Let Me In

by Alison Keane

  “What is this?”

  He laughs bitterly. “Why pretend, Ellie? I know the truth.”

  I pick up the paper. I recognise the name at the top. It’s an exclusive clinic on the outskirts of the town that no-one really knows much about. There were rumours that it was a rehab for celebrities but I’ve also heard that it’s a mental hospital.

  I blink a few times because what I’ve just seen doesn’t make sense. The exhaustion must be playing tricks with my eyes.

  The bill is addressed to John Cartwright and the patient’s name is Michael Grant.

  My blood runs cold.

  “This is a trick,” I mutter. “It’s got to be. It’s Photoshopped.”

  “Who would bother?” Hobson growls. “The only trick is on your father’s part, using his money to trick Mikey’s mother into giving up on justice for her son.”

  It’s an invoice. The whole page is rows and rows of medicines and treatments. I turn the page and see more of the same.

  “It goes back almost a year,” I whisper, more to myself than to them.

  Hobson snatches the invoice away.

  “Someone’s made this up. They must have.” I take a deep breath and hiss it out just as quickly. I can’t get enough air. “Call the hospital. They’ll tell you it’s not real.”

  “It is real,” he snaps. “Do you want to see pictures?”

  This time, DC Stevens puts her hand on his arm. “Sir, please stop. I can get one of the others to take over.”

  I stare at him in disbelief.

  Mikey.

  I close my eyes. I’ve spent so long trying to understand why he’d snap and hurt me, but that’s what he did. I didn’t hurt myself. How can he be hurt too?

  Who the hell did this? The police obviously don’t know or else they wouldn’t have given me such grief last year.

  A surge of nausea judders through my body and I can’t stop myself from retching as Hobson’s words sink in.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I whisper.

  “Oh, you suddenly care, do you?”

  “Sir!”

  “Tell me!”

  “He’s in an unresponsive state.”

  I shake my head. “No. No he can’t be.” I’ve spent the past year hating him. And hating myself for pining for the man who ruined my life. I assumed he’d gone off to a bigger club like he always wanted, or a foreign club like he did when we had that blowup over me getting drunk at the club party.

  I had no idea.

  I can’t breathe. I’m gasping for air, but no matter how many deep breaths I take, it doesn’t help. I’m choking. The edges of my vision go fuzzy. I try to ask them for a glass of water but my voice is clumsy and it sounds like it’s coming from very far away.

  39

  John

  John’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, hoping it might be Ellie. He’d half expected her to show up for lunch even though she’d never answered him. Of course she hadn’t. He had to face the fact that she knew the truth now and it was just as he’d feared: she’d chosen to have nothing to do with him.

  It was an unknown number. He was tempted to cancel the call, but what was the harm he supposed? It felt like forever since he’d spoken to someone outside of work. That didn’t bother him in the past but it all seemed futile now when he didn’t even own the company.

  “John Cartwright speaking.”

  “Ah,” said a cold voice. “Mr Cartwright. This is DS Hobson.”

  A shiver ran down John’s spine. He knew the other man well, though they had never been—and would never be—friends. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  He shouldn’t have been rude—it wasn’t like him—but he couldn’t help it. Hobson had come very close to undoing everything he’d done to protect Ellie. He might not be her birth father, but he felt just as protective of her as if he was.

  “I’m calling about Stephanie Price.”

  “Oh,” John said. “What about her?”

  There was a sudden tension on the line. “You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  There was a pause. “Mr Cartwright, what is your relationship to Ms Price?”

  John shook his head. “Relationship?” he said, puzzled now. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

  “No?”

  “No. I sold my company to her father. He has a good reputation. I didn’t realise he was setting his daughter up in her own little offshoot.”

  “I see. You weren’t happy about that, I take it?”

  “No, I bloody well wasn’t. The girl is barely out of university. It’s galling to watch her trying to slash costs in the company I’ve spent my life building up as though it’s some two-dimensional case study in a textbook.”

  “I see.”

  “What’s this about, DS Hobson? I doubt you called to get my opinion on company management.”

  “Ms Price was murdered last night. I have reason to believe your daughter was involved. She seems to think the two of you were in a relationship.”

  “Oh Christ,” John groaned. “Oh no. No.”

  “Mr Cartwright, I—”

  John hung up. He needed to think.

  He got up and poured himself a whisky. Stephanie Price had come to him on Thursday, complaining about the terrible position she found herself in. It was only then that he’d learned she’d sought Ellie out and befriended her.

  He groaned and sat back down on the couch. What had she done? She could have chosen any other girl in the town to make friends with, but she’d picked Ellie. And then she’d had the cheek to insist he tell Ellie the truth about how he’d sold the company.

  But how could he have done that?

  To top it all off, Ellie had found out about their involvement anyway. He discovered that on Friday morning when he found his office torn asunder. Now it seemed she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. How could Ellie have thought…

  His phone started buzzing again, but he ignored it. Hobson could come over here if he wanted to talk to him and even then John wasn’t sure he’d bother letting him in.

