The One You Love (Emma Holden suspense mystery trilogy)

by Paul Pilkington

  TOYL

  Title Page

  Prologue

  PART ONE

  PART TWO

  PART THREE

  Prologue

  PART ONE

  The One You Love

  Paul Pilkington

  Copyright 2011 Paul Pilkington

  British English Edition

  (British English spelling and grammar used throughout)

  First Published April 2011

  Second Edition (professionally copy-edited), July 2012

  www.paulpilkington.com

  Cover Design: Jeanine Henning

  www.jeaninehenning.com

  Prologue

  He watched from the boat as they sailed past the sights of London – the thrusting steel spires of Canary Wharf, the domed O2 arena, then Tower Bridge, and finally the London Eye and Westminster. The sky was deep blue and the sun’s heat intense, so the cooling river breeze had been heaven.

  After disembarking, he headed for the tube. The day in the capital had been enjoyable. But now the holiday was over, and the real business was just beginning.

  It was time.

  Soon she would know just how bad it felt.

  PART ONE

  1

  ‘Em, it’s Will. Where the hell is that fiancé of yours? He didn’t turn up at the meeting place, and he’s not answering his phone.’

  Emma Holden cupped her hand over her ear, but still struggled to hear what her brother was saying over the chatter of the busy London pub. The Irish theme bar was heaving with twenty- and thirty-somethings – mostly city workers celebrating the end of the working week and the beginning of a long Bank Holiday weekend. Emma, however, was celebrating something far more important – her imminent wedding, due to take place in just over two weeks’ time. This particular place wouldn’t usually have been her first choice for a night out – it was so busy that it was difficult even to turn on the spot – but somehow it seemed perfect for a hen party.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ she shouted into the receiver, reaching around a group of people and handing her drink to her friend Lizzy. Lizzy nodded and smiled as Emma gestured that she was going outside. ‘I’m heading outside,’ Emma shouted into the phone as she began to weave her way through the crowds. ‘Can’t hear anything in here.’

  After what seemed like a monumental effort she reached the door and exited into the night air, leaving the rest of her ten-strong hen party inside. The distinctive downtown London summer smell hit her: a mixture of fast food, beer and exhaust fumes. And for the first time that evening she felt the alcohol going to her head, somehow ushered on by the waning sunlight.

  ‘Sorry about that, Will,’ she said, stepping out onto the crowded pavement. ‘That was my fault – Lizzy persuaded the barman to turn the music up for the special occasion. Now it’s so loud my eardrums feel like they’re about to burst. I only noticed your call because I had my mobile out, showing Lizzy and the girls some photos from last week.’

  ‘Em,’ Will said, not engaging in the banter. His uncharacteristically serious tone made Emma check herself, as though he’d just issued her with an order. ‘Where’s Dan? He didn’t turn up in Covent Garden, and he’s not answering his mobile or your home phone.’

  ‘What?’

  Emma absorbed the surprise revelation as she watched a garish white stretch limo cruise past. A group of laughing girls, heads out the window, toasted passers-by with glasses full of champagne.

  ‘Yee ha, cowgirl!’ one of the girls shouted from the limo window. For a second Emma was confused, before remembering what she was wearing. The Wild West outfits had been Lizzy’s idea. And dressing up was compulsory, especially for the bride-to-be. She took off her cowgirl hat and held it under her arm.

  ‘We even came over to your flat,’ Will continued. ‘Thought he might be running late, but he’s not answering the intercom. We’re all stood outside there now, looking like right lemons. The bugger’s not gone out with you lot instead, has he?’

  ‘No.’ Emma twirled her fingers nervously through her brown, glitter-sparkled hair. ‘Last I saw of him was when I left to go out, about two hours ago. You sure you didn’t miss him in Covent Garden?’

