Behind A Twisted Smile (Dark Minds Book 2)

by Faith Mortimer

  His eyes widened. “Do you mean drugs?”

  “Yes. But I don’t mean recreational drugs.”

  “No. Never and she rarely had so much as a headache. She was one fit young lady. Why?”

  I was thinking about Evie and the Valium. But testing Kate’s blood for medicines wouldn’t have worked. After her accident, she was so pumped full of drugs in hospital, a small amount would no doubt have been missed. If she had been doped up, it might have explained her diminished rationale in going up a ladder in icy circumstances, though. She wouldn’t have considered what she was doing, become wobbly and fallen. But then Martyn would have had to place the kitten out on the ledge to attract her. Was he that devious? Most definitely.

  “Nothing. I just wondered. When do you go back home?”

  “I have a few days booked here. I aim to conduct a little business in London.”

  “Are you staying in touch with Kate’s family?”

  He eyed me with a steely look. Eventually, he replied. “I wasn’t planning to. Now Kate’s passed away, there’s no point.” He raised a hand and let if fall aimlessly. “They do have my contact phone number, though.

  I nodded. I couldn’t ask him directly for it—I had no grounds. But at least I knew I could get in touch if I needed to.

  Chapter 32

  The next day, I woke soon after six, and before any of my neighbours were up and about, I was out on a run. With the warm weather and lighter mornings, it put a spring in my step, and I had already decided to take advantage and go for a longer run than usual. I knew of a half-marathon down in Surrey a month later, and I thought it a good idea to train for it. Doing something different would help take my mind off other matters.

  At Faye’s parents’ house, it had been impossible to avoid Martyn all afternoon. After Wayne and I finished talking, I wandered up to the house looking for the loo, and I bumped into him chatting with an older member of Faye’s relatives. The older man took the opportunity to fetch another drink, leaving me and Martyn staring at each other.

  “Moya.” Martyn reached for me and drew me into his embrace. He hugged me close and kissed the side of my mouth before I had time to react. “Moya, it’s so nice to see you. Thank you for coming. You don’t know what it means to me.”

  I stiffened and pulled back, aware of his breath on my face. “Does it? I’m sure I don’t know why. How could you, Martyn?”

  He looked astonished. “But Moya, you know why. We’ve always been in harmony. You and I know each other inside out. Why did I do what…marry Kate? I think you know the answer to that.”

  Before I had time to react, Faye walked up to us and slipped her arm through his. “Okay, Martyn?”

  He smiled sadly, including her in his forlorn expression. “I’m just telling Moya how lucky I was to find someone who could take Evie’s pace.” He spread his hands. “I was as amazed as Kate was. And if you knew Evie, then you know darn well she’d have been the first to say I should take advantage of the chance of being happy again. She was a wonderful, warm-hearted woman. I miss her every day, just as I do my darling Kate now. I seem to be having such bad luck. Why do you think that is, Moya?”

  More bullshit; how easily it dripped from his tongue. I didn’t bother answering Martyn; instead, I told Faye I had to go. I said goodbye and escaped.

  Perhaps I used running as much to escape as to keep fit. I don’t know for sure. All I can say is I felt energised as well as relaxed: a paradox but true. I ran past the park, where I usually spent time, and headed out of town. I tore up the hill, my lungs aching and my legs stinging, until I reached open countryside. Field after field interspersed with light woodland, the trees already budding and showing signs of bursting into tender green leaves.

  Although I felt weary after the climb, it was a good tiredness, not one that hung around due to depression and desolation. As I ran further, the trees grew denser, but the sun shone down between the trunks, casting a golden kaleidoscope of colour over the grass. The ground was rich with colour: white wood anemone, pale-yellow primrose, purple foxglove, darker-gold celandine, tiny wild daffodils and here and there a glorious wild carpet of heady-scented bluebells. I paused and looked around me, breathing in the aroma of the ancient woodland, wood sorrel and wild garlic crushed underfoot.