  What had Ellie done?

  Someone started banging on the door.

  Was it Hobson? He could bloody wait. John didn’t want to speak to him. Not now his heart was breaking.

  He’d done everything right. She’d never wanted for anything, that girl. John had wiped himself out financially trying to make up for her mistakes, and now look what she’d done. With Mikey, he’d always assumed there must have been a reason she’d lashed out. Now?

  He couldn’t believe it. He would have been the first to admit that Stephanie Price was pushy and entitled, but she certainly hadn’t deserved to die.

  There was another loud thump on the door.

  “Who’s there?” he called.

  The letterbox rattled. “It’s about Ellie.”

  John sighed. It wasn’t Hobson at all. It was Tony. The man he’d despised for most of his life who had now turned into a strange sort of brother in arms.

  He got up and shuffled out of the room, aware that Tony would smash the door in if John didn’t open it. He opened the door and Tony pushed past him.

  “Do you know what?” he said miserably, turning to go back to his drink. “Forget everything I said before. Go and spend as much time with her as you want. Because I’m done with her.”

  The other man lunged forward, grabbed him and slammed him against the wall.

  John blinked as the pressure on his neck made it difficult for him to breathe. “Go ahead,” he squeaked at the man who had caused him so much pain. “Do it.”

  Tony let go of him without warning. John crumpled to the floor. “I’d love to, believe me. They’ve taken her in, John. The police.”

  “I know that,” he spat, rubbing his neck where it felt like the other man had crushed it. “And I’m glad. She’s turned out just like you despite all my efforts to raise her right.”

  Tony’s hands tightened into fists. John watched with detached interest. Because what
did it matter what Tony did now?

  That girl was dead because of John. If he hadn’t stepped in and bought the Grant woman’s silence, Ellie likely would have been pursued for what she did to Mikey. She’d be in prison now.

  He sighed. It broke his heart to imagine her in prison, but maybe that was the best place for her.

  He’d tried his best to raise her well. He’d been strict and he’d sent her to good schools. Whenever he so much as suspected that she was hanging around with unsavoury characters, he’d found an excuse to stop her from spending time with them outside of school hours.

  He’d tried everything.

  It had been exhausting.

  And it hadn’t even worked.

  It was galling to discover that nature meant far more than nurture.

  “You don’t seriously think she did this, do you?”

  John bowed his head. He was exhausted. He just wanted to be alone with his regrets. This was the last thing he needed. “What does it matter what I think, Tony? If the police think she did it then that says a lot. She had a motive. She thought I was involved with that woman. And she has issues. You know that as well as I do. You saw what she did to that young lad, and now this.”

  “So what are we supposed to do?”

  John sighed. “Let the justice system do its job.”

  “Like you did before?”

  John flushed. “I tried to protect her and look what happened.”

  Tony hunkered down in front of him. “She didn’t do this. She can’t have.”

  “You don’t even know her, Tony.”

  “I talked to her yesterday. Told her who I was. She was terrified at first. Thought I wanted to hurt her, for some reason. Why would she think that?”

  John shook his head. “Who knows. She’s not… She said something last week that was strange. I let it go at the time, but I can’t help wondering now if I should have pursued it. She seemed to have no idea about what had happened to Mikey even though she’s the one responsible.”

  “I don’t care about him, John. I care about her,” Tony said fiercely, and just for a moment, John could have sworn he was looking into Ellie’s eyes. Strange. He’d always thought she took after his and Joy’s side.

  “I care about her too, believe me. But I have to draw a line somewhere. She’ll destroy us all.”

  Tony lunged for him again before he could get out of the way. “Do you hear yourself? Ellie’s locked up and you’re giving up on her! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “You don’t know her like I do.”

  “That’s true. I haven’t had the chance. But she’s not violent. She’s not aggressive.”

  “How can you say that for sure?”

  “Because I followed her a couple of times before I worked up the balls to speak to her. When I tried to approach her here the other day she was terrified.”

  John looked at the other man. “Here? What are you talking about?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m just telling you, she’s not aggressive. She’s not a killer.”

  John stared into the other man’s eyes then down at the hands that trapped him against his own hallway wall.

  Tony let go.

  “She’s violent. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that sets her off. It’s in her nature, her genes.”

  Tony shook his head. “You have to help her.”

  “Why? What am I supposed to do? Get her off so she can kill someone else?”

  “Believe her. Trust her. I don’t know. You’re a clever man. Talk to her. Find out what’s happening.”

  “I can’t talk to her.” John shook his head. He was exhausted, but he’d never get to sleep after this. “I don’t want to talk to her. I had a call from DS Hobson down at the station just before you came. He was of the belief that this girl Stephanie and I were involved in a relationship because that’s what Ellie told him. She has her own reality.” He put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “We’ve had our differences in the past but I’m telling you this now: I know you want to think the best of her, but you don’t know her like I do. Just leave it, Tony. I know how you feel. It’s breaking my heart, but the best thing we can do now is let the system do its job: I won’t have another person’s blood on my hands.”

