Turned

by Clare Revell

  The phone rang. Tempted to ignore it, she didn’t. “Hello.”

  “Amy its Rosalie, what happened to you last night? Are you OK? You were talking to Ray, and then got cut off. After that you just didn’t answer your mobile at all.” She barely paused for breath before asking again, “Are you OK?”

  Amy sank down on the stairs. “No…” Tears fell unimpeded. “I did something…and now I’m in so much trouble…”

  “Ray will come get you, hon. Just sit tight until he does.”

  Not even having the strength to argue, Amy sat there and sobbed.

  

  The next two weeks she lived in a dream. She shut herself off from everyone, including work. She didn’t eat, didn’t sleep and didn’t attend church, so convinced she was that everyone condemned her. She was still praying that God would provide a way out of this mess. Rosalie had moved in with her and, as glad as Amy was of the company, sometimes she longed to be alone.

  The day of the sentencing arrived. She had no idea how to get to court other than walking. She hadn’t asked Rosalie to go with her, and wasn’t going to.

  Rosalie came into the hall as Amy grabbed her jacket. “Where are you going?”

  “Court. Have to leave now if I’m walking.”

  “You’re not going alone. Ray and I will go with you this morning.”

  Her heart sank. “What if…what if they lock me away?”

  “It won’t come to that.”

  “But it might. I looked it up on line. It could be a maximum of five years.”

  “We want to be there. He’ll come and pick us up in about twenty minutes.”

  “OK.”

  Rosalie hugged her. “Whatever the outcome, God will give you the strength to deal with it.”

  Amy shook her head. “I keep asking Him to make all this go away. I prayed for forgiveness and trust He’s done that, but why is this still hanging over my head?”

  “He has forgiven you, but you still have to deal with the consequences of your sin. That doesn’t just vanish, no matter how much you want it too.”

  “Oh.”

  “Because it wouldn’t be fair otherwise, would it?”

  “Guess not.” She sighed. “I feel sick. If…if the worst happens, sell this place. Put the money into an account for the baby. This letter gives you access to everything you’ll need…”

  “Amy…”

  She pushed it into her friend’s hand. “Please.”

  Rosalie sighed. “OK.”

  A little over an hour later, Amy stood before the court, her heart pounding and stomach turning. Her palms wet, it was all she could do not to throw up. She acknowledged her name and address again and stood there, terrified as the judge looked at her.

  “Amy Childs, you have pleaded guilty to one count of careless driving. The court has taken into account your previous unblemished driving record. However, by performing an illegal U-turn, you then lost control of your vehicle and knocked over a pedestrian, namely Derek Saunders. You were lucky not to have killed or caused him serious injuries. It is the judgment of this court to hand down a twelve month custodial sentence…”

  Amy gasped, the blood rushing to her feet. She clung tightly to the rail in front of her.

  “…to be suspended for a further period of twelve months. Should you reoffend during the period of suspension, you will be immediately sent to jail. If you do not reoffend, the custodial sentence will be removed. You are also banned from driving for twelve months. You may step down.”

  Behind her in the public gallery someone muttered, “That’s not justice.”

  Amy left the courtroom sandwiched between Ray and Rosalie, still shaking. Someone bumped into them and a gravelly voice apologized. Amy glanced up into the face of a stranger. Tall, with short cropped black hair and a scar on his cheek. His gaze slowly slid down her figure and then he nodded and moved on through the lobby of the court house.

  Rosalie hugged her. “It’s over, hon,” she said, handing her the letter. “Here, I don’t need this anymore.”

  Amy hugged her back. Not wanting to believe it, because it still felt as if she were dreaming, she looked at her friends. “Is it really over? Can I go home now?”

  Rosalie nodded, then pulled a face. “Actually, I think we should go to the hospital first. The baby’s coming.”

  

  Dane stood outside the newsagents and watched the ad being slotted into the window display. He took the burger Nate held out to him. “Thanks. What do you think?”

