by R. J. Parker
Leah’s glass remained in her hand.
‘It’s not drugged.’ He cut a half egg with his knife and popped it in his mouth.
Leah put down the glass.
‘Here.’ He slid his across the table to her. ‘Drink mine if you like. Pass me yours.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not thirsty.’
He sighed, leaned across and switched the glasses. ‘I’d like you to have a drink with me.’ He chewed on his mouthful and then sprinkled some salt on his egg. He was about to take another morsel but stopped and raised his eyebrows at Leah.
Leah lifted the glass and put it to her lips.
Chapter Fifty-Four
‘This must be difficult...’ Tate chewed some more egg.
Leah had a tiny amount of wine in her mouth. She replaced the glass on the table.
‘…looking after someone who isn’t the person they used to be.’ He nodded to a photo, on the window ledge, of Leah and Olivia with their father when they were kids. The rainclouds had darkened the view of the garden beyond.
Leah watched him take a glug of her wine while he examined the picture. Had that been a trick? Was hers now the glass that was drugged?
‘I hear it’s like a death. Even though they’re alive the person you knew is gone.’
‘He’s still my father.’
Tate met her eye. ‘But you must often wish for a release.’
Leah knew what he was insinuating. ‘No.’
‘When you’re exhausted and you need Saturday off, you must have thoughts you’re not proud of.’
‘He’s still independent.’
‘But for how much longer?’
‘I don’t ever think about that.’
‘No? Don’t consider how difficult it’s going to become in the future, how he’s going to drain the savings you’ve been putting away for yourself?’
‘I only care about his wellbeing. I’ve had a drink with you now, tell me where he is.’
‘That wasn’t a drink. You barely wet your lips.’ He took another gulp from his. ‘Mine’s going to need refilling in a moment. I hope you’re not going to make me feel uncomfortable.’ He waited, fork poised over his plate.
Leah picked up her glass and tipped it back against her lips. She took a little, swallowed as loudly as she could.
‘Very commendable. What you were saying about your father … that’s not really the truth, is it? I’m sure it causes friction between you and Elliot.’
‘What does it matter to you?’
Tate put down his glass, a look of approval on his face as if she’d asked precisely the right question. He filled his from the bottle, leaned across and filled hers almost to the brim. ‘This – us – is an investment of time. All relationships are. My mistake in the past has been my inability to make an informed choice. It’s something I have to remedy now. My energies and time have frequently been wasted on the wrong people. Through no fault of their own. But it causes resentment in me. A resentment I, unfortunately, have to satisfy.’
Was he really making it sound like an apology?
‘I decided to kill Alice Booth a long time ago. The days and months that I lost yearning for a future with her, when she was patently the wrong person, irked me more than her rejection. But I had to be as good as my word. If I’m not, I don’t really exist. I’m just a hapless lump of flesh at the mercy of others. My word is my will, my control.’
‘So are you really going to be good as your word now? Are you lying about my father and Elliot?’ She looked swiftly down at her knife and then up again.
‘No. I promise, I’ve never lied to you.’
‘You said you lived in Alice Booth’s house.’
‘That was your assumption.’ He scraped his fork through his mayonnaise.
‘You lied to the police. About giving yourself up.’
‘But I didn’t lie to you.’ He quickly licked the back of his fork. ‘You’re not eating.’
‘Just ask me what you need to know!’ She immediately regretted the outburst.
Tate was impassive. ‘So, the friction between you and Elliot, that makes the situation with your father even more difficult.’
Leah inhaled. ‘No. That makes things between Elliot and me difficult.’
‘Because your husband is selfish?’
Leah didn’t respond.
Tate nodded. ‘And demanding. Always has been but you’ve always rationalised his behaviour because he has a lot to put up with. The spectre of Olivia’s death then your mother dying and now your father losing his mind.’
She bit her tongue. What hadn’t he learned from Elliot?
‘But when you shake it all down you realise that Elliot has only been present for those events. He didn’t actually support or help you.’
Leah’s right hand slid from the table and into her lap.
‘And on top of that he’s been having an affair behind your back. Looking for his moment to escape you and the misery you’ve made him part of.’
‘Is this what you do?’ She had to distract him. ‘Break down people’s lives for fun?’
Tate looked genuinely affronted. ‘People are easy to break down. They’re such a rude construction. Not you though. That’s why I want to help you. I want you to see things as clearly as I do. I heard Elliot and Katya outside your house last night. Valentine’s night. The night you’d been in a road accident. Did he care about that? Or was he too busy trying to think of a way to tell you he doesn’t love you anymore?’
Leah’s palm moved to her right knee. She could feel the top of the mini crowbar poking through the denim.
‘And your father is just as demanding. I imagine your mother was the one who kept the family together. But with her gone it’s just you left to deal with two selfish men.’
Her fingers touched the two metallic points.
‘In moments alone, every now and again, don’t you wish them away?’
Leah shook her head.
‘I’ve promised you I won’t lie to you. I only ask you do the same in return.’
