by Graham West
It was all an act. She was playing him again.
“Well, you are now!” he roared, thumping the wall with his fist. “Look what you’ve done!”
Kim startled. “I know! I just—”
Something about her little-girl-lost look made him want to scream at her. “Just what? What were you thinking?”
She gazed up at him, a tear finally escaping. “I thought I was going to lose you! Penny was everything I’d imagined, and I thought when you saw her again—when you slept together…”
He stared at her. “You know something, Kim?” he interrupted. “I really thought you were a decent woman.” He paused as the irony hit him. “Even when you couldn’t wait to jump into my bed, I wanted to believe it! But you’re nothing more than a spoiled little bitch.”
Kim stared, open mouthed. She had fired all her best shots, and she sat on the bed, like a scolded child, anxious to be forgiven. “I know. I’m sorry—”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he snarled. “You say you’re not a bunny boiler, but you are! That’s exactly what you are!”
Kim burst into tears. At last he had gotten through that thick skin of hers. It felt like revenge.
“I know I am!” she sobbed. “I came on strong, but it really wasn’t about the sex. I’d been watching you for over a month.” Kim took several deep breaths, regaining her composure. “I knew you were married. I heard you talking to her on the phone.”
“If you knew I was married then why? Why did you bother?”
Kim’s smile was weak. “I was in love with you, and I knew you weren’t in love with her—with Penny.”
Blakely frowned. “You knew that? From a phone conversation?”
Kim nodded, drying her eyes with her sleeve. “There was nothing there—nothing in your voice, your tone. It was like you were talking to a business partner.”
Blakely tried to recall the conversations. What had they been about? Sure enough, the calls had been brief and not as frequent as they should have been, but could this woman have read so much into his words?
“It wasn’t just that,” she continued. “You don’t even have any pictures of her in your room. I asked one of the cleaning staff. That’s unusual for a man who hardly ever seemed to go home.”
“I was busy!” Blakely protested.
Kim shook her head. “If you loved her, you would have made time. That’s what people do, Dennis. They make time. And why has it taken Penny so long to come here?”
“We have an understanding,” he said, realising how feeble his reply sounded.
“You’ve been home twice,” Kim sneered. “Twice in eight weeks! You can understand why I thought you two weren’t exactly hot!”
Maybe she was right. They weren’t exactly hot, but Penny was steady, and for a woman who could turn many heads, she had remained loyal, showing little interest in the attentions of other men. Kim was hardly steady; she was a little crazy, maybe even wild. Was that what he wanted? Okay, the age gap was there, but they could pass as a couple without raising too many eyebrows. He was thirty-five, she was twenty-six. It was hardly the old man with a schoolgirl kind of story. But what did they have in common? Sex? Sure, that would probably get them through the first few months, maybe even a couple of years. But after that, what? The truth was, he didn’t know.
***
Rob could have polished off a whisky or even a bottle if it had been left within his reach. He had called Blakely just to see if there had been any news, but he couldn’t have picked a worse time. Dennis had been caught with his pants down, and he guessed it was probably something to do with the waitress who had treated them like VIPs the moment she found out they were his guests.
If Rob hadn’t had other things on his mind, he would have called back and told Blakely to get his backside back into the marital bed. He’d been there; he’d experienced the trauma and the heartbreak, and he was quite sure the girl, whoever she was, wouldn’t be worth the hassle. But Jake had summoned him within minutes of leaving Sebastian’s home. He had sounded concerned, but whatever it was could wait a few minutes longer. He needed to see Josie first.
He found her collecting empties from the tables as he walked through the door. “What’s up? You look worried,” she said, greeting him with a peck on the cheek.
Rob needed to offload. “I’ve been to see Seb,” he began. “He’s worried about us.”
Josie frowned. “That’s kind, but why?”
“It’s this whole premonition thing, and I wouldn’t take it so seriously if he didn’t have a track record. He’s usually right.” Rob pulled up the nearest chair and sat down. “He reckons we’re in some kind of danger.”
