Love You to Death: An Absolutely Gripping Thriller with a Killer Twist

by Caroline Mitchell

  A slim white card, black lined, just like the envelope.

  ‘In Memoriam:

  EMILY EDMONDS

  Died in her sleep

  Rest in Peace’

  ‘What the?’ Ruby stammered, sliding her reading glasses from her pocket and reading the text again. Like the envelope it was printed in black ink, but these words drew her in. She glanced at the other envelope, itching to tear it open. But she had already tainted one; best to save the second in case of DNA evidence. What were the chances that it mentioned Charlotte’s or Monica’s names? Or was there a future victim declared?

  Ruby stared at the postmark. The first one was stamped the day before Emily’s body was discovered, so it would have been delivered the day her body was dumped. She glanced at the second envelope, dated the day Monica’s body was found. Was it someone who had watched the TV appeal playing a sickening joke? But it had been addressed directly to her. Not Downes or Worrow, who led the appeal.

  The emails, the letters, and the use of her middle name: it had to be her daughter, trying to gain her attention. With a heavy heart she picked up the phone and dialled a number. ‘Bones?’ she said, waiting for him to respond. ‘I’ve got something for you. And I need it analysed right now.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  ‘Don’t forget to tell the teacher that you’re having school dinner today,’ Anita said, releasing her daughter to the school gates. Sophie kissed her mum before running inside, her long dark pigtails slapping against her backpack. Funny how she had inherited her father’s dark hair when her own was so light. Anita smiled as her daughter paused to blow a kiss. She dreaded the day when Sophie would become embarrassed by public displays of affection. She treasured their time together, and still held her hand as they walked to school, telling stories on the way. Anita would start the story with one line and Sophie would continue it with a couple more. Back and forward their stories would go, leading them to some inexplicable situation involving monsters, sticky sweets, animals that could talk, and of course, the moral of the story. It was like something out of a Roald Dahl book, and Anita was always up for cultivating her daughter’s vivid imagination.

  Today Sophie had swimming lessons and was slowly overcoming her fears. The leg braces she wore as a toddler had straightened her bowed limbs, but she still carried the stigma of being different to her friends. While they started school in knee-length skirts, Sophie begged to wear trousers. The thoughts of their swimming trips had struck her with fear. In the beginning, her teacher encouraged her to dabble her feet in the water as she watched the other children at play. Now she had gained enough courage to wade in.

  Anita watched as the lollipop lady ushered the late arrivals across the road. The drooping socks, the unwashed hair – she could have overlooked the children’s less than perfect appearance. But sending them to school on their own? She tutted under her breath. There was danger everywhere. How could their mums care so little to allow them to find their own way in? Anita stayed on the corner until she was sure the children had safely made their way inside the school gates; the same way she did every morning. Their mothers had most likely gone back to bed, if they got up at all. Each morning Anita told herself not to be so judgemental, that perhaps she was the one with the problem, not them. She had always been overprotective, but, as she said to her husband she had lost one daughter. She could not live through losing another.

  She peered at the red sports car as it crawled past the school. Was this another instance of her paranoia? The concern was real enough to deliver a chill down her back. It was the fourth time she had seen it this week, and it always slowed as it passed. She had yet to see a child being dispatched from the passenger seat, and each time it drove past it turned around and returned the way it came. Anita could not help but be suspicious. Next time, she told herself. Next time she would bring a pen and paper and jot down the license plate. Perhaps she could pass it into the local police officers, who might check to see if it was known.

  Sometimes she thought she would be better off living in blissful ignorance. But how could you protect your child if you were not aware of the monsters on the prowl?

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Ruby dared to feel optimistic as she pushed through the doors of Oakwood Care Home at lunchtime. His face set in grim determination, Bones had taken the seized envelopes and promised a quick result. A forensic investigation would be launched on the gum sealing the envelopes as well as the usual fingerprints, paper, and printer ink analysis. It seemed a good opportunity to sneak out for a ten-minute visit. But she should have known that her good mood wouldn’t last.