  Nate read the card. “Surprised you’re not using an agency. You need anyone you have looking after your kids qualified and checked out.”

  Dane rolled his eyes. “I’m not completely stupid.” He sat on the wall and unwrapped the burger. He pulled out the gherkins and licked his fingers slowly. “It just feels like admitting I can’t cope.”

  “It isn’t. I had help with Vianne before I married Adeline. Jas wouldn’t want you struggling. She’d be the first to tell you to get help in. And a nanny is the only choice right now. Unless you’re going to put them into before and after school clubs.”

  “Just hope someone applies soon. Figured she can have the spare room. Light household chores, kids’ rooms, and the kids’ laundry and so on.”

  “And a Christian I hope?”

  “Would be nice, but I’ll settle for trustworthy.”

  

  Amy got off the bus, hating the daily commute even more now. This was no way to travel and was costing her more than petrol did. To get to her job across town, she needed two buses each way. She’d already been warned once about time keeping. At this rate, she’d lose her job before she got her license back. Actually, she’d probably lose it before Christmas and with a criminal record, she’d be hard pressed to get a new one.

  She paused outside the front of the bike shop. She’d passed this every day for months, but hadn’t considered the idea. But now…she could go straight to work. No more bus fares. No hanging around for ages if she missed one, or waiting in the dark for a bus, or sitting on her own while that creepy guy sat opposite her and eyed her all the time.

  She caught sight of a black car in the window and shook her head. She was seeing the same car everywhere. Rosalie told her she was being silly and she wasn’t being followed at all. But Amy wasn’t so sure. Things had been strange since the court case and she was convinced it wasn’t just her guilty conscience. Although it could be. Filely was a small town and you always saw the same cars during rush hour.

  She went into the store and didn’t take long in deciding which bike to buy. She also got lights, reflective jacket and a helmet. Having paid, she left the store and rode her new purchase the rest of the way home, wondering why she hadn’t thought of this idea sooner. A black car passed her at least twice. Filely seemed to be infested with black cars. Still it made a change from silver autos.

  Arriving home, Amy wheeled the bike into the house and parked it in the cloakroom. She picked up the mail and shut the front door. The answerphone flashed on the side, and she hit the message button.

  “Hi, it’s Rosalie. Just to say we’d love dinner tonight. See you around seven.”

  Beep.

  Then there was silence followed by heavy breathing. Amy sighed. “I thought changing my number would have gotten rid of you.” She hung her jacket up, grabbing the phone as it rang. “Hello.”

  Silence greeted her. Followed by the heavy breathing.

  “Get lost, creep.” She hung up. The phone rang again, instantly. “Look, this is bordering on harassment,” she sighed. There was no point changing the number again. She’d even gone ex-directory, and that hadn’t helped. Kneeling down, Amy unplugged the phone at the wall. “Take that.”

  She went into the lounge. A black car was parked opposite the house again. She shook her head. “I’m just spooked, that’s all. The phone calls are getting to me. It’s a perfectly innocent black car. And if the others are coming for dinner, I best get cooking.” Finding
a CD, she inserted it into the stereo. She always found Berlioz relaxing and turned the volume up as loud as it would go.

  Amy pulled the table out and laid it for the three of them. She looked at it to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, and then headed into the kitchen to start dinner. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she opened the fridge. Orange or apple? Orange. She filled it and turned around to face the window which overlooked her small, but totally enclosed back garden.

  A man stood in front of the kitchen window, looking in at her.

  Amy screamed and dropped the glass. It smashed, orange juice and glass shards flying in all directions.

  The doorbell rang. Her heart pounded as she backed into the hall, terrified the man would come through the back door. Had she locked it? She had no idea. Reaching the front door, she put a hand on the latch. “Who is it?” she managed, her voice more of a high pitched squeak than anything else.

  “It’s Ray and Rosalie.” Ray’s voice was calm, but did nothing to allay the panic filling her.