  I felt alive. Alert. Sweat trickled down my forehead and between my breasts. My legs ached but still felt good; I had a lot of running left in me. My heart pumped stronger, faster, cleansing me of pent-up frustration.

  I walked until I reached the edge of the woodland and then realised I recognised the area. I stopped, shocked. Not only that, I knew this place. Looking across the fields, in the distance, I could see the rear of Martyn’s house. I identified the trees along his property and the gate set within the wooden fence. I swear I hadn’t intended going that way. I had never run so far in this direction before, and I didn’t know why I chose the route that day.

  I glanced at my watch. It had taken less than an hour from my place and judged the distance to be about seven miles or so. I glanced from the house to behind me and through the trees. I could just make out the buildings of the town. When I was in the house and glanced from the bathroom window, I estimated a walk of about fifteen to twenty minutes across the fields to the urban outskirts. Driving would depend on traffic, the time of day and which best and direct route you took. Evie said Martyn was at the hospital, working. Could he have driven home, knowing she had invited me round but that I would have taken about half an hour to get there? She was insistent I go over as soon as I could. I carried on walking, drawn to the house. From where I was standing, all I could see was the roof and first floor.

  He could have gone home, killed Evie and left before I arrived. But even bold Martyn would have been risking me arriving early or someone seeing him. Was he that self-assured?

  But then again, the police inspector said there were witnesses at the hospital who confirmed he was there all day. His car never moved from the car park. I shook my head in annoyance. I was missing something vital.

  By now, I was barely one hundred metres away from the back fence of the house. I could see the roof of the shed. I wondered if Martyn was out. I had no idea whether he was at work or if he had taken compassionate leave after Kate’s funeral. There wasn’t a sound except for a couple of rooks making a racket in an oak tree above my head. I edged closer to the gate, wondering if it was locked, and put my hand on the latch. A fallen branch snapped beneath my foot. Startled, I snatched my hand back.

  I waited, hardly daring to breathe; the chance of Martyn being in the garden at that precise moment was slim, but he seemed to have the luck of the devil. Evil is as evil does. After a brief wait, I went to raise the latch again, lifting the metal and giving the gate a tentative push. Nothing. I pushed again, but the gate wouldn’t budge, and I discovered it was bolted on the other side. I stupidly let the latch drop and it made a clatter.

  I heard a movement behind the gate, bolts being drawn back, a key turning in the lock, and in panic, I took to my heels and fled into a thicket of trees.

  “Who’s there,” he demanded.

  I stood flat with my back to a tree, head pressed against the trunk, hands close by my sides. Please don’t let him come out. I held my breath. I could hear my pulse throbbing in my ears.

  I heard a laugh, and the pitiless sound of it made my blood turn to ice. “I know you’re out there, Moya. Why not come and play? I know what you enjoy, I’ve been there before. Come and see what I’ve got for you,” he whispered.

  He laughed. Much louder this time. I could hear the maliciousness, and I heard the gate slam and the bolts being put back in place. I waited until I was sure he had gone and wasn’t going to jump out on me. Peeking round the tree, I peered through the bushes, and making quite certain I was alone, I began running. I kept to the trees; I didn’t want him to see which way I had gone. Branches whipped my face as I tore past, roots threatened to trip me up, but I didn’t care. I didn’t stop until I had lef
t the fields and woods and was back on the nearest road.

  Sinking down onto my haunches, I stopped and got my breath back. My heart was hammering in my chest, and my sides hurt from the exertion. I had been stupid. He had, no doubt, seen me coming. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to picture Martyn up on the first floor, possibly even in the bathroom from where Evie had met her death, and watching my progress towards the house.

