I shook my head and shouted. “But you slept with him. What about Simon? Doesn’t he matter to you anymore? How are you going to explain this to him?”
They exchanged looks.
“It was a…a one-off, Moya. We won’t say a word, if you don’t.” Faye put a hand on Martyn’s arm to restrain him. “It’s okay, Martyn. Moya understands.”
I couldn’t believe my ears and said so. “No, I bloody don’t. It all sounds so plausible coming from you, Faye. But I know Martyn. I bet you anything you like he planned all this. Manipulated you into going to bed with him. It’s what he does best. Don’t you understand anything yet? And tomorrow? What then? Will he come back with another good reason why he needs to fuck you?”
I was shaking with anger and disgust and fear. Martyn had seduced my best friend. Not only seduced her, but if he had his way, he would ruin her too. At best, Faye would end up as damaged goods; at worse…I dreaded to consider.
For the first time since I had started shouting at them, Martyn joined in the conversation. “As usual, you’re the one who’s not listening, Moya. Why do you go around making up lies about me? I’m tired of all your accusations. You’ve never been the same since I dumped you. I’m sorry to say this, but I think you’re sick. Moya, I really believe you need help, and by that I mean medical help. And, I can prove I won’t be manipulating Faye as you’ve just implied. You should believe your friend. I won’t be here tomorrow, as I’m going away. I don’t know how long for, but rest assured, Faye’s in no danger from my attentions. Happy with that?”
Martyn’s confession must have come as a shock to Faye, as she flashed a look of surprise his way. I stared as I digested his words. What was the creep planning now?
Chapter 34
Shocked and disappointed with Faye’s behaviour, I never did share my exciting news with her. As I tossed and turned in bed that night, I found myself crying. As well as tears of regret and self-pity I was saddened that Faye hadn’t seemed at all ashamed about her infidelity. How could she have? I saw how attracted to Martyn she was from the first time she met him, but I assumed she had more self-control. How wrong I was, and I understood how little we really knew people, even those closest to us. I closed my eyes and willed my body and mind to relax.
The house loomed up in the pitch blackness, but it was strange because I could see it perfectly. The roof and walls seemed to radiate light, and I took in every detail. There wasn’t a sound except my own breathing, and without feeling a whit of nervousness, I stretched out my hand and tried the latch.
The wooden gate fell back at my touch, and I found myself standing inside the garden. The house stood right across from me at the end of the swathe of grass, a glistening path of blood leading from the kitchen door to where I stood, gaping. How it glistened! With my eyes, I followed the path to where it ended. To my right was the shed, two bicycles leaning upright against it. I took another step forward…
With a strangled cry, I opened my eyes. Sweat was pouring from my brow, and in panic, I sat bolt upright in bed. It was okay—it was a nightmare. I breathed deeply, feeling scared and disorientated. My heart thumped away in my chest. Strangely enough, I hadn’t been afraid in my dream. I lay back down and gazed through the chink in the curtains at the dark sky. It was a clear night; I could see many bright stars twinkling in the heavens above. When we were children, I recalled how our father used to say that each star represented a lost child. I remembered being worried and vowed never to stray unknowingly from home, because if I did, I would have been snatched up and would have had to stay hanging in the cold black sky for ever.
I turned over onto my side, hugging my knees to my chest, going back over my dream. I was always sceptical of dreams having any meaning and was about to dismiss it, but something made me think again. It was a dark night, but I saw everything with perfect clarity, right down to the imaginary path of blood going from the house to the bottom of the garden, past the shed to the fence and gate.
I shot up again. Of course, how stupid I was! Martyn had gone back that afternoon. I thought through the possibilities. He had spoken to Evie, suggested she get me over to talk. She knew I would never have gone round if he was there. So...supposing she had told him I would be over in half an hour? He must have killed her then, immediately. Evie’s wrists were cut down the veins—death wouldn’t have taken long, especially once he had immersed her in a warm bath, and the whole house seemed stifling when I first went in. Warmth makes blood flow faster and it was hot; I also realised I knew how he managed to get home without being seen. It was so simple once you thought things through; I just needed to check one more thing, wondering if there would be any remaining physical proof after all this time. I knew it was a long shot but thought it worth searching for.
