‘Shit.’ Clearly understanding the urgency, Ben parked any issue he had with Jake and hurried to grab them from his jacket hanging on the peg.
‘What did it say?’ Nausea churning her stomach, Emily followed Jake to the door.
Jake paused, his eyes flicking worriedly to Ben. ‘She thinks it’s a suicide note,’ he said, his voice tight.
‘Oh God, no.’ Emily reeled on her feet. ‘Not Ed.’ Panic clenching her stomach, she followed as Jake raced to his car, climbing beside him as he threw himself into the driver’s side. ‘I’m coming with you.’ Edward’s last words to her rang loudly in her head: Stand together. You’re a team. You always have been.
Jake didn’t argue. His faced etched with fearful trepidation, he glanced at her with a small nod and started the engine.
‘Wait!’ Ben called, stepping onto the drive.
Jake hit the brake. ‘You need to stay here, Ben,’ he shouted, opening his window. ‘I don’t want Millie coming back to an empty house.’
‘Queens Lake Woods,’ Ben said urgently. ‘Me and my mates have seen him up there a couple of times when we’ve been biking. He goes there birdwatching. He’s usually in the same place, looking for wood warblers or something. There’s a bench dedicated to the founder. It’s up by the Tall Trees Trail. That’s where we saw him.’
‘Jesus.’ Jake sucked in a breath. Exchanging glances with Emily, his eyes were shot through with palpable terror. Guessing that his mind had flown back to the darkest day of his life, that he was imagining Edward might have chosen this spot to end his life in the same devastating way his mother had, Emily’s heart constricted.
‘Thanks, Ben,’ he managed, his throat hoarse, nodded appreciatively in Ben’s direction, and reversed sharply.
Thirty-Eight
‘Why did I leave him?’ Jake gripped the steering wheel hard as they drove through the arboretum towards the Tall Trees Trail, scouring the woodland left and right as they went. ‘I should never have left him.’ Lifting a hand from the wheel, he slammed it back down hard, causing Emily to jump.
‘Jake, don’t,’ she said, tears springing to her eyes, fear for both him and Edward clutching her chest. ‘You couldn’t have done any more. He said he was tired. He said he was going to bed. He looked bone-weary. What else could you have done, other than what you did? You told him to come in and see you first thing.’
He shrugged hopelessly. ‘I could have stayed. Made sure he did.’
She reached across to him, squeezing his forearm. ‘You can’t do that for all your patients,’ she reminded him gently.
He drew in a breath, nodded and exhaled slowly.
‘Do you think he couldn’t bear the humiliation?’ she asked, her heart aching excruciatingly as she thought of Edward’s pain, the agony he must have gone through coming to such a horrendous decision.
Jake shook his head. ‘He didn’t do this for selfish reasons. I don’t think he has a selfish bone in his body. My gut tells me he’s doing it for Joyce. It was her he was worried about when he came to see me a while back. I’m guessing he thinks this way he will save her from the ignominy of his being charged with theft, a court case. She said he reminded her in his letter where his life insurance was.’
‘Because he wanted her to be able to stay in her beloved house.’ Emily understood immediately that that would have been exactly what Edward was thinking. He would have imagined she would need the money more than she needed a man who was about to bring shame to her door.
Swallowing back a jagged lump in her throat, she turned to the window. It was time to stop arguing, stop hurting each other. If all she’d thought about Jake were true, if he didn’t want to be with her, then she would have to try somehow to forgive him and let him go.
A few seconds later, Jake pulled the car to an abrupt stop. Behind Edward’s, Emily realised, her heart leaping into her mouth. ‘Please don’t let me be too late,’ he prayed out loud, shoving his door open and scrambling out.
Quickly Emily reached for her own door and climbed out.
‘Wait,’ Jake said as she headed into the woods, and raced around to the back of the car to grab the emergency medical bag he carried in the boot. His face deathly white, he heaved the rucksack onto his back and then, meeting her eyes briefly, nodded her on.
