‘The developers,’ I say in a whisper.
‘Yes. They were the catalyst for me coming out from hiding. It was inevitable that at some point in the not-too-distant future, they would start digging … Do you understand, Amber?’
‘Fucking hell …’ My entire body is shaking with the realisation.
Nick, too, must suddenly have added it all up and pulling out a chair, sits heavily on it. ‘Christ,’ he says. ‘The victims are buried in the garden, aren’t they?’
Chapter Ninety-Six
Amber
For a moment, everyone is stunned into silence.
‘Jesus Christ, Barb,’ I shout in her face. I want to grab hold of her and shake her. But Nick’s anger supersedes my own.
‘You let us live here, bring our boys up here, knowing there are dead girls in the fucking garden? Really, Mum? How dare you!’ Nick explodes.
Barb and Tim fall quiet. They’re the only ones who were in the loop all this time. They hold the answers to all our questions. But there’s something in their eyes, in the way they looked at each other when Nick said what he did.
‘No,’ I say. ‘Hang on. There’s something more, isn’t there?’
‘I don’t know if he killed them,’ Barb says. ‘That’s the God’s honest truth. But Tim found a box. I guess you’d call it a trophy box. It was what Bern kept hidden under the tool chest. He went ballistic when he realised Tim had been in there, poking around. I thought he was going to kill Tim.’ Barb scrunches up her face. ‘He had to go; it was the only way.’
‘Why didn’t you have a funeral for Bern?’ Patrick asks suddenly. He’d been quiet since speaking about living with regrets, allowing the conversation to unfold without much interruption until this latest question – one that seems to me to be way off the point.
‘We did. I suppose you just weren’t around because you’d left us with all his shit,’ Nick says.
‘No, Nicholas. I checked the other day. There’s no record of a funeral. Your mother told me there was a memorial service, and she scattered his ashes. No minister oversaw that.’
‘I remember the service, clearly,’ Nick continues. ‘It was one of my standout memories because it happened not long after Tim went missing. It was the worst time of my life …’ Nick’s voice cracks. I can’t look at him.
‘That wasn’t your dad’s funeral you remember,’ Patrick says, tilting his head. ‘Was it, Barb? There was a reason you didn’t want me here, why you fed me false information. Bern hadn’t died abroad while following a possible sighting of Tim.’
‘Yes, of course he did,’ Nick says.
Barb’s face pales.
‘I’m sorry to burst your bubble, Nicholas, really I am,’ Patrick says. ‘But I believe your father died right here, in this house. Isn’t that right?’
‘I’d remember …’
‘At the funeral, your uncle’s from your mother’s side, not Bern’s at all – Barb played a good game. She led you to believe you were at your father’s service. You were young, already so traumatised by your brother’s disappearance I think you’d have believed anything. She kept the charade up because barely anyone attended that funeral – she was his only family – and continued to reinforce it as being your dad’s funeral for all the years afterwards. Clever, eh? Although not feeling quite so smug now, are you?’
‘Your brother was an evil man – a killer – but you’d rather destroy my family now? Why? Does it help clear your conscience?’ Barb glares at Patrick.
‘Nope. But everyone deserves to know the truth. Make their own minds up about Bern. It’s not up to you. And there’s more.’
‘A murderer has gone,’ Barb hisses. ‘One less evil in the world. Someone – maybe more than one person – has been prevented from being his victim. The world isn’t going to miss Bern Miller.’
‘That might be true. But you’re not God. You don’t get to decide. And justice should’ve been correctly served. If you’re telling the truth, you didn’t even know if Bern killed anyone; a box of jewellery doesn’t prove murder.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Tim says. ‘It all made sense when I found the box. You didn’t see what was in it; if you had, you’d have known. And trust me, justice was served.’ Tim’s words are squeezed through tight lips. ‘He didn’t deserve anything more than he got.’
Shit.
We all seem to add the pieces together at the same time: each face is plastered with sudden understanding – something obvious we’d missed. I didn’t think any more blows could come tonight, but this one hits home hard.
Tim killed his dad and Barb covered it up. Covered it all up. Everything.
It’s not Bern’s victims buried in the garden. It’s him.
In this moment, I don’t know how to feel.
I was in a relationship with a killer. Not only that, I was about to move me and my boys – Nick’s boys – in with him.
I bet Barb wishes she’d been wrong about him now.
Chapter Ninety-Seven
Barb
I need Patrick to leave.
There’s no telling precisely what he’s here for – he says it’s to find the truth – but what will he do with it? Go to the police? He could be here to put his own mind at rest before he dies, like he said he was. He admitted he had an inkling what Bern was up to; he felt guilty over the years for having upped and left. Is knowing Bern was dealt with, so he could no longer cause damage to others, enough? I stare at his face: weather-beaten and leathery. He doesn’t look as though he’s led a healthy lifestyle. Guilt has etched its mark on him.
As it has me.
Only, I have a family left to protect. He doesn’t. He has nothing to lose now.
Which makes him the most dangerous person in this room.
