No. The answer must be closer to home.
‘Davina? Where are you?’ I call out.
‘Here! I’m waiting for you.’
The voice sounds strangely disconnected – almost like a recording.
Tendrils of fear spread through my body like bindweed overtaking a garden. I’m suddenly consumed by it. Rendering me useless. I stop moving and stay very still.
‘Amber? Come on. You need to get out of here.’
Finley’s words come to me. When we were talking about being detectives and how we could catch whoever was coming into our home, he’d said: We should go full-on Home Alone on them.
I might not be able to do that, but I can be strong and hold firm.
If my eight-year-old can be brave, then so can I.
‘No, Davina,’ I shout. ‘I’m not being frightened out of my own home.’
I’ll confront who’s doing this to me. Find out once and for all why.
This is Stockwood. No one is going to commit murder just to get someone’s house – they’d never be able to cover it up.
I don’t entirely believe that, but right now, it’s all that’s keeping me from running.
Chapter Eighty-Six
Amber
‘I’m trying to help you, Amber. That’s what I’ve been trying to do for weeks.’
‘Then come back into the lounge and we’ll face this together.’
The lights come back on.
My muscles freeze. Has it been Davina all along? But she wasn’t near the fuse box when the lights went out.
She’s not doing it alone.
I race out to the hallway and face her. ‘Why, Davina? How?’ I shriek, disbelief rattling around my mind.
‘Just wait a minute – before you get all judgey, hear me out.’
‘I don’t think I want to, Davina.’ Shock mixed with disappointment seeps through me.
‘This was me,’ she says with a wave of her arm. ‘Here, now. I’ve done this. But it hasn’t been. I’m not the one who’s been messing with your head, moving stuff in your house. Listening to you. Watching you.’
I’m not sure what to say. Is she delusional? Am I?
‘I don’t understand; please explain. You’ve got five minutes before I call the police.’
‘Don’t do that, Amber. There’s too much at stake.’
‘Talk, Davina. Now.’ I quickly look around to see where my handbag is. My phone. It’s not on the hall table.
Windowsill. I think I left it there when I was looking outside.
‘We shouldn’t talk here. He’ll hear us,’ Davina says.
‘If he’s been listening, then surely he’d be here right now. With us. Whoever he is.’
‘I gave us a head start. He was otherwise occupied when I came across to see you. That’s why I chose then. It’s why I turned the light off; I thought if I scared you out of the house, I could make it all stop. Do the job instead of him. I wouldn’t hurt you, but I can’t speak for him. As you can see’ – she points a finger to the bruise on her face for him – ‘he’s a hit-first-explain-later kind of man.’
‘Are you telling me the person behind this is—’
‘Wayne. Yes,’ she says.
‘Your husband? The person no one seems to have set eyes on. The man who supposedly beats you. You expect me to believe that?’
‘It’s true. Look, I need to get you somewhere safe.’
How was I so blind? It’s all her. This entire time, Davina has been lying. Her whole life is one big, fat lie. She must be suffering with a personality disorder – making up a husband, an entire backstory. It’s why she’s always so vague. Why she doesn’t want me, or anyone else, to meet him. Because there is no Wayne. He’s a figment of her imagination – and she’s lied for years. The possibility had crossed my mind, but I thought I was being overdramatic. Jesus. How has no one realised before? And now she wants to get me alone – away from this house, under the guise of it being for my own safety.
She is the one I’m at risk of.
‘No, Davina. Enough now. This is madness—’
‘It’s too late,’ Davina gasps, backing away from the front door. ‘I think he’s here.’
Well, this should be interesting. Does she truly believe Wayne is about to walk into my house? ‘Have you got my mobile, Davina?’ It suddenly strikes me – maybe she took my phone so I couldn’t call Nick. Or the police. She backs up, grabbing my arm and begins to drag me back towards the lounge with her.
‘He’s got spyware on your phone. On your laptop. In your house. He’s aware of every move you’ve made, every move you plan to make. And you’ve not been doing what he wanted. What they want.’
