The Other Side Of The Wall: A Gripping Psychological Thriller

by Andrea Mara

  The footsteps come into the room, and Michael is standing over him.

  “I just needed my phone,” Sam tells him, looking up.

  “This?” Michael says, taking it out of his pocket.

  “Yes. We can’t go on like this. Just give me the goddamn phone.” It’s a pointless request, but really, what does it matter now?

  Michael shakes his head and puts the phone back in his pocket. “You don’t need it, Sam. You don’t exist any more. I’m Sam now, so I need the phone.” It’s like he’s talking to a naughty child. “I trusted you this morning – I had to rush out in a hurry to deal with a problem, and I did hesitate – I did stop to wonder if I needed to knock you out. And I thought, ‘No, Sam knows the score’. But I was wrong. And Sam, this is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you, but we have to teach you to do as you’re told.”

  Sam sees the raised foot come towards him, then blacks out as his head is smashed to the floor.

  Chapter 64

  Sam – Thursday, August 4th

  Blood-coloured clouds and black haze block Sam’s vision when he wakes – are his eyes open or closed? Fear grips him as he tries to work it out. It’s okay – they’re closed. He attempts to open them, but the thumping in his head gets louder and a wave of nausea stops him. Visions of Michael’s boot coming towards his head seep back. How long has he been out? His face is resting on something hard – he reaches out his fingers to feel around. It’s the wooden floor of his bedroom – he’s still in the same spot. He tries again to open his eyes, breathing against the pain in his head. Sunlight slants through the window and makes long shadows across the floor. Michael must have sedated him after he passed out. Then he hears a voice – Michael is talking to someone downstairs. It’s not clear who it is, but it doesn’t matter. He tries to shout but retches instead.

  Lifting his fist, he bangs it down on the floor, again and again but even as he does the front door closes.

  Then come the footsteps.

  “So you’re awake, Sleeping Beauty? I have your crutches here. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

  Head still thumping, Sam puts an arm around Michael’s shoulder and lets him hoist him up. With the crutch in his left hand, they make their way slowly back into the spare room, and he collapses onto the bed. All he wants is sleep, but Michael is in the mood for a chat and pulls up the chair.

  “So, do you want to know who I was talking to downstairs?”

  Sam tries to shake his head but it hurts too much.

  “Here, have a drink of water – that stuff in your veins makes you thirsty.” Michael passes him the glass and straightens his pillow. “It was your next-door neighbour. Sylvia is her name – came over to introduce herself. They’ve been away on holidays and she’s sorry she didn’t come over sooner. One of those women who wants to be friendly with everyone – you could smell it off her. Sickly sweet and all well-meaning but in a really fake way, you know? She kind of made me want to punch her in the face. Kate never met her, did she?”

  Sam takes a sip of water. “No,” he whispers, then closes his eyes again as the pain hits. He puts the glass on the locker.

  “Yeah, I thought not. Here, take these,” Michael says, passing him two tablets. “Anyway, I told her that my wife is down in Galway with the kids, and that I go down a bit at the weekends.”

  Sam swallows the tablets. They could be anything, but it doesn’t matter. In his mind, he punches Michael in the face, again and again. Michael is raw and bleeding, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps his eyes closed, and keeps punching, trying not to hear the words.

  “I said I’d bring the kids around when they get back,” Michael is saying. “They won’t be back, but I don’t feel I know Sylvia well enough to tell her about my marriage break-up, at least not yet.”

  Sam clenches his fist but there’s no strength in it. He uncurls his fingers.

  Michael keeps talking. “She might be a bit of a busybody though – I can’t decide yet. She was asking about our little friend in the pond. I’m guessing she was the person ringing the bell in the middle of the night – she’s the reason I had to rush out and take the body out of the water.”

  Sam winces.

  “So yeah, I’ll have to keep an eye on Sylvia next door.”

  “Michael,” Sam whispers. “There’s no way you can keep this up forever. Sooner or later, someone who does know me will come looking for me. The woman next door is just one person – there’ll be others. This has to end.”

  Michael sits back in the chair and folds his arms. “Sam, when the time comes to end it, you’ll know about it. Don’t you worry.” He stands up. “Now get some sleep, I need you back at work tomorrow morning.”

  When the door closes, Sam turns slowly onto his side to sleep, but tonight it evades him. Maybe because he slept all day, or maybe because of the cocktail of drugs in his system, or maybe because of the pain in his eye and his cheekbone and his head. Tentatively, he touches his cheek and winces. He stretches his legs – the pain feels less severe now, although it’s probably just because his head is so sore. Through the gap above the wardrobe, he watches the evening sky turn pink and gold. The world on the other side of the window is almost in touching distance but it may as well be a million light years away. He’s never getting out of here. He makes a decision. What little power he has now will go into keeping Kate and the boys safe, because unless someone comes to look for him, his own fate is set.

