by M K Farrar
“Good morning, Natalie,” he said, his voice bright. “I trust you slept well.”
It was creepy, this insistence they acted like a normal couple when they were anything but.
“Yes, I did,” she muttered.
“Good. Serve me breakfast and get yourself some, too. I’ve made scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, and there’s fresh coffee in the pot.”
“I prefer tea, thank you.”
“Make it yourself then,” he snapped, and she reeled back.
It was terrifying, how utterly unpredictable he was.
She busied herself with boiling the kettle and making herself a cup of tea. Kyle was already nursing his coffee, and she eyed it up, seeing an opportunity. He wasn’t going to be happy, but if she got what she needed, it was worth the punishment.
She dished up the breakfast and carried the plates to the table. As she placed his serving in front of him, she jerked back her hand and knocked the coffee cup. It tipped, the dark-brown contents spilling into his lap.
Kyle shot back from the table, knocking his chair over. “You stupid bitch.”
She stared in horror, even though it was exactly what she’d intended to do. “I’m so sorry!”
He growled and swung his arm, slapping her hard around the side of her head, leaving her ear ringing. “Look at the fucking mess you made!”
She staggered sideways at the blow but managed to stay on her feet.
“I can’t wear this now, can I? Clean up that fucking mess.”
He gave another growl and turned and stomped out of the kitchen. She listened to his footfalls on the stairs as he made his way to the bedroom to change, and then the soft click of the bedroom door shutting. Then she followed him, taking a tea towel with her.
Moving as quietly as she could, she crept up the stairs to the bedroom door. Had she given him enough time to get the stained trousers off? Yes, she was sure she had. He was going to regret not putting any locks on the doors now.
Taking a shaky breath, she gripped the door handle and threw open the door.
Kyle was sitting on the side of the bed, facing the doorway. He had his trousers off and was in the process of pulling on a clean pair. The moment she opened the door, he hunched over, trying to hide his bare legs from her view, but he hadn’t acted quickly enough.
His thigh, though partly hidden by a spattering of dark hairs, was covered in scars.
“Umm,” she started, holding out the tea towel. “I thought you might need this.”
“Get the fuck out,” he snarled.
“Sorry, sorry. I can take the stained trousers for you. They might need soak—”
“I said, get out!’
Happy to retreat, she reversed out and into the hallway, and exhaled a long, shaky breath.
Kyle Detcher was Edward Swain.
There was no doubt in her mind now.
She clutched at the wall, suddenly weak. The man she’d been living with was a murderer. A man who’d killed his own mother.
She couldn’t give him any sign that she knew. Not yet.
She went back down to the kitchen and set about clearing away the uneaten food. After less than a minute, the front door slammed shut. Kyle—or Edward—had left the house.
Natalie sank into one of the kitchen chairs, trying to pull herself together. She couldn’t waste any time, however. Now she had the proof she needed, there was something she had to do.
Pushing herself back to her feet, she went through the kitchen drawers, searching for what she needed, but it wasn’t there.
Where the hell was it? Every house had one, didn’t it?
She opened the cupboards beneath the kitchen sink and dropped to her knees. The cupboard was filled with cleaning products and dishcloths, but there, at the back, she spotted what she needed.
She reached in and took out the huge tome of the Yellow Pages.
Would Amy Penrose even be listed? She might be ex-directory.
Natalie wouldn’t know until she looked.
Flipping through to the correct page, she scoured the names. There were plenty of Penroses. A horrible thought occurred to her. Doctor Penrose could have got married in the last decade and changed her name. It was more than possible and would explain why she wasn’t listed.
There were several listings for A. Penrose, too. Should she just try each of the numbers and hope one would be correct?
But then she saw a Dr A. Penrose, and her heart jumped. The address wasn’t London, but it was for Cheltenham, only an hour away. That had to be her!
With no phone in the house, she was going to need to go to a phone box to try the number. Her mobile phone was still dead, and she hadn’t dared ask Kyle for her phone charger back.
She tore the page out of the book and shoved the heavy item back where she’d found it.
She went to her handbag. Her purse still contained some change—enough for her to make a call. But it would mean leaving the house. What if Kyle came back while she was gone? He’d know she was up to something. She had to put the front door on the latch as well, so she didn’t end up getting locked out. She’d never be able to explain that away.
Time was running out. If she was going to do this, she had to get a move on.
Needing to hide the injuries to her face, Natalie undid her ponytail and fluffed it out around her jaw and chin. Though it hurt, she could keep her hand stuffed in her pocket so no one would see the state of her finger.
Sick with fear, she went to the front door. He hadn’t locked it this time, but why? Had he been so angry, he’d forgotten? Or was this some kind of test? He might be waiting around the corner, ready to spot her trying to leave, and then punish her for it. She was going to have to take the risk. She put it on the latch, and opened it. She peered out, making sure there was no one around and that Kyle wasn’t on his way back. He’d taken the car, so she hoped that meant he was out for the day, working, or whatever the hell it was he said he did when he wasn’t here.