Chapter Ninety-Eight
Amber
It’s nearing midnight and my body is screaming out for sleep. Not that I’d be able to fall into a satisfying slumber after this evening’s events. But I do want everyone out of my house. I need my own headspace to process everything that’s been said.
I need to think about what to do about the remains of a dead man in my garden.
Tim has been talking for the past ten minutes: explaining what will happen if the developers get hold of the land and unearth his father’s bones. I’m only catching snippets because at the moment “Richard is Tim, and Tim is a killer” are the only words I can hear repeating over and over in my head. I am gathering they want me to keep quiet, though – and they certainly don’t want me to sell the house. Nick is in agreement with this.
Which gets me thinking.
Nick was also extremely reluctant sell this house to the developers from the outset – citing his support of the village, his obligation to the other villagers to ensure the green land was kept. Was he really oblivious to all that went on here, in this house? Where had he been when his brother was murdering his father? I try to be objective. Nick might be against the developers, but he was happy to sell the house to another family, so he can’t know about his dad.
Can he?
Aside from myself, it’s still hard to trust anyone in this room.
‘I think we’ve had enough revelations for one night,’ I say. ‘We should pick this up again tomorrow, after we’ve slept on it.’
Barb immediately agrees and stands up.
‘Where are you going to go, Mum?’ Nick asks.
‘You could drop me back, couldn’t you, love?’
A laugh escapes me. The normality of Barb’s words, the ease in which she speaks them, is incredible. Like we haven’t just been talking about her murdering husband and son.
Two killers in one family.
‘Are you okay, Amber?’
‘No, Nick. Are you?’ I say, sharply.
‘Obviously not. Stupid question. Sorry.’ He takes a step closer to me, but I back away. His face falls. God. What a mess. He must be feeling so lost. His assumed-dead brother turns up after thirty-odd years to purposely begin a relations
hip with his ex-wife and if that wasn’t staggering enough, it comes to light he also killed their father, who allegedly abducted and murdered teenage girls. And his dear mother knew it all and kept it from him. Tears burn my eyes. I reach forward and grab Nick’s arm, pulling him back to me. I wrap my arms around him and hold on to him with all the strength remaining in my body.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.
‘Me too,’ he says, releasing his arms from around me. ‘I’ll take Mum home with me.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Patrick interrupts.
‘Well, I do. You can crawl back into whatever hole you came out of,’ Nick says to Patrick. ‘And you …’ Nick nods towards Tim. ‘You can drive into town, find a hotel or something. You’re not staying here.’
‘Yeah, I’ll do that. But we need to talk further tomorrow. This isn’t over yet,’ Tim says. He looks me straight in the eye. ‘I want to explain—’
‘Tomorrow will do, thanks. I’ve heard enough from you tonight.’ I avert my eyes. I can never look at him in the same way again.
My new chapter has just closed. The book slammed in my face.
Chapter Ninety-Nine
There’s a certain satisfaction in finding out you were right. But it comes at a price.
The truth can set you free – it can also cost you dear.
Barbara Miller has found this out. She lost Tim a long time ago, and now she’ll probably lose Nicholas – I can’t see him getting over her betrayal; Tim’s neither.
Amber was caught in the crossfire, but she had no idea she would be the one to hold the cards in the end.
Along with me.
All or nothing. Shit or bust.
It came down to knowing what to do with the knowledge that was imparted; the truth. Or a version of it, at least.
Unearth it once and for all – or keep it buried.
You never truly know someone until you see how they react under pressure. Bear witness to the decisions they make.
Will they protect themselves or others?
Will they be able to live with their decision …?
What will you do, now, Amber?
Chapter One Hundred
Amber
What day is it?
I’m confused and feeling hungover. I’m in bed. The light streams through the open curtains. I’m surprised I slept – my body and mind must’ve shut down from the exhaustion and shock.
It’s Saturday.
The boys are with Jo and Keeley.
I’m alone in the house.
I hope.
I gingerly get out of bed; I’m fully clothed still. I listen for noises. Only the chirping birds and squawks of seagulls can be heard. Today is going to bring further stress; more upset. I’m not convinced I can handle it, but I don’t suppose I’ll have a choice. I walk into Finley’s empty room and go to his window: it overlooks the back garden. A shiver runs the length of my spine.
Bern Miller is out there.
Christ. What happens now?
I can’t be bothered to change out of yesterday’s clothes, or shower, for now – I’ll do it after I’ve consumed several coffees. When I reach the lounge, my heart misses a beat.
‘What the hell are you doing here? You left … how did you get back in?’ My words trip over themselves as I stand over Tim who’s lying on the sofa, a blanket covering him.
‘Mum gave me her key.’ He wipes at his puffy eyes. ‘Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.’
So, Barb did have a key. The sneaky cow. Who hasn’t been inside my house without my permission? I’ll deal with her later. ‘And, I’ll ask again, what the hell are you doing here?’ My voice rises an octave – fear mixes with anger. I don’t know this man, but now I do know what he’s capable of.
‘I wasn’t leaving you in the house alone after everything last night. It isn’t safe.’
I splutter, ‘Er … you’re not safe.’