  Chapter 65

  Sam – Friday, August 5th

  The routine is back on. Michael wakes him at half seven with a plate of toast. His neck is stiff and his eye is tender where the boot caught him, but sleep has helped. Michael goes out and returns with two cups of tea, then notices there’s no water on the bedside locker and goes to get some. Sam is about to call him to say the glass from last night is on the floor, down the side of the locker, but then he doesn’t.

  When Michael comes back with the drink and the laptop, Sam clicks into his trading account, and opens Michael’s bank account in another tab. He checks the balance, then turns the screen to show Michael.

  “See – €6,554,212 – all in a bank account in Luxembourg. All yours, all untraceable from the original accounts, because of the stock you’ve bought and sold to get there. The other accounts are all empty now.”

  Michael takes the laptop onto his knee. “It’s not as much as it should be though.”

  “I told you. There’s no way to keep the original balance – you knew that from the start. If we wanted to buy and sell and cover our tracks, there had to be a trade-off.”

  “Hang on,” says Michael, putting the laptop on the floor.

  He goes off downstairs and he returns with a beer. “Have this to celebrate.”

  Sam accepts the cold bottle, condensation droplets on the outside making it look all the more inviting on this warm August morning. He takes a long drink and settles back on the pillow to savour the first beer he’s had in what feels like years. Beer in the morning is all kinds of wrong, but then everything is all kinds of wrong at the moment. Right now, he wants to push all of it out of his mind – no more thoughts of money laundering or child porn or Edie Keogh. For a few minutes, it’s just about enjoying the beer. The always-on TV on the wall is showing the morning news – he closes his ears to that. Closing his eyes too, he’s transported somewhere far away. Just this once, no-one else is allowed in. Not Kate, not the kids, not Michael. For this one perfect moment that can be carved out, wrapped up, then set safely aside, as something to hang onto in the darker days that will come.

  His dream-world is interrupted by Michael’s voice – breaking in like a hammer to glass.

  “Now, fun’s over. Let’s talk about the next stage.”

  “What next stage?”

  “Well, you’ve lost some of my money, so you need to make it back – and I want more than that. I want you to turn it into eighty million. It’s all clean now – do whatever it is you do, and make a killing for me. And I
’ll tell you what – get me to ten million, and I’ll reward you with a photo of Kate and the boys for your room.”

  “Nobody can turn six million into eighty million or even ten million – it’s just not possible.”

  Michael studies him for a moment. “Fine. Let’s aim for the original eight million to begin with so. And you can earn that photo.”

  “You can keep your photo. I’ll work on your investments, but I can’t promise anything. Here, give me back the laptop so.”

  Michael hands over the computer but he isn’t ready for work yet. He pulls a key out of his pocket. “Know what this is?”

  “No.”

  “It’s the key to next door. Do you want to hear where I got it?”

  “Not really.”

  “You’re dying to know. So the old bat who lives two doors up – Rosemary is her name – she and I are great pals now. She’s a big fan of Sam Ford – did I tell you that? I fixed her burglar alarm at the weekend and we had a good old chat after. She offered to be a keyholder for me. She was very proud of her status as spare-key minder for all the neighbours – everyone except Tom and Sylvia next door she told me, because they keep it inside their barbecue. She’s a bit miffed about that. Anyway, I didn’t give her our key – don’t worry – we won’t have any unexpected old ladies letting themselves in. But it did make taking this very easy.” He holds up the key again. “Sitting inside the barbecue, just like she said it would. And I bet your one Sylvia thinks they’re very clever keeping it there. I’ll get a spare cut and then put this one back before they notice. Smart, eh?”

  “Sure, Michael, very smart. But for what? Just to show you can?” Sam asks, watching stock prices on the screen.

  “Well, I thought I might pay them a visit. Your one backed down about seeing something in the water but I’ve a feeling she’s not convinced it was her imagination. I might need to do something about that.”

  Sam stops typing. “Jesus, you can’t seriously be thinking of doing something to her – she’s just an innocent bystander.” But then so was Edie Keogh. He racks his brain for an argument that might appeal to Michael. “Look, if nothing else, it would bring the Guards all over the place and that’s the last thing you want, isn’t it?”

  “Calm down, I’m not going to do anything to her. Not for now anyway. I just want to get to know her a bit better. And make sure she keeps doubting what she saw.”

  Sam’s hands relax on the keyboard. “How do you mean – how can you make sure she keeps doubting?”

  There it is – the familiar smug smile – Michael wants to tell him something to show how smart he is. “Easy. You’d be surprised how easy it is. A person starts to sound very paranoid if they’re telling everyone things have moved around at night or they’re hearing noises – just little things that only they would notice. Everyone else around them starts to think they’re stark raving mad. And sometimes they start to think the same themselves.”