She gripped the metal hard. ‘What have you done with them?’
Tate took another large swig of his wine. ‘Food first.’
Chapter Fifty-Five
‘A mouthful, just so my hard work isn’t wasted. Then we talk about your father, I promise.’
Leah picked up her fork and jabbed it harshly into the egg on her plate.
‘I’m sure he didn’t teach you to eat like that.’
She met the mock remonstration in his expression, exhaled through her nose and then put the food past her lips.
Tate nodded satisfaction as she started to chew. ‘He’s not in this house but he’s nearby.’ He paused when she stopped eating and raised his eyebrows again.
Leah moved her jaw faster, the cool pulped egg turning to paste in her dry mouth.
‘Likewise Elliot. If you don’t behave though, you don’t find them.’
‘Are they alive?’ Leah felt her throat close up
‘Speaking with your mouth full? I’m sure your father would take a dim view of that too.’
Leah put down her fork.
‘Yes, they are. But I need to know a few more details before I give you anymore.’ He looked pointedly at the fork.
She picked it back up.
‘Are you going to swallow?’ His green eyes were on her lips now.
Leah briefly closed her eyelids and choked the egg down. Was that what he’d actually drugged?
Tate leaned further back in his chair. ‘How badly did it affect your father? Losing Olivia? I know how it’s afflicted you, what it did to your confidence when you were growing up.’
That wasn’t a conversation she’d ever had with her father. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting to know you.’
‘What has Elliot told you?’
‘Exactly what I wanted to hear, I imagine. To be fair though, he did so under duress.’
‘What did you do to him?’ Leah felt sick as the
food slid down to her stomach.
‘I’ve told you, he’s alive. Although I’m not sure you’ll want that to remain the case.’
Leah clenched the fork firmly in her fist.
His gaze dropped to it. ‘Thinking of using that? Or maybe the knife?’
She shook her head.
‘We should really get that out of the way, if you’re planning to.’
Leah’s breath whistled from her nose a few times before she dropped it noisily onto the plate.
‘You’ve finished then?’
‘If you really knew me, you’d know that I love my father…’
‘And Elliot? You love him?’
‘Yes.’ But she paused a second before carrying on. ‘Yes,’ she repeated.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Not entirely convincing. Did you know that Katya wasn’t his first infidelity?’
Leah nodded, maintaining eye contact, but knew she hadn’t sold the lie.
‘Gaynor, Allegra, Nicola, you’re familiar with those names?’
She nodded again, feeling her insides collapse.
‘He was seeing Allegra three months after you got married. If you knew about it, that shows great forbearance on your part.’ Tate sipped his wine while he allowed her to digest what he’d told her. ‘And a complete disregard for you on his.’
She suspected it was the truth. But how had he extracted those names from Elliot?
‘I don’t want him to come to harm,’ she said very deliberately. ‘I never want that.’
Tate nodded thoughtfully. ‘Message received.’ He chewed his lip thoughtfully. ‘I just wonder what it would take to convince you that disposing of him is the best thing that could happen to you.’
‘Nothing,’ she said definitively. Leah watched his expression turn blank. She realised she had to leave herself something to negotiate with. ‘You’re right though. I don’t love him anymore.’
A vague spark flickered in his eyes.
‘It’s been over for a long time between us and, until recently, I’ve been in denial of that.’ It wasn’t hard for Leah to sell the truth.
Surprise on his face now, as if they’d made a breakthrough. ‘You valued him above yourself?’
She nodded agreement.
‘Even though he was conspiring to leave you.’
It’s because of Olivia that you don’t value yourself. Because you wish that it had been you hit by the car.’
Leah froze.
‘Elliot told me how you’ve carried it. But did it ever occur to you that he used that to abuse you in the way he has?’
She’d only ever shared that guilt with Elliot. Her breathing quickened.
‘Cynically using the fact that you feel worthless because you’re convinced you’re to blame for your sister’s death.’
Chapter Fifty-Six
Leah’s eyes were fixed on Tate’s lips, the mouth of a stranger uttering things she could barely admit to herself.
‘It was your frisbee she ran into the road to collect. How could you not feel that way?’
She experienced a familiar sensation. Those bruises of grief and anger that were always there aching in her stomach again. She was at the roadside, touching her sister’s warm face before her father dragged her away. It was the last time she’d seen Olivia. She couldn’t picture her expression but remembered the last heat of her skin against her palm.
‘Elliot told me that you can never forgive yourself. Is that why you can always forgive him?’
Despite how desperate she was to know if Elliot was safe, however Tate had learnt it, it still felt like another betrayal.
‘I found a couple of steaks in the fridge. How do you like yours cooked?’
Leah’s hands shot to the cutlery in front of her as soon as Tate rose.
He regarded her with affectionate amusement. ‘Medium, rare? These are the little details I need to know.’ He dumped his napkin on the table and picked up his empty plate. He leaned over and took hers. ‘I’ll let you collect yourself but I’ll keep this door open so we can talk.’
