The Trapped Wife: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller with a mind-blowing twist

by Samantha Hayes

  After a long silence, Madeleine had said a few words. It’s hard to remember what exactly, but she protested for a while, claiming her innocence, before telling me that there was no point in her going on the trip either since there would be nothing to film. And that was the last I ever heard from her.

  I sat on the kitchen floor, watching the sky turn from blood red to pink streaks and then a wintry blue, a tumbler of whisky in my hand, with no idea at that point that I had a baby growing inside me. I stared at the sky through the window above, playing out what seemed like every minute of my marriage to Jeremy in my mind, fast-forwarding through the good times and the bad. Then I went upstairs and showered, put a load of washing on, and went to collect my son.

  Forty-Four

  Then

  Sweat pours off Evan as he lugs the kid along the edge of the field. His brisk walk has broken into a run because the grandmother is screaming her head off. There’s no way he’s going to get caught. When his mum comes out of hospital, he wants things to be peaceful for her. No more migraines. No more lying in bed with her vodka medicine. No more Griff beating her up. Things will get back to normal again. Life will be good.

  ‘Shut up!’ Evan snaps at the kid. ‘Stop yer whining.’

  Griff has said that to him a thousand times, but the kid keeps on grizzling until Evan stops and takes another sweet from the packet. Then he coos and slobbers on Evan’s sleeve as he clings on, bouncing about as Evan jogs towards the woods.

  Once he gets in the cover of the trees, he’ll slow his pace a bit. Then it’s not far to skirt around the edge to get to the reservoir. He’s praying that Mac will meet him there instead, that he won’t let him down. That he won’t let Kill Club down.

  Eventually, when his leg muscles are burning from the weight of the kid, when he’s done in, dusty and exhausted, Evan reaches the entrance to the quarry. The scarred land around it is scrubby and deserted. Not a nice place. There are so many ‘Keep Out’ signs people rarely go there, but Evan knows a way in where they won’t be spotted.

  ‘It’s your own fault,’ Evan says, hitching the kid up on his hip further, the way he sees his mum do with Rosie. ‘If you’d been a good boy and not made all that din, I wouldn’t have to bring you out here.’

  They draw up to the water’s edge, with Evan pacing about at the point the land rises up to a sharp rocky outcrop. Down here, on the flat, him and Mac have paddled many times before, removing their shoes and socks, cooling their feet on hot days. They’ve never dared swim in the inky-black, freezing water yet, though he knows some of the older kids do. They dare each other to jump in from the top of the rocky cliff.

  The kid whines and wriggles again, making Evan drop him down on the ground. He gives him another sweet and the little boy looks up at him, his blond hair glinting in the sun. He smiles, squinting his eyes. ‘Dat,’ he says, pointing at the packet of sweets in Evan’s hand.

  The last word he ever spoke.

  Evan doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there – could just be a few minutes, could be days. He thinks it’s probably somewhere in between. The only thing he knows for sure is that the pressure inside him has gone – disappeared like a popped balloon.

  He feels good. Better than good. And now the kid is gone too. Silenced.

  ‘Evan!’ he hears from behind him. ‘Evan, wait!’

  He swings round to see Mac running down the grassy track towards where he’s sitting. He’s shielded from the lane by a line of trees and a thick hedge. Only Mac would know to find him here.

  ‘What the fuck have you done?’ he says, drawing up, gasping and panting. He leans forward, hands on knees as he blows in and out.

  ‘You were supposed to help me.’ Evan scrambles to his feet.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Kill Club,’ Evan says. ‘You promised you’d help me get the kid and bring him here.’

  ‘Everyone’s looking for him. The village has gone crazy. The police are up at the estate. Tell me you didn’t take him, Evan. Tell me it wasn’t you.’ Mac takes him by the shoulders, shaking him, glaring into his eyes.

  ‘You wanted me to do it. We planned it together. You said we were a team.’

