Before Her Eyes

by Jack Jordan

  He caught movement from the corner of his eye and looked at the bay window. A man was staring out at Marcus’s car parked outside the house. As their eyes met, he realised he was looking at the young boy in the school photo, all grown up.

  Craig left the window, and shortly afterwards, the door opened.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  He wasn’t a scrawny young kid any more. His shoulders had filled out and he had a broad, sculpted jaw. His hair was tousled from sleep and he wore creased navy pyjamas.

  ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Marcus Campbell. I’m sorry to disturb you so early in the morning.’

  ‘Is it Naomi? Is she all right?’ Marcus noticed genuine concern in the man’s eyes.

  ‘Naomi is fine. Your wife is with her. Do you mind if I come in? I have some questions to ask you about Hayley Miller.’

  Craig frowned and blinked furiously, as if to wake himself up.

  ‘Hayley Miller? Christ, I haven’t heard that name in a while.’

  ‘I’m sorry to dig up the past, but with the new attacks, we’re considering every line of inquiry.’

  ‘Come in,’ Craig said. ‘The kids are still asleep. The one time they decide to have a lie-in and I’m up at the crack of dawn.’

  He led Marcus through the house towards a bright white kitchen. Fresh flowers sat in a vase on the breakfast table. Marcus could feel the under-floor heating warming his feet through his shoes.

  ‘Would you like a drink? The kettle’s just boiled.’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you.’

  ‘Please,’ Craig said, indicating the island unit.

  Marcus settled on one of the stools as the other man made himself a coffee and tried to hide a yawn.

  ‘Are you new in town?’ Craig asked with his back turned. ‘I haven’t seen you around.’

  ‘Two months,’ Marcus replied. ‘Nice town.’ He noted the insincerity in his tone and coughed. ‘The scenery is beautiful.’

  ‘You get immune to it after a while,’ Craig replied. ‘I just see it as home.’

  The sun shone through the windows and gleamed on the granite worktop. Craig turned and stood at the island, a mug of coffee in hand. He took a sip and winced at the heat. Marcus smelled the coffee and wished that he had taken up the offer after all.

  ‘How can I help?’

  There was something about questioning a man in his own home that made Marcus uneasy. There was a level of respect that had to be maintained, balancing authority with courtesy so he wouldn’t be asked to leave. The look in a suspect’s eyes could change with a single word.

  ‘I saw a photo of you and Hayley attached to an old newspaper article.’

  ‘Yes, I remember that,’ Craig said, and took a sip of coffee. ‘First time I’d been in a newspaper.’

  ‘Were you close?’

  ‘I was too shy back then to be close to anyone,’ Craig said, and chuckled. ‘I rarely spoke a word. I only came out of my shell when I began seeing Grace.’

  ‘You were class partners with Hayley at one point, weren’t you?’

  ‘If you can call it that. She would doodle in her notebook while I did all the work and got us an A.’

  ‘I see. She didn’t confide in you at all? Talk about who she was seeing?’

  ‘People tended not to talk to me. I was too shy. She told me to do the work and I did as I was told. The only time we saw each other outside school was the day of the presentation we had to give in front of the class. She told me to come to her house before school started and I could catch her up on what to say. There was no way I would be able to speak.’

  Marcus thought back to Anita’s description of Craig. She must have seen him that morning.

  ‘Grace and Hayley were close, weren’t they?’

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Craig said. ‘This town is so small that we’re all in each other’s pockets.’

  ‘The thought had crossed my mind,’ Marcus confessed.

  ‘It’s true that we all know each other, but secrets are still kept. Grace has always been protective about her friendship with Hayley, and because I love her, I never pushed it.’

  ‘What do you mean by protective?’

  Craig sighed. ‘If Hayley ever comes up in conversation, Grace stiffens and changes the subject. Hayley’s disappearance really affected her. I tried to persuade her to go to therapy, but she refused.’

  ‘Do you think she would speak to me?’ Marcus asked.

  ‘With everything that’s happened lately, she’s become defensive again. I think talking about it would tip her over the edge.’

  ‘I understand,’ Marcus replied. ‘Are any of Hayley’s other school friends still in town? I’d like to talk to as many people as possible.’

  ‘I’m not sure you could call them friends,’ Craig replied. ‘After she began to garner a certain reputation, all her friends turned on her. Except Grace.’

  Children’s laughter echoed above them.

  ‘Time to put my dad face on.’ Craig laughed.

  ‘Thanks for seeing me. I won’t disturb you again.’

  Craig led him to the door. Marcus stepped out into the cold, blustering day, then stopped and turned.

  ‘Craig,’ he said. ‘What do you think happened to Hayley?’

  Craig sighed. He looked over his shoulder towards the stairs as the children shouted from upstairs.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself that question for the last twenty years.’

  Marcus nodded and thanked him again for his time. As he unlocked the car door, he looked back at the house. Craig was standing by an upstairs window with a child of about five in his arms. The child waved at him with a gap-toothed smile. Marcus waved back.

