put lots of cushions along the bottom so that the spider
couldn’t get out of his bedroom. When his gran got home,
she said, What the hell has been going on here?
He stays in bed and curls up and tries to go to sleep
but it gets quieter and quieter. He doesn’t like this bit –
when it gets so very quiet. And he doesn’t like the dark.
He never turns off the little lamp and he keeps his torch
with him in case there is a power cut.
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Often he cries, especially if anyone in school has been
telling scary stories. He always runs off to play if someone
starts all that. Ghosts and stuff.
His gran says there are no such things as ghosts but
he’s not so sure. He tries to stop thinking about it. He
needs a wee but he doesn’t want to go across the sitting
room now that he has turned the light off.
He waits and waits and tries really hard but it’s no
good. He remembers what happened last week after Stan
found him in the laundry cupboard.
He turns on his torch. He gets out of bed and he creeps
across the room, shining his torch out into the sitting room.
It is as he is crossing the room that the knocking on the
front door starts up again. Just like a couple of weeks back.
‘Hello? I know you’re in there.’ The voice isn’t very
loud – just enough volume to be heard through the door.
He keeps very still. This has happened only once be-
fore. He kept quiet that time and the knocking and the
voice eventually went away.
He should have told his gran but he was worried she
would be cross that he was out of bed.
There is knocking again. One, two, three. It is not very loud knocking. Again, it’s just loud enough to be sure that
it can be heard. Knock, knock, knock. One, two, three…
‘I can see the light under the door. I know you’re in
there. Let me in or I’m going to phone the police.’
He keeps ever so still. The police? He thinks of his gran and how super-cross she will be if the police turn up.
He tries to hold his breath but his heart is beating really,
really loud. He thinks he should perhaps turn the torch
off but he is too afraid of the dark.
And then someone is lifting up the letterbox in their
door and he can just see a nose and someone trying to
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see right in. ‘I saw your gran go. I know you’re on your
own. And if you don’t answer the door right this minute,
I’m phoning the police.’
And now he recognises the voice. It’s Brian.
It’s fat Brian from next door.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Matthew
‘What’s up? What is it you haven’t told me?’
Matthew doesn’t answer his wife immediately. Instead
he stares at her and then stares at his plate. Steak and
chips. She has cooked the steak perfectly, resting it well
so that it is juicy and delicious. But for some reason he’s
put off from cutting into the meat and so the steak is
going cold.
‘Why is it I can never get anything past you, Sally?’
He looks again at the meat, wondering where his appetite
has gone; he normally loves steak. But then he sees the
red at the centre of the first slice of steak and realises…
It is perfectly medium rare but the flash of rawness is
making him think of something else. He is not normally
squeamish but his mind keeps going back to that cruel
fake attack. Flesh. Acid. The terrible moments when he
was waiting for Alice’s flesh to change colour.
‘Witchcraft. On the quiet I’m a fully fledged white
witch. Now, why not eat your steak while I check on our
Pippy Pocket princess, and then you can tell me every-
thing. Deal?’
He nods. He and Sally have been married a few years
now. He loves her very much but wonders if he will ever
truly understand how the female mind works. Sometimes
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he sits at breakfast and imagines Amelie all grown-up. The
two of them speaking in an entirely different language.
About who said what and when. About fashion and gossip.
And cushions.
He smiles at Sally and feels guilty that he does not
always listen when she’s talking. He met her on a case – a
difficult and quite emotional case involving two of her
childhood friends. Sometimes he goes cold, thinking – what
if Sal’s friend Beth had picked another private investigator
to help them? What would his life be?
Fewer cushions, he thinks mischievously – picturing the puzzle of their bed, which has a mountain of silk obstacles.
‘Why are you grinning suddenly?’
‘Doesn’t matter. I love you, Sally.’
‘You too. Eat your steak.’
Sally leaves the kitchen-cum-dining room and heads
upstairs. He can just hear their daughter’s voice protesting
that she is not tired. Matthew smiles again. When does a
child ever admit otherwise? There is some singing – Sally
and Amelie together – and then a warning to go to sleep.
Finally Sally returns and he makes an effort with the
steak.
‘Good. You need the iron, Matt; you’re looking a bit
peaky. I was reading in a magazine the other day that
iron deficiency is way more common than people realise.
So – fire away. I’m listening.’ She reaches for the wine
bottle but he puts his hand over his glass and shakes his
head. He’s thinking once more of Alice and so is still
unsettled. He may go out again; he hasn’t quite decided.