  I looked down at my hands and saw they were shaking. I wrapped my arms across my chest and closed my eyes, rocking back and forth slightly on my heels. I knew I had to go back. The answer to Evie’s murder—I was certain it was murder—lay in that house, and I knew I had seen that answer in my subconscious. If only I could remember. Finding that answer was paramount, because apart from avenging Evie’s death, and almost certainly Kate’s, I had to make sure he didn’t do it again. If Martyn had killed all those people, starting with the two boys in Switzerland and then three women, it made a total of five victims. If Martyn, in his delusion or with his extreme ego, thought he could get away with it, he might pick on yet another person as prey. I didn’t want anyone to be at risk and especially my friend, Faye. When I thought of her, I felt my throat constrict. With her dark, silky hair and lovely candid smile, I knew she was a prime target. Martyn seemed to take delight in ruining those closest to me. He didn’t appear to pick strangers; he got close to his subjects, making it personal.

  But worrying about his behaviour had to be set aside. First of all, how was I going to get inside with Martyn living there? I needed to know which hours he worked. Perhaps I could find out from the hospital; there was bound to be a set work rota for each week. I wondered who of Evie’s work colleagues I could ask. Staffing hours were likely to be confidential, but there had to be someone to whom I could talk.

  It was strange, but once I had a plan forming, I didn’t feel quite so wretched. My goal was to prove Martyn had killed Evie and Kate, and then surely that would lead to Amanda’s retribution for her cousin’s death.

  Chapter 33

  That evening I had a wonderful surprise. Jon showed up on my doorstep. I couldn’t believe it when I opened the door to his knock. As he stood there in a crumpled work suit, overnight case on the doorstep, and his tired eyes holding that lovely gentle smile I liked to think he kept just for me, I squealed and leapt into his arms.

  “You might have rung me!”

  He laughed and held me tightly before releasing me and kissing me hard on the lips. “I wanted to see the look of surprise on your face. I’m dog-tired, but the thought of you kept me going. Are you going to invite me in?”

  I closed the door, and he grabbed me again and hungrily explored my mouth. He ran his strong hands down my back and across my buttocks. Gradually, my tension of that day eased away. For the first time in my life, I knew what it was to feel passion and yet secure with another human being. I likened it to going home.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve eaten yet? I didn’t fancy the airline food,” he said, after coming up for air.

  “I haven’t, but I’ve got plenty of supplies in. Only, there’s something I want to show you first.” I gave him what I hoped was my sexiest seductive grin and taking him by the hand, led him upstairs.

  I removed his suit jacket and tie, undid the buttons on his shirt and peeled it from his back. He reached for my sweatshirt and dragged it over my head, devouring my bare breasts with his eyes. We fell together onto the bed. Trousers, pants and socks were tossed into a corner, the bed protested under our weight, and lamplight streamed in from the window.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he ran his fingers through my hair.

  Later, we went downstairs and I put together salmon pasta drizzled with delicious, homemade, garlic olive oil and a salad. Jon made a fuss of Tango before uncorking a bottle of white wine and pouring it into my grandmother’s cut glasses.

  The salmon tasted delicious, but neither of us had a huge appetite. We nibbled and talked, catching each other’s eye between bites and smiling. We had been together for nearly eight months, and when I thought back to our first meeting and how I had coerced Jon into ‘going’ out with me, it made me feel kind of choky inside. How lucky I was to find him that day at the gym.

  He caught me giving him another sidelong glance and laid down his cutlery. He looked nervous.

  “What?” I asked.

  “We’ve been together for a while now.” He must have read my mind.

  I nodded, thinking about our wonderful lovemaking and reached for my glass.

  “I was wondering…while I was away in San Fran. If I can’t get you to come out and live with me in America, then I’ll have to come home early.”

  I gasped. “Can you do that?”

  He laughed, and I noticed how the anxiousness left his eyes. “I can. I’ve got the new office up and running early and I’ve appointed a guy who’ll make a damn fine manager once I finally hand over to him.”

  “When are we talking about?” I felt excited and warm inside, knowing he was doing this just for me. Tango must have caught the undercurrents between us as he sat up and glanced at us in turn.

  “I believe I can come back for good in a couple of months. I’ve already set plans in motion for me to cut my time over there.”

  “That’s brilliant!”