  Amy flung open the door, giving into the tears burning in her eyes.

  He took in the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s someone in the garden…”

  “Stay here.” Ray strode towards the kitchen.

  Rosalie shut the door and hugged Amy tightly. “It’s all right.”

  “It’s not all right. That car’s been parked out the front for days. It’s following me. Thought I was imagining things, but now…”

  “There’s no one there.” Ray came back into the hallway. “Do you want me to call the police?”

  Amy shook her head, her whole body trembling. “No. They won’t do anything. And anyway, you said he’s gone now.”

  “You should still call them.”

  Rosalie led her into the lounge, taking the baby in the car seat.

  A car screeched to a halt outside and almost instantly, a brick smashed through the window. Both women screamed, and the baby began crying.

  Ray reached for the phone. “Now I am calling them.”

  Amy sank onto the couch. “It won’t work. I unplugged it because of the calls…” She ignored the look he gave her as he pulled out his mobile instead. How did things get so screwed up? I didn’t mean for all this to happen… The papers say Mr. Saunders is OK now and the courts have dealt with me. I know You’ve forgiven me, but I still feel awful.

  The police came and went, taking details and leaving her a crime number for the insurance company. Ray boarded up the window. “Come back to ours tonight.”

  “I can’t…” Amy paused. “I never gave you dinner. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. We’ll get take out instead. Once we get you safe and settled at our place.”

  “I’m not letting them push me out of my own house. I’ll be fine.” She saw them out, noticing the black car still opposite the house. She shuddered at the dead bird on the doorstep and made a mental note to clear it up in the morning.

  Just after two in the morning, Amy jerked awake. Smoke drifted through the open bedroom window and an orange glow lit the garden. Jumping out of bed, she ran to the window and pulled back the curtains. The compost heap was alight and threatening to engulf the back fence. Not thinking, she ran downstairs and outside, grabbing the garden hose. She turned on the tap and aimed the jet of water at the fire.

  Alternating between the compost heap and soaking the fence panels, it took her half an hour to put out the fire. She raked over the compost, making sure all the sparks were gone. Then she headed slowly inside. She wrinkled her nose. It still smelt smoky. Pushing open the door to the hallway, she found flames licking up the inside of the front door.

  Fear pulsed through her again, and she ran for the water jug from the fridge. Tossing it on the flames, she listened to the crackle become a hiss and the light faded. She headed into the lounge and sank down to the floor. “I don’t believe this. What more can possibly go wrong tonight? It can’t be a coincidence. Two fires, a brick, the man in the garden. But why?”

  Pulling over the laptop, she fired it up and then typed Derek Saunders into the search engine. She ignored the reports of the accident, which had her name plastered all over them. Instead she went for the smaller articles. The name Saunders itself flashed up several times. Kevin Saunders was the former leader of some gang or other before becoming mayor earlier in the year. The police could never pin anything on him—hence his town council role…and he had a younger brother called Derek.

  Shock filled her. That explained everything. No wonder the police weren’t that bothered last night. If this Kevin Saunders was after her, she was a marked woman. Tiredness swept over her and she lay on the couch, praying that God would show her a way out of the mess she’d gotten herself into.

  The phone rang, waking her from a sound sleep. Ignoring it, she got up, and pushed her hands through her hair. A glance at her watch told her it was gone nine thirty, and she was late for work again. Shaking her head, she walked across the room and pulled the curtains, allowing the bright, warm sunlight to shine through the un-boarded part of the window.

  Amy froze.

  The same man, short dark hair, scar on his face, stood on the other side of the glass. He raised a cross bow and fired. The arrow smashed through the glass, straight at her.

  2

  Nothing changed, Dane sighed. He’d arrived home late the previous evening, to find his mother pulling her hair out over the behavior of the girls. Vicky had once again refused to eat and Jodie had come in, dumped her stuff on the floor and gone out. “Dressed to the nines” was the way Mum phrased it. No one had replied to the ad he’d placed. He was beginning to wonder if Nate was right and a nanny agency was the way to go.

