I Lie in Wait: A gripping new psychological crime thriller perfect for fans of Ruth Ware!

by Amanda Brittany

  ‘Lie,’ Maddie said.

  ‘No, definitely true,’ Jackson said.

  ‘It is true,’ Neil said.

  ‘I guess boys will be boys.’ Jackson took a gulp of his drink. ‘And look at you now – doing better than they are, is my guess.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Neil nodded. ‘One of them is in prison, I believe.’ He laughed. ‘Though to be fair we were just kids. I forgive them.’

  ‘You’re far too kind, Daddy,’ Elise said, her eyes on Rosamund. ‘Too forgiving.’

  ‘Not always, sweetheart, not always.’

  The atmosphere was suddenly heavy. ‘Jackson, it must be your go,’ Maddie said, as though trying to extinguish the rising tension.

  Jackson grinned, and there was a beat before he said, ‘My parents died of carbon-monoxide poisoning in the caravan I grew up in.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Lark’s eyes moved from her phone to his face. ‘You’re going with that?’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’ Caroline’s eyes widened. ‘It’s got to be a lie.’

  Rosamund stared Jackson’s way, her eyes boring into him, a puzzled look on her face. ‘True,’ she said.

  ‘You’re not even playing, Rosamund.’ Elise screwed up her face, and, clenching her fists, turned to Jackson. ‘Was it like being on holiday, all the time?’

  ‘No,’ Jackson said, leaning back in his chair. ‘It was a living hell.’

  ‘You really don’t look the type to have grown up in a caravan, Jackson.’ Neil narrowed his eyes. ‘Convince me.’

  ‘Well, my parents were travellers. I grew up moving from place to place, finally heading for the US on my own when I was eighteen.’ He laughed, shrugged. ‘It’s no big deal.’

  ‘It is if it’s true.’ Caroline’s voice was tense.

  Amelia looked over at her dad. Was he smiling? Was he happy to see a crack forming?

  ‘I think it’s true,’ Elise said. ‘Come on put us out of our misery, Jackson.’

  ‘It’s true,’ he said.

  Amelia saw the shock in her mum’s eyes, her cheeks flushing.

  ‘Did you know?’ Amelia whispered, seeing the shock in her mum’s eyes.

  Her mum shook her head, as Jackson placed his hand over hers. ‘I honestly didn’t think it was important enough to tell you, Caroline,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t exactly the best time in my life.’

  ‘Are you OK, Mum?’ Amelia asked.

  ‘She’s fine,’ Jackson said, his eyes boring into the side of her mother’s head. ‘Aren’t you, darling?’

  ‘Of course, yes. It’s no big deal. No big deal at all.’

  ‘My go,’ Elise said.

  ‘Maybe we should call it a night,’ Jackson said. ‘What do you think, Caroline?’

  ‘Yes, I’m tired. I thought maybe we could all go for a walk in the forest in the morning; it’s meant to be sunny.’ She went to rise.

  ‘No!’ Elise yelled. ‘It’s my go, and I’m having it whether you like it or not.’

  Jackson glared at Neil, as though asking him to chastise his child, but Neil said nothing.

  ‘I saw a masked figure wandering around Drummondale House last night.’ Elise grinned, staring at Rosamund. ‘Truth or lie?’

  ‘Liar,’ Rosamund snapped, as everyone else remained silent.

  Elise glared at Rosamund. ‘One day you’ll be so sorry you came into our lives,’ she yelled, and ran from the conservatory. Within moments, Neil and a flushed-cheeked Rosamund were on their feet too, and dashing out after her.

  Thomas, who’d been watching everything unfold, sighed. ‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.’

  ‘The Bard,’ Jackson said.

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘The girl is a walking time bomb, quite frankly.’ Jackson dragged his fingers through his hair. ‘They really need to get her some kind of help.’

  ‘She seems quite sweet sometimes,’ Maddie said, looking puzzled by the child’s behaviour.

  ‘Well, she’s definitely got it in for Rosamund,’ Amelia said, rubbing her eyes, and rising to her feet. ‘Actually, I think I’ll head back too.’ She fumbled her arms into her jacket, desperate to get away. She leaned in and kissed her mum’s cheek. ‘Night, all,’ she said, turning and heading for the door.

  ‘Night,’ Finn said, smiling at her as she left. ‘Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’

  Chapter 29

  Present Day

  Amelia

  ‘We can’t leave Ruth outside.’ Thomas’s brown eyes widen, as he drums his fingers on his knees. He’s in shock. We all are.