Josie signalled to Lou that she was taking a break and parked herself on the seat opposite. “What kind of danger? From who?”
Rob shrugged. “I don’t know. This person who’s doing the graves maybe. The thing is, I got a call from Jake. He wanted me to call round.”
Jo frowned. “And he didn’t say why?”
Rob shook his head. “It might be about the wedding. Maybe Flash Gordon has run out of cash.”
Josie looked over as a group of six men from the local ramblers’ association walked through the door. “I gotta go, babe. It’s the backpack-and-boots brigade. Call me later, let me know what this is about, okay?”
Rob nodded, wishing he was the guy in the corner with a pint and a newspaper. One beer wouldn’t hurt, he thought as he climbed behind the wheel. Just a takeaway washed down with a beer…
By the time he arrived at Jenny’s he’d decided against the idea. Would he have stopped at a couple? Would it have been followed by a couple more the next night? And what would stop him opening that bottle of whisky? No. He knew a slippery slope when he saw one.
Jake greeted him at the door with a breezy manner. Maybe it wasn’t anything to worry about—maybe Jenny was pregnant. Maybe he was going to be a granddad. Of course, Jake’s father would buy the pram, the cot and all the toys—Mr. frigging Splash-the-Cash!
He should have been grateful. It wasn’t as if he had a pot of money to pour into his daughter’s lap. But the desire to strangle the Donald Trump wannabe surfaced every time he visited the cottage he had purchased with the small change he’d found in the bottom of his pocket.
Jenny gave him a half smile as he walked into the room. Her eyes were dark, and it looked as though she’d been crying. The thought sprang up in his head out of nowhere. “Please tell me you two aren’t splitting up!” he said, looking from one to the other.
Jake shook his head. “No chance!” He laughed. “I’d never find another one like her!”
Jenny ignored the compliment, looking at Jake as if to draw fresh strength. “It’s the dreams, Dad!” she said nervously. “I’m dreaming about Amelia again.”
Rob’s heart sank. “The attic?”
Jenny shook her head. “No, it’s the lake and the woods.”
“And are you doing anything? I mean…”
“I’m not sleep-walking. Nothing like that.”
Rob sank back into a chair that was probably worth more than his car and listened as his daughter told him everything. Jake sat impassively. If he was concerned, he wasn’t letting it show, but then he didn’t know how much danger they were in. Even if Rob decided to tell him, he’d only had the word of an old man with a sixth sense.
“The main thing is,” he said as Jenny paused, “you’re not doing any weird stuff—”
“Not yet,” Jenny interrupted.
Rob shook his head. “It sounds as if Amelia’s trying to tell you something.”
Jenny frowned. “I know, but what? It’s not a coincidence, this stuff with the graves. I’m worried, Dad, and there’s other things I haven’t told you. Something happened a few months ago, something you need to know.” She glanced over at Jake. “I’ve told him, but I should have told you as well.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The following morning, Jenny woke to the smell of a cooked breakfast. Bacon, eggs and sausage, some
thing Jake cooked up as a treat, a break from the regime. No one could conjure up a full English to match the one that would be served up by her man. Sometimes she wished they could just elope and marry in some registry office—to say I do without the fuss, without the dress and the bridesmaids. Just a slop top and jeans. She just wanted to be a wife. Jake’s wife.
It had been good to talk about Amelia, and her father had been understanding about the bathroom incident. He’d remembered the phantom album tracks, the face in the tree and the broken picture frame. His brush with the supernatural was still fresh in his mind. They had even managed to laugh about it and crack open a bottle of non-alcoholic wine which she had kept in the fridge.
She found Jake in the kitchen, standing over a sizzling frying pan. “There’s a letter for you,” he said without looking up. “Your dad must have pushed it through before we got up.”
Jenny studied the envelope. It was handwritten and exceptionally neat. Someone had taken care. She pulled out two pages of expensive-looking paper and took a deep breath before opening them. Her eyes fell upon the name in the top left hand corner.
