by Beevis, Keri
Dying To Tell
Keri Beevis
Contents
SATURDAY 7TH APRIL
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2019 Keri Beevis
The right of Keri Beevis to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2019 by Bloodhound Books
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bloodhoundbooks.com
Print ISBN 978-1-912986-90-3
For the real Natalie Mcardle
And in memory of her son, Joe
SATURDAY 7TH APRIL
Lust. Control. Fear. Silence.
The Bishop stared at the body on the floor, emotions bubbling inside him. He hadn’t meant to kill her. It had been an accident.
They had been kissing, things were getting heated, and he had been caught up in the moment. One second she was in his arms, her hands eagerly slipping into his jeans; the next she was motionless on the ground, wide eyes staring up at him, but no longer seeing.
He nudged her shoulder with the toe of his trainer, hoping she would move, knowing she wouldn’t, and dread coiled in his belly.
It had been an accident, but he knew they wouldn’t believe him.
He shouldn’t have brought her there. The move had been reckless and rationality replaced with need. She had offered herself to him and he had known better, but still he had taken. He hadn’t meant for things to end this way.
Silence. Frustration. Panic. Anger.
She had brought this upon herself. He wasn’t to blame.
They would say it was his fault though. He could already feel the accusation in the weight of their stares; knew they would judge him and find him guilty without taking time to understand what had really happened. Like before.
He had too much to lose.
It had been an unfortunate accident, a mistake, and he had to take care of it.
No-one could know what had happened. She would have to disappear.
A door opened behind him.
He had been so caught up in the moment he had forgotten that they weren’t alone.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs and he heard a sharp intake of breath.
‘Oh my God. What have you done?’
He stepped back numbly as the girl rushed into the room, watching her futile efforts to resuscitate the one already dead.
They couldn’t find out. No-one could ever know.
They would never believe him. He had to make this problem go away.
Moving quietly up the stairs, he locked the door and pocketed the key.
The girl glanced up having heard the key twist in the lock, her anger turning to fear. Her eyes were wide, her pretty mouth trembling, stirring something deep inside him.
Anger. Regret. Acceptance. Lust.
It all came full circle.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘But I can’t let you go.’
1
Twelve Days Later
For Lila Amberson, the past week had been defined by two moments. In the first she had been a passenger in Mark Sutherland’s car, out on her first date in over four years, the next she had awoken in hospital with tubes poking out of her body, her left leg elevated in a sling, and her brother Elliot sitting beside her, his nose buried in a comic book.
Lila had tried to speak, but her throat was so dry she barely managed a feeble croak. Elliot’s head had shot up, eyes widening, and the comic book had fallen to the floor. She wanted water, tried to tell him again, but he had already rushed from the room.
He returned moments later with a doctor and two nurses, who had poked and prodded at her, flashed lights in her eyes. Lila had tried to tell them to stop, frustration and fear knotting as she attempted to comprehend where she was and what was happening to her. Eventually the doctor addressed her directly.
‘Can you hear me, Lila? If you can, please nod or blink twice for me.’
Ignoring the second part, Lila tried to answer him. Damn it, why wasn’t her voice working?
‘Don’t try to talk yet. Just a simple nod or a double blink.’
She focussed on his eyes; grey irises that were strikingly pale against his skin, managed to move her head slightly in a nod. What was happening? She looked for Elliot, saw him standing towards the back of the room.
‘Lila, you’re in hospital.’
But why, she wanted to scream.
The doctor was addressing her again, his voice reminded her of Hugh Grant. He waited until he had her attention before continuing. ‘You were in a car accident and you’ve been unconscious.’
Car accident?
She remembered being on the road in Mark’s car. Their date was over and it hadn’t gone well. He was taking her home, but she didn’t remember getting there.
Was Mark in hospital too? When had the accident happened? How come she couldn’t remember?
There were too many questions she needed answers to, but her voice wouldn’t work and so she had no choice but to lie in the bed, hooked up to tubes, listening to the plummy voice of the doctor as he told her to be patient, that she was in good hands and he was optimistic for her recovery.
The rest of that first day was a blur. Elliot stayed with her, but told her nothing. She wondered briefly if her mother was there, but then chided herself for being stupid. Tina Davenport wouldn’t interrupt her honeymoon with her fourth husband for something as trivial as a car accident.
