such an inconsiderate friend of late.
“You know what it’s like, when you first meet someone?” Eva focused her attention on DI Taylor, for female reassurance, which she didn’t get!
“So, you’ve just started seeing someone…recently?” DI Taylor ignored Eva’s question and glanced at Tony, before picking up a pen from the table.
“Yes,” replied Eva, “We met when Megan and I were in Morteford.
“What’s his name?”
“Why is that important? He has nothing to do with this.”
“We’ll decide about that, Miss Cooper.” said Morgan, sternly.
“Do you have a photo of him?” asked Taylor, “and, we will need his name.”
Eva shuffled uncomfortably. “Yes, just one photo, but it was taken on my old phone, the one I lost in Morteford. His name’s Jack Dalton,” Eva said finally. “As I said, he has nothing to do with this.”
“Have you seen him since you returned home?”
“No, we were supposed to meet at a restaurant, on bonfire night, but he cancelled last minute.”
“Any idea why he cancelled?” asked Taylor.
Eva shot her a cold look, her patience now really wearing thin; she was tired, confused and now worried sick about Megan.
“Something about a puncture on his way here,” she answered, crossly.
“And you haven’t rescheduled the date?”
“No, he said he’d call me.” Eva replied. He still hadn’t called, and the reality suddenly hit her of how naïve she had been. She really liked him and they’d had a fantastic time together in Morteford, but now all she cared about was Megan and Johnny; talking about Jack was wasting precious time.