I’m about to shout at Davina, tell her this has gone beyond a joke and she needs to give this whole charade up. But then the front door flies open. We both spin around. Davina lets out a squeal and my entire body goes into spasm. My heart feels as though it’s being crushed between two strong hands.
‘I told you!’ Davina says.
I stare, wide-eyed at the doorway. A dark figure fills the frame and my held breath releases in a hiss.
‘Richard!’ I fling myself forwards, running into his arms, relieved it’s him.
But why is he here now? I assumed he was in Kent when I spoke with him less than two hours ago.
‘What the hell is going on?’ he says, pulling away from my hug and staring at me.
‘It’s Davina,’ I say, turning to face her. She’s pale, the bruise stark against its backdrop. ‘She’s behind it all.’
‘No, no, no,’ Davina says, her head shaking vehemently. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Amber. Tell her, Richard.’
I frown and turn my attention back to Richard. My eyes widen as I look to him for explanation.
‘What’s she talking about, Richard?’
‘I’ve literally no idea. I don’t even know who this is,’ he says, sweeping an arm in Davina’s direction. ‘Amber, love. Are you okay?’ He brushes his hands over me. ‘Did she hurt you?’
‘No, I’m fine. She turned the lights off, made out it was her husband, Wayne, who’s been watching us, coming into the house and … and messing around with my things.’
‘Why? To what end?’ Richard looks perplexed as he walks towards Davina. ‘Why would your husband be doing that, Davina?’
‘Ask him yourself. He’ll be here any second.’
‘Then maybe you should go, Davina. It sounds as though your safety is at stake. Leave, while you can,’ I say.
‘You don’t believe me, do you? Look, I understand how this all might look – but as I said, I was, and am, trying to be a friend to you, Amber. What they’re doing isn’t right. I wanted to stop him, but I’m up against powerful people. If you get in their way … well. Just ask Carl Anderson,’ Davina says.
‘To be honest, I’ve got more pressing things to worry about than Carl,’ I say, turning to Richard. ‘Nick might be in trouble. Before all this kicked off tonight, some bloke was here looking for him and asked me to tell Nick to meet him at eight,’ I say, checking my watch. It’s twenty past. ‘I’m worried, Richard – I think he’s the one.’
‘The one?’
‘The man behind the disappearance of that girl and Tim. That’s why Nick will go alone, as he was told to do, because if it helps him get a step closer to finding out what happened to his brother …’
‘Do you know where they were meeting?’
‘Yeah, behind the Old Church House Inn. It’s not far from here.’
‘Let’s go, then.’ And Richard is back out the door.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Davina says.
Something in her voice makes me shudder. She really thinks she’s protecting me. I pause, but Richard sticks his head around the door.
‘Come on,’ he says. ‘And bring her. I’d rather know where she is.’
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Amber
My mind won’t settle as we drive through the lanes to the old pub. It’s awash with q
uestions about Davina, about Wayne – even about Richard. How did Richard get to the house so quickly? And why, after almost a year of avoiding meeting Nick and Barb, was he so quick to suggest going to help Nick? I glance at him out the corner of my eye as he’s concentrating on the road ahead. He’s driving way too fast for these lanes – if we hit an animal, we’ll crash for sure. I return my attention to the road and grip my passenger seat with both hands as we hurl around the tight corners. His driving is making me queasy. Davina is unnaturally quiet in the back seat.
He must’ve bombed down the motorway, too, I realise. Was it because he’d picked up on the worry, fear in my voice and taken this, together with my vagueness, as a sign something was very wrong? And that’s why he reached the house in record time?
Or, was he already here? Because he is the one who’s been playing mind games? The one who’s been trying to frighten me into selling to the developers so he can have me to himself in Kent?
Richard could well be the thirteenth viewer. And he’s now in charge – he’s behind the wheel. He has both me and Davina under control.