Lila slept, her dreams filled with floating in water, and in the darkest moments suffocating, hands around her neck, the world about to go black. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was replaying the date with Mark in her head.
She hadn’t wanted to go, but Beth had talked her into it. Mark was a friend of Beth’s boyfriend, not long out of a relationship and looking to date again. Eventually Lila had agreed to go out with him just to shut her best friend up, but as the night drew nearer, Lila was nervous. She had been shown a photo of Mark and he looked pleasant enough, but she was woefully out of practice.
Ready early, she had paced the length of her tiny flat anxiously, wishing she had an excuse to call things off. It was just drinks she had told herself when she agreed to meet up, nothing serious and
she could leave at any time, but then Beth’s boyfriend had arranged for Mark to pick her up from home and things became that little bit more scary.
Lila couldn’t recall much about the evening of the date. She could picture Mark’s face, remembered that he had been wearing a slick grey suit with tight trousers and shoes with pointy tips, that she had felt a little self-conscious and underdressed when he’d picked her up. He had a strong Norwich accent and he kept pronouncing her name wrong, calling her Lee-la, not Ly-la, despite her correcting him, which had pissed her off. They had driven out to the coast and she had been edgy about that, thinking it too far for a first date, and they had argued, she remembered that too, though couldn’t recall what the fight had been about. And then there was the journey home, Mark driving too fast, Lila asking him to slow down. She knew she had wanted to get home, that she never wanted to see him again.
It was not until the following day that she learned she wouldn’t ever see him again. Mark had been killed in the accident.
Her voice had come back during the middle of the night. Elliot had been asleep on the chair in the room that was far too small for his gangly frame, his glasses had slipped down his nose, and he had awoken with a jump when she had called his name.
She had questions, too many questions, and had barraged him with them, her voice still croaky and sounding foreign to her.
Elliot had seemed reluctant to say too much, making excuses to find Doctor Lucas, and Lila had been left waiting impatiently until they returned.
‘What happened?’ she demanded as they approached her bedside.
‘You were in a car accident,’ the doctor told her patiently.
‘I know. You already said that, but what happened?’
‘You don’t remember?’ Elliot glanced warily at the doctor.
‘I remember I was out…’ She paused, coughing, her throat dry. ‘Can I have some water please?’
Elliot glanced at the doctor again, filling a plastic cup from the jug when he was given the okay.
‘Sip it slowly,’ Doctor Lucas urged when she gulped at it, choking.
Lila did as instructed. She took a moment, tried again. ‘I was on a date… Beth had fixed me up with him. Mark.’ Lila paused. ‘Is he in the hospital too?’
Another exchanged look between Elliot and the doctor.
‘I’m afraid your friend didn’t make it, Lila.’
‘Didn’t make it.’ She repeated the doctor’s words slowly, letting their relevance sink in. ‘He’s dead?’
‘He died at the scene. There was nothing we could do for him.’
Lila was silent for a moment, not sure how she felt about that.
‘What happened?’ she asked again, this time calmer. ‘I mean, how did it happen?’
‘You hit another car.’
‘Where?’
‘Filby Broad,’ Elliot told her. ‘Both cars went into the water.’
‘What about the other car, the people inside?’
‘You were the only survivor.’
When Lila stared at the doctor, he elaborated. ‘Both drivers died at the scene. You were very lucky, Lila. You were pulled from the water.’
She had more questions, but exhaustion hit suddenly, plus she needed time to fully process what she had been told. People had died. Mark was dead. Although she had barely known him, hadn’t even particularly liked him, part of her grieved for him. And the other car… Doctor Lucas had only mentioned a driver, so she assumed there had been no passengers. Lila was relieved, grateful that she had survived, but with that came guilt. Why had she been the lucky one?
Elliot remained her constant companion, only leaving her room for a few hours a day, while Tina sent a text. Elliot had tried to brush over it, telling Lila she had called several times for updates while she had been in a coma, and Lila knew her mother well enough that she shouldn’t be surprised, so was annoyed at the stab of hurt. Lila should have known to expect nothing more.
She was climbing the walls by the time she was finally released, departing the hospital in a wheelchair, the crutches she had been practising on during her daily rehabilitation exercises on her lap as Elliot pushed her across the car park to his battered Volvo.