‘I sort of messed up today. Alice wouldn’t travel in
my car. I should have insisted but I didn’t. There was a
fake acid attack and it was horrible.’
‘What the hell is a fake acid attack?’
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He explains about the motorcyclist and the iced water
in the bottle. How they assumed the worst.
‘I guess it’s a sign of the times. The biker knew we’d
think it was acid. A truly horrible thing to do to her.’
‘How absolutely dreadful. And strange too … to go
to all that trouble for a fake attack? I mean – he could
have been caught. Surely there will be CCTV?’
‘Not so far. And I think this was a warning. Sort of,
see what I can do to you if I choose. It’s control-freakery.
Classic stalker behaviour. This is about terrorising Alice.’
Sally looks shaken, and he tells her the rest of the news
about Alice’s double identity.
‘So you’re off the case? Well – good, I say, if she can’t
even tell you the truth about herself. It’s getting way, way
too complicated.’
Matthew smiles at his wife’s loyalty. She wants to pro-
tect him and he likes that she’s angry on his behalf, but
the truth is he is over the anger now. He’s read more about
the Alex Sunningham case and feels sorry for Alice – or
Jennifer, or whatever she wants to be
called.
‘You are off the case?’ Sally leans in, trying to read his expression.
‘Well, her boyfriend sacked me so – yes.’
‘Good. We should do some more advertising. Try to
get you some better work. It’s good that the money’s just
come in from that corporate training you did. We’re fine
for a few months. And I don’t like you taking on stuff
outside your comfort zone. I always knew this was a bad
idea. Borderline bodyguard work. That’s not you. And
in any case, if the police can’t keep her safe, how are you
expected to? On your own?’ She has stood up now and is
clattering about with plates and other dishes as Matthew’s
phone buzzes with a text. It’s from Melanie.
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Can you make our café in an hour?
He puts the phone in his pocket and stares at his wife’s
back as she loads the dishwasher. She will worry if he
tells her he’s meeting Melanie. DI Sanders still wants him
back in the force, but Sally’s not at all sure this would be
healthy for him. She worries it will stir up old ghosts.
Matthew left the force because he blamed himself over
a child’s death. He still sometimes has dreams about it.
Sally will get very twitchy if he mentions Melanie.
‘Just need to pop out. Nothing to worry about. Might
be a new case. I won’t be long.’
She turns. ‘So long as it isn’t the man who thinks little
people are trying to kidnap him?’
‘Might be.’ He winks and then moves across to kiss
her, parking the thought that – come to mention it – he
might actually call in on Ian and his little people. If not
tonight then some time very soon.
* * *
At their regular café, there’s just an hour until closing.
In the evening they serve burger and chips to boost tak-
ings, and Matthew is shocked to find he’s almost tempted,
despite the steak. He is lucky to have a skinny gene and
a good metabolism but he needs to be careful as he gets
older.
No. Very bad idea.
Melanie is just a few minutes behind him and looks
even larger than the last time he saw her.
‘Are you sure you have the energy for all this, Mel?
Wouldn’t it just be easier to go on mat leave early? Those
triplets could be born any moment.’
She tilts her head and pokes out her tongue.
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Teresa Driscoll
The waitress arrives to take their order – just coffee
for him, though Melanie plumps for carrot cake again
with her Earl Grey tea.
‘So – a pickle. Alice turning out to be Jennifer.’ He
lifts a sugar sachet out of the little bowl on the table but
checks himself and puts it back. No time for fidgeting.
‘Understatement.’ She pauses and then leans in. ‘My
boss is going ballistic. So. Usual rules here. We are not
meeting and we are not talking.’
He raises his hands in surrender. ‘Absolutely under-
stood, and you know I won’t breathe a word.’
‘OK. So I’ve read Alice the riot act but, truth be told,
I feel a bit sorry for her. Now I know the whole story.
And given what happened this morning.’
He’s relieved to hear this. Melanie is not someone to
fall out with. Nerves of steel beneath the soft and very
pregnant exterior. He bets she gave Alice a tough time.
‘I have yet to tell Alice the whole story, Matt. She’s
determined we should keep calling her Alice, by the
way. It’s her second name and she claims her sister and
mother have got used to using it. Anyway. I’m tipping
you off because it’s going to be all over the papers within
twenty-four hours and I want to know what you think.
Alex Sunningham has disappeared.’
‘You’re not serious?’
‘Afraid so. Failed to report to his probation officer
more than once. And now he’s disappeared from his
hostel. We were going to keep all this low-key for a bit
but it looks like it’s going to blow up very quickly. And
not just because we want to question him about Alice.
