‘What’s going on, Lindsay?’
Lindsay stayed on her side of the police crime-scene tape. ‘Angela Killion is fine. The paramedics are still tending to her here, and then she’ll be taken to the hospital as a precaution.’
That came as more of a relief than Connie had imagined. Losing another client would’ve been too much to contemplate.
‘How did Tom …’ Connie began, but Lindsay’s hand, held palm up in front of her, made her stop.
‘We’ll discuss this back at the station. I’m going to get Clarke to take you now, wait for me there.’
This time Connie didn’t argue.
‘Mack’s rounding everyone up,’ Lindsay said as she handed Connie a coffee from the police station vending machine.
‘What do you mean, everyone?’
‘Loose ends, Connie. We have a few people to talk to yet, and there are still some suspects in connection with Alice Mann’s attack.’
‘Oh, yes. Our conversation earlier seems so long ago now, I’d almost forgotten what you said about Alice’s memory of her attacker.’
‘I thought we’d head to the hospital now, actually. I know it’s late, and it’s been one hell of a day, but Alice is keen to talk to us. Are you up for it? It might be good for you to see the real Alice Mann.’
Connie was surprised Lindsay was involving her. ‘I thought you’d want me as far away from the case as possible?’
‘Well, in this instance, I think it would be useful to gain your professional opinion.’
‘Sure, but aren’t you busy with Angela Killion?’
‘We will be, but not yet. We can’t see her at the moment. She’s being checked out by a doctor, then undergoing a psychiatric assessment.’
‘I’m glad of that, she’s clearly a very troubled woman.’ Connie swallowed the last of the coffee, the bitter taste making her screw up her eyes. ‘I really wish I could’ve helped her, seen her sooner – or even realised what was going on. I find it so hard to believe this all ended with her taking her son’s life like that. It all seems so tragic.’
‘I don’t think you can take any blame – no one would’ve figured out her lies. If it wasn’t for the real Alice being attacked, it’s likely she’d still be getting away with pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Makes me shudder, Connie, thinking about how she was protecting Tom, knowing what he’d done. If she’d informed police, done the right thing, poor Isabella Bond would still be alive and so would Tom, then justice could’ve been served properly. Somehow, this all feels like an easy get-out.’
‘Not for Angela Killion,’ Connie said with a sigh.
Connie and Lindsay headed for the police-station door just as Mack was reaching there from the opposite end of the building.
‘I’m going to the Taylors’,’ Mack said to Lindsay. ‘I’ll meet you at the hospital.’ He held the glass door open for Lindsay, and Connie followed, ducking underneath Mack’s arm. Lindsay was already at the Volvo before Connie stepped outside. ‘Hang on a sec.’ Mack placed a hand on Connie’s shoulder.
‘Everything okay?’ she asked.
‘I wondered, if you were up for it, whether later on you’d like to—’ He shook his head, sighing. ‘No. Of course not. Stupid question, sorry.’ He turned his reddened face away.
‘What exactly are you asking, Mack?’
‘I thought, given the way I ruined your possible future relationship with that idiot in the pub by jumping in where I clearly wasn’t wanted, whether I could make it up to you by taking you for a drink? It would be nice to unwind a bit after all this …’ His words left his mouth in such a rush that Connie almost laughed, assuming he was joking. The coy look on his face informed her he wasn’t.
Mack and her having a drink. Socially. Alone. Without Lindsay.
Why would he even want to have a drink with her?
‘Um … it’s been a really long day …’
‘Another time perhaps.’ He turned away and strode towards a police car where DC Clarke was waiting for him, his smirk obvious even from where Connie was standing. She went to walk away, then hesitated. If she’d learned anything from the last few weeks, it was that she was still holding onto too much of her past. She’d accepted that what happened to her at that party when she was a teenager was a huge factor affecting her adult life: her actions, thoughts and beliefs – but she hadn’t dealt with it, or done anything concrete to overcome the problems. It was this holding her back, preventing her from forming a steady, serious relationship. Not that Mack was suggesting anything other than a friendly drink, of course – after all, she’d had a fling with his son. But, having seen, through Angela, how badly things could go when you didn’t effectively deal with the past, maybe now was as good a time as any to begin to rectify it.