  ‘You fucking idiot,’ Mac says, spitting on the ground. ‘Where is he? We’ll make this right. We’ll put him back. No one will know.’

  Evan turns his head and looks across the water.

  ‘You never?’ Mac says, wide-eyed and red-cheeked. ‘Tell me you didn’t.’

  ‘It’s your fault,’ Evan says, tears welling up. He hadn’t thought the police would come so soon. Maybe he had been sitting there for hours, days even. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything any more, except the hot pee dribbling down his leg.

  ‘Where? Where is he?’ he hears Mac screaming.

  Evan points towards the ledge he dropped the kid from. He didn’t think he was alive when he went in, but couldn’t be sure.

  In a flash, Mac strips off his clothes – kicking off his trainers, pulling off his socks, then unbuttoning his jeans and tugging them off too, hopping about as he does so. Evan has never seen Mac in his underpants before, but it’s only when Mac takes off his long T-shirt, pulling it over his head, that he sees they’re pink pants with little flowers on. And it takes him a while to realise that the thing he has on under his T-shirt is… is a bra – like the one his mum wears, but much, much smaller and with not very much inside.

  He doesn’t understand.

  Evan stares. He stares at Mac in those pink underpants and that matching little bra as he runs all the way down to the water. He stares as Mac charges into the shallows, his arms flailing, his eyes searching as he gets knee-deep, waist-deep, chest-deep. And then Mac’s arms are doing the front crawl, cutting through the water. They’re in different PE lessons at school and he had no idea that Mac was such a good swimmer… no idea about anything.

  Evan looks down at Mac’s discarded clothes lying in the dirt. He bends down and picks up the T-shirt, bringing it to his face and inhaling. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to smell, except he doesn’t think it’s the same person Mac was just a few minutes ago.

  The pressure begins to build inside him again.

  Rage.

  He feels stupid. More stupid than Griff has ever made him feel. He feels disgusting and tiny, wretched and insignificant, like the ant crawling along in the dirt beside him. It only takes him a second to bring his foot up and stamp on it, and all the other stupid ants following in a line.

  How could Mac have done this to him? How could he have not realised?

  Evan shakes his head, harder and harder until his brain hurts.

  He drops down onto the earth, still clutching the T-shirt, watching as Mac frantically swims back and forth in the reservoir beneath the rocky outcrop looming above. Eventually, Mac swims to the edge again and wades out of the water, dripping and exhausted. Tears are streaming down his face.

  Down her face.

  She slumps down on the ground beside Evan, her shoulders shaking as she cries. Evan touches one of them, sliding his fingers down her arm until it’s level with her tiny breast. He can’t take his eyes off her.

  She’s beautiful, like a rare butterfly. Except he doesn’t want to kill her – he wants to keep her all for himself. She’s the only friend he’s ever had.

  Mac whips her head around. ‘We don’t say a word, right?’ she says, her teeth chattering as she bats his hand away. ‘We’ll get in big trouble. We keep our mouths shut. Never tell a single soul.’

  Evan nods furiously.

  Mac stands up again and grabs her dry clothes. ‘Turn away,’ she orders, and Evan does.

  When she’s finished dressing, when she’s tying up her shoelaces, Evan reaches over to where she’s discarded her wet pants. Slowly, he drags them through the dirt and clutches them in his palm, stuffing them in his pocket when she’s not looking. They can go in the special tin at the den, along with everything else he’s been collecting.

  ‘Right,’ Mac
says, looking as though she’s about to leave. ‘You go home, you act normal, don’t say anything about the kid, and we swear… we have to swear on our lives never ever to hurt another thing again. That’ll eventually make all the bad go away.’ She holds out her little finger for Evan to shake with his. ‘Promise?’