She needs to know – has a right to know, now that he’s
our principal suspect. I was rather hoping we would have
found him by now…’
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Matthew raises his left eyebrow. Melanie sighs and
they both lean back as the waitress delivers their order.
Once she’s gone, Melanie sips her tea, then continues.
‘The minor – the fifteen-year-old that he ran off with
– has just disappeared from home as well.’
‘You are kidding me.’
‘I wish.’
‘But I thought she spilled the beans to the nationals
to warn others about grooming. I thought she now hated
the guy. So what are you thinking? That he’s got to her?
Revenge?’
‘At this stage, we don’t know what to think. She’s
eighteen now. She’s been doing A levels and has a place
at university. Back on track. Her parents are in bits. It’s
completely out of character for her to disappear without
contacting them. No one knows what to think. Whether
this could be a coincidence. An aggressive move by Alex.
Or something else…’
Matthew lets out a long sigh and sips at his own
drink. The stories about Alex Sunningham are swim-
ming through his thoughts.
‘And you want to know what I think. Regarding the
teenager and also Alice… Whether this is revenge?’
‘Yes, I do. Jeez – Matt. I so wish you were working
on this officially with me. But as you’re sort of on the
case anyway, I’m hoping you’ll help. I trust your instinct.
You know that. So what are you thinking? What should
I be thinking here? Obviously, the terms of Alex’s licence
forbid him from having any contact with this girl. I’ll
be liaising with the other team investigating this girl’s
disappearance and Alex skipping parole. But do we as-
sume he’s violent now? What do you think? My head’s
all over the place, to be honest.’
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Teresa Driscoll
‘A few years inside could have turned this Alex into
a different character. We both know he’s a creep but
he could have turned violent too. Plenty of time to get
very bitter. Distort things in his head. I guess he could
be capable of the stalking. And targeting the teenager for
revenge. We daren’t assume otherwise.’
‘I agree. We have to find him very, very quickly. The
plans are for a press conference if the girl doesn’t turn up
by the morning.’
‘Which means the Alex Sunningham case will be hot
news all over again.’
‘Yes. And Alice – or Jennifer, rather – will need to
decide how she’s going to handle that. I’m happy for you
to break this to her, Matt, but I want to know how she
reacts. Agreed?’
Matthew finishes his drink and then gets out his
phon
e. ‘OK. But she’s my client so it’s tricky.’ He pauses,
remembering that this is in fact no longer the case; that
he’s technically been sacked. But the truth? He looks up
and stares at Mel. He’s not ready to let this case go. Not
after the fake acid attack. And because he keeps seeing
those dreadful pictures of the case from their training
days too. Rachel Allen strangled in her shower. So young.
Such a waste…
He strongly suspects it’s why Mel is so agitated now.
Frustrated, and worried about getting it wrong.
‘I’m not sure quite where I am with Alice so I’ll be
straight with her that I’m liaising with you. Oh – and
just one more thing, Melanie. Favour for favour.’ He
turns back to his phone and scrolls through the pictures
folder. ‘I’d like to know who owns this car. Black Golf.’
He shows her a picture and she takes out her own phone
to copy it as he zooms in on the number plate.
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‘Why?’
‘Might be nothing. But I saw it twice in the hours I
was keeping an eye on Alice. Might have been following
us. I couldn’t be absolutely sure. Got distracted when the
bike showed up.’
‘OK. I’ll check it out and let you know. Meantime I
want to let Alice sweat a bit overnight over misleading us.
As a favour, I’ll text you first thing if the girl doesn’t show up so you can warn her just before the media get it. But
the deal is I need to know how she reacts. I’ll be honest,
I think you’ve got a better chance of reading her than I
do over this right now. I badly need to know whether
you feel we can trust her going forward. Yes? And then
I’ll need to interview her again officially. She might have
ideas where he’s run to. She needs to cooperate with us,
Matt. No more silly games. We need her to help us find
him … for her own sake.’
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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Alice
We slept in the same bed but in that awkward way as if after
a row, leaning outwards and being careful not to touch.
It’s Thursday. I am still in shock from the attack yes-
terday. I am mortified they know about Alex now, and the
police and Matthew and Tom are so angry with me. But
I am also so relieved that I look the same in the mirror. I
keep touching my face, sort of amazed still that I wasn’t
hurt; relieved too that I have a little time to regroup before anything else happens. Before next Wednesday.
I Will Make You Pay (ARC) Page 13