  ‘Positive. We stuck around there for over an hour. The police were going to move us on for loitering. All we needed was a tambourine and collection basket and we’d have made a fortune.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, pacing up and down outside the pub, suddenly forgetting the party going on inside. ‘He was about to go out when I left to come here. He wouldn’t have been more than a few minutes longer.’

  ‘It’s a bloody mystery then. You don’t suppose he got cold feet, decided to head off to LA with Cameron Diaz?’

  ‘Screw you, William.’

  ‘Just joking,’ he laughed, breaking the tension. ‘The man would be a fool to turn down the chance to marry my wonderful little sister.’

  ‘That’s better.’

  ‘Seriously though, Em. What if he’s had an accident or something?’

  ‘An accident?’

  ‘He could have been in a road accident.’

  ‘Aren’t you being a bit melodramatic?’

  ‘Probably, but these things can happen. Do you know how many road accidents there are in London every day?’

  ‘Do you have to be such a pessimist?’ said Emma, watching as two police officers attempted to cajole a homeless man from the shop doorway directly opposite: a sad but familiar London sight. ‘He’s probably stuck on the tube – that’s why he can’t answer his phone. You know what the underground’s been like this week. I was stuck on the Northern Line for half an hour on Wednesday. Signal failure or something.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he replied. ‘I was thinking of breaking your door down though, just in case.’

  ‘Don’t you dare! Anyway, I’m the black belt, not you. You’d hurt yourself.’

  ‘Okay, Bruce Lee.’ Will feigned disappointment. ‘I just want to look out for my little sister.’

  ‘I know. And you always have done.’

  ‘Hey, that’s why older brothers were invented. Tell you what, I’ll wait here and see if he turns up.’

  ‘No,’ Emma said, moving away from the pub door as what appeared to be another hen party pushed inside; this group was dressed as cheerleaders, with ultra-tight tops and mini-skirts (at least Lizzy hadn’t gone for that idea). ‘Go back to Covent Garden in case he turns up there. I’ll try and call him myself.’

  ‘The others can go back, but I’d rather stick around here,’ insisted Will. ‘This is all pretty strange, Em. You don’t think…’

  ‘Don’t even say it,’ Emma interrupted. ‘Just don’t.’

  ‘You’re right, Em. This is totally different than last time.’

  ‘Hey, there you are!’ said Lizzy, throwing a semi-drunken arm around Emma as she returned to the group. ‘Wondered where you’d got to. Thought you might have sneaked off for a crafty last snog with some hunky stockbroker before it’s too late. After all, you’re still twenty-eight, free and single – for the moment.’

  Emma didn’t meet Lizzy’s smile. Instead she looked down at the mobile phone that was still grasped tightly in her hand, hardly hearing what her best friend was saying. Although she’d been deliberately upbeat to Will’s pessimist, a few unsuccessful calls to Dan following the conversation with her brother had wiped out the party spirit in her. Part of her had thought that somehow he would answer the phone for her, despite Will’s failure to contact him. But now, faced with the same frustrating silence, all she wanted to do was get out of here as quickly as possible and find out what was going on
.

  ‘Get this down you,’ Lizzy ordered, forcing a Sea Breeze cocktail into Emma’s free hand. ‘You’re far too sober for my liking. I’m in charge tonight, and whatever I say goes. And I say drink! Cheers!’

  ‘Cheers,’ Emma said half-heartedly, clinking glasses.

  She watched as a beaming Lizzy took a swig of her drink. She’d met the ever-cheerful Lizzy, a strawberry blonde with a big heart and even bigger voice, at an audition three years ago. Since that initial meeting the two had become good friends and had flat-shared for a time, until eighteen months ago when Emma had moved in with Dan. A classically trained singer, Lizzy was now plying her trade on the West End stage, where she had a part in a popular musical.

  ‘You okay?’ Lizzy finally noticed that Emma seemed distracted.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Emma played with the straw and ice cubes in her drink. ‘It’s Dan. He’s gone missing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That was Will on the phone. He said Dan didn’t turn up for the stag party. And now no one can get hold of him. I just tried to call him now. His mobile sounds like it’s turned off, and there’s no answer on the home phone.’

  ‘But wasn’t he about to leave when I arrived at yours?’ Lizzy said.

  ‘Yeah. That’s what worries me.’

  ‘Maybe he’s stuck on the tube?’ Lizzy raised an eyebrow.

  ‘That’s what I thought. But it’s been two hours, Lizzy.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s fine,’ she offered, lightly touching Emma’s side.

  ‘You don’t think he’s had second thoughts, do you?’ Emma’s hitherto buried insecurities found a voice. ‘You know I said he’s been acting weird over the past few weeks. Maybe he’s decided that I’m not what he wants.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Dan’s a great guy, and he’s crazy about you, Em.’ Lizzy squeezed her arm. ‘Anyone can see that. Men act weird now and again – it’s genetic. He’s probably just sitting on a park bench somewhere, feeding the ducks and contemplating his final days of bachelorhood. Trust me, my brother was the same before his wedding – had some kind of pre-commitment crisis and thought about travelling around Australia for a year instead. And this is the guy who can’t stand insects or heat.’

  ‘I sound hysterical, don’t I?’ Emma smiled, taking a nervous sip from her drink. It wasn’t like her to get worked up – she was usually calm and controlled. But tonight was different. The thought had been weighing on her mind for months – whether this wedding fortnight was really the start of something much better or the testing point where everything fell apart at the seams.

  Just like last time.

  ‘You’re under a lot of pressure,’ Lizzy said. ‘You’re getting married in two weeks, for heaven’s sake. Plus you’ve got the biggest audition of your life coming up in two days’ time. Big things are happening, girl!’

  Lizzy was right. An upcoming wedding would be enough to unsettle anyone, but adding a potential career-making movie role into the equation really cranked up the tension. Emma was desperate to get the part in the new British romantic comedy – it would be a major step up from the daytime soap she’d spent three years on and her recent appearances in a variety of London stage plays. It was the break she’d been working so hard for, and never dared to hope might one day arise.

  ‘I know it’ll turn out to be nothing,’ she said, trying to rationalise the situation, ‘but why disappear tonight of all nights?’

  ‘You want to go back to the flat, check if everything’s all right?’

  ‘Would you mind?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Lizzy took Emma’s drink off her and handed it to Sarah, another one of the hen party, who was sporting not just a cowgirl outfit but also a holster complete with plastic gun. ‘We can leave this lot here. We’ll catch up with them once we’ve found that man of yours. Bloody men, eh?’ She wrapped an arm around Emma’s shoulders and gave her a motherly hug. ‘Always want to be the centre of attention.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Emma said, trying her best to smile, ‘bloody men.’

  During the taxi ride she tried Dan’s mobile another three times. Each time the phone went straight through to the answer service. She also called Will, who confirmed that Dan still hadn’t appeared or answered the intercom. As the taxi twisted and turned through the bustling streets of the capital a sickening feeling of loneliness swelled inside her, refusing to go away, sending her stomach into freefall.

  ‘Please, God,’ she whispered to herself, resting her forehead against the taxi window, trying to stop her mind from racing. ‘Please don’t let it happen again.’

  2

  ‘Still nothing?’ Emma asked, as she climbed out of the taxi and approached Will.

  Will was sitting on the apartment steps with his arms folded, wearing designer trousers and a bright white shirt that clashed dramatically with his thick dark hair. He shook his head and unfurled his bottom lip. Although he was only a few months short of thirty, he looked like a little boy waiting for mummy to come home.

  ‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, Em,’ Lizzy said comfortingly, moving across to them as the taxi drove off.

  Emma looked up at the top window of their rented apartment, which overlooked Marylebone High Street. For a second she thought she saw a figure looking back at her, but it was just a trick of the light. She’d calmed down a lot during the taxi ride – the circular breathing, taught to her by her karate instructor ten years ago, had helped her refocus away from those overly negative thoughts. Okay, it was weird, Dan not turning up like that, but the likeliest scenario was that there would be a perfectly reasonable explanation for his disappearance.