And ironically, catching Martyn and Faye together was actually a stroke of luck. I learnt he was going away. The house would be empty.
***
I took time planning how I would play this. There were a few things I needed to do. Knowing how devious Martyn could be, I had to be sure he really was away and the house empty. I couldn’t very well telephone and ask if he was at home. Neither could I use my mobile to ring him. So I used a variety of public phone boxes in different areas. I rang the home landline over three separate days, taking no chances before I made my move. Every time I rang, the call went unanswered.
I decided to go early in the morning, just before it got light. For one thing, I knew I would have to break in, and as I didn’t know the property that well, it would be easier in the daylight. Also, if I went at night, someone might just have noticed my torchlight, or I might have been tempted to switch a house light on. I recalled that they hadn’t installed an alarm system when Evie was alive. I was betting Martyn still hadn’t bothered, as he hated spending money ‘unnecessarily’.
I remembered reading somewhere, years ago, about taking a large sheet of heavy paper and pouring treacle or honey over it. You then stuck this sheet up against the window you aimed to break so that after smashing the glass, the sticky paper muffled the sound and caught most of the glass shards. It sounded easy in theory, and I packed a plastic bottle of treacle and a folded sheet of paper in my hip pack, along with a small torch and a substantial screwdriver.
This left me two remaining tasks. One was to leave a note for Jon. He was due back any day, and I wanted to get this over and done with without involving him. I felt guilty in some ways for not letting anyone know what I was planning. But I still had an odd feeling that whomever I told wouldn’t wholeheartedly believe me, anyway. Jon didn’t particularly like or trust Martyn, but because this was my mission, my pledge to get retribution and proof of Evie’s and Kate’s murders, it was something I had to do on my own. Perhaps I was being pig-headed, but I felt completely compelled.
For the first time, I realised how Amanda must have felt when she failed to make people aware of Martyn after her cousin died. Yes, it was for her too. She had been through a rough time, and I wondered whether I should try to make contact again. I spent a while deciding what would be best. I appreciated that once all Martyn’s victims had been avenged and he was brought to justice, then and only then could I be free to love Jon and live a normal life.
So, I wrote my note and left it propped up on the kitchen worktop where Jon or anyone else in my family would find it…if anything went horribly wrong.
The next day was the day.
***
It was a keen wind that blew early next morning, and I was glad I was wearing my thickest tracksuit over my running strip. I left while it was still pitch black outside, and as I ran, I made sure I kept to well-lit roads. It wasn’t long before I turned off the highway and headed down a lane leading to the fields and wooded area I had covered some days before. Thin streaks of steel grey appeared behind the clouds, and I knew I had just less than an hour before it grew light.
I slowed my pace in the woods. I didn’t want to trip over any tree roots; a sprained ankle would have been disastrous, so I made sure I
kept as near as possible to the same route I had taken before. Inside the woods, the wind became muffled and it felt warmer. I unzipped the front of my jacket and paused to get my breath back. Ten minutes later, I was standing at the back of Martyn’s garden, the fence and gate in front of me. The only sound I heard was the early-morning traffic in the distance and a few birds in the trees.
In the semi-darkness, the fence loomed tall and solid in front, and I paused, suddenly wondering what on earth I was doing. Should I have come here on my own? Had I really any reason to trespass on private property? I shivered. Supposing Martyn’s guilt was nothing but a figment of my imagination? I shook my head to clear it of indecision. Martyn was as guilty as true as light is day.
I stretched my hand towards the gate as I had before and lifted the latch. I pushed but the gate wouldn’t move. Feeling stupid, I realised Martyn must have kept the gate locked, especially as he was away. I looked round at the trees surrounding the area. Further along the fence, I noticed a tree with wide-spreading branches, one of which stretched over the fence and into the garden.