  Evan stands, staring up at her – the sight of her wet hair, the sun behind her, her pretty little freckles soothing him more than crushing any insects ever could. Whatever happens to him now, he’ll never forget her, will never let her go. He’ll always love her no matter what. And one day, even if they’re grown-ups, he’ll find her, make everything OK again, just like it always was. The two of them together forever.

  ‘Kill Club secret,’ he whispers, shaking her little finger back.

  Epilogue

  Two and a Half Years Later – Jen

  Jen feels the sun on her back as she walks through the village. Despite the heat of the day, a shiver runs down her spine. But it’s a good shiver – a shiver that tells her she is alive, content, and happy even. Though she hardly dares admit it.

  ‘Hey, hey…’ she says, peering forward over the hood of the buggy. ‘We’ll be there soon, sweetie.’ She enjoys their trips to the local park on her days off. Surgery is as busy as ever, but since she’s gone back to work after Millie was born, she’s managed to find some kind of work–life balance.

  She flicks a wave at a passing car, recognising a friend. It’s amazing how many more people she speaks to now when out and about with her daughter. She can hardly believe that Millie will be turning two in a few days. Everything is set for her little party at the barn – the invites to her nursery friends sent out, the cake ordered, the decorations bought.

  Kieran is almost as excited as Millie about preparations – his last summer at home before he goes off to Manchester University. Caitlin has won a place there too, and the pair never stop talking about moving away from home. They’ve grown inseparable this last year or two, and Caitlin’s counselling has now come to an end. She’s found some kind of peace after everything she’s been through.

  ‘How time passes,’ Jen says, though no one hears. Millie coos and kicks her legs in the buggy, as animated and inquisitive as ever. She loves going to the park with her mum, being pushed in the swing or playing in the sandpit.

  ‘Jennifer!’ a voice rings out from across the street. ‘Oh my God, is that you?’

  She turns, spotting a woman about the same age on the other side of the road, also pushing a buggy. She’s familiar, Jen thinks, though she can’t quite place her. A patient, perhaps, though she isn’t sure.

  The woman checks the road and comes across.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s really you,’ she says, a broad grin on her face. ‘And how weird is this?’ She points between their two buggies – hers containing a little boy about the same age as Millie.

  Jen smiles, desperately trying to remember the woman’s name. She doesn’t want to appear rude. Is she a mum at nursery? Has she invited her son to the party?

  ‘Jen…’ the other woman says, holding out her hand.

  ‘Yes, yes, that’s right, I’m Jen,’ she replies, giving her hand a light shake. The woman is a little heavier than Jen, though she can’t deny, she’s also put on weight since having Millie. She hasn’t been to the gym in ages.

  The woman laughs. ‘No, no, I mean I’m Jen too. Don’t you remember?’

  Jen smiles, pretending she does.

  ‘We recently moved back to the area. Bob’s got a job in Oxford so we thought we’d live near my family here in Harbrooke for the extra help with Noah. He’s nearly two now. Bob commutes and…’ She trails off, laughing. ‘You don’t have a clue who I am, do you?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Jen admits, rocking her buggy back and forth. Millie is getting tetchy now they’ve stopped. She turns it round so her daughter is face to face with the little boy. She hopes it will distract her while she chats.

  ‘We were at school together,’ the other woman says. ‘Jennifer Mason. To be honest, I’m not surprised if you don’t remember me. You’ve probably done your best to forget everything about me. Hand on heart, I can’t say I was very nice, especially not to your… to your… friend.’ She says the word ‘friend’ with a tinge of bitterness.

  ‘To Evan,’ Jen says quietly. Briefly, she remembers that terrible afternoon at the quarry lake, how, as she’d finally turned to leave, Evan had begged her not to go, sobbing as he realised the police would soon catch up with him. He’d called out to her as she walked away, swearing that one day he’d find her, that they’d be friends again, that nothing would ever come between them. Jen had blocked her ears and kept on walking.

  She snaps back to the present, dropping her gaze down to the little boy. He’s chubby and blond and cooing at Millie. Their feet are touching and the toddlers giggle as they bump sandals against each other.