Passing a bench bearing no memorial plaque, they’d gone several yards down the trail when they reached the one Ben had described. Emily watched Jake looking up at the tall trees. She knew what he was thinking. Her heart bleeding for him, she tried to imagine what he was feeling, the unbearable heartbreak he would have suffered walking through his front door to find his mother’s limp form hanging in the hall.
Calling Edward’s name, they ducked into the trees, passing redwoods, maples and oaks, the smell of damp earth mingled with moss permeating the air, birds chirruping in the top branches, frantically or so it seemed to Emily. Keeping within earshot of each other, they separated but kept calling. Where was he? She prayed he had come to his senses and realised that Joyce would be lost without him; that all the money in the world couldn’t replace him. She’d almost convinced herself they would find him safe … until Jake said his name once again, his throat thick with disbelief.
‘Jake!’ she shouted, running urgently towards him, branches and brambles whipping her face and tearing at her clothes. It took a second for comprehension to dawn as she reached the small clearing he stood frozen in, and then her heart stopped. Oh dear God, no. Please, God …
‘No!’ Jake emitted a cry that came from his soul; raw, primal, that of a wounded animal. And then he moved, dragging his rucksack from his back, running, half stumbling, towards the body that appeared lifeless as it swung from the trees.
Terror crackling like icicles through her veins, Emily flew after him, grinding to a petrified halt as Jake wrapped his arms around Edward’s torso, attempting to take his weight. ‘Don’t you die on me, Edward Simpson,’ he growled, his voice ragged. ‘Don’t you dare fucking die on me!’
‘Jake …’ Acrid grief and shock crashing through her, Emily stepped closer.
‘We have to cut him down,’ Jake gasped, clearly struggling to support him.
It was too late. Surely there were no signs of life. ‘Jake …’ She took another tentative step.
‘We have to cut him down!’ Jake screamed.
Thirty-Nine
Clearly worried, Ben came tentatively down the stairs as they finally walked through the front door. His gaze went from Emily to Jake, who came in behind her. ‘Did you find him?’
His face ashen, Jake looked warily at him, and then answered with a small nod.
‘And?’ Ben’s tone was impatient.
‘He’s alive, but we don’t know for sure yet what the outcome will be,’ Emily provided hesitantly.
‘Which means what?’ Ben asked.
‘Your dad intubated him, but he couldn’t resuscitate him at the scene. The paramedics tried. He’ll need assisted ventilation, intensive care treatment.’
‘Why, for fuck’s sake?’ Ben seemed furious. ‘What did he do?’
Emily moved quickly towards him. ‘Don’t, Ben,’ she said, her eyes flicking towards Jake, who appeared not to know what to say or do.
After a second, he looked at Ben, his expression haunted. ‘He attempted to hang himself,’ he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
Ben stared at him, thunderstruck. Emily could almost feel the turmoil of emotions he was struggling with, and then his tangible fury gave way to obvious sympathy – and she quietly thanked God. She’d known this side of her son existed, despite the traits she’d seen in him and worried herself sick about.
‘Sorry, Ben, I …’ Kneading his forehead hard, Jake looked away. He too was struggling emotionally. His voice had quavered several times as he’d spoken to the paramedics, and then to the police. They’d almost had to force him away from Edward. He wouldn’t leave him. After intubating him as best he could with rudimentary equipment in the clearing in the woods, he�
�d stayed where he was, kneeling beside him, until the emergency services had taken him away.
I’ve failed him was all he’d said, over and over, tears running unashamedly down his face, as Emily had driven him home. She’d tried to reassure him that he hadn’t. That he might well have saved him, in fact. Lost in his anguish, he wasn’t hearing her.
Her mind went to poor Joyce, the devastation in her eyes when they’d called around to tell her. Her heart had been broken. Even then, she’d been so grateful to Jake. Emily truly believed that she and Edward loved him like their own son. It broke her heart that he believed Edward attempting to take his own life was his failure. He’d spent his entire life trying to oust the ghosts of his past, just as she had, tormented by the thought that he’d failed his mother in some way. At just sixteen, for God’s sake, he’d blamed himself, carried his guilt with him every day since. And now it had come back to haunt him. Emily wasn’t sure he would ever recover fully from it. Whatever he might or might not have done, she had to try to forgive him. He might have lied, but wasn’t hers the biggest lie between them?