  Harmony met her in the corridor and gently steered her to one side. She was the sweetest, most maternal person Ruby knew and she treated everyone as if they were her nearest and dearest, instead of just part of her job. But today her eyes were filled with concern, and Ruby felt her heart flutter in her chest.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Ruby said, looking past her shoulder. ‘Is Mum OK?’

  ‘Now don’t you go worrying, gal, she be just fine. She’s just a bit agitated. I wanted to let you know so you could both take things slow.’

  ‘Agitated? Why, what happened?’

  ‘She decided she didn’t want to eat and threw her porridge against the wall. There’s no reasoning with her I’m afraid, but come, sit awhile. She be a lot calmer now.’

  ‘Mum?’ Ruby said, feeling the old familiar tightness grab a tight hold of her chest. She had felt the same way when her mum had to be taken into the home: overwrought with guilt because she had not been able to care for her by herself. She had tried and failed, and they had both been miserable. After finding Oakwood the tightly bound anxiety had slowly released its hold. Mum was happier, which in turn helped Ruby relax. But she could not bear another reminder of her mother’s crumbling mind. And now, seeing her with her unkempt hair and oddly coloured socks the old feelings of anxiety and guilt returned.

  ‘It’s just an off day,’ Harmony said, no doubt sensing her discord.

  ‘Thank you,’ Ruby said. ‘I won’t stay too long because I’ve got work, but I’ll ring a little later; see how she is around lunch time if that’s OK.’

  ‘You ring whenever you like, my love. I’m sure we’ll persuade her to eat by then, even if I have to get Geoffrey over there to ask nicely. Isn’t that right, Geoff?’ she said, winking at the auburn-haired young man who was helping an elderly gent to his seat.

  Ruby thought how there was something very attractive about selfless people. If only she didn’t find herself chasing the wrong men.

  Ruby leaned in to kiss her mother on the cheek; backing off when she received a hostile glare. ‘I can’t stay long,’ she said, itching to fix the buttons on her mother’s red cardigan. She had obviously dressed herself, batting away any offers of assistance. Perhaps her annoyance lay in the memory taking centre stage today. Her mother mumbled under her breath, her fingers tightly bound in two fists.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mum? You don’t seem yourself today.’

  ‘What’s wrong? What’s wrong you ask?’ Joy said, shaking her head. ‘It’s Ruby. She’s only gone and got herself pregnant. With none other than that young Crosby boy from next door.’

  ‘Mum… ’ Ruby said, trying to gently steer her mother into the present. But Joy was not listening.

  ‘I should have known when she left to set up home with him. I’ve got a good mind to go around there right now. She thinks she knows everything, but she’s just a child herself.’

  ‘It’s okay, Mum, I’m Ruby. I’m home. Everything’s okay.’

  Her mother looked at her as if she were mad. ‘You’re not Ruby; my daughter’s barely eighteen. You’re a long way from eighteen.’ She folded her arms, her fists still tightly bunched. ‘Dammit, if it were anyone but the Crosbys I’d be pleased for her.’

  This piqued Ruby’s interest, and not knowing whether it was the right thing to do or not she played along. ‘What’s wrong with the Crosbys?’

&nb
sp; ‘Gertie, if you don’t know what’s wrong with the Crosbys you haven’t been listening to me for the last ten years.’

  Ruby sighed. Her mother’s sister Gertie had passed away two years before. She had always said Ruby looked like her. ‘Sorry. I thought you liked Nathan,’ Ruby said.

  ‘Of course I like him. That poor boy is like one of my own. But his father… meanness like that passes through the bloodstream. There’s no avoiding it.’

  Ruby knew what her mother meant. His father’s cruelty had beat Nathan from a beautiful little boy that called her Wuby to a man too tortured to show his emotions, confusing love with weakness. His brother, Lenny, had taken the brunt of the physical punishments. But Nathan had not escaped his childhood untarnished. Years of mental abuse had taken its toll: watching his mother and brother get beaten, being swatted back when he tried to help. He hated his father with a passion, but had been powerless to stop him.