  ‘She’s right.’ Will got up from the steps and dusted himself down. ‘I was thinking about it while you were on your way over here. I’m overreacting, like I normally do. And if it wasn’t for that bloody intercom security system, I’d have been able to go up there and check for myself.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have just sneaked in when someone came out?’ Lizzy suggested.

  ‘That was the plan,’ he replied. ‘But no one’s come in or out since I got here. Bloody annoying. I also pressed all those buttons –’ He pointed at the intercom on the wall. ‘But nobody answered.’

  ‘It’s deserted in there at the moment,’ Emma explained, dragging her gaze away from the window and back at Lizzy and Will. ‘A lot of people are on holiday, I think. I’ve hardly seen anyone on the stairs in the last couple of days, and the post is building up.’

  ‘Someone’s in there, though,’ Will countered. ‘You can hear music when you open the letterbox.’

  ‘Right.’ Emma looked up at the other front windows: no signs of movement in any of them. ‘We’d better get inside and take a look.’

  She pulled out her keys from her handbag, but they slipped from her grasp and fell into the gutter, narrowly missing a drain.

  ‘That was lucky,’ Will commented, as he picked up the keys. ‘Hey, Em, your hands are shaking – are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Emma lied, taking the keys. Although mentally she had recovered her composure, her body was still in overdrive. ‘I’m just a bit on edge, that’s all. I guess I’ve been thinking through different scenarios and it’s shaken me up.’

  ‘Come on,’ Lizzy said, ‘let’s get up there and sort this out. He’s probably flat out on the bed and has slept through the calls.’

  They could hear the music as soon as they entered the apartment foyer. It seemed to be coming from one of the upper floors, travelling down the wooden staircase. And from the bass vibration across the ceiling it sounded like it was set on maximum.

  ‘Someone’s having a party,’ Will commented. ‘U2, if I’m not mistaken. Sounds like the band are actually up there rehearsing.’

  ‘Dan was playing that CD just before I left,’ Emma said, beginning to hurry up the stairs, with Will and Lizzy following close behind.

  She took the steps two-by-two; with each step the swirling music from above seemed to get louder. So
mething definitely didn’t feel right about this. Her imaginings flooded back, but now they weren’t about whether Dan had got cold feet – they were of something more sinister, more tragic. Maybe Dan had fallen and hit his head, and he’d been lying on the floor while she’d been out partying.

  As she reached the middle floor, Mr Henderson, her elderly downstairs neighbour, blocked her path, stopping her dead. Judging by his reaction it seemed he had been waiting for her.

  ‘What do you think you’re playing at?’ he said, poking a wrinkled, liver-spotted finger in Emma’s direction.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Emma was taken aback by his unusually aggressive tone. Normally he was so placid. He and his wife had been living in the apartment for over twenty years, and had welcomed them with offers of help when Dan and Emma had first moved in. They were amongst the few people in the apartment not to be renters, and seemed to revel in their role as the building’s surrogate grandparents. But although Mr Henderson still said hello when they passed on the stairs, Emma hadn’t seen much of his wife in recent months. Some time ago, while looking out of the window, she had seen her being helped into an ambulance. But she didn’t know what had been wrong and felt it would seem overly nosey to ask them.

  ‘That music,’ Mr Henderson said angrily, gesturing upstairs. His face was blood-red and his eyes burned in a way that Emma had never seen before. ‘Your boyfriend’s had that on full blast ever since I got back from the shops. Edna’s trying to get to sleep in here; she’s not well, you know. She gets distressed easily. She was crying when I got back home, sitting in the corner of the room, covering her ears. People think just because you’ve got dementia that you don’t matter. But she matters to me. I love her.’

  Tears welled up in his eyes as his anger faded.