  Sam goes cold. Jesus. It was him all along. All those months, Bella telling everyone someone had been in her house at night. And none of them believed her. They changed doctors, got stronger prescriptions, talked about residential care. And over and over again, they gave thanks that she was in Michael’s safe hands – where would they be without Michael they kept asking themselves. Dear God. And for what? He wants to ask but he doesn’t want to know. Maybe it just gave Michael the idea – maybe he didn’t actually do anything. He looks over at his cousin, and the smile tells him everything.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  Michael nods. “Ma? Course it was. You were all so worried about her, and she thought she was losing it. It was funny to watch all the scurrying and the hand-wringing. All trying to help supposedly, but then again I didn’t see anyone asking her to move in with them. Be seen to care, but don’t go too far – that was always the Ford family way, wasn’t it, Sam?”

  Sam closes the laptop. “You made your own mother think she was losing her mind, and you criticise mine for not doing enough? Are you actually serious?”

  Michael blinks. “Settle down there, Sam, or I’ll have to sedate you.”

  “So sedate me, I don’t give a fuck. It’ll give me a break from this fucking trading anyway.” He holds out an arm to Michael. “Look, I’ll even get the vein for you – see?”

  Michael stands up. “I can see you’re cranky so we’ll take a break. You might want to make sure you’re calmer when I see you again. I don’t like your attitude.” He picks up the laptop and walks out, slamming the door.

  Sam sits back in the bed, breathing hard. That probably wasn’t a great idea. But it felt good. When Michael is definitely downstairs, he picks up the glass that’s on the floor and pushes it down between the mattress and the wall, because it seems like the right thing to do.

  Chapter 66

  Sam – Saturday, August 6th

  “I hate to do this to you, Sam, but I’ll be gone for most of the day and I can’t take any chances. So this is a bit stronger than the usual stuff. I’ve checked the dose on the internet and done all the calculations,” he holds up the syringe, “so it should be okay.”

  It’s early and Sam is still waking up, trying to take this in. Blinking, he looks at the syringe. What the hell is in it?

  “Look, why don’t you just leave it? Don’t go to Galway. Kate’s obviously not coming anywhere near me ever again – your texts have taken care of that. Just stay here, no extra drugs, no visit.”

  But Michael’s not for turning. “I need to check in on her and make sure. I can’t have her turning up out of the blue. And I can’t manage two invalids in the house – Kate would have to join the kid we put in the pond.”

  “We put in the pond? Tell yourself what you want, Michael, this is all you.”

  “You had a choice, and you made it – you’re responsible for what happened the young one. But you know what – I’ll let you choose again this time. I can stay here, and we’ll take a chance on Kate turning up unannounced and see how that ends for her. Or I can give you this and go down today – your choice.”

  Kate probably would show up sooner or later – to collect stuff for the boys or to have it out with him. Shit. Michael better have done those calculations right. Sam clenches his teeth and holds out his pockmarked arm for the tourniquet.

  “What is it anyway?” he tries to ask Michael after the needle goes in, but the words are too low or maybe he didn’t say them at all.

  His eyes close, and he’s gone.

  Someone is shaking his arm, but he just wants to sleep. His stomach hurts and his head is full of cotton wool.

  “Stop,” he mutters, but the person doesn’t hear. The shaking gets rougher. Giving in, he opens his eyes. It all comes flooding back – the trip to Galway, the syringe – he’s made it out the other side. And the kids and Kate – are they okay too? He tries to ask but mouth is dry and cracked and his voice is gone again.

  “Take this,” Michael is saying, and a straw finds its way into his mouth.

  His throat hurts when he swallows, but suddenly a desperate thirst overwhelms him. He grabs the bottle and drinks greedily through the straw, then tosses it aside to drink straight from the neck.

  “You gave me a fright there – I couldn’t wake you at first,” Michael says, sitting down.

  Sam is shaking. “Really? Would you care?” he croaks.

  “Course I would. You’re my cousin. And anyway I still need you working on investing my money. You’ll have to make up tomorrow for your time off today.”

  Sam spits out the last of the water. “Sure. Time off.”

  “So, don’t you want to know how it went?”

  Sam does – desperately – but he shrugs.

  “It went great. Kate is really pissed off with you, especially after I told her you’re still seeing Nina. We went for lunch and had wine – very intimate.” Michael smirks.

  Sam shrugs again.

  “And the boys are fine – big hugs for Uncle Michael, and we had great fun wi
th the present you sent down.”

  Sam keeps his face neutral.

  “I reckon I’d have made a good dad actually – they seemed to really like having me around.”

  Under the duvet, Sam clenches and unclenches both fists but refuses to rise to the bait. “How’s Laura?” he asks.

  Michael’s mouth tightens. Before he can answer, the doorbell rings. Their eyes lock, and Michael gets up, putting his finger to his lips.

  Sam tries to pull himself up straight in the bed as soon as Michael is outside the bedroom. He takes some deep breaths, ready to shout. But there are no footsteps on the stairs. Instead, he hears the door of Seth’s room opening – Michael checking who’s down there. Of course he’s not going to answer – Sam slumps down in the bed again.

  When Michael comes back in, he’s shaking his head. “That fella is going to get himself in trouble if he keeps calling.”