The scrape of the bolt made her jump. He came in and lay down on the bed, didn’t even acknowledge her. She waited for him to say something but he just lay there, staring at the ceiling. She waited, saw him close his eyes. She almost smiled. He’s okay.
Emma stood up, her legs creaking. She walked out to the bathroom. Relief. And then she saw him standing there, watching. She felt embarrassed, vulnerable. She didn’t know why. He’d seen her more intimately than this. She stood and washed her hands and he took her by the wrist, squeezing just a little too tightly.
She looked up at him and wondered if she should kiss him, if that was what he wanted. He lowered his face to hers and she knew. He didn’t want that.
‘Have you thought about what you said?’ Lucas asked her. She nodded. ‘And?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, feeling tears in the back of her throat, behind her eyes. She knew she wasn’t sorry for wanting to go home, she was just sorry she’d told him.
He turned her away from him, pressing her against the filthy sink. The porcelain dug into her hips. He pulled her knickers down. She stood, waiting, while he unzipped his jeans. As he forced himself into her she could see her face reflected in the taps, distorted. She wasn’t going to cry. Sometimes she thought he liked it, other times he’d slap her, hard; tell her to shut up.
She would never win.
Not with Lucas.
Chapter 23
14 December 2010
Freeman made her way up the stairs to her flat, dragging her feet, forcing her eyes to stay open for just a bit more time. It’d been a long day.
She was exhausted but knew that she was unlikely to sleep well. She wasn’t any closer to finding out what had happened to Emma Thorley. Even saying definitively that it was Emma was proving tricky. They had the necklace and the ID, and the fact that the remains appeared approximately old enough for Emma to have been murdered when she disappeared the last time. But it wasn’t enough. She was putting pressure on the lab to get back to her about the tracksuit but there were more pressing cases. Apparently. She knew there was no way to prove the blood was Emma’s, but if they could find another person’s blood – if Emma fought back – then maybe she’d be in business.
She was still pretty sure that Lucas Yates had to be the one who put her in the ground, but she had no evidence whatsoever – other than he was a little prick. She doubted that would stand up in court. She was desperate for his DNA to be on that tracksuit. At least it’d be something.
But then there was Ben Swales. She’d started the day thinking he was just another witness. Someone who could perhaps give her more details about Emma’s last few months, maybe something about Lucas. But something was off there. Maybe he could’ve forgotten her name after all this time, but it just didn’t ring true. And his old boss had also said something was off with him. Too involved with the girls, she’d said.
She listened to the sleet on the window and the sounds of the silent flat. For a split second she wished she hadn’t told Brian to sod off, that he was there to keep her company, to talk about something other than dead girls. But she had told him to go, and for a good reason. She might not have been the most attentive girlfriend but that didn’t give him the right to sleep with his yoga instructor. What kind of man has a yoga instructor anyway? She knew she’d have to speak to him eventually but as long as she kept ignoring it she could put it off. Having so much on her plate at work was a blessing. It kept her mind off her own shitty life. The only problem was there was a time limit on these things. She couldn’t put it off forever. She dragged herself to the bedroom, promising to do something about it in the morning. Or the next day at the latest.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Ben Swales. Why would he deny knowing Emma? She stared out of the window, watched a group of kids loitering in the car park. Maybe she should call DI Gardner again. See what he’d thought about Ben.
She’d barely closed her eyes when she heard the knock. She listened carefully and thought she could hear the sound of a game show. Freeman got up and went to the door. She could hear the TV louder now as her neighbour, Lady Clairville, stood there in her dressing gown and slippers, her little Jack Russell, Roy, yapping at her feet. She got the feeling the woman was in her seventies but you’d never know it to look at her. She dressed like she was attending a royal wedding every day, hence Freeman’s nickname for her.
‘Hey,’ Freeman said. ‘What’s up?’
‘Just thought I should tell you I saw him hanging around again. Don’t know how he got in. One of them from upstairs must’ve done it. They’ll let anyone in. Druggies, I think.’
Freeman didn’t want to mention that he still had a key. Didn’t want to admit she’d been stupid enough to give him one in the first place. ‘Did he say anything?’
‘Just that he wanted you to call him. I told him to bugger off,’ Lady C said with a raised eyebrow. She didn’t approve of Brian. She thought he looked homosexual.
‘Thanks.’
‘Why don’t you come over? I was just watching a little telly.’
‘No, I should get some sleep,’ Freeman said. ‘It’s been a long day.’
‘Suspicious death?’ Lady Clairville asked. Freeman thought the reason her neighbour liked her company so much was because of her job. She was always fishing for gruesome details. She was a bit of a true crime buff.
‘Something like that.’ Freeman started to close the door.
‘Just come over for a little tipple, then? It’s nearly Christmas,’ Lady Clairville said.
Freeman paused. She was tired. She had a lot on her mind. But maybe a drink with Lady C was what she needed.
‘Give me two minutes. I just need to make a call,’ Freeman said and closed the door to a disappointed-looking Lady C.