‘I think your father might need some time,’ she said to Ben, as Jake hesitated, appearing disorientated, before slowly climbing the stairs.
Ben gazed after him, then looked back to her, his eyes full of apprehension. ‘Do you think he’ll make it?’ he asked, his voice choked.
Emily hesitated. Her first instinct was to protect her son, but there was no way to lie to him. When they’d first come to the village, Edward had been like an uncle to Ben and Millie, taking them under his wing and making sure they were involved in village activities, convincing Ben to join the local football team.
‘I’m honestly not sure, Ben. They’ve promised to ring your dad as soon as they see any signs of a clinical recovery.’
Ben nodded and dropped his gaze to the floor. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered, swallowing hard. ‘Why did he do it?’
Emily saw the tears squeeze from his eyes, and went to him, instinctively pulling him into a firm embrace. He didn’t fight her, allowing her to hold him. ‘He wasn’t in his right mind,’ she whispered, stroking his back, holding him closer as a shudder shook through him. ‘Your dad’s broken-hearted, blaming himself. He might need your support, Ben. Joyce, too. Do you think you could be strong enough to help them?’
He sucked in another breath and nodded into her shoulder, then eased away. ‘I’ll go and see her. See if there are any jobs she needs doing,’ he said gruffly, wiping a hand across his eyes and glancing towards the stairs. ‘Do you think he … Dad … could use a cup of tea?’
‘Definitely.’ Emily smiled and swallowed back emotion of a different kind. She was more grateful than he could ever know for this sensitivity she hadn’t been sure he was capable of. ‘Is Millie back?’ she asked, suspecting she wasn’t. Ben would have told her what had happened. Knowing why they were searching for Edward, she would have come downstairs, not stayed ensconced in her room.
‘No. I left her a message, but she obviously couldn’t be arsed to ring back.’ Ben shrugged agitatedly. ‘She really is acting like a brat.’
‘Ben …’ Emily admonished him.
‘Well, she is, let’s face it. I know she’s dealing with shit, but we all are, aren’t we? If she wants to be treated with respect, then she needs to stop thinking about herself and grow …’ He stopped, an alarmed look on his face as his gaze travelled past Emily to the front door.
Emily turned around, her heart catching as she recognised the unmistakable silhouette of a uniformed police officer through the opaque glass, along with another person. DS Regan, she realised.
‘They’re probably here about what happened,’ she reassured Ben, trepidation prickling her spine nevertheless as she went to the door, wavering briefly before pulling it open.
‘Mrs Merriden.’ DS Regan gave her a short smile. ‘Do you mind if we …’ Her expression unreadable, she nodded past her to the hall.
‘Yes, of course.’ Stepping back to allow them access, she glanced at Jake, who was descending the stairs.
‘Is this to do with Edward Simpson?’ he asked, his face taut. Emily hoped it wasn’t. They’d given the police all the information they could.
DS Regan looked cautiously between them. ‘No,’ she said, her gaze flicking to Ben. ‘We heard the news. Here’s hoping he pulls through. I gather he’s well liked.’
‘He is.’ Emily searched her face, her apprehension growing as she wondered what it was they had come for.
‘We’re actually here about a separate incident,’ DS Regan said, taking a breath. ‘One we believe occurred somewhere between eight and ten o’clock last night.’
Incident? Emily’s stomach turned over.
‘I’m afraid a young woman has been found,’ the detective went on, causing Emily’s heart to stop beating, ‘on Orchard Lane, not far from Apple Tree Farm. She’s critically injured.’
Forty
Millie
Watching Louis’ flat, Millie saw him finally return from God knew where. She gave herself a moment, staying where she was a short way down the lane.