  ‘I’ll boil some water on the stove, make some strong tea,’ Maddie says, disappearing to the kitchen carrying a flickering candle.

  ‘Well, there’s no way I’m carrying a dead body inside,’ I say, my voice shaky. I lower myself down onto the sofa, attempting to recall the one session of mindfulness I attended just after I lost my baby. But trying to focus on it isn’t working; I’m a complete wreck. ‘You should have seen her, Thomas. It was awful.’ I cry.

  Thomas moves his wheelchair closer to me, and puts on the brake. ‘We need to call the police,’ he says.

  ‘Can you get a signal?’ I say, tears burning my eyes. I’d tried as we walked back from finding Ruth. ‘Because I bloody well can’t, and neither can Dad.’

  Thomas pulls his phone from his pocket, and shakes his head.

  ‘And there’s more,’ I say. ‘Elise has disappeared. She was in her room when Rosamund went out earlier, and now she’s gone.’

  Thomas runs his hand over his beard. ‘Jeez. Is anyone else getting a sense of déjà vu here?’ There’s a twang of flippancy in his voice, but fear shows on his face. People handle shock differently, I tell myself.

  Maddie walks from the kitchen with a tray of mugs. ‘Here you go,’ she says, passing them round. I admit I’m glad of the cuppa, the warmth of the mug in my hands. In fact, Maddie and Thomas’s lounge feels oddly cosy – the wood burner chugging out a healthy heat, a row of candles ablaze on the shelf above the fireplace, such a contrast to the bleak outside. But my body is tense. Ruth has been murdered.

  Dad appears through the front door. ‘I’ve put a note on Rosamund’s door,’ he says, taking off his coat and hanging it up. ‘Said for her and Finn to make their way here when they get back. And I’ve picked up our phone chargers from our cottage too,’ he says to me, putting them down on the table. ‘We’ll charge our phones once the power’s back on.’

  ‘So where exactly are Finn and Rosamund?’ Maddie asks, settling herself in the armchair, as though about to watch her favourite TV drama.

  ‘Searching for Elise,’ I say. ‘And Ruth too, but obviously …’

  ‘I think we should stay together from now on,’ Dad says, putting his mug down. ‘Well, for tonight at least. We should all stay here. It’s for the best.’

  ‘Really?’ Thomas looks about him. ‘We’re all going to kip in here?’

  ‘It’s the biggest cottage, Thomas,’ I say. ‘If we stick together, we should be fine.’ I sound melodramatic, but in the circumstances I offer no excuse.

  We lapse into silence as we drink our tea, before I finally put my empty mug on the table. ‘I could do with something stronger.’ I hate myself for even thinking it. I don’t want to get drunk. But a swift shot to calm my tattered nerves wouldn’t go amiss.

  Dad rises. ‘I’ll get a bottle from our cottage, shall I?’ he says, heading for the door.

  ‘No, don’t be daft. I’m not that bothered,’ I say. It’s a complete lie. ‘Alcohol’s not the answer.’

  ‘Well, I’ve forgotten the question,’ he says, and I wish for a moment he wouldn’t encourage me.

  Thomas makes the drumming sound people make at the end of a joke, which feels inappropriate somehow. But then what is appropriate? There’s hardly a guide on the ways to behave when you find a dead body.

  ‘The old ones are the best,’ Dad says dully, pulling his winter gear back on.

  ‘No, Dad, don’
t go. I’m totally fine,’ I insist. ‘There’s no reason to go out there on your own. I’m not bothered. Truly.’

  ‘If I’m honest, I could do with a shot myself,’ he says, and before I can argue further, he’s gone. Slamming the door behind him.

  ‘You shouldn’t rely on drink so much, sis,’ Thomas says, tugging at my fear that I’m skirting around the edge of alcoholism. ‘If I can give it up, you can.’

  ‘You had a good reason to,’ I say. Words crowd my head. It’s a chance to talk about his accident – the reason he stopped drinking, and I want to grab it, despite my brain being already overcrowded. ‘And you’re stronger than me, Thomas,’ I say, hoping he’ll respond.

  ‘Are you one hundred per cent sure Ruth’s dead, Amelia?’ Maddie has broken the spell. She’s moved into the seat Dad vacated, next to me.

  I nod and look up at her. ‘Dad said she had no pulse.’

  ‘But what if he’s wrong? Should we check, do you think?’