I curse myself for even giving headspace to these thoughts. I look at Richard again, taking in his profile: long, dark lashes curled up towards his bushy eyebrows that I love so much, the greying hair at his temple, the flecks of white in his beard – and my eyes fill with tears. I can’t be wrong about him. I can’t. I’m not a terrible judge of character, despite the situation I find myself in pointing to the contrary. I’d know – I’d feel it – if Richard was a bad person.
With my heart telling me Richard is the man I know, love and trust and who’s on my side, I have to accept that Davina might be telling the truth. And if Wayne really does exist, and Davina is right about going up against him and the powerful people – the developers – then we might be getting more than we bargained for.
I’m dreading what could lie ahead.
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Barb
I’m not on a boat as I’d thought I was.
The muffled voices are becoming clearer. My senses finally more alert.
How long have I been here?
I tilt my head left, then right – slowly, so the pain doesn’t make me pass out again. It’s not pitch black; I can see an illumination of some kind from a window above me.
A car window. I’m on the floor of a car – wedged between the front and rear seats from what I can feel. Pushing my feet downwards, I release some of my weight from my arms. They were numb, but now a searing heat spreads through them – the blood suddenly free to circulate again. A painful tingling replaces the numbness. I bite down on my bottom lip.
Don’t make a sound.
I have to lower my weight back down on them again, but I’ve been able to shift my arms a little, so they aren’t completely trapped.
Unlike me.
Right, come on, Barb, think.
My abductor bundled me into a car, tied my hands, but didn’t gag me, or put a blindfold on. That’s got to be good news. Amateur?
This doesn’t seem like a random attack. They were waiting for me.
They need me for something.
I dread to think what.
Every muscle in my old body screams out in protest at being in this position. I could try to flip myself on my side, maybe even sit up a little.
If I can even find the strength.
A voice comes closer.
I freeze, listening intently. It’s familiar.
Nick. Oh, thank God – Nick is here.
Relief floods my senses.
He’ll save me; he’s here to save his mum.
But who’s the man he’s speaking to? Who did this to me?
‘You need to know,’ the voice says. ‘There’s a story to be told, and you have to hear it. It has to be you, Nicholas.’
Nicholas?
I know that voice. Now I know who took me.
And I know why.
I can’t suppress the groan as it escapes my dry lips.
The truth is going to come out and I’m literally powerless to prevent it.
Chapter Eighty-Nine
Amber
Nick obviously got my message, then. I see his car positioned along the hedgerow of the lane leading to the Old Church House Inn. The pub closed several months ago. We pass by it and Richard manoeuvres his car into the small, abandoned car park. There’s only two streetlights: one just before where Nick left his car, and one centrally positioned within the car park itself. There are several security-type lights, though, situated around the pub.
‘There aren’t any other vehicles,’ I say. ‘He clearly didn’t call for back-up before coming here.’ I’m disappointed in Nick – but I guess I expected it, too. When we spoke about the bracelet, Nick was adamant someone was trying to help with the cold case. He didn’t feel there was any risk. He believed the sender of the bracelet was harmless. I hope to goodness he wasn’t wrong. I suck in a lungful of air. We could be too late.
‘He’s parked away from the pub, though; he was being cautious. Give him some credit, Amber,’ Richard says. He reaches across me, pulling down the glove compartment on the passenger side. ‘You two stay in the car,’ he says. He clicks on the heavy-duty torch he’s just retrieved, then turns it off again. ‘Let me go and check it out first,’ he says, climbing out.
‘Wait!’ I open the passenger door and leap out of the car. ‘I want to come with you. Don’t leave me here with her,’ I say.
‘I’ll be back in a moment. Please, Amber – I need to make sure it’s not some kind of trap.’
‘And if it is,’ I hiss, ‘then what?’
‘If I’m not back in ten, take the car and drive away. Go to the police station.’ Richard throws me the car keys. ‘Back of the pub, he told you, yeah?’