  “I’m glad you think so. But there’s something I want you to do for me.” Again, I noticed that uneasy shadow return to his eyes.

  “Okay. But now I’m feeling a tad bewildered.”

  “This isn’t easy, Moya. As I said we’ve been together for a while—”

  “Yes, yes I heard you. Jon, what do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to live with me. Actually, not just that. Moya, will you marry me? Please?”

  I felt my heart contracting like a fist. So this was what real happiness felt like. For a moment I was speechless.

  He looked pained when I didn’t say anything. “I realise this might be something of a surprise, but at the risk of sounding corny, I want to make babies with you…and for us to just be together always.” He finished and looked down shyly at his uneaten meal. “You and me.”

  I sat back from the table.

  He raised his head. “If I’ve misunderstood your signs and made a fool of—”

  “No,” I said.

  “Oh. In that case—” He turned away but not before I caught the abject misery which had clouded his eyes.

  “No, you haven’t made a fool of yourself.” I stood up, pushing my chair back with my thighs and moved across to him. I knelt down at his side and reached out one hand to his face, tracing his lips with my fingers. “You’re the loveliest, kindest man I’ve ever met, and yes, I’d love to marry you. I believe I’ve loved you from the very first time we met.”

  I moved nearer and our lips met. I tasted salt and realised I was crying with happiness.

  Tango shuffled forward, then after sighing as only a dog can, laid his head down between his paws as if he knew he was about to be ignored once again.

  ***

  For the rest of that evening and the next day, I felt as if I was floating in some sort of earthly heaven. Jon’s visit was a flying one, and he was soon winging his way back over the Atlantic, after promising to get everything sorted to be back in England full-time.

  I had never been so ecstatic, and as soon as he left the UK, I made my way over to Faye’s. I needed to tell someone my exciting news.

  I realised I felt scared, too. Not because I didn’t think I loved Jon enough…I did. No, I was nervous because I was so happy. Had I the right after Evie’s and Kate’s deaths? A little voice inside was also nagging away: what if I was some sort of magnet for ruination? That people I was close to were destroyed in some way.

  I assumed Faye was at home that day because she had the week off work. Their house needed redecorating, and she had told me the week before that she bought paint and paper to redo the living room and two bedrooms.

  I arrived in time for coffee
, complete with a bag of still-warm doughnuts from the bakery just around the corner from her flat.

  I rang the doorbell, and she opened the door, dressed in a pale-blue towelling bathrobe, her hair dishevelled. “Moya!”

  “I’ve come prepared,” I said with a laugh, waving the bag under her nose and pushing my way past her into the hall. I walked towards the kitchen. “They’re still hot and I know you love them.”

  “Moya,” she called after me.

  “It’s all right. I’ll make the coffee if you want to finish getting dressed. I’ve got something really exciting I want to share with you,” I said, sailing right into the kitchen. I stopped. “Martyn?”

  He stood with his back to me, nothing but a towel draped round his waist. I remember gasping as he turned round, that same familiar twisted smile playing around his mouth. “Why, it’s Moya. Funny how you always turn up out of the blue.”

  Moya joined us and flicked a troubled look from Martyn to me. “I tried to stop you, Moya. I didn’t want you…finding out.”

  I threw a look of horror her way. “You and Martyn?” I whispered. “Faye, how could you? After your own sister’s death?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “It just happened. I didn’t mean it to. “

  “No, but I bet you did, you bastard,” I spat out in his direction.

  “Moya, listen. It isn’t what it seems. Martyn has been hurt, too. We simply consoled one other. Martyn called round to give me a hand painting the ceiling. One minute we were calmly talking about Kate and the next we found ourselves in floods of tears. Kate was my sister and Martyn’s wife. When she died, our hearts were broken. And before you say a word about Evie, she was in our thoughts. Martyn has suffered more in his life than anyone else I know. But he’s still nice and considerate, never unpleasant. And whatever you may say or think, he still cares for you, Moya,” she said, taking a step towards Martyn as if seeking confirmation.