He’d refused to answer her calls and texts warning him that her dad was probably on to them. From his lack of contact, it was obvious that he didn’t give a shit about the consequences for her; that he probably never had. Where had he been, the bastard, going off without so much as a word? Anger bubbling inside her, she took several slow breaths, cautioning herself to calm down. She needed to act naturally. She needed evidence to confront him with. He’d been using her. She’d suspected it, but was still struggling to believe it. He’d been lying to her, stringing her along to get access to drugs – and what else? Why had he been so bloody interested in the passwords under Nicky’s desk, even writing them down? And why, she wondered again, had he familiarised himself with the staff at the surgery? Precisely how much bullshit he’d fed her Millie wasn’t sure, but he had, she had no doubt about that, and she intended to find out.
More composed after a minute, she checked her make-up, wanting to appear as normal as possible, though inside she was crushed, petrified and confused, then headed up the lane and across the forecourt of the derelict car workshop, avoiding the patches of oil and petrol in her new chunky leather boots as she went. She normally didn’t go to his flat unless by prior arrangement, at designated times to suit him. She knew now why. He hadn’t bought the perfume she’d smelled on him for his poor ailing mother. He’d been shagging his ex, she would be willing to bet, or else some cheap trollop. He’d probably brought her back here.
Trying to still the nausea swilling inside her as she recalled the times he’d made love to her here – had sex with her, she corrected; there had been no love there, she now realised, no tenderness or affection – she swallowed back her hurt and made her way up the concrete steps to his flat. Forcing herself to smile, she knocked and waited.
She could hear him moving around inside, but he didn’t answer. Wondering if he would if he knew it was her, she braced herself and knocked again, harder this time, calling out his name as she did.
A minute later, Louis swung the door open with an audible sigh. ‘Hi, sweet cup,’ he said, a tight smile on his face. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you.’
She’d bet he wasn’t. He hadn’t clicked his fingers, had he? ‘No, but I was worried about you,’ she said. ‘You didn’t return my calls and I thought something might have happened. That that Bear guy might have come after you or something.’
Her eyes trailed over his bare torso as he backed away from the door, allowing her in. A ripple of revulsion ran through her as once again she caught the scent of perfume. God, she’d been so naïve, acting just like a love-struck teenager. Her mum had been right to go on at her. She couldn’t bear to imagine the heartbreak she might be about to cause her. And her dad … She would shatter his illusions about her forever.
‘Yeah, sorry about that, babe. My mum’s been ill,’ he said, furrowing his brow in that concerned way he did whenever he talked
about her. ‘I would have rung, but in between doctors and hospitals …’ Shrugging sadly, he trailed off, leaving her to surmise what a selfless soul he’d been. Liar.
‘Oh no.’ Millie frowned sympathetically. ‘Is she all right now?’ she asked, working to keep the contempt from her voice.
Louis nodded, emitting another heavy sigh. ‘She’s doing okay. She’s getting on a bit, though, so … you know. Look, I’m just about to take a shower. Grab yourself a can from the fridge, why don’t you?’ he said, and turned away to head for the bathroom. ‘I won’t be long, and then we’ll have a chat about what to do about your old man, yeah?’
‘Okay.’ Millie swallowed and went through to the tiny kitchenette. What did he mean, ‘what to do about your old man’?
Pausing as the bathroom door closed, she listened for sounds of running water and then slipped into the bedroom and looked hastily around, relief crashing through her when she spotted what she wanted lying on the bed.
Quickly she grabbed his phone and, her eyes flicking to the door, selected his texts. She didn’t have to scroll down too far to find what she was looking for: a whole ream of messages between him and some woman calling herself Sweet Cup, the term of endearment he used for Millie herself. Probably because he couldn’t remember her fucking name. She suppressed something between a laugh and a sob.
Can’t wait to fuck you again, his last message read. Your old man doesn’t know what he’s missing. If she was looking for evidence of what he’d been up to, it couldn’t get more damning than this, could it? Bastard! Nausea roiling inside her, she dropped heavily onto the bed and read the reply. Just remember it’s worth waiting for, the slut had sent back with a silly winking face.
She checked the dates. The texts had been sent a couple of weeks ago, but he was obviously still seeing the woman, or some other cheap tart, as evidenced by the reek of perfume.
Trust Me: An absolutely gripping and unputdownable psychological thriller Page 24