  Grace had done well for herself, he thought. He wondered what Hayley might have achieved had she been allowed to. But behind the perfect home and family, Marcus had noticed the cracks. Grace Kennedy was hiding something.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Naomi swept up the last of the glass from the living room floor. Stray shards fell between the floorboards. If only it were that easy for her to disappear.

  The board Grace had nailed across the broken window creaked with the wind. She stayed sitting on the floor and closed her eyes to calm her racing heart. Even with the doormat in the bin outside, and the inside of the door scrubbed clean, she could still smell the stink lingering in the air. Someone had purposely bagged up their dog’s faeces and emptied them through her letter box. At least she thought it was dog faeces.

  The front door opened to the sound of clicking cameras, then quickly slammed shut.

  ‘Bastards,’ Grace spat, breathing heavily. ‘Bloody bastards.’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘They’re pigs,’ she said as she walked to the kitchen and ran the tap.

  Naomi got up and followed her.

  ‘What did they do?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Grace replied as she washed her hands. She had been scrubbing at the graffiti on the front door for over an hour.

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this.’

  Naomi stood in the doorway and listened to the broken glass rattle in the dustpan. It had been over twelve hours since the rock had clattered against her bedroom window, and she was still shaking. It was only then that she realised she hadn’t eaten since the previous day. She emptied the glass into the bin and left the dustpan and brush on the kitchen counter.

  Grace turned off the tap and dried her hands.

  ‘Are we okay?’ Naomi asked.

  ‘Why wouldn’t we be?’

  Grace passed her and went into the living room. Naomi heard the spark of a lighter.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  Naomi shook her head. Her house was hardly a sanctuary any more. Her sister could pull down her trousers and urinate on the rug and it wouldn’t make any difference.

  ‘I thought you’d quit,’ she said. The words sounded forced, but she had to say something. The tension between them felt so mu
ch thicker when they were left alone.

  ‘This is my guilty pleasure. Don’t tell Mum.’

  ‘You know I won’t. I’ve kept all your secrets.’

  She listened to Grace drag on the cigarette and smelt the smoke in the air.

  ‘Are you ever going to tell me?’

  ‘No,’ Grace replied. ‘And now is hardly the time to talk about this.’

  ‘There will never be a good time.’

  ‘Naomi, just leave it.’

  Naomi edged closer. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet.

  ‘I’m tired of leaving it. I want my sister back.’

  Grace shifted in the armchair.

  ‘I’m right here, Naomi. I’ve spent the day nailing boards over the windows and scrubbing paint off the door. What else do you want?’

  ‘I want to know that you love me.’

  ‘Of course I love you,’ she replied with a huff.

  ‘Do you? Because for the last twenty years it feels like you’ve barely tolerated me.’

  Grace sighed and flung the cigarette end into the fireplace.

  ‘What have I done? Why won’t you let me in?’

  ‘It isn’t about you, all right? It’s me.’

  Grace got up and moved about the room. Naomi listened to her slip into her shoes and shrug on her coat.

  ‘I should go. The kids will need dinner.’

  ‘Grace—’

  ‘Just leave it, Naomi. You’re not the only one going through shit.’

  ‘Then let me help you like you’re helping me.’

  ‘I don’t need help.’ Grace slung her bag over her shoulder. ‘All I want is to leave the past in the past.’

  ‘And that’s where you’re going to leave us, then?’

  Grace unlocked the door and hesitated. Naomi stood in the centre of the room. She longed for her sister to take her coat off and sit back down.

  ‘You remind me of …’ Grace’s voice broke. She cleared her throat. ‘Every time I look at you, I remember.’

  ‘Remember what?’ Naomi asked. ‘Remember what, Grace?’

  Grace opened the door. The heckling of the photographers slipped through briefly before it slammed shut again.

  Naomi stood in the silence, breathing in the scent of cigarette smoke, as her new-found strength began to crack at the seams.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  The cliff had been waiting for her.

  The salt on the breeze, the chill of the night, the dirt crumbling beneath her feet: it was as though she had never left. Thunder clapped above her head and echoed along the shore.

  Naomi swigged the last of the brandy from the bottle and launched it over the edge with a scream. She was screaming at the injustice of it all, screaming for the murdered women, for the life she used to live, until all her anger and fear rattled up her throat. She felt the edge of the cliff crumble beneath her weight and stepped back.

  She wasn’t there to die.

  She sat down on the wet grass and listened to the storm grumble overhead. She felt free up there on the green, away from the confines of home with the photographers pacing outside. The night air felt cool in her lungs. She breathed it in and tasted the saltiness of the sea.

  She thought of everything that had happened during her month away from the cliff edge, the lives that had ended and the hate the town had spewed upon her. She remembered Max’s bloody fur, his yelps as the knife slipped between his ribs, the weight of him as she carried him along the beach below.

  Before it had all begun, the loneliness had been enough to devour her from the inside and pull her towards the cliff, but now something had changed. Now she had something to fight for. She wouldn’t die with a crime linked to her name, a crime she hadn’t committed. She had people to avenge. Max hadn’t deserved it. The murdered women hadn’t deserved it; even Josie, lying in a hospital bed with her neck stitched from ear to ear.