‘Mack!’ She shouted after him. ‘You going to bother waiting for me to finish my sentence?’
‘What?’ He turned so suddenly his legs twisted and Connie thought he was going to fall over himself.
‘I was going to say, it’s been a long day, so yes – a drink would be perfect.’
His face creased with a surprising grin. ‘Excellent.’
Connie smiled. The first move made. She climbed into the passenger seat next to Lindsay.
‘You can take that smug look off your face, Wade. It’s a drink, that’s all.’
‘Absolutely. Wasn’t going to say a word.’ And she switched on the engine and they drove out of the station car park.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE
Alice
My hospital room is filled with people. I was moved to a private room once ICU staff were happy with my progress. I’m still in pain, but the morphine pump helps a little. The police have brought a psychologist with them. And Deborah Taylor. At first I was confused, but the nurses said it was her name I spoke the second I was brought out of my coma. They must’ve presumed there was a reason I mentioned her name.
Now they hand me some photos – a few different ones depicting what seems to be the same person but taken at varying angles. My head throbs, and my vision hasn’t returned to what it was prior to my injury. But I recognise the face they’re showing me.
‘This is the face I remember hovering above mine. A wide smile as she took my head and smashed it down onto the floor.’ My mouth dries so quickly that I have to pause to take another sip of water. My eyes flick from the photograph to Deborah, and back again. ‘There was a split second of searing pain, then nothing.’
‘You are certain this is the person who attacked you?’ DI Wade asks me.
‘Yes, that’s the woman who attacked me.’ I say with almost 100 per cent certainty.
Almost.
I smile across at Deborah. She’s endured more pain and sorrow than anyone should have to bear. She’s suffered enough.
My ICU nurse, Graham, told me she visited me regularly; practically every day.
Tears sting my eyes and hurt my skin as they travel down my bruised face.
Deborah puts her hand on mine. I reach up and pull her into a hug.
She forgives me.
I feel forgiveness releasing us both.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN
Connie
‘These look fantastic, Bev.’ Lindsay took a chocolate muffin from the plate being offered.
‘I hadn’t seen you or Connie for so long, I thought I’d better treat you. You might visit me more often then.’
‘Oh, Mum. You don’t have to bribe us with baked goods!’
‘I don’t know, the offer of food’s the only thing that appears to have worked so far.’ Despite her mum’s jokey tone, Connie squirmed a little. She had felt guilty enough about her lack of communication and visits to her mum, without her openly chastising her.
‘Must be a huge relief to have got this case over, Lindsay?’ her mum continued.
‘Yes, it’s been a very emotional case all round. So many lives affected. I’m pleased with the eventual outcome, although it’s a shame we didn’t wrap it up so
oner, before more people were harmed.’
‘It’s the what ifs, isn’t it?’ Her mum looked thoughtful. ‘You can’t go through your job, life even, thinking in that way. Believe me, Lindsay, it can drive you insane.’
Connie looked away. How long could she avoid her mother’s eyes and dodge the elephant in the room – the one her mum didn’t even know existed?
Her mum jumped up. ‘I forgot the tea. Sorry, will go and make a pot now. You two talk amongst yourselves.’
‘It’s easier said than done, not thinking about the what ifs though, isn’t it?’ Connie said, her fingers pulling the ruffled paper cake case away from the muffin.
‘I know you’re going to tear the whole thing apart, analyse it, and worry about what you could’ve done, what you should’ve done – and probably what you shouldn’t, but at least the truth has finally surfaced.’
‘Well, there’s still the outstanding matter of me withholding information,’ Connie said.
‘You’ve put forwards a convincing case – firstly relating to client confidentiality, then your fear of possible repercussions if you spoke out about the mobile phone. Those factors will be considered. The worst is over. Maybe everyone can move on now.’