Chapter 24
14 December 2010
Louise bit her nail and stared at Adam. He looked up from the laptop and smiled at her before turning his attention back to the screen. He’d already explained in great detail that there were two Johnny Cash live CDs he didn’t have that were ending in thirty minutes but some bastard called Sexie69 kept outbidding him. Anyone who’d call themselves Sexie69 apparently shouldn’t be allowed to buy Johnny Cash CDs. But she just wanted him to go. Actually she wanted him to stay. More than anything. But she needed him to go.
‘What’s up?’ he asked her and she realised her foot was tapping.
‘Nothing,’ she said and looked past him to the clock on the table. ‘What time’s your bus?’
Adam half looked up from the screen and reached across the settee with his free hand to rub Louise’s foot. ‘Hmmm?’ he muttered.
‘Your bus? Aren’t you going to miss it?’ she said.
Adam tapped a few more keys and then looked at his watch despite the clock in the corner of the screen. He did a double take. ‘Shit,’ he said and closed the laptop. ‘I’m going to miss my bus.’
He stood and ran out into the hall, grabbing his coat. He went back into the living room with his coat half on and pointed at the laptop. ‘Make sure I win.’ He kissed her on the top of her head. ‘Won’t be late,’ he said and ran out the door.
Louise let out a breath she felt she’d been holding for days. She’d been like a madwoman – throwing herself at the TV to switch off the news, steering Adam away from newspapers in the corner shop. Every time she heard the name Emma Thorley she felt ill. Like she was being haunted by a ghost.
She got up and went upstairs to the spare room. She hoped it would still be there – the one thing to connect her to her old life. She peeled back the tape from the small cardboard box and looked at the contents. Everything she cared about was in there and most of it was from the last few years – the years she’d spent with Adam. At the bottom was the photo of her parents. She rarely looked at it any more, the memories too painful. What she’d done was too much.
The tears came without warning. In the empty house her cries seemed to echo. How could she have done it? How could she take someon
e’s life?
‘Bollocks,’ Adam muttered and slowed down to a walk as the bus turned the corner. When he got to the bus stop he scanned the timetable. Another half an hour before the next one. He considered turning round and going home to his auction but he’d been looking forward to a night out with the lads. He walked down to the main road and looked for a taxi. Usually the place was swarming with them, the drivers all pulling in and offering their services like mobile hookers. But tonight – nothing.
Adam started walking in the direction of town but after a couple of minutes he stopped. If he just went home, the money he’d have spent on half a dozen pints and the obligatory pizza on the way home could pay for the Johnny Cash CDs. He turned around and headed back.
He threw his coat over the end of the banister and stuck his head round the door of the living room. His laptop was on the settee but there was no Louise. He checked his watch. The auction should’ve just finished. He opened the laptop to check how much he’d ended up paying and saw the email telling him he hadn’t won.
‘Lou?’ he shouted, wondering why she hadn’t upped his bid. He walked to the bottom of the stairs and noticed the light on in the spare room. Technically it was his study, where he was supposed to mark essays and write lectures but he usually did those things in front of the TV. Instead the room was used mainly to store stuff they hadn’t found a home for. In the corner there were a few boxes that had never been unpacked despite the fact that they’d moved in over two years ago. Most of the boxes were Adam’s – like most of the stuff in the house, in fact. Louise didn’t have much, so what could she be looking for? Adam smiled. He’d bet she was trying to find her Christmas presents. She’d be lucky. He hadn’t bought anything yet.
He started climbing the stairs, careful to miss the creaky step at the top. He walked to the doorway of the spare room, ready to catch her in the act.
He found her crouched over the single box labelled ‘Louise’s stuff’. It had never been opened since they’d moved in. All she kept in it was birthday and Valentine’s cards, a few souvenirs from trips they’d taken. But now it was open, its contents spread across the floor.
Adam was about to say something but she was staring at a Christmas card he’d given her two years earlier. The one with the cartoon penguins. He remembered how funny he thought it was and how he’d tickled her into submission when she didn’t agree with him. They’d gone out for a meal that night and he’d proposed. She said no. She’d tried to explain to him that she was scared, that her own parents’ marriage had not been the best example and that maybe one day she’d be ready. He accepted it in his usual manner, saying, ‘Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll get the ring back from the pawn shop.’ And even though she’d said, ‘One day,’ they’d never spoken about it since. He couldn’t take the rejection again.
He watched her brush her fingers over the card before putting it back in the box and picking up a small piece of paper.
‘What’re you up to?’ Adam asked and Louise spun around. She shoved the paper in her pocket and started piling the cards and notes back into the box.
‘I was just . . .’ she said and turned away, moving the box into the corner. ‘I was looking for a book. Thought it might’ve been in there. How come you’re back?’
‘Missed the bus,’ he said. He wanted to ask her about the CDs but she looked like she had more on her mind than Johnny Cash.
Louise stood up straight and smiled at him, even though her face was red, as if she’d been crying. ‘Do you want to watch a DVD instead, then?’ she asked.
‘Sure,’ he said and they walked out of the study, turning off the light.
‘Go and pick something and I’ll be right down.’ She kissed him on the cheek.