  The brandy on her breath mixed with the saltiness of the breeze; she closed her eyes and licked her lips, tasted it.

  ‘Don’t do it.’

  Her eyes snapped open, and she whipped her head around to listen, but she only heard the crashing waves.

  ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘It’s George.’

  She wondered how long he had been there behind her; whether he had heard her scream into the wind and watched her throw the bottle. Maybe he had been following her since she stepped out of her front door.

  ‘I’m not here to jump,’ she said. ‘I just needed space.’

  ‘Space from what?’ He was closer. ‘Can I sit?’

  She nodded and hugged her knees to her chest.

  ‘All of it. The town. The hate. The journalists. My home feels like a prison now. I needed fresh air.’

  He sat beside her. His arm brushed against hers.

  ‘I can go if …’

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘You can stay.’

  They sat quietly and listened to the waves, to the storm rumbling out to sea. It felt good to be close to someone. She could feel the warmth of him against her body.

  ‘I’m not usually a big drinker.’

  ‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me. I would have hit the bottle a lot sooner than this.’

  ‘I’m just … I’m trying to understand them.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The people who are doing this to me.’ She was slurring. She closed her eyes and focused on pronouncing every syllable. She should have eaten. ‘Did you hear about what happened?’

  ‘With that woman in the woods? Yeah. I read it in the paper.’

  ‘She told the police I did it, that I was the one who attacked her. She’s my ex-husband’s partner, and she … she hates me because of something I did. I can’t say I blame her, but to tell the police I hurt her and let the real attacker walk is just crazy. It means she hates me more than the stranger who tried to kill her. How can someone do that? Let a murderer roam free so an innocent person can be framed? Just to get back at me.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘There are some crazy people in this world.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she replied. ‘I’ve never left Balkerne Heights.’

  ‘Never?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s different for me. There’s a whole world out there I’ll never see. I know I sound bitter, but … I don’t want to know what I’m missing. It’s been so long now. To go out there and realise that it’s all the same … I’d rather imagine the grass is greener than understand that this is all there is.’

  ‘There’s a lot more to life than this place, Naomi. The world might not be perfect, but it has a lot to offer. Maybe it would be good for you to get out there and make a fresh start.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘What made you come here? Balkerne Heights is so small, so … insignificant.’

  ‘That’s what attracted me. I lived in London for over ten years, and the whole time I craved peace. Life without nature, the sea, the trees, it was draining. Since I came here, I finally feel like I can breathe again.’

  ‘Don’t stay too long. Balkerne Heights has a way of sucking the life out of people.’

  There was a sweet smell to him, almost feminine. She longed to lean into him and feel his arms wrap around her. Out of all the people in her life, it was a stranger who made her feel safest.

  ‘What are you going to do? About the police?’

  ‘I don’t know. They think I did it.’

  ‘Surely they can’t believe you hurt that woman.’

  ‘Women,’ she corrected. ‘The attack on Josie was similar to the two murders. I think they want to pin those on me as well.’

  ‘What about your ex-husband? Wasn’t he arrested too?’

  She nodded. ‘We’ve lived in this town for decades, and now it’s turned on us.’

  ‘The truth will come out.’

  ‘I hope so. I used to think the system protected the innocent, the people who told the truth. But now it feels like I have to do anything and everything I can
to survive it.’

  She listened to his calm breaths and wondered what he looked like. Maybe he had plump lips and stubble on his cheeks. He was a runner; she imagined a toned body beneath his clothes. If none of this had happened, if her heart hadn’t been claimed by another man, maybe they could have been more than just friends.

  ‘What made you follow me here?’

  ‘I was returning from a business trip and saw you walk out of your door with the bottle. I’d just read the newspaper articles on the train journey back, and seeing you going off alone made me worry. You’ve been through a lot.’

  ‘A month ago you would have been right to worry, but all this, this mess, it’s changed me. I won’t give in to it. I won’t let them break me.’

  After a brief silence, he spoke again.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘What made you blind? Did you ever have sight, or …?’

  Naomi sighed. She couldn’t tell him that she was blind because her birth mother was a drug-taking prostitute, and an untreated STI had given her an infection as she was born. She couldn’t tell him that her mother was so ignorant and neglectful that she’d ignored all the symptoms and only taken her to the hospital when it was too late. She could barely bring herself to mention it in the confines of her own mind.

  ‘Birth defect,’ she replied finally.

  She felt the first spit of rain against her face.

  ‘We should probably go,’ he said.

  She nodded and pushed up from the wet grass. The muscles in her legs felt soft. She stumbled to her feet and laughed.

  ‘I’m drunker than I thought.’

  ‘A bottle of brandy will do that to you. Here.’

  He placed his coat over her shoulders and hooked her arm through his. He picked up her cane and put it under his arm.

  ‘Thanks.’

  They headed off across the green with the sea breeze blowing the rain against their backs. George pulled her close, and as she shut her eyes and leaned into his warmth, she realised that there really was more to life than Balkerne Heights. She thought about what he had said about a fresh start, and took a deep breath. For the first time in a long time, she felt as though she could breathe properly too.