Connie sighed. ‘I imagine some of those involved have been able to find closure, one way or another.’ She took a bite of the muffin.
‘Speaking of being able to move on,’ Lindsay said, her voice low. ‘What about … you know … do you think it’s time?’ Lindsay gave an awkward nod.
‘I’m not sure,’ Connie said with a mouthful. ‘You know, I’ve been having this sensation of being watched again?’
‘God, Connie, no. You didn’t mention it.’
‘To be fair, we’ve been a bit preoccupied with other things …’ Connie raised her eyebrows then continued. ‘At first it frightened me, because of last year, obviously, but also because of everything that happened with Kyle and Tom. Then the fear went, and I began to wonder if it might be Luke.’
‘You really think he’s back here, despite what your dad said?’
‘I don’t know, really. But it’s weird – I feel calm. Protected. Like Luke’s keeping me safe from harm.’ Connie noticed Lindsay suddenly sit bolt upright. Her mum walked back in with a tray in her hands.
‘You’re talking about Luke,’ she said. It wasn’t a question. ‘I’m not deaf as well as daft, you know. If Luke’s name is mentioned, I hear it above the sound of any whispered conversation.’ She placed the tray on the table, then slumped down on the sofa, her eyes not focusing on Connie’s but instead gazing into the distance. ‘Loss affects people in many different ways,’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m still coming to terms with it after all these years. I can even understand Angela’s actions in a sense. Protecting your children is so natural, it’s all I’d wanted to do. What I wish I’d accomplished. I mean, I know she took her job of protecting her son to the extreme, but I don’t suppose her intentions were all bad.’ A sad smile flitted across her face.
‘I agree, partly,’ Connie said, shooting Lindsay a wide-eyed glance. ‘Angela needs help – her reasons for doing what she did were skewed, not a normal reaction to events. I hope she’s fully assessed while in custody, and can access the services she requires.’
‘She’ll be lucky.’ Her mum reached forwards and began pouring the tea into the mugs. ‘Very difficult to escape the past. It’s always affected me. However hard I’ve tried over the years, the pain has never gone. I’d do anything to turn back the clock, make different decisions.’
A horrible sensation, empty yet painful, made Connie grasp her stomach. She had to be brave and tell her mum everything. The fallout from the decision she and her dad had made not to tell her had haunted Connie for the past year. Her concerns had been for her mum first and foremost, for herself, maybe even her dad – for the far-reaching consequences of telling the truth after all these years. Connie’s biggest fear – the one her dad held over her – was what the shock of finding out might do to her mum.
But it wasn’t her secret to keep, and it should never have been up to her, or her dad. Her poor mum shouldn’t have been put through years of grief, believing her son had been killed when really he’d been hidden away, taken, and given a new identity by her own husband, for his own selfish reasons.
She had to think of her mum, and of Luke. She could regret this, but now, sitting with her mum, it felt right.
‘Mum,’ Connie said, looking directly into her mother’s eyes. ‘There’s something really important I need to tell you. Something I should’ve told you last year, and I’m so sorry I didn’t. Please believe I held off telling you for what I thought were the right reasons. What was best for you.’
Connie wrung her hands, grasped then unclasped them, wiping the sheen of sweat into her trousers. Lindsay placed a hand over hers, squeezing it, then got up and left Connie and her mum alone in the lounge.
Connie expelled a lungful of air.
‘It’s about Luke.’
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN
Deborah
‘It’s over, Nathan.’
As I walk through the door and sling my handbag on the kitchen worktop, he looks up. His eyes are dark, swollen. He shakes his head, eyes narrowing – the confusion evident on his pale face.
‘Are you alone? Where are the police?’
I smile and take his face in both my hands. ‘Alice Mann has made a positive identity. Isabella Bond – the missing girl who was later found dead. She was the one who attacked her.’
‘I … I don’t understand.’