Jake was watching her “Holy shit!” he hissed. “What’s up, babe? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something. You’re shaking!”
Jenny didn’t answer. Her heart raced. Darren Pascoe! Why was he writing to her? Why? He had taken two lives and shown no remorse. What would he have to say? She began to read.
Dear Jenny,
Please, please hear me out. I’ve wanted to write this letter for so long, and it’s taken me ages to find the words. You will know already that we have the same father, and you will know why we drove down your road that day. My mum told me that Mr. Adams had discovered the truth, and she made me promise to never try and contact you. It was a promise I knew I could never keep. You were never in that courtroom but the local paper reported that I showed no remorse. Jenny, if the judge had sentenced me to death, I would have felt it was no more than I deserved. I was numb. Every night I lived through those moments and I wanted to die.
During my first two months in the youth offenders’ prison, I was on a suicide watch because I tried to take my own life. I made a mess of that too. Everything was plastic—the cups, the knives, the forks—and they don’t cut well. Even the sharpest piece of plastic! I didn’t sleep too well either, and when I did manage a few hours I’d usually have nightmares. I lost two stone, and I wasn’t fat to begin with. They have counsellors and they tried to talk to me, but I didn’t want to listen. I blamed myself, and I blamed Kevin Taylor. But I was driving the car that killed your mother and baby sister. I killed them.
I studied hard while I was in that place, and I passed a couple of exams. They told me how well I’d done, but inside I knew I was still a murderer. I was a murderer with an A-plus. Big deal! That wasn’t going to bring anyone back from the dead, was it? It wasn’t going to bring your mother back. It wasn’t going to bring my father back, either. He was a good man. I loved him, and I looked up to him. He was like God to me. Perfect and strong. When I found out about you and the affair he had, it tore my world apart. Some kids can cope but I couldn’t. I couldn’t hate my father and I listened to Taylor, who convinced me it was your mother’s fault. At that time, it suited me to believe that, even though I knew the truth in my heart. It was the only way I could handle the situation.
I cannot forgive myself and I don’t deserve your forgiveness either, but I cannot rest until I’ve explained my feelings. You will still hate me, I’m sure, and maybe you’ll tear this letter up and burn it. I know you will never think of me as a brother, but in my heart you will always be the sister I longed for. Maybe if I hadn’t drunk that cider and stolen that car, we could have found each other and spent time together. But that is just a broken dream now. I wish I could turn back time but I can’t. I have to live with what I have done.
Jenny, I am so sorry.
Love,
Darren xxxx
“Babe?”
Jenny peered up from the letter.
Jake looked worried. “What is it? What’s going on?”
“It’s from Darren,” Jenny replied, her voice cracking. “The lad who killed Mum and Hanna.”
Jake snatched the papers from her. “What? What the fuck does that little bastard want?” His eyes flashed with anger as he began to read.
Jenny stared down at her hands. Jake was right. She really was trembling. “Don’t tear it up, babe! Please!”
“He’s sorry?” Jake fumed, looking at her as if she were crazy. “Sorry? So this letter is supposed to make it right?”
“Please! Please don’t.”
“Are you out of your head? You need to burn this now! Seriously, if you don’t then I will!”
Jenny looked up to see the fury in Jake’s eyes. “You can’t! Please!”
Jake stared at her. “Why? Just tell me why you want to keep this shit. Are you going to forgive a bloke who killed your mother and sister? How? How are you going to do that?”
Jenny looked away, suppressing the wave of nausea. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ve got the strength to forgive. I hate the fact that he’s my brother.” She paused, feeling the tears burning her cheeks. “But he is, and I can’t change that!”
Jake threw the letter on the table. “I don’t want anything to do with him. I mean it, Jen! Don’t ever bring him to this house!”
“You think I want him here?”
“It’s gonna mess with your head, babe. You need to watch your back, because if I was looking for the bloke who trashed the graves, that little runt would be first on my suspect list!”