Lila heaved herself out of the wheelchair, balancing on the crutches as he shifted armfuls of papers and files from the front passenger seat, dumping them into the back. His car was a tip and looked ready to fall apart. As she waited, she glanced around the car park, couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. It was stupid. There were other people about, but no-one was paying any attention to her and Elliot. It was probably just a reaction to finally being out of the hospital. She remembered the dreams she’d been having the last few nights; hands around her throat, squeezing.
Were they an after-effect of the accident too?
She let her brother help her into the car, winced when he threw her crutches on the back seat. She wasn’t used to being reliant on other people, knew it was going to take some getting used to. Elliot was trying his best and she needed to be patient. Her geeky younger brother was more used to having his head buried in a science book than playing nursemaid. She expected him to leave after he had dropped her off home, so was surprised to find his stuff all over her living room, suggesting otherwise.
‘I’ll take the sofa,’ he insisted, when she told him there was no need to stay. ‘I don’t think you should be alone. At least for the first few days.’
Lila understood. Tina Davenport had failed on all fronts as a mother, more interested in ploughing her way through husbands than taking any interest in her children’s lives, and as siblings, they had always looked out for one another. Lila’s flat was only small, but maybe it would be nice to have the company.
‘Okay,’ she agreed. ‘But I’ll warn you now, that sofa isn’t very comfortable to sleep on.’
‘I’ll manage.’ Elliot gave a tight smile. ‘I’d rather stay close where I can keep an eye out for you.’
Something about his words chilled her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing. It was just a joke.’
Lila thought back to the dreams she’d had in the hospital, the hands around her throat, and shivered. ‘Did something happen? While I was in hospital?’
Elliot glanced at the floor. A sure giveaway sign that there was something he was keeping from her.
‘I’ve been having this dream.’ Lila subconsciously put her hand to the throat and rubbed. ‘Someone trying to hurt me.’
When Elliot eventually glanced up and met her eyes, she screwed up her nose, feeling stupid.
‘Forget it. It’s probably all the pills.’
‘I thought there was someone. I went to the loo and they were in your room when I got back. I thought… no, it was stupid. They probably just had the wrong room.’
‘What? Did you report it?’
‘Of course.’ Elliot’s tone was indignant. ‘Nothing had been tampered with. I think the doctor thought I had imagined it. You know me. I probably overreacted.’
Lila stared at him. He didn’t really believe that, she was certain.
Had someone tried to hurt her while she had been in a coma? The hands around her throat. It may have been a dream, but still she shuddered.
* * *
The girl was awake and out of hospital. That wasn’t good, as it presented a huge problem. She was never supposed to have woken up.
While she remained alive, she posed a threat; her memory could return at any time and that made her extremely dangerous.
She was a loose end and one that needed taking care of as soon as possible.
2
The broken leg made things difficult, but Lila could still manage, and it was irritating having her brother hovering over her trying to help, but awkwardly getting in the way. She tried not to grumble though, knew he was doing his best, and that much of her frustration was down to being stuck in her flat.
And it wasn’t just the boredom. Work was worrying her and she was conscious she neede
d to get back on her feet as soon as possible. She hadn’t dared look at her bank balance since the accident. It was fine being told she had to rest, but bills still had to be paid.
For now, she tried her best to be a good patient, reading what information she could find online about the accident.
Mark had hit another car head on and both vehicles had left the road, ending up in the broad. Lila was the only survivor, thanks to a local man who had been travelling home when he witnessed the crash and pulled her from the water.
Richard Gruger: the man who had saved her life. Lila was keen to thank him and Elliot promised that he would drive Lila over to meet him, but not until she had fully recovered. He didn’t understand that to Lila answers were more important. Richard Gruger had been there and may be able to fill in some of the blanks.
The victim in the other car, Stephanie Whitman, had been just seventeen, and guilt gnawed at Lila’s stomach. It wasn’t her fault, rationally she knew that, but still she had survived while a girl fifteen years her junior had lost her life. It didn’t seem fair. Stephanie’s distraught father, Henry Whitman, was quoted several times, insisting his daughter was a cautious driver who adhered to speed limits. It seemed he held Mark responsible for killing Stephanie. Henry Whitman: Lila thought the name sounded familiar, but it didn’t click until one of the articles mentioned his business, Whitman Homes. Henry Whitman was pretty big news and one of the richest men in the county.