I grabbed hold of a lower branch, tested it for strength and then pulled myself upwards. Within minutes I was sitting astride the branch and looking down into the garden. I shuffled further along until I was beyond the fence, the lawn about nine feet below me. I lay along the branch and, grabbing hold of two smaller branches, swung myself down, my feet now dangling about three feet off the ground. I took a breath, closed my eyes and willed my body to relax as I let go.
I hit the grass, bending downwards to absorb the impact in my ankles, knees and hips before rolling to one side. My right ankle felt jarred, but at least it wasn’t injured. I sat up and looked round. Off to my right was the shed, and it was this which interested me most. If I was right, I would find the proof there, and I wouldn’t even need to venture into the house.
A gap appeared in the clouds, and the night shadows appeared starker. I stood up and, trying not to limp, hurried towards the shed door, which was still featureless in the gloomier shadows. I switched my torch on and while keeping the beam low, directed it towards the door.
I was praying I would find the shed unlocked, but I had my screwdriver, and I was prepared to unscrew the door hinges or any locks to get inside. To my surprise, when I turned the handle in my gloved hands, the door opened easily and swung inward.
Directly ahead, I caught a soft gleam in the torchlight. The gleam of chrome. Bicycle chrome.
Without pausing, I slipped inside the shed and headed for the two bicycles leaning against the far end. One was definitely a woman’s bike, and the other must have been Martyn’s. It was this one I was interested in. My dream had jogged my memory. It featured two bicycles, and I remembered that when I discovered Evie on that dreadful afternoon, only her bike was leaning against the shed. Okay, so Martyn’s could have been inside, but the dream had given me the idea.
My heart was thudding against my rib cage as I checked the bike over in the beam of my torch. The saddle looked clean, as did the frame and wheels. I wheeled it out and checked the other side. It looked as clean as a whistle, and my optimism plummeted. I felt so sure this was how Martyn made his way home the day he murdered Evie.
I estimated the bike would have cut the walk time down to a third and if taken carefully, a cyclist could have made the journey almost unseen from the road or houses. It was only for the last part caution was necessary. Likewise, I thought he used a bike to ensure his car was on view at all times during the day when he was supposed to be on duty at the hospital.
I guessed Martyn had either taken his bike to the hospital some time earlier or maybe folded and hidden it in his car. The police would never have even known he owned a bicycle, and he could have simply cycled there and back to the hospital after murdering Evie. I took a gamble on Martyn keeping the bike, thinking that once the dust had settled after Evie’s death, he would have brought it back home. If I recalled, Martyn was as tight-fisted as anything and wouldn’t have ditched it. Besides, knowing how his mind worked, no doubt he would have taken pleasure in keeping a memento of how clever he had been in pulling off yet another perfect murder.
Flummoxed, I sat back on my haunches and checked it over again, this time from the wheels upward. I stood up and caught my shin on a pedal. Cursing under my breath, I rubbed my leg and then paused. I hadn’t checked underneath the pedal toe clips. I spun the right-hand pedal and peered at the resin toe clip. It, too, looked as spotless as the rest of the bicycle. I guessed Martyn must have cleaned it.
With diminishing hope, I turned the other pedal and gasped. There, underneath and hidden from view, one whole strip of the toe clip was covered in what surely must have been dried blood. I guessed Martyn had Evie’s blood on his shoes or socks, which had been transplanted onto the toe clip. I knew I was right. I stared at the blood, thinking more about my theory. I wondered what clothing Martyn had been wearing and whether he had disposed of it.
The next thing I saw was a shower of exploding white stars as I crashed forward against the bicycle.
Chapter 35
I came to slowly, feeling waves of agony radiating out from the base of my neck. I tasted blood in my mouth and realised I must have bitten my tongue. Reeling with pain, I opened my eyes and saw nothing but darkness. I tried to utter a sound and instead felt something in my mouth. A cloth of some sort, slightly oily-tasting. I must have been lying on the ground, as it felt hard and cold against my body. I tried to move my arms and found I couldn’t. Something was pinching my skin, and I realised my wrists were restrained in some way behind my back. What? Panic rose from the pit of my stomach into my throat…I couldn’t move my legs either.