She stepped outside and shut the door behind her. Making sure she could get back in again, she pushed it open. So far so good.
Moving at a quick march, she left the house and hurried down the street. She remembered seeing a phone box when she’d walked back from catching the bus that day. God, that felt like a lifetime ago.
She kept her head down, terrified someone was going to call to her and ask her if she was okay. Each car that went by sent adrenaline pumping through her veins, and she was certain it would be him.
She reached the phone box and pulled open the weighty door with her good hand and stepped inside. The place smelled faintly of urine, but she ignored it. At least the phone seemed to be in good working order.
Retrieving the page she’d torn out of the Yellow Pages from her pocket, she lifted the handset and jammed it between her ear and shoulder. She fed the machine with coins and then dialled the number.
It rang a couple of times, then a woman’s voice came down the line.
“This is Amy Penrose speaking.”
Natalie hesitated, suddenly unsure of what she was going to say. She’d been so focused on making contact with her that she hadn’t planned her approach. The woman sounded older, authoritative, sure of herself. The exact kind of woman who would always have intimidated Natalie.
“Umm...yes, hello. My name is Natalie Anders, and I wondered if you might have a moment to talk to me about someone you used to know.”
“Is this a reporter? I’m happy to give interviews, but it really needs to be scheduled into my diary.”
“No, I’m not a reporter. I’m just a...” She trailed off again, unsure how to even describe herself. Another woman? Another victim? “I’m calling about a man called Kyle Detcher.”
“I’m sorry, but that name means nothing to me.”
Natalie had been preparing herself for as much. “I think he might have been Edward Swain, the boy you wrote about in your book.”
A sharp breath was inhaled on the end of the line. “What did you j
ust say?”
“I think Kyle Detcher might be Edward.”
“I’m sorry, but this really has nothing to do with me. What happened all those years ago is in the past. Edward did his time, and I hope he was rehabilitated and is now living a normal life.”
Natalie got the impression Doctor Penrose had said those same lines many times before.
“That’s the trouble,” she said. “He wasn’t, and he’s not. I think he’s still the same kind of person he was when he held you captive all those years ago. I’m living with him here, in Bristol, at number seventeen Kinnaird Crescent.”
“I’m sorry—what did you say your name was?”
“Natalie. Natalie Anders.”
“I’m sorry, Natalie, but I can’t help you. Edward was a patient, and he certainly isn’t now.”
“No, he isn’t, but I think he needs to be. Those things he did to you...” She almost didn’t want to say it out loud. She was embarrassed and humiliated and frightened. “He’s doing something like that to me now instead.”
Dr Penrose’s tone was curt. “This really isn’t my business. I can’t help you. If you need help, please, call the police.”
“I can’t,” she said, suddenly close to tears. “I can’t call the—”
But a click signalled the call ending.
Doctor Amy Penrose had hung up on her.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Doing her best not to cry, Natalie left the phone box.
What the hell was she going to do now? Getting help from Doctor Penrose had been her last hope. She didn’t know what she’d expected the doctor to do, but she’d hoped having the other woman back her up, maybe so they could confront Kyle together, and threaten to reveal who he was to the public, would have been enough to get him to leave her alone.
With her head down, she made her way back to the house.
She turned the corner into the cul-de-sac and stopped short. The Audi was sitting back in the driveway.
Oh God.
Her mind raced, her heart beating so fast she felt faint. What was she going to tell Kyle about where she’d been?
Her parents. She’d tell him she’d gone to the phone box to call them. She’d say they’d have been worried and suspicious about her lack of contact, so she’d been doing him a favour, really. Would that work? If he went to the phone box and checked what number was last dialled, he’d know right away who she’d called. She kicked herself for her lack of planning. She should have called her parents after she’d spoken to Doctor Penrose, and that would have covered her story.
She hesitated in the street. Should she turn around now and run back to the phone box and do just that?
But then the now much-hated, red front door opened, and Kyle appeared in the space, his arms folded across his chest.
It was too late to cover her tracks.
Her body felt like a dead weight as she walked the rest of the way to the house. He stepped aside to let her in before closing the door behind her again and flicking on the lock.
“What the fuck did you do, Natalie?” he demanded.
“I went to call my parents from a phone box,” she said, sticking with her story. “They’d be worried that they hadn’t heard from me. If you let me charge my phone, I wouldn’t have to leave.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and don’t try to bullshit me.”
He reached out and picked up something from the hall console and held it up for her to see.
Her stomach sank.
It was the book she’d found.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice that things had been disturbed? You left fingerprints in the dust.”
She had no excuse she could come up with. There was no point in denying anything now.
A sudden surge of triumphant anger rose inside her. “I know who you are, Kyle—or should I say Edward? I know you killed your own mother, and you tried to kill your therapist, too.”