Halfway down the stairs Adam stopped and looked up as Louise went into their bedroom and pulled the piece of paper from her pocket. She stared at it for a second before tucking it inside her diary.
Adam turned, wondering what the big secret was. He waited for Louise to go into the bathroom before creeping back upstairs. Without turning on the bedroom light he opened her diary and the paper fluttered out. Adam picked it up. In a barely legible scrawl was an address in Alnwick.
He heard the toilet flush, shoved the paper back inside and headed downstairs.
Chapter 25
25 March 1999
Ten days. Ten days since she’d walked out of the flat and back to her daddy. He’d called her bluff. She’d been whining for days. Weeks, really. After everything he’d done for her and she still wasn’t happy. She wanted to go back to her dad, back to her miserable life. She wanted to leave him.
He wasn’t having that. He’d kept her locked up, made sure she couldn’t leave. Doped her up to the eyeballs and then left her hanging. Forced her to need him. And then one day she says she wants to stop. No more heroin. And he knows she means no more Lucas. She swears she still loves him, still wants to see him. She just has to go home. Her dad will be going out of his mind. Well boo-fucking-hoo. She should’ve thought of that before.
And then the tears start. He can’t fucking bear the waterworks. He tells her to shut up but she keeps going. On and on. So he hit her. Hard. Not for the first time, but this time it took her longer to get up. At least it shut her up for a while.
And then she told him she hated him. She screamed in his face. Maybe he’d knocked some spirit into her. It almost excited him. He was ready for a brawl. Ready to make her understand how things were going to be. But she walked away. Slammed the bedroom door. He thought about locking her in. Give her time to think about it. Instead he called her bluff. He unlocked the front door, left it wide open. Told her to piss off out of his flat if that’s what she wanted.
Turns out that was what she wanted. She just walked out. By the time he’d realised, she was halfway down the street. He went after her, wasn’t just going to let it go, but there were coppers hanging about. So she just walked away. Thought it was over. But she was wrong.
He walked to the window at the front of her daddy’s house and looked in. There was no one in the front room but that didn’t mean she wasn’t home. He’d been following her for days. Waited outside the school gates. Came to the house, trying to rattle her. Sat on the wall across the street, for hours at a time, watching her watching him. Daring her to come out or to call the police. Instead she cowered inside. He was going to be in her life one way or another.
A couple of kids played on bikes in the middle of the street, driving round and round in circles. He ignored one of them asking him for a fag and walked around the back of the house. It was getting dark. Not that it mattered much. Street like this, no one gives a shit what’s going on.
He’d never been round the back of the house before. The kitchen jutted out beneath her bedroom window. Perfect for lovers sneaking out in the night. Or sneaking in during the day. Lucas stood on the bin and pulled himself onto the flat roof. He cracked the window with his elbow and reached in to open it. Inside he felt a surge of warmth. The heating was on. He climbed inside and pulled the curtain closed. Someone might’ve seen him break in, that didn’t worry him too much, but he’d rather they didn’t see what he was going to do next.
Lucas took a deep breath, inhaling her smell. There was still a hint of her at home – he hadn’t changed his sheets. But this was different. Pure. He lay back on the bed and thought about her, remembering the feel of her skin against his, the taste of her. He unzipped his jeans. He’d thought about leaving her a note so she’d know he’d been. So she’d know he wasn’t going to stop until she came back to him. But a note was so impersonal. Instead, his hand drifted down and he thought about the last time as he touched himself.
He would leave something much more intimate.
Chapter 26
14 December 2010
Lucas pulled up his hood, as much to keep warm as to cover his face. He walked alongside the clinic to scope it out. There weren’t any shutters or bars. They probably wouldn’t even notice he’d
been there. The library had been a bust. No trace of Ben online. And the old bag who worked there said they didn’t keep phone books any more. So it was back to plan A.
He walked around the back, into the alley, making sure no one was around. In this part of town it was unlikely. Or at least it was unlikely to find anyone who was willing to talk to the police. The main attractions were a parade of closed-down shops and a pub where all the windows were permanently boarded up. He found a window high up and tried to work out where it’d lead to. He dragged the wheelie bin over and climbed on top. With a gloved hand he punched the window through and waited for the sound of an alarm. Nothing. Jesus, these people were practically inviting thieves. Why not just leave the doors open and save the junkies the trouble.
Climbing down onto a desk, he cursed as he slipped on a pile of papers, and looked around the darkness of the office. He walked to the door and found himself in the reception area where he climbed over the desk and glanced around, turning his attention to the office door. He tried the handle. Locked. He raised his fist, ready to punch through the glass in the door but stopped and turned back to the reception desk. In the dim light he noticed a couple of drawers and tried them. In the first was nothing but stationery. He tried the one beneath. A few Cup a Soups, some tea bags and a mug with ‘Hot Stuff’ written across it. Course you are, Catherine, he thought. He wouldn’t if she were the last woman on earth.
Lucas pushed aside the packets of biscuits and was about to close the drawer when something caught his eye. He pulled out a set of keys and shook his head. These were supposed to be the people making the world a better place. Fucking idiots.
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