Leah felt him breeze past her and flinched, but he carried on to the kitchen. She heard him put the plates on the side, the gas ring firing up and a pan clanging onto it.
‘If you want to help out, fill our glasses.’
Leah’s eyes shifted to the bottle. Could she knock him unconscious with it? Her gaze flitted about the room. Anything else she could use as a weapon? There were only books and photos. She turned in the direction of the kitchen door and expected to find him watching her from there. He wasn’t.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ he called from the stove.
‘Very well done.’ She had to keep him busy out there. Without taking her eyes from the doorway she put her hand to the crowbar. Could she slide it out in time?
He appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘I’m blue so I’ll do mine first and let it rest so I can focus on yours.’
She nodded.
‘I’ve salvaged a salad from the drawer. Slim pickings but the meat’s the star.’ He was gone again.
As soon as she heard the sizzle of steak hitting the skillet she leaned forward and started rolling up the right leg of her jeans.
‘How are we on the wine?’
‘Nearly there.’ She exposed the top of the crowbar, which meant she could pull it out of her boot. She tugged it clear and placed it on the floor under the table. Then she frantically rolled her trouser leg down again.
‘You sound suddenly compliant. What are you up to?’
As Tate walked back into the room Leah was on her feet. She grabbed the bottle from his side of the table and started filling his glass. She turned towards him.
Tate just nodded, audited the cutlery on the table and stepped back into the kitchen. ‘Won’t be long. D’you know if your father has any English mustard?’
Leah sat but angled her chair so her back wasn’t square to the door. It creaked as she did so. ‘Might be some in the cupboard above the fridge.’
‘You’re moving about.’
She turned to find him standing in the doorway again. ‘I don’t want my back to you.’
‘Because it’s rude?’ He smirked and quickly disappeared.
Had he seen the crowbar on the carpet? Leah put her boot on it and shoved it further forward. But whatever she had on hand to attack him with she couldn’t use it until he’d told her where her father and Elliot were.
‘Nothing for you to do except sip the wine,’ he said significantly.
Her glass was still full, but she wasn’t about to drink it. As the bottle had been shared between them she hoped it hadn’t been drugged but what about the mouthful of food he’d made her eat? She didn’t feel drowsy yet. Leah scanned the room again. How else could she use this window of time? Had he foreseen everything she might try or was he positive she wouldn’t attempt anything when two lives were at stake? He hadn’t offered her any proof that either of them was alive. Perhaps he was just getting off on tormenting Leah before he killed her too.
She had to wait. Had to believe that he would reward her for obeying him. What else could she do? Leah picked up the knife and fork and clenched them tight in her sweaty palms.
In the kitchen the sickening fizzle intensified, filling her ears and merging with the hissing sound already there. The smell of cooked steak wafted in and the aroma was overpowering.
‘Good to go,’ he announced minutes later.
Leah tensed herself and turned her body towards the door as he entered with a plate in each hand and a bowl resting on his arm. She had the knife ready, could jab it into his stomach while both his hands were occupied. But it wasn’t a sharp blade.
Tate paused and quickly took in her situation, as if expecting something to be out of place. Satisfied it wasn’t, he arced around her to return to his side of the table. He put his own china plate down first. His sealed steak had a serrated, wooden-handled steak knife beside it. He retrieved the salad bowl from his arm, put it between them and then deposi
ted her steak in front of her.
Beside it was another serrated steak knife.
‘All yours,’ he declared.
Leah looked down at it, the smell hitting her in the face as she considered the significance of what he’d given her.
Tate seated himself and replaced the napkin in his lap. He nodded at his steak. ‘Your father knows how to live.’
Leah looked up at him, the sizzling still in her ears.
Tate picked up his fork and serrated knife and started energetically sawing through the meat.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Leah regarded the puddle of red under the piece of meat on her plate.
‘D’you think your father blamed you for Olivia’s death?’
Leah heard his fork scrape over his teeth and him chew vigorously. ‘When are you going to tell me where he is?’ She didn’t look up.
‘As soon as we’ve had a pass at this course,’ he said placatingly through a mouthful. ‘Shame I couldn’t find any mustard, this is excellent.’
Leah took hold of the steak knife.
‘Good. Just one bite.’
There was something sprinkled over the meat. Was it salt or had he drugged it? It was far from well done. The puddle of red was expanding underneath as the meat relaxed. She sawed a small corner off it.
‘Elliot told me that your father calls you Olivia now. She died when she was nine. That’s plenty of time for you to replace her as his favourite, isn’t it?’
Leah didn’t respond but managed to separate the morsel from the main steak.
‘But it doesn’t sound like you have. Is that because you were the older sister who should have been looking out for her? Has he not forgiven you for that?’
Leah examined the meat on her fork.
‘Done OK for you?’
The idea of putting it in her mouth seemed repugnant. Leah breathed through her mouth so she couldn’t smell it.
‘Wouldn’t you prefer that guilt to be gone now? Isn’t your father just a constant reminder of something you’d rather forget?’
She shook her head.