His face turned white. “You need to be quiet. You’re making a big mistake.”
“Am I? What do you think is going to happen when I reveal to everyone who you really are? Do you think you’ll keep this life, with the expensive car and the nice house and the well-paid job? The mask will be lifted, and everyone will know exactly who you are—a fucking sick bastard who deserves to be behind bars!”
He hunched his shoulders and lowered his head to bring himself down to her level. His eyes had darkened with fury, his lip curled in a snarl. “I warned you that if you say a word to anyone, I’ll make sure your parents know exactly what you did to their beloved son.”
“This isn’t just about me anymore. I’m not the only one you’ve hurt, am I? What about Mina and Sajad? I know you killed them. I think the police will be very interested to learn that a convicted murderer was connected to someone living right beneath the victims.”
He didn’t confirm or deny her accusations. “You can send the police my way, but they won’t reach me before I reach your parents. I’m going to enjoy revealing to them the truth about what their daughter did, and the kind of person their son was. I’m going to relish every second of their initial disbelief and then their pain as they realise it’s the truth.”
Kyle turned towards the front door, and she saw he fully intended on doing exactly that. He didn’t care about protecting himself. The most important thing in his life was making sure he destroyed hers.
“No!” she screamed.
Natalie launched at him, throwing herself at his back. She wrapped one arm around his neck and balled her fist and punched him in the side of the head. Clinging to his shoulders, she clawed and kicked and hit.
But he was too strong. He threw her off as though she was no more than a child. Her head slammed against the wall—the crack impossibly loud—and she slid down to sitting. She was barely aware of him standing over her, but he grabbed her face between both of his hands, lifted her head, and slammed it back down again.
Darkness took over.
A WOMAN’S VOICE CALLED through the house.
Natalie groaned, fluttering her eyelids open.
Where was she?
The room came into focus around her. She was in the main bathroom. What the hell had happened? How much time had passed since she’d been unconscious? An hour? More?
It suddenly all came back to her—her telling Kyle what she knew and threatening to go to the police. She remembered him saying he was going to tell her parents the truth, and how she’d tried to stop him. He must have knocked her unconscious and then thrown her in here. Why hadn’t he killed her, knowing what she’d done? It would solve his problem.
But then he wouldn’t get to witness the fallout from destroying her and her parents’ lives.
The woman called out again. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
Natalie had forgotten what had woken her. She rolled over and got to her knees, and then crawled to the door. Every part of her body hurt. She tried the handle, but it didn’t move. There were no locks on any of the doors, so he must have wedged a chair or something underneath it on the other side to keep her in, buying himself some time.
“Hello?” Natalie croaked. “I’m in here.”
The voice was closer now—whoever it was must be on the landing outside. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Natalie recognised the voice but couldn’t quite place it.
“Be careful!” she cried. “There’s a man out there. He’s dangerous!”
Hands banged on the door from the other side, and Natalie jumped. Was it Kyle?
But the woman spoke again. “There’s no one else here. I don’t know where he is, but he’s gone.”
The identity of the person pinged into her head. “Doctor Penrose? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Hang on. I’ll get you out of there.”
There was the scrape and thud of furniture being moved, and then the door opened.
The woman on the other side was definitely the same one Natalie had seen in the photograph on the book jac
ket cover. She was still slender, but her hair was cut into a sharp bob now, with no fringe, and fine lines ran across her forehead and from the corners of her eyes. There was no mistaking her.
“I can’t believe you came.”
She must have caught sight of Natalie’s injuries. “My God. Did he do that to you?”
She nodded. “Yes, he did, but it doesn’t matter now.”
“We need to get you to a doctor.”
“There’s no time for that. I need your help.”
Amy scooped down to help Natalie off the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you properly on the phone. I should have, but I was frightened.”
“It’s okay, I understand.”
“I always knew he would do something else. Everyone tried to assure me he was rehabilitated and was off living a normal, successful life somewhere, but deep down I knew he’d never be able to keep what he was hidden.”
Natalie allowed Amy to support her while she found her feet. “What he was?”
“A monster.”
Natalie nodded, agreeing one hundred percent.
“Where is he now?”
Natalie groaned and covered her face with her hand. “He’s gone to my parents’ house.”
Amy frowned. “Why?”
This was the point where she had to finally talk about what had happened when she was sixteen years old.
“He has something on me.”
“What do you mean?”
Natalie sucked in a breath, and for the first time in her life, confessed the truth about her childhood, about the years of bullying and unwanted sexual advances her adoptive brother had made towards her, and finally, that horrifying moment when she’d snapped and pushed him off the bridge.
“I thought no one had seen what had happened, but I was wrong. Kyle—Edward—was there that day, too. I assume he’d seen Anthony torturing me and was enjoying watching my discomfort. Then when he witnessed what happened afterwards, he must have felt like he’d won the lottery.”