  ‘I remember when he was seven years old,’ Joy said, grim-faced. ‘I found him hiding in the wardrobe, shaking like a leaf because his father had lost it, threatening to blow their brains out with a gun before he left. The poor child was so scared he vomited into his hands. Can you imagine what that does to a person? And now they think they can bring a child of their own into the world. It’s unthinkable, that’s what it is.’

  Ruby knew all about it. Years of abuse had come out as Nathan and Ruby lay in their squat, stoned. She knew at the time it was therapy, but it pained her to relive each stinging blow, each cruel word. It was those dark confessions that got Ruby through the hard times in their relationship; when Nathan wouldn’t speak, or became bad tempered because she spoke to another boy. She was the only solid thing he had in life. The only person that could make him feel that there was still some good in him. But as Nathan grew, so did his independence. Their year of living recklessly ran out of steam, and Ruby grew tired of getting wasted on cannabis when she should be doing something with her life. Finding out she was pregnant was a game changer. It was why Ruby had agreed with her mother when she suggested they give the baby up for adoption.

  Joy had gone quiet now; her energy sapped by the anger she had awoken with that morning. Nathan would never have a bad word said against his own mother. But he must have known she could not be relied upon to put their daughter’s welfare first. To her, children were possessions, part of a family unit that could never be torn apart. She would have insisted both Ruby and Nathan move in with them. And then the cycle of abuse would have begun all over again. With no money and a failing relationship, Ruby and Nathan allowed themselves to be steered by her mother, and so they had given their baby up in the hope she would be afforded a better life.

  With a sinking feeling, Ruby wondered if she was destined to be like her mother, battling a past that would not let go.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Anita rubbed her hands against the back of her jeans as she answered the door. She was smiling, which seemed to be the default expression on her face.

  Lucy was happy to see that smile. Today she was wearing a blonde wig cut into a blunt bob, which brought her hair to her shoulders. The rose-patterned dress she was wearing was similar to Anita’s clothes, and she was disappointed to see her in a sweatshirt and jeans. Lucy put on a brave smile and took a deep breath. ‘Hello, I’m sorry to bother you.’ She took a deep breath and exhaled again. ‘Oh my gosh, this is so hard.’ Gracefully, she extended her hand. It was a swan-like movement Lucy had practised countless times. ‘My name is Lucy; I think… I mean, I am your daughter.’

  The colour left Anita’s face as she stared, open-mouthed, her eyes wide in shock.

  ‘Muuuuummmyyyy,’ the little girl called from the kitchen.

  Lucy bristled within at the irritating squeal. But it brought another smile to Anita’s face as she called back: ‘I’ll be there in a minute, sweetheart.’

  ‘Well, please, do come in,’ Anita said, closing the front door behind her. ‘I’m sorry, this has come as a shock.’

  Sunlight streamed through the glass door panels bathing the women in a soft glow. There was something ethereal about their meeting. Lucy felt it in the air. This was meant to be.

  A strange hiccup-sounding sob caught in the back of Anita’s throat as tears clouded her eyes. ‘This is crazy,’ she said, giving another little gasp. ‘Are you saying you’re really my daughter? The little girl I gave up all those years ago?’

  Lucy nodded, mirroring Anita’s emotions. ‘Yes. It’s me, Mum. It’s really me.’

  Anita opened her arms wide. ‘Well, in that case, give me a hug.’

  Lucy had not been expecting the instant display of affection after all the times she had been turned away. It warmed her from the inside out, and she breathed in her mother’s flowery perfume, gratefully accepted her embrace. But their perfect moment was rudely interrupted by that irritating sound from the kitchen.

  ‘Mummy, I’m done.’

  Lucy’s eyes snapped open, narrowing over Anita’s shoulder as she stared at the kitchen door. Something would really have to be done about her.