  ‘If you’d seen her injuries, Maddie.’ I gulp down a surge of anxiety. ‘You wouldn’t have doubts.’

  She shakes her head, her glossy hair falling about her face. ‘Poor woman – Finn will be devastated. I know I didn’t cope at all well when my mother died. I still have so many moments where I go to call her on the phone, or want to tell her something.’

  I feel for her. ‘I know exactly what you mean,’ I say, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘Of course you do,’ she says. ‘Sorry, I’m not thinking straight.’

  We are silent once more. The clock on the wall ticks into the quiet spaces between us – telling us it’s eight o’clock. It feels much later.

  ‘So, have either of you got any life on your phones?’ I say, finally, trying to be practical.

  Thomas and Maddie pull their mobiles from their pockets.

  ‘My cell’s at forty per cent,’ Maddie says, looking at the screen. ‘No signal though.’

  ‘Not much, I’m almost out of juice.’ Thomas shoves his back into his pocket.

  ‘Maybe turn yours off for now, Maddie,’ I suggest. ‘Between us we’ll then have enough battery to call the police tomorrow.’

  ‘OK,’ she says, pressing the button on the side of the phone, and swiping the screen.

  ‘I still think someone should try calling the police tonight,’ Thomas says. ‘Maybe a couple of you could go for a walk, try and get a signal?’

  ‘I don’t mind going,’ Maddie says. ‘Maybe we could go together, Amelia. We really should try to get hold of the cops. I mean I’ve seen enough TV shows to know if Ruth’s left out all night in this weather, it will mess with forensics. We may even get in trouble for not reporting it.’

  ‘It’s not exactly normal circumstances.’ I instantly regret my snippy tone. I doubt Maddie will ever be a friend – but I know right now we must pull together, and she’s trying her best to help. ‘I’m sure the police will understand,’ I say softening.

  There’s a knock on the door, and Maddie jumps to her feet, dashes to open it.

  Rosamund stumbles into the cottage, pale and shocked. ‘I’ve lost Finn,’ she cries, teeth chattering. ‘He didn’t wait for me. Said he was going to get his quad bike, but I couldn’t keep up with him. And then I thought I heard a scream. Thought it was Elise, and took off in the other direction, but the cold got too much.’

  ‘And the scream?’

  She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know.’

  Maddie is leading her by the elbow towards the wood burner, and once there, Rosamund crouches down in front of it and rubs her hands together.

  ‘Where is she? Where’s Elise?’ she says, tears in her eyes. She’s visibly shaken. ‘Where the hell is she?’

  Maddie finds a blanket and wraps it around Rosamund’s shoulders, before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Over the next few moments, Thomas breaks the horrific news about Ruth.

  ‘Murdered?’ Rosamund’s eyes are wide in her pale face, her voice soft and quivering. She rises and perches on the edge of the sofa.

  ‘We think so,’ I say. It’s lame. Of course someone killed her.

  Maddie appears from the kitchen, and hands Rosamund a steaming mug of tea.

  ‘But it makes no sense.’ Rosamund blows on the liquid, takes a sip, and swallows. ‘Why would anyone want to kill Ruth?’

  We do a collective shrug, and I feel my heart picking up speed once more.

  After the awful shock of seeing Ruth’s body, and all the things that have happened over the last year, I would have expected to be a little desensitised by now, but if anything I’m worse.

  ‘She’s the most harmless woman I’ve ever met,’ Maddie says. ‘Such a sweet, gentle person.’

  ‘Was she?’ I say. ‘I mean I’m not saying she wasn’t, of course, but, how well did any of us know her?’ I’m aware I’m speaking ill of the dead – that it’s meant to be unlucky, and is far from kind – but I can’t help thinking how overprotective and controlling she was of Finn. Nobody is without secrets.

  ‘I’m sure you don’t want to talk about Lark going missing, guys,’ Rosamund says, ‘but I can’t help but compare.’

  I open my mouth, about to say how different this is to when Lark vanished, when someone knocks on the door. I jump up and race to answer it. It’s Dad brandishing a bottle of gin. ‘Thank God,’ I say, taking it from him. I head into the kitchen to search for some glasses. Whatever we decide to do now – and I know we’ve got to do something – I’m going to need a double to get through tonight.

  Chapter 30

  Present Day

  Amelia

  I sit on the edge of the sofa, lean forward, and splash gin into three glasses, screw the lid back on the bottle, and stand it by my feet like a crutch.

  I pick up one of the glasses and take a large gulp, enjoying the warming sensation as it makes its way down my throat. Rosamund knocks back her gin in one, and I widen my eyes. I’m not thinking straight. She’s pregnant. She shouldn’t be drinking. I make a mental note not to give her any more.

  I take another gulp, and say, ‘I’m worried about Finn.’

  ‘Finn knows these woods,’ Rosamund says, banging her glass down on the table. ‘It’s Elise you should be concerned about. She’s been out there for hours.’

  ‘Of course I’m worried about Elise. I just meant—’

  ‘We need to think logically,’ Thomas cuts in. ‘We know Elise isn’t in your cottage, Rosamund. But maybe she’s in Amelia and Dad’s cottage, or Ruth’s.’

  ‘Or the farmhouse,’ I say.

  ‘Well, she’s not in mine,’ Dad says. ‘I checked over the place when I picked up the phone adaptors, and again when I collected the gin.’

  ‘What if someone took her? The same person who took Lark?’ Rosamund says, still tearful.

  ‘You mean Jackson?’ Dad says.

  ‘But even if Jackson was here at Drummondale House, where would he take her?’ Thomas says.

  ‘OK,’ I say, raising my index finger. ‘For one, we don’t know for sure that Jackson took Lark a year ago. And two, if Elise has been taken; surely whoever took her couldn’t have gone far. They certainly haven’t gone anywhere by car. Maybe she’s hiding somewhere, afraid.’

  ‘Afraid?’ Rosamund says, looking up at me.

  ‘Of whoever killed Ruth,’ I say. ‘If she witnessed what happened, she could be hiding anywhere.’

  ‘Of course, yes. Oh God, the poor child.’ Rosamund shoves her face into her hands and lets out a painful cry. ‘Whatever is Neil going to say?’

  I look at everyone in turn as Rosamund continues to sob, shadows flickering across their faces. Did one of them kill Ruth? Am I in a room with a killer?

  I splash more gin into Dad’s glass, and another for me.

  ‘Jeez, Amelia, this isn’t Friday night at the local pub,’ Thomas says, rubbing his forehead. ‘You need to keep your wits about you.’

  I put down the bottle, guilt rising.

  ‘We need to do something, for Christ�
�s sake,’ Thomas goes on. ‘Why aren’t we checking Ruth’s cottage? The farmhouse? Trying to get a signal so we can call the cops? This is bloody ridiculous.’

  ‘I had to walk as far as the gate before I could get through to the cops earlier,’ Dad says. ‘The signal is awful around here at the best of times, but with this weather it’s almost impossible.’

  ‘Yeah, well someone needs to try again,’ Thomas says.

  ‘You’re right.’ I rise. ‘We must do something.’

  ‘OK, then shall we start by checking Ruth’s cottage?’ Maddie’s eyes are on me. ‘And then walk towards the gate until we get a signal. Use my phone to call for help?’

  ‘OK.’ I would much rather go with my dad, but she’s up and clambering into her ski suit before I can suggest it. I pick up my phone and shove it into my pocket.

  ‘Dad, why don’t you build some sort of fire outside,’ Thomas says. ‘Elise or Finn will spot the flames if they’re lost in the forest.’

  ‘Finn knows these woods, Thomas,’ I say. I’m tetchy. It’s not only everything that’s happened, or even thoughts of being alone with Maddie. I just feel we should all stay together to be safe. ‘And you really think wood will burn in this weather?’

  Rosamund’s on her feet too, dashing her sleeves over her eyes. ‘You stay here, Thomas; Robert, you light a fire; and I’ll go with Maddie and Amelia.’

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. Despite wanting her with us as extra security, I’m worried about her unborn child. ‘Stay. You’ve been in the cold far too long already. You need to think of your baby.’

  She rubs her stomach. ‘OK,’ she agrees. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

  Maddie’s now in her super-warm ski suit, and I notice, as I shuffle into my not-so-warm padded jacket, Dad grab a box of matches, some dry logs from next to the wood burner, and a pile of magazines from the coffee table. I pull my woolly hat down over my ears, wrap my scarf around my face, and flick on my phone torch. ‘Let’s go,’ I say, opening the door.

  Heads down, Maddie and I battle against the weather, stomping through the deep snow towards Ruth’s cottage. The squally wind makes it almost impossible to talk, for which I’m thankful. Although Maddie’s and my differences seem minuscule compared to what is going on right now.