  40

  John

  “Two calls in the space of a week, John. What can I do for you this time?”

  John resisted the urge to point out that the other man hadn’t done much for him last time. He didn’t have time for this. “She’s gone and killed someone.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “Are you there?” John asked, irritated.

  “Ah… I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “You heard me. Ellie has killed the Price girl.”

  “Why would you think that? That would be a dramatic escalation.”

  “Because the young woman came to me on Thursday. She was concerned about Ellie’s mental state.”

  The other man sighed. “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “I don’t know, Alan,” John snapped. “You’re the bloody solicitor. Can’t you do something?”

  “There’s no need to react in that way. It’s not my area of expertise, John.”

  “That didn’t stop you when I needed new names and documents.”

  There was a long pause. Alan’s voice had a new edge to it when he finally spoke. “That was a long time ago, John. I can’t believe you’d throw that back in my face.”

  John sat down and squeezed the bridge of his nose. That was a low blow and he knew it. Hadn’t he been the one who begged Alan for his help? Alan had been reluctant even then, but it was the only way John could have been sure of keeping her. Even though at that point Ellie had lived with him for most of her life, he was only her uncle. He hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of having to hand her over to Tony’s mother to raise.

  “I’m sorry. This has hit me hard. That’s all.”

  Alan sighed. “I understand. Believe me. How do you think I can help?”

  John thought back to their last conversation; to Alan’s insistence that he get her off the scent before it was too late and she found out what had happened in the past. It all seemed so trivial now. He’d been so worried that she’d follow her mother’s footsteps that he hadn’t noticed her taking a completely different—and even more destructive—path.

  “I know I ought to wash my hands of her, but I can’t.” He closed his eyes. Regardless of what he’d said to Tony, he couldn’t just leave her alone to face something like this, could he? “Shouldn’t I try to help? I don’t know, to get her out of it?”

  “Did she do it?”

  John closed his eyes.

  “She has form,” Alan said softly. “Just look at what happened when you tried to step in the last time.”

  “So you’re saying I should cut her loose? I don’t know if I can be that cold.”

  “What if you come to her rescue again and she hurts someone else? Could you live with yourself?”

  John fell silent as he pictured Stephanie Price, lording it over him as she swanned into his office like she owned the place—and thanks to him, she had owned it. He hadn’t liked her, but it didn’t mean he wanted her to come to any harm. He was the reason she’d moved here. If he hadn’t sold the company, she’d still be alive. He’d struggle with that for the rest of his life. He couldn’t let it happen again, no matter how much he loved Ellie. His first instinct had been right—even if it was hard for him to accept.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “There’s your answer then.”

  John hung up. There was little more to say. Until last year, he hadn’t spoken to Alan for almost twenty years. He’d been the only one who John could turn to. He’d understood John’s need to make sure the past stayed buried.

  Now?

  It didn’t matter anymore, did it? Not when John had raised a murderer. He deserved whatever punishment might come his way once the police learned who Ellie really was an
d what John had done all those years ago.

  41

  Ellie

  I open my eyes and groan as my surroundings come into focus. My mouth is dry and there’s a pounding pain in my temples. I blink hard. It looks like I’m on a floor I don’t recognise.

  I turn my head and the room spins. I snap my eyes shut and swallow.

  “Ellie,” says a woman’s voice. “Ellie, it’s DC Stevens. I have some water here for you.”

  She helps me into a chair and I try to open my eyes again. It’s far clearer this time. I take the paper cup of water and take a long sip.

  “What happened?”

  “You fainted.”

  I’m about to ask her another question when it all comes back to me. I bury my head in my hands.

  Steph.

  Mikey.

  Mikey, especially.

  I can’t believe it.

  Who did this?

  I groan. The pain in my head is replaced by a gnawing sense of loss. When I got out of hospital I retreated into my shell and hated everyone for not believing me. I don’t understand how Mikey could have been so seriously hurt if he was the one behind the attack.

  I squeeze my eyes closed and will myself to remember, but I can’t. All I have is the faintest memory of the upstairs landing in the pub, outside the toilets. Talking to Mikey. My heart surging with happiness as he took my hand. And then pain.

  I don’t even know if it’s real or a dream I had in the months since.

  “I didn’t know,” I say, looking up at her. “I didn’t know he was hurt.”

  She watches me for a few moments but doesn’t say anything. “Is there anyone I can call for you, Ellie?”

  The buzz of the fluorescent light overhead becomes deafening in the silence that falls. I understand perfectly well: she doesn’t believe me and she doesn’t even want to hear it.

  I shake my head. No. There’s no-one.

  “Right then. Well, in light of what’s happened, we’ll ask you to come back tomorrow.”