  Anita caught the tears with the tips of her fingers as she pulled away. ‘That’s Sophie… your sister. Oh my gosh, I’m shaking. I don’t know what to say.’ Pulling a ragged tissue from her pocket, she lightly dabbed her face. ‘Would you mind waiting in the living room while I see to Sophie? I’ll get you a drink. What would you like? Tea or coffee? Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re here,’ she said, breathlessly, showing her into her humble abode.

  ‘A cup of tea would be lovely, thanks,’ Lucy said softly. ‘Two sugars and milk. But I can come back at a better time, if you prefer? I didn’t know how to approach you. I wasn’t sure how you’d react.’ Lucy began to squeeze a couple of her own tears out, in keeping with her mother’s response.

  Anita grabbed her hands and grasped them tightly. ‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m not letting you go anywhere. I’ve been searching for you for years, but I kept hitting a dead end. I’m so happy to have you here. Please tell me you’ll stay.’

  Lucy could not believe her ears. Even while she watched Anita she never dared believe that she would react in this way. After all the rejections it was a dream come true. She had been right to choose a mother who was naturally maternal, unlike the others who rejected her from the start: Emily, a wet rag, who allowed people to walk all over her, and Monica, a career-driven materialistic cow. ‘Of course, I’ll take a seat and wait for you.’

  ‘I just need to speak to Sophie, tell her that we have a very special visitor. And I have to tell my husband. Oh my goodness, I just can’t believe this. I can’t wait to hear all about you.’ Anita wiped away another errant tear, blew her nose, and pushed the tissue back into her pocket. ‘I’ll be with you in five minutes,’ she said.

  Lucy took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Her eyes danced over the pictures on the walls and she imagined her face in the pictures instead of the little girl lined up in the shot. Of course, Anita would be unhappy if anything happened to her, and Lucy would have to take that into account when disposing of the rest of the family. A tall gangly looking man stared out happily from the family photo, his arm draped around what looked like a younger version of himself.

  Anita’s husband, from what Lucy’s investigations had uncovered, who was conveniently away with his son.

  Lucy sighed. More people to be taken care of. If only the rest of the world could just disappear and leave her and her mother alone. She stiffened as footsteps approached, catching the tail end of a telephone conversation as Anita paced the hall.

  ‘Yes, it’s really her. She said her name is Lucy now. No, I haven’t asked her. It might be all a bit overwhelming. I think it’s best that we take things slowly to begin with… I know… I can’t believe that she’s here, sitting in our living room.’

  Lucy strained to listen as the conversation faded away, and rising from her chair, she pressed her ear to the door. A kettle boiled in the distance while a children’s cartoon played a happy tune. S
he stepped back at the sound of the clink of cups being carried on a tray down the hall. Lucy perched on the sofa, plastering a smile on her face. Her heart swelled at the sight of the tray laden with tea, chocolate digestive biscuits and sandwiches cut in triangles. Nobody had ever offered her refreshments before. ‘You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.’

  Anita’s eyes were alive with excitement. ‘It’s the least I can do after you’ve come all this way to find me. I’ve so many questions, but I was just saying to my husband, you must be feeling overwhelmed.’

  Lucy nodded, dropping two cubes of sugar into her flower-patterned cup. It was all so homely; she felt like hugging herself. ‘My stomach’s been churning at the thought of visiting. I’ve come to your front door so many times and walked away.’ It was enough to cover up the fact she had been there before, in case some nosy neighbours pointed her out. ‘But the same must go for you, having me turn up out of the blue. I don’t even know how you feel about having me here.’

  Anita’s eyes began to well up for the second time that day. ‘Darling, I’m over the moon. I want you to meet everybody; after all you’ve got a half-sister and brother that will be dying to meet you,’ she said, ‘but I’ll respect your wishes and take things as slowly as you want.’

  Lucy did not consider the little girl in the kitchen as her sister. Her mind could only bend reality so far. And, in Lucy’s world, there was no room for sharing.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN