by M K Farrar
SOME THEY LIE
***
MK Farrar
***
Warwick House Press
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SOME THEY LIE
First edition. July 2, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 M.K. Farrar.
Written by M.K. Farrar.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Some They Lie
Chapter One | Present Day
Chapter Two | Five Weeks Earlier
Chapter Three | Four Weeks Earlier
Chapter Four | Four Weeks Earlier
Chapter Five | Present Day
Chapter Six | Four Weeks Earlier
Chapter Seven | Four Weeks Earlier
Chapter Eight | Three Weeks Earlier
Chapter Nine | Present Day
Chapter Ten | Three Weeks Earlier
Chapter Eleven | Three Weeks Earlier
Chapter Twelve | Three Weeks Earlier
Chapter Thirteen | Three Weeks Earlier
Chapter Fourteen | Present Day
Chapter Fifteen | Three Weeks Earlier
Chapter Sixteen | Three Weeks Earlier
Chapter Seventeen | Two Weeks Earlier
Chapter Eighteen | Present Day
Chapter Nineteen | Two Weeks Earlier
Chapter Twenty | Two Weeks Earlier
Chapter Twenty-one | One Week Earlier
Chapter Twenty-two | One Week Earlier
Chapter Twenty-three | Five Days Earlier
Chapter Twenty-four | Four Days Earlier
Chapter Twenty-five | Present Day
Chapter Twenty-six | Three Days earlier
Chapter Twenty-seven | Three Days Earlier
Chapter Twenty-eight | Three Days Earlier
Chapter Twenty-nine | Two Days Earlier
Chapter Thirty | Present Day
Chapter Thirty-one | Three Days Earlier
Chapter Thirty-two | Present Day
Chapter Thirty-three | Present Day
Chapter Thirty-four | Seven Years Earlier
Chapter Thirty-five | Present Day
Chapter Thirty-six | Six Weeks Later
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Everybody hides the monster inside...
When Olivia Midhurst meets Michael, she doesn’t fool herself that he’s the perfect guy. No one is perfect—she knows that better than most. Everyone has their secrets. But something about Michael’s behaviour sets her nerves on edge, and, when people around her start to go missing, and then turn up dead, she’s forced to act.
Knowing the police will never believe what she’s witnessed and terrified her accusations will only drag up the past she’s worked so hard to bury, Olivia has no choice but to take things into her own hands...
To Rachel McClellan, whose generosity meant I never let this book go.
Chapter One
Present Day
THE MAN HUNG BY HIS wrists from an iron hook embedded in the ceiling.
She stood in front of him, staring, contemplating her next move. His jaw pressed against his bare chest, creating the appearance of a double chin where normally there was none. Unconscious, for the moment, his whole body hung loose and slack. Because of the low ceiling, the toes of his boots skated against the floor, giving him the barest modicum of relief from the pressure in his wrists and shoulders, but only when he was conscious enough to balance.
The rope securing his wrists didn’t keep her safe. It was the gag between his lips that kept danger at bay, though she knew if he ever managed to work it free, things would be different. He’d affected her already, made her do things she’d never believed herself capable of, and she wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.
Red stripes licked across his naked torso, the result of the cane she’d been forced to use. She needed answers, and while she couldn’t risk removing the gag, there were other ways she could get him to reply. His refusal to give her anything had made her hurt him, but still he shook his head in defiance every time she asked him what she needed to know. She took no pleasure in the job, but she had to be brave. It was all she had left, and she wouldn’t let this man—this monster—win.
She was stronger than that.
He’d underestimated the lengths she’d go to in order to make things right. Even with everything on his side, all of his power, she’d still managed to overcome him.
The man let out a muffled groan and began to stir.
Nerves jangled through her system, and the sour taste of fear coated her tongue. As he woke, her pulse quickened, her breath growing shallow in her lungs. She tightened her fingers around the cane and rolled out her neck and shoulders. It was physical work her body wasn’t used to, and tension knotted her muscles. As she lifted her arms, her shirt sleeve rode down, exposing the flash of white bandages and the striking slash of red where the blood had seeped through. This was taking its toll on her, but she had to continue until she got what she wanted.
It was time to start again.
Chapter Two
Five Weeks Earlier
“FROM NOW ON, LIV, I’M going to tell you a time half an hour earlier than when we need to leave, just so I know you’re going to be ready on time.”
Olivia Midhurst looked to where her friend, Ellen, was standing in the doorway, one hand on her hip, her lips pressed together with disapproval.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Liv hopped around her bedroom, trying to shove her foot into her black high heel. “I never mean to be so late. I’m just a really bad judge of how long it takes to do things.”
Ellen’s eyebrows lifted. “How old are you now?”
“Twenty-seven years is nowhere near enough time to learn things,” she protested. “And anyway, you were late for coffee the other day.”
“Ryan’s car broke down, and he couldn’t give me a lift. I think that was a reasonable excuse.”
“Okay, okay. I’m ready now, though, see?” Olivia straightened and put her hands out either side of her, displaying the little black dress she wore. “Ta-da.”
“You look gorgeous, as always.” Ellen jerked her head towards the front door, causing her blonde bob to swish against her jawline. “Now, are we going, or what? The poor taxi driver has either given up and left or fallen asleep at the wheel.”
Olivia snatched up her clutch bag. “Yes, we’re going.”
They were meeting some friends, who were also work colleagues, in central London. Olivia normally tried to stay away from the centre of the city—there were too many tourists around—but a DJ one of them loved was playing at one of the central clubs, so she’d been roped along. Her outfit probably wasn’t suitable for jumping around a hot, crowded room, but the dance scene wasn’t really her thing. She was hoping to drag one or more of her friends off to a Soho wine bar before the night was over.
“Where’s Tammy?” Ellen asked as they left the flat to head down to the waiting cab. Knowing Olivia didn’t trust the lift, they automatically took the stairs. “Is she out tonight as well?”
Tammy was Olivia’s flatmate. While Tammy was blonde, like Ellen, there the similarities ended. Ellen was short and curvy, and loved nothing more than spending the weekends playing house with her boyfriend, Ryan, where Tammy was tall and willowy and spent all weekend partying.
“Yeah, she met some guy in a bar last weekend, and now he’s wining and dining her. He’s one of those city-types she likes.” Liv shrugged. “She’s happy, but I’ll put anything on him being married.”
Ellen smacked her with her purse. “Don’t be so negative! He might be great. Not all guys are total shits, you know.”
“I know, I know. Yo
u found one of the good ones.”
“Ryan has his faults, but I can trust him. And you’ll find someone, too, one day. I know you will.”
Liv gave a mock shudder. “No, thanks. I’m happy on my own. Men are only good for one thing, and it’s not their brain.” She gave Ellen a lewd wink and nudged her with her elbow, and Ellen gave a squeal.
“You’re so bad!”
Being able to pick up almost any guy she set her eyes on was a new thing for Olivia. She’d been an awkward child, with her red curly hair, pale skin, and freckles. Always tall and skinny, she’d developed a way of standing, hunched over, so as not to be noticed. Of course, that hadn’t worked. The more she’d tried not to be noticed, the more people had focused on her. By people, she meant the popular girls at school. The boys really had ignored her—they’d done that without her even trying. But the girls were a different story. If you didn’t tick the boxes—pretty, popular, clever—you might as well have committed social suicide at school.
It wasn’t until later, after everything had happened, that she’d reinvented herself. To her surprise, she’d learned adulthood had meant being lanky was a good thing, and the breasts she hadn’t fully developed until she’d been way past the age of eighteen might be small, but they were enough to be desired. She’d discovered hair products that transformed her frizz into sought-after curls, and spray tans to give her pale skin some colour. But it was her attitude that really made the difference. Keeping her chin up, smiling, making eye contact, and faking confidence. That was what was important.
Imposter syndrome. Liv had it in spades. She wished she could be one of those women who didn’t care what people thought of her, but she thrived on the approval of others.
They caught the cab into the centre of the city and hopped out. Already, a small queue of people waited to get into the club, though to Liv it looked as though most of them were a decade younger than she was. She hadn’t been like these teenagers when she was eighteen. Her life had been far more serious back then, so she figured she deserved to make up for it now.
The two women waited in line, before paying their entrance fee and stepping inside the club. It was already busy, and too loud for Liv, though she smiled and tried to look as though she belonged.
“There they are,” Ellen yelled in her ear, pointing across the throng of people and flashing lights toward a small group at the bar.
They pushed their way through. The club smelled of stale sweat, old alcohol, and desperation. Some people might have been there to have a good time, but most were there in the hope of hooking up with someone by the end of the night. Liv felt eyes on her as she walked through, being assessed as a possible screw by the men, and competition by the women. Instinctively, she sucked in her stomach and lifted her chin, trying not to feel the way she was being mentally undressed. The people they were meeting—another woman, Callie, and two of the guys she worked with in the estate agent’s office—spotted them. The men were outnumbered now that she and Ellen had arrived. She didn’t think they minded. Though nothing had been said out loud, one of the men, Stevie, was as camp as they came, and the other guy, Philip, had never mentioned having a girlfriend. Perhaps he was still in the closet, but he and Stevie were definitely closer than two platonic males normally were. Not that it was any of her business, of course.
“We’d almost given up on you,” Callie yelled as they approached. The music was at the sort of volume where everything spoken for the next few hours would have to be done at shouting level.
“Yeah, sorry, my fault,” Liv hollered back. “I was running late.”
“It’s almost eleven.”
She gave a shrug. What can you do?
“No Tony tonight, then?” Liv asked, mentioning their boss.
Callie rolled her eyes. “No, thank God. I was a bit worried he was going to invite himself along when he heard us all talking about coming here, but then he turned around and walked back into his office.”
Ellen laughed. “Thank fuck for that. No one wants their boss coming along on a night out.”