Tim pulls back the blanket and sits up. ‘I completely understand you’re angry, hurt and feeling let down right now—’
‘For starters, yes,’ I say. ‘And nothing you’re about to tell me will make me feel differently.’
‘It might not, no. Are you willing to hear me out, though?’
I don’t think I have any choice but to hear him out. Not if I want to find any kind of resolution to all of this. ‘Not long ago I thought I was in love with a man named Richard – someone I serendipitously met on Facebook – and who I was about to spend the rest of my life with. In the matter of a few hours, my life flipped and now I don’t know which way is up, what to think, or what to feel. I don’t know what to do. Sleeping on it hasn’t helped a jot.’ Unshed tears thicken my voice.
‘I know this has all come as a terrible shock, and I know I’ve ruined any chance of a future with you and the boys …’
‘A future with us? What are you talking about? You used me. You never wanted me; you just wanted a way back!’
‘No, babe, you’re wrong.’
A building fury begins in the pit of my stomach. ‘Don’t call me babe. And don’t tell me I’m wrong. How can you say this shit after what came out last night? Your father’s body is in my garden. My boyfriend, who it turns out is my brother-in-law, is a cold-blooded killer …’ My anger burns out; I’m deflated. I can’t say any more. I walk away from him, stride into the kitchen and with shaking hands fill the kettle.
I sense he’s behind me. ‘And now what? You’re going to kill me and add me to the compost?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Amber. Of course I’m not going to kill you.’
‘Did you tell your dad that, too, before you … what? Stabbed him? Smashed his head in? How did you kill your father, Tim?’
He exhales deeply. ‘There’s so much more to it, Amber.’ He sits at the kitchen table. ‘Please, sit down and let me explain. Once I’m done, you can do whatever you want. Call the police. Sell to the developers. Do whatever you feel is right.’ He seems to be beat; his energy zapped.
Do I believe he won’t hurt me? Even if once he’s told me his sorry story, I do decide to call it in?
‘Shouldn’t we do this when everyone’s here? It would save you telling it all twice.’
I realise I don’t even know when the others will be here; we didn’t agree on a time last night. And I don’t feel safe, here on my own with Tim. He can tell me anything he wants without anyone else to substantiate or oppose his version of events; he could spin another web of lies.
‘We could wait, sure. I’d really like to tell you on my own, first, though. Without the others interrupting.’
I pull a chair out from under the table and sit down opposite him. For the first time since I found out his real identity, I look at him properly. I see the same dark brown eyes I’ve been staring deeply, longingly into for the past year. Maybe I do know this man. Not who he was over thirty years ago, but the man he is now. Without the constraints of a past, he might be the best version of himself when he’s with me.
But he can’t really love me – he sought me out because of who I am. His brother’s wife. The woman who lives in the house his father’s buried in. He was with me for reasons other than love. I mustn’t let him fool me again.
‘I’m going to call Nick,’ I say, as I scroll through my phone. ‘I want to know when they’re coming over.’
‘That’s reasonable,’ Tim says. ‘I am worried, though.’
‘Oh, why?’
‘Nick and my mother have been together all night. I’ve no idea what crap she’s feeding him. What untruths.’
‘And you might well be about to do the same with me,’ I say.
Tim reaches across the table, putting his hands on mine. ‘You know me, Amber. The real me. I’ve never hidden who I am from you.’
‘Are you kidding me? That’s exactly what you’ve done.’ I pull my hands out from under his.
‘I hid Tim Miller. Not Richard Lock.’
‘I don’t know if that makes a difference. You are Tim Mill
er. You’ve lied your entire life.’
‘Aren’t some lies – those told to protect others – ones that can be forgiven?’
‘Your lies were to protect yourself, Tim.’
‘Mostly they were to protect Nick and Mum.’
‘I’m pretty sure Nick won’t see it that way. Your disappearance almost killed him. His whole life has been blighted. He went into the police force because of you. He’s spent years trying to find out what happened to you. Our lives, my little family, was ruined because of who Nick became because of actions you took.’
‘And that devastates me.’
‘And you’ve come back now – and made it all even worse than before. Congratulations.’ Tears pool on my lower lids. I blink rapidly; I don’t want him to see my pain.
‘I came back to take you away from it all. To ensure you and the boys were as far away from the fallout as possible. I didn’t want you tied up in events that happened way before you even came onto the scene. I didn’t want the consequences of others’ decisions affecting you, Finley and Leo. I had to get you out of this house before the skeletons were unearthed.’
‘Skeletons plural?’
‘No. Sorry, figure of speech. Skeletons in the closet, kind of thing.’
‘So, there is definitely only one body in the garden?’
‘Yes, only the one as far as I know.’
‘Reassuring,’ I mutter. ‘I’m assuming you put him there, though? You know exactly where in the garden he’s buried?’
‘Er … no, actually, I don’t.’
‘You mean you didn’t bury him?’
‘As I say, let me tell you everything from the beginning.’
Chapter One Hundred and One
Amber
I’m drained now, having listened to Tim’s explanation. My brain is struggling to absorb everything he’s told me; to make sense of it. He was right – there was more to it.
The Open House Page 28