Jenny shook her head. “It’s not him. I think he means it…”
Jake glared at her. “Babe, you have to stop this right now. You’ve admitted you saw Amelia in the bathroom mirror. You told us she’s crying blood. I don’t know what it means—maybe she’s warning you about him. Maybe Pascoe is pulling you in!” Jake shook his head, “Just use your common sense. How do you know he’s not behind all this stuff with the graves?”
Jenny shrugged. “I just don’t think it’s him.”
Jake threw up his arms in frustration. “So it’s just a coincidence? He gets out of that youth prison and suddenly all this shit starts? I would keep well clear of that arsehole, seriously!”
***
Blakely pulled up his zip as Kim rolled over onto her back. “Talk about a quickie,” she said wryly. “Sex is always better without your trousers!”
“It’s what you wanted,” he mumbled. “And I haven’t got the time. I’ve got a park to build and a foreman who’s probably wondering where the hell I am.”
Kim parted her legs. “Want a photograph? Then you can show him!”
Blakely looked away. He hated himself for wanting her. She was playing him. He was weak and she knew it. “Kim, don’t. Please don’t do this.”
She shot him her best coy-girl look. “Do what?”
“What you’re doing!”
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. What’s the problem?”
“I’m late, and you’re not helping!”
“Then go!” she replied. Blakely stared at her. She grinned and looked down at her naked groin. “But you’d rather stop and make me happy, wouldn’t you?”
The Mosswood Adventure Park was his life. He had nurtured a dream that was becoming a reality, and he wanted to please his father. More than anything, he wanted to see that crooked smile revealing those slightly uneven teeth that he could well have afforded to fix. The smile that told him he had done well. But all that could wait. Kim looked at him longingly, and he sank to his knees beside the bed and pulled her towards him.
***
Thomas was waiting in the cabin office. Blakely held up his hands. “Sorry, got held up.”
His foreman smiled. His whisky nose could have lit a whole street. “No problem. I’m guessing your wife had you tied to the bed, eh?”
Blakely laughed, feeling as if his face were on fire. He was te
mpted to pinch Larry Thomas’s nose, but it looked as if it was about to explode. “Nothing like that, I’m afraid. Any news?”
“Nope. I think the grave vandals have got bored, and the materials for the conservatory are arriving this afternoon.”
Blakely threw his phone on the table. “Okay. When are the foundations for the cabins going in?”
“Starting tomorrow. All the plots are ready.”
Blakely nodded, studying the plans on the wall. His mobile rang. Thomas glanced down at the device belting out Johnny Cash’s ‘Ring of Fire’.
“Who is it?”
Thomas grinned. “Someone called Kim.”
“Ignore it. It’s just one of the staff at the hotel.”
“Erm, okay. Does the missus know about her?” he asked.
Blakely frowned. “What? Why do you say that?”
Thomas was still staring at the phone, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. “Well it seems that every time she calls you, a photograph of her boobs pop up. I assume they’re hers…”
A chill coursed through Blakely’s veins. The embarrassment he’d felt moments ago turned to horror. This wasn’t just someone having fun. This was a female predator infiltrating every part of his life.
Thomas was staring at him with a look of bemusement on his face. “So what’s happening with Penny?”
“Penny?”
“Yep. Penny. Your wife. That woman you married?”
Blakely sighed. He no longer had the energy to try and hoodwink an ex-cop. “It’s all turned into a crock of shit, Larry. She’s gone.”
Thomas slid the phone towards him. “What? For good?”
Blakely shrugged. “It’s a long story.”
Thomas frowned. “It doesn’t sound like a long story. She only arrived yesterday, and now—”
“Okay!” Blakely retorted angrily. “So I’m having an affair and I got caught. It happens all the time. Just keep your friggin’ nose out and get back to work!”
Thomas grimaced, holding up his hands. “Okay. She obviously makes you happy!”
He made for the door but stopped and turned with one hand on the handle. “Out of interest, how old is she? This Kim girl? It’s hard to tell from her tits.”