Callie’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Especially not a boss like Tony.”
“Aw, come on,” Liv said, sticking up for the man who’d given her a chance. “He’s not that bad.”
“Are you kidding me?” Callie pulled a face. “The man is in his forties, and I’m not sure he has a single friend to speak of, and he’s probably never had a girlfriend. Honestly, I don’t know how he ended up in the selling business, and especially not as the boss.”
“That’s the thing,” Ellen said. “He has us to run around selling the houses, while he coordinates everything in the background.” She shrugged. “He doesn’t need a personality for that, just good organisational skills.”
Callie flipped her long chestnut hair over her shoulder. The other woman was older than they were by a few years, in her thirties rather than twenties, but hadn’t yet settled down. “Well, either way, I’m glad he’s not here. It’s one thing seeing him at work, but having him around socially gives me the creeps.”
Olivia smacked her on the arm. “Don’t be so mean. He’s not that bad.”
Callie drew back her lips in a grimace. “You date him, then.”
Liv laughed. They both knew there was no way any of them would be dating Tony Payne.
Someone bought a line of shots, and Liv found herself licking salt, biting down on lime, and grimacing. She could handle a couple of drinks, but no more than that. She was careful to pace herself, knowing too much didn’t agree with her. The alcohol quickly did its job, giving her the confidence she normally had to fake, and she found herself being tugged through the throng of clubbers and out onto the dance floor.
Liv danced, surrounded by her colleagues, hands in the air, bodies bumping. She’d even managed to forget how unsuitable her footwear was, though in her heels she was taller than everyone else—even most of the men. The club was hot with all the grinding bodies, and her hair grew damp and clung to the back of her neck and forehead. With surprise, she realised she was actually having a good time.
Her skin prickled with the sensation of someone watching her, and she scanned the crowd. Being recognised by someone was something she dreaded. She’d come to London because it was a big enough city to get lost in. Only a small percentage of people she came across in the city were actually from here. Instead, she was surrounded by a ragtag crew of people from all over the world. It was accepted that you would never get to meet their families, or friends they went to school with. You got their general story, and that was enough. No one ever bothered to look any deeper.
She caught someone watching her, and her heart jack-knifed, but for all the right reasons. He stood alone, taking a swig of his bottle of expensive imported beer, all the while never taking his eyes off her. Unlike most of the people here who were casually dressed, this guy still wore what looked like a made-to-measure suit. It was a Friday night, so she guessed he must have been dragged out for drinks directly after finishing work.
Liv glanced away, pretending not to have noticed him, and continued to dance with her work colleagues. She glanced back to the spot where the man had been, and her stomach dipped with disappointment. The man had gone.
Oh, well.
He’d looked cute, but he was just another guy. There were plenty of them around.
She turned around, planning to get another drink, and found him directly behind her.
“Oh!”
He smiled, revealing teeth that could only have been professionally whitened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jump. I wondered if I could buy you a drink?”
Liv looked round to find Ellen grinning and waggling her eyebrows at her.
“Um, yeah, sure. Thanks.”
She followed him to the bar, admiring the way he moved through the crowd, as though his presence alone made people step out of the way. His shoulders looked great in the suit jacket, though she thought he must have been hot, and she sneaked a look down to see if hi
s arse matched the rest of him. The bottom of the jacket hid most of it, but she figured it was good to leave some things up to the imagination.
They lined up, side by side, at the bar.
“What can I get you?” He had to shout to be heard above the music. She caught a whiff of his cologne—something spicy and expensive, like the rest of him.
“Just half a lager, thanks.” She’d only had the one shot of tequila so far, so a small beer wasn’t going to hurt. She made a mental note of it, however, not wanting to lose track.
“Peroni?” he said, naming one of the brands.
She nodded. “Thanks.”
He signalled the bartender and ordered the drinks.
“What’s your name?” He had to lean in close to make himself heard, so she felt the heat of his breath brush against her ear.
“Olivia,” she told him. “Most people call me Liv.”
“Liv,” he repeated with a smile. “I like that. I’m Michael.”
“Do people call you Mike for short?” She flirted with a flip of her hair over one shoulder.
He shook his head. “No, it’s Michael.”
“Oh, right.” She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Thankfully, her drink was pushed toward her on the bar, and she was able to distract herself by picking up the beer and taking a sip. It was cold, fizzy, and refreshing. Just what she needed after all the dancing.
She glanced across the club to see her friends still on the dance floor. Ellen was keeping an eye on her, making sure the guy in the suit wasn’t a complete weirdo. Her friend gave her a little wave, and Liv held back a grin.
The man—Michael, not Mike—turned from the bar so they were both facing the same way. He leaned in to shout in her ear. “Do you go clubbing much?”
“Not really. You don’t look like this is your usual haunt either.” She motioned at the suit.
He laughed. “No, it isn’t. I got dragged out by one of the younger guys at work. He got a promotion and wanted to celebrate.”