  ‘But I’m Jennifer Brodie now,’ she goes on. ‘A reformed woman.’ She wiggles the fingers of her left hand about, showing off her ring.

  Jen smiles, batting a fly from her face, looking down to make sure it doesn’t settle on Millie. But her little girl is preoccupied with something else, gurgling and babbling newly learnt words at Noah.

  ‘Congratulations,’ Jen says. ‘And yes, yes I do remember you.’ She thinks Jennifer Mason – or Gem as she was known at school – looks and sounds entirely different now. Standing there in her long flowing skirt, with a printed blouse loosely tucked in, her hair tied in a messy but stylish bun, she seems anything but frosty and mean. She’s the sort of mum Jen would make a beeline for at nursery – the sort of mum she’d get along with.

  ‘So are you still Jennifer Macrory?’ the other woman asks. ‘Or should I say “Mac”?’

  Jen laughs, rolling her eyes. ‘No… no, my days of being Mac are long gone. I think there was another Jennifer in our year, too, wasn’t there? It was so confusing for the staff, they had to differentiate us somehow. Being such a tomboy, the nickname for me just stuck.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ the woman replies. ‘Some people still call me Gem. It’s so good to see you. Look, we should get together sometime. It would be great to catch up. You’re a doctor now, I hear. I wondered if it might be you when I enrolled at the surgery. I saw your photograph on the display wall and…’

  Jen listens to the woman, nodding and laughing, filling in the gaps of time in their lives, chatting about partners, and school, and the upcoming reunion… but she isn’t really listening. Not truly.

  No. Jen is focused on the two toddlers – little Millie and Noah, sitting in their buggies, the pair transfixed by a ladybird that has landed on the padded armrest of Millie’s buggy.

  It stretches out its wings in the heat of the sun, revealing a pretty lacy petticoat that makes Millie squeal with delight. It walks a few paces, looking as though it’s about to take off and fly away, but before it has a chance, Millie brings her chubby little hand up high and, a second later, slams it down on the insect. When she takes her hand away, the ladybird is dead.

  Jen watches as Millie looks across at Noah, who is captivated and clapping his hands. The two toddlers beam wide grins at each other, squealing with delight.

  ‘So what do you think?’ the other woman says. ‘A play date for these two little ones?’

  Jen looks up, another shiver running down her spine. She smiles too, putting her hand to her brow against the sun, praying the tear she feels forming in her eye won’t roll down her cheek.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she says. ‘That sounds perfect. Something tells me these two are going to be the best of friends.’

  If Jen and Rhonda’s story had you absolutely gripped and tearing through pages, download Date Night now for more nail-biting and totally unputdownable suspense.

  * * *

  ORDER NOW!

  Date Night

  ORDER NOW!

  * * *

  Returning early from a disastrous date night with my husband, I know something is wrong the moment the w
heels crunch the gravel drive of our home. Inside, the TV is on and a half-eaten meal waits on the table. My heart stops when I find our little girl is alone in the house and our babysitter, Sasha, is missing…

  * * *

  Days later, when I’m arrested for Sasha’s murder and torn away from my perfect little family, I’ll wish I had told someone about the threatening note I received that morning.

  * * *

  I’ll hate myself for not finding out who the gift hidden inside my husband’s wardrobe was for.

  * * *

  I’ll scream from the rooftops that I’m innocent – but no one will listen.

  * * *

  I will realise I was completely wrong about everything that happened that night…

  * * *

  But will you believe me?

  * * *

  Twisted and absolutely unputdownable, Date Night exposes what goes on behind the closed doors of a happy home and the dangerous truths we ignore to protect the ones we love. Perfect reading for anyone totally gripped by The Wife Between Us, Friend Request or Gone Girl.

  Hear More From Samantha

  Want to keep up to date with Samantha’s latest releases?

  * * *

  Sign up here!