‘Yes,’ I concede, reluctantly. I watch as Richard moves swiftly out of the car park and ducks around the side of the pub. There’s a rough track running alongside that I know leads to the back. He holds the torch out in front of him. I can see the track is wide enough for a car to get through. If he’s not back in ten minutes, I’m not driving off, abandoning him and Nick here. I’m going to drive down that track and see what’s going on for myself.
‘What exactly is happening right now?’ Davina says as I get back into the car.
‘You’ve got a nerve asking me that.’
‘I’m sorry, Amber. If it’s any consolation, Wayne will know what I’ve done now. He’ll know you know. He can’t come back from this.’
‘It’s no consolation at all, actually, Davina. It’s not like I’d want harm to come to you. But we really need to be honest with each other now,’ I say. I turn in the seat so I can see her. The yellow hue of the streetlight illuminates her face; suddenly the lines and wrinkles look more pronounced. Deeper. ‘If you’ve something to tell me, now’s the time.’
‘I’ve told you pretty much everything.’ Davina shrugs. ‘Wayne started out as an accountant for the firm – Whitmore & Co – and after a number of years, they began to ask things of him …’
‘Like what?’
‘Oh, you know, lose this money, transfer that to here or there – small-time stuff to minimise the money they should pay to the taxman. That sort of thing.’
‘Why haven’t I, or anyone else I’ve asked, seen Wayne, Davina? It’s like he doesn’t exist outside of your own mind.’
She sighs. ‘He keeps well below the radar. He leaves early most days, returns late. Or just stays at home. At times, over the years, he’s stayed away for weeks, too. No idea where – he never discusses it.’ Davina pauses, and she gazes out the window, her shoulders slumping. ‘Plus, he goes out of the village – out of town, even – for any appointments, doesn’t socialise with locals,’ she continues, her eyes returning to mine now. She gives a pitiful smile. ‘It’s surprising, if you’re quiet and don’t ever make a fuss, don’t insert yourself into village life, how you can be virtually invisible. Strangely, I always felt the need to make up for him – for
his lack of presence, community spirit – that’s why I’m often out, talking to the neighbours, trying so hard to fit in.’
So, maybe Wayne is real after all. ‘What else did they want him to do?’ I ask.
‘They knew there was a lot of money to be made in Stockwood. All that untapped land behind Apple Grove – going to waste as far as they were concerned. If they could get hold of it and cram as many houses in as they could, they’d make a killing. And being that the village would eventually be large enough to warrant new shops, a bigger school – they believed they could expand the site massively in the future. They offered him so much money to help them ensure plans would be passed, then land bought.’
‘Didn’t go to plan though, did it?’
‘No, they hit various snags. But the owners weren’t going to let small setbacks hinder their progress; their vision.’
‘How could he do it, Davina? And just to line his pockets?’
‘He’s always been a greedy man. And he has a nasty streak.’ Davina’s hand rises to touch her cheek. ‘The sums of money they were offering were too great for him to turn down. We were going to leave Stockwood as soon as he was paid.’
‘Not even hang around to see the devastation he caused. Nice.’
‘Didn’t I mention he’s a coward too?’
‘But you were going along with it. You were going to leave with him, I take it?’
Davina’s shoulders fall. ‘I know. I didn’t say he was the only coward,’ she says.
‘Seems this village has a few of those,’ I say. ‘Not like Wayne was the only one to be swayed by the promise of money.’
‘Carl, you mean?’
‘Yep. That slippery bastard. Selfish and immoral.’
‘I know I’ve been a bad person, but I really did try to help, you see—’
‘You let me believe it was Carl spying on me. I don’t call that helping.’
‘I hoped you might begin putting it all together, with my hints and encouragement to find evidence. I couldn’t very well tell you straight up that my husband was the one watching you. Can you imagine?’ She begins twirling the corners of her cardigan again, her eyes down, avoiding mine. ‘Carl had been caught out using houses on his list to conduct his affairs. Wayne threatened to blow it all wide open – tell his wife. Carl’s wife is the stepdaughter of developer.’
The Open House Page 25