  And today already looked as if it would turn out the same way. He arrived at the nick, late again. He sank into the chair behind his desk as nonchalantly as he could. Nate slid coffee over to him and he picked it up and smiled at his partner. “Morning, Nate.”

  “More like afternoon. Which one was it this time?”

  Dane checked his watch. “Not quite afternoon—it’s barely nine forty-five. And it was Jodie. She’s getting worse. What did I miss?”

  Nate leaned back in his chair. “Not much—just a murder in Clarkdale Street.” He tossed Dane his notebook. “Uniform got the call about half four this morning. I got there a little after seven. Hence my afternoon comment. You can catch up on the way to the morgue.”

  “Thanks.”

  Nate grinned, getting to his feet. “By the way, the Guv’s on the war path.”

  “Joy.”

  Detective Inspector Vanessa Welsh flung open the office door. Silence fell across the ten desks arranged around the room. “Dane. My office. Now.”

  Dane looked up. “Nate and I were just going—”

  “Nate’s a big boy. I’m sure he can find the morgue without you holding his hand. Just like he found Clarkdale Street without you earlier.” She jerked her head to the door. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  Nate dropped a hand on Dane’s shoulder. “It’s been nice knowing you, mate.”

  Dane sighed, pushing upright. “We who are about to die, salute you.” He followed his commanding officer down the corridor to her office.

  “Shut the door.” Her curt tone only confirmed how much trouble he was in.

  He complied and stood in front of her desk. “I know I was late and I’m sorry, Guv. If you let me explain…”

  “I would really love to hear your explanation. You have been late consistently over the past few months. Late coming in. Leaving early. Long lunches. It’s gotten worse recently. Sit down.”

  Dane perched on the edge of the seat. He laced his fingers together, the contents of his stomach curdling within him. The pounding in his chest increased.

  “Well?”

  “Kid problems.”

  “Really?”

  He took a deep breath. “Neither of them will get up. Vicky won’t eat. I spend a good hour each morn
ing fighting with them.”

  DI Welsh looked unimpressed. “So do thousands of parents up and down the country. Why are they at work on time and you’re not?”

  “I’m doing it alone.”

  “You’re not the only single parent in this station. Or in the country.”

  Dane took a deep breath. His reasoning sounded pitiful now. But it wasn’t. His struggle was very real and he didn’t know what to do.

  “We all cut you some slack when Jasmine died. It wasn’t easy losing her like that, especially when you were working the case.”

  He nodded slowly. The Herbalist killings were his toughest case to date and had made the national headlines when the Prime Minister and the investigating officer’s wife were two of his victims. The only good thing to have come out of it was Adeline and her subsequent marriage to Nate.

  DI Welsh continued. “But that was two years ago. You can’t keep blaming your current problems on your wife not being here.”

  Dane narrowed his eyes, his hackles rising. He straightened, bristling. “So it’s my failure as a parent, is that what you’re saying?”

  “I’m not saying anything of the kind. Just suggesting you prioritize things.”

  “So it’s my kids or my job?” Anger flared through him, and he fought to contain it.

  “Will you stop putting words into my mouth? Reorganize your child care arrangements.”

  “I’ve advertised for a nanny. Just haven’t found one yet.”

  “Then until you do, perhaps your child minder could start a little earlier. Or you pull your kids out of bed at seven thirty and put them in the school’s breakfast clubs. Or see if a neighbor could take them. Who picks them up?”

  “Either my parents or Jas’s.” He pushed his hands through his hair.

  “Then sort it. You’ve got a week. Nate can’t keep covering for you. It’s not fair on him.” She paused. “And if I’ve noticed, so have the rest of the squad and the rest of the chain of command. You’re not just letting yourself down here.”

  “I’ll sort it.”