Panic turned to blind terror as I thrashed around, digging my heels into whatever I was lying on. I registered a sharp pain in my right ankle and forced myself to stop bashing my legs. I couldn’t breathe in large amounts of air, but sucked in what I could through my nostrils. Lying completely still, I concentrated on breathing. Somehow, I comprehended I had to keep calm. Stop panicking and think.
It didn’t take much guesswork to cotton on that I was now a captive. Tears formed in my eyes, and I blinked them away. It was obvious who had made me a prisoner. I had been foolish; I had to escape somehow.
I tried to roll onto my side and found that my movements were further restricted. As well as my wrists and ankles being tied together, I appeared to be tethered to something in some way. I twisted the other way and discovered, after one and a half turns, I came up against a wall of some sort. Moving my head nearer, I sniffed and smelt wood and then, by pushing my face against the barrier, felt something which resembled plastic. I decided I was up against a wooden wall covered with some sort of insulation material. The shed! I must have been tethered in Martyn’s shed.
Fresh despondency washed over me. I was trapped, tied up with something I couldn’t see, and with no idea of how to get out the situation. I knew Martyn was dangerous, and knowing my luck, the chances of finding a weapon of some sort bordered on zero.
I tried to stand and shuffled first onto my knees and then feet, before attempting a tiny shuffled step towards a fine thin line of light coming from what I assumed was the shed door. I felt a second stab in my right ankle, and I stumbled, pitching forward and crashing headlong against the door handle.
I think I must have lain there dazed and feeling nauseous for some time, because when I next opened my eyes it was almost daylight outside. Gingerly, I turned my head and noticed a window about halfway up one side; it was covered with a piece of sacking tacked into the wood, but fingers of light crept into the shed.
I moved my legs and arms, immediately feeling pins and needles as the circulation regained momentum around my body.
“Good of you to join me,” he said, and I jumped at the sound of his voice behind me. Despite the ache in my neck I whipped my head round. Martyn.
He was leaning against the end wall, arms crossed and grinning at my obvious discomfort. He crossed to where I
lay and with one movement reached down and grabbed me by my hair. “Get up. I’ve got plans for you.”
A moan came from deep in my throat, inaudible because of the gag, as he dragged me further into the shed. He laughed as he twisted my hair round his fist. “You never knew when to stop did you, Moya? You always had to go that one step further.” He thrust his face near mine, his eyes dark slits, and his breath sour and hot against my cheek. “The sad thing is it wasn’t necessary, if you hadn’t thrown me out and made me look a fool. We had something good going. So I had to teach you a lesson. But the lesson hasn’t ended yet. Oh, do you want to say something?”
He tugged the material from my mouth, and I spat blood and mucus in his face. “You bastard, let me go.”
Martyn laughed and wiped the spittle away with the back of his free hand. “Never. I made that mistake once before. We’re joined together for life.”
An iciness crept through me. He’s going to kill me. Whatever I say or do, he’s not going to change his mind. He’s planned this all along. Saying he was going away was all a front. He knew I couldn’t resist coming round and snooping. Because he knew I knew he was a killer and would never let it rest.
“Why my family? Evie? Why Kate? What did they ever do to you?” I whispered, my throat feeling tight and sore.
“Because they all mattered and counted to you. It gave me a good feeling knowing you cared about them. Made it all…so personal. Your mother too. Belinda was far more generous with her money than Evie ever was. And what can I say about Darcy, delicious, juicy Darcy. She was sweet and ripe for plucking. Only she’ll never enjoy that again.”
I stared at him in horror. Not Darcy. Not my little sister. I felt all along he would corrupt and use her if he could. No wonder she had become more and more withdrawn. I felt my stomach churn. Please God, let her be all right. Let her be safe at home. I realised Martyn would never let me get away alive, but if I got the slightest chance I would kill him first, even if it was the last thing I did.
Behind A Twisted Smile (Dark Minds Book 2) Page 19