‘Alice said she remembers Isabella coming in, standing over her and smashing her head onto the floor. She must’ve been waiting for you to leave before going in. Apparently she was linked with Tom Killion, the other boy involved in Sean’s murder alongside Alice’s son. He was using this Isabella to help him eliminate the people who might’ve been able to expose him, but once she’d done what he wanted, he killed her. The policewoman, DI Wade, said it fits with the evidence they already had. It’s over. We’re going to be okay.’ And for the first time in a long while, I truly believe this.
I lower my face, gently kissing his forehead.
Two weeks later
I’ve dressed in my favourite plum dress with its matching bolero jacket clipping me in at the waist, creating the perfect silhouette. I feel positive as I walk into the foyer with my head held high – and as I catch my reflection in the glass, I see my new cropped hairstyle and a surge of extra confidence races around my body. I’ve got this.
‘Morning,’ I trill as I sweep past my colleagues already at their desks. I’m late. That was intended – I wanted to make an entrance, show them I’m back.
And I am back.
I’m not the same person. I know I never will be. But that’s all right. After long discussions and heart-to-hearts with Nathan, we’ve realised we can still function. I can’t pretend I’m not still reeling from his confession about spending time with Alice. My stomach contracts painfully when I think about him telling me he’d been attracted to her at their first meeting at the tax office, where she worked part-time. From his account, it’d been a purely coincidental meeting – he’d been there to evaluate the new extension plans, and got chatting to her on reception. Coleton is a small town. Too small, it seems. Nathan reassured me the relationship never went further than meeting after work at his council office and having long chats. She made him laugh. Although he admitted to me he was tempted to begin a physical relationship with her, he’d been unable to go that far. He said guilt, his marriage vows, prevented the ultimate betrayal. He’d no idea who she really was until he followed me to her house and confronted her. His anger at finding out she was the mother of the boy who’d taken his son away had been too much to bear.
Knowing those who took our son’s life have paid, one way or another, has given us some closure. I, for one, no longer feel the intense hatred I once did – the events of the last few weeks have somehow extinguishe
d the flames that burned inside of me. That’s a good thing – I can now give that space to healing.
Nathan and I will remain a couple and we’ll make every effort to mould ourselves into different roles. We were parents, and no one can take that fact away from us. We had a son, and Sean will always be a part of our lives. Now though, he’s firmly in our past. We can’t take him with us into our future, not in the way I’d been trying.
Today is the first day of my new future.
EPILOGUE
Monday 6th August 2018
‘It took approximately three minutes for Tom Killion to die.’
That sentence, stated in court last month, plays over in my head on a loop. A few minutes, though. Not hours. A much better ending than Sean Taylor had. I’ve killed two birds with one stone, really. I protected my son and I ensured justice for Deborah’s son; for Bill’s daughter.
I am finally redeemed.
The cell isn’t bad. I have a bed, a table, a toilet.
Most of all, I have peace.
I’m sitting at the table now, writing a letter. It’s an important one.
I’m writing to Deborah.
We share a loss, you see. The death of a son.
I feel sure we can help each other through.
Author’s Note
This novel is a work of fiction – however, there are some real locations mentioned. For example, I talk about the wonderful historic town of Totnes in Devon – a place I know well. While real, I’ve used it in a purely fictitious manner, and to this end, have slightly altered some of the geography to fit my story.
Acknowledgements
Huge thanks to my agent, Anne – your encouragement and support is first-class. My editor, Katie – your enthusiasm, keen eye, wonderful ideas and support kept me on track and prevented me tearing ALL of my hair out, so Thank You! One Little Lie is a novel I’m now extremely proud of. Thanks also to Kate from Kate Hordern Literary Agency and Rosie and Jessica Buckman for your hard work – I feel blessed to be with an agency that gives such fantastic personal attention! A big thank you to Rachel, Sabah, Elke and the rest of the brilliant team that make up Avon, HarperCollins – you are a fabulous bunch and I’m grateful for all your efforts. You are all professional, super enthusiastic and work tirelessly to get the novels into the hands of as many readers as possible.
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