I Will Make You Pay (ARC)
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strange little man.
‘Anyway. Phoning is very expensive too so we just
swap cards, me and Jessie. You know. Birthdays and
Christmas. She has an email address and says I can write
to her using that but I can’t be doing with any of that.
Apparently you need a module.’
‘Modem?’
‘Whatever. Mobile phones give you cancer. I’m not
holding one of those up to my ear.’
‘And does Jessica know about the little people? The
plots?’
‘No, of course not. I can’t be worrying her on the
other side of the world, can I. I mean – what kind of
father would that make me? What can she do?’
‘And is that Jessica’s old room, then? Upstairs.’
‘Oh no – no, no.’ Ian suddenly looks crestfallen. ‘That’s
Barbara’s room.’
‘Barbara?’
‘My wife.’
At that very moment, Matthew’s phone buzzes.
Melanie Sanders.
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‘Look, I’m very sorry about this, Ian, but I need to
take this call. Will you excuse me?’
‘You know that mobiles fry your brain, don’t you, Mr
Hill? There’s a conspiracy to cover it up. The government
knows all about it but they want the taxes. That phone
will give you cancer of the brain…’
‘I’ll have to take the risk, Ian.’ Matthew moves out
into the hall and lowers his voice to answer.
‘Hello, Mel. So is this good news regarding Alex?’
‘No. Sorry. No update there. I just wanted to let you
know that I’m heading into Alice’s newspaper right this
minute to speak to one of her colleagues.’
‘Because?’
‘Because that black Golf you thought might be follow-
ing you and Alice belongs to one of the other reporters.
Jack Trenter. I’m thinking just a quiet word at this stage.
Alex is our main focus, obviously. But do you know
anything about him – this Jack character? Has Alice
mentioned him?’
‘No. Not at all. Let me know what you make of him,
will you? As I say, I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure he
was tailing us. But this is sounding rather odd. I’ll try to
see what Alice thinks.’
‘OK. And thank you for the tip-off. I’ll text you. We
need to have another chat.’
Matthew feels his forehead furrowing. He hadn’t
meant for it to be a tip-off exactly and is not at all sure
what to make of this. He’d rather imagined this whole
case would all be sewn up once they find Alex.
So why would one of Alice’s colleagues be following
her?
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Him – before
Fat Brian keeps his face close to the letterbox, pinning
the flap open with his fingers.
‘I mean it. Open up, young man, or I phone the police.’
‘My gran’s asleep. You’ll wake her up.’
‘No, she isn’t. I saw her go out. Now look here – I
just want to help you. You shouldn’t be on your own.
You’re too little. I can’t just leave it now I know you’re
on your own. I can’t have that on my conscience and I
can’t imagine you like it very much either. All on your
own, I mean?’
He doesn’t move. For a while he doesn’t say anything
but fat Brian is right. He doesn’t like it on his own at all.
He wonders, not for the first time, why his gran thinks
it’s OK. When Brian doesn’t. Adults are very confusing.
‘I tell you what – do you have any Lego?’ Brian’s voice
is a bit calmer and he has tilted his head so his eyes are
now showing through the letterbox instead of his nose.
‘Lego?’ He glances into the corner where his gran
stores the red plastic box containing all his Lego. They
got a huge box from the charity shop last Christmas. He
even has animals and letters that spell zoo. He wonders if he’s allowed to tell Brian this…
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‘It’s just I could keep you company, if you like. Play
some Lego with you until your gran gets back.’
‘I’m not allowed to open the door. It’s the rules.’
‘It’s also the rules that you’re not supposed to be on
your own, mate. So it’s a straight choice. You either let
me in to check you’re OK, or I phone the police so they
can check you’re OK.’
He moves his torch to shine it towards the door and
walks very slowly towards it. His heart is still really strange, like a super-charged rocket. He stands at the door for a
moment. He thinks of his gran’s rule about not opening
the door but then he thinks of the police turning up with
sirens and handcuffs, so he turns the latch.
‘That’s a good boy. See – that wasn’t so very difficult,
was it?’ Brian is in the room very quickly and closes the
door quietly behind him as he speaks. He is holding a
small tin with flowers on it and he looks around the sit-
ting room.
‘What are you looking for?’
‘Nothing. So where’s this Lego?’
He fetches the box for Brian and puts it in the middle
of the rug between the sofa and the chair. He wants to
ask what is in the tin with the flowers but decides to wait.
Brian is surprisingly good at Lego. He builds a small
house and they line up the animals outside. It’s not really
right for it to be a house; it’s not big enough to look like
a zoo. He finds himself thinking how scary it would be if
a real lion and a real zebra turned up outside your house.
Brian says he saw real lions roaming wild in a safari
park once and they had a fight over who got the biggest
piece of meat when the park staff came round to feed
them. He tells some more stories about the safari park.
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Teresa Driscoll
About the giraffes and the cheetahs who can run at zil-
lions of miles per hour.
Then Brian finds some cars in the bottom of the Lego
box and they play a game where they build a little wall
of Lego and the cars have to try to smash it down. He
likes this game a lot and thinks Brian is much nicer than
he expected.
‘So when does your gran get home?’
‘Any minute.’ He doesn’t know why he says this. He
watches Brian frown.
‘I don’t think that’s true, is it? The other Wednesday
when I knocked before, I listened out. I didn’t hear her
key in the door until early in the morning.’
He shrugs. Miss Henderley at school says to use words
instead of shrugs, but he rather likes shrugging.
‘I don’t like to think of you on your own at night.
Your gran shouldn’t leave you on your own, you know…’
‘What’s in your tin?’
Brian smiles. ‘I’m glad you asked me that. Because
that’s my surprise.’
‘What surprise?’
‘Well, what I was thinking is that we could do a deal,
you and me.’
‘What deal?’
&nb
sp; ‘Well, you could do me a favour for keeping you com-
pany. And then I could show you my surprise in the tin.’
‘What favour?’
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Alice
It’s now Thursday evening and I’m once more staring at
Leanne across the vast kitchen of the Dorset trophy house.
I’ve spent most of the day with the police since Alex’s
disappearance hit the news. Leanne’s driven down again
as we’re both so worried about Mum’s reaction.
‘It’s good that Mum’s a bit better this evening. The call
from the nurse says her sats levels are almost back to normal.’
Leanne is speaking quickly, almost gabbling, as she opens
the large stainless-steel fridge. ‘Well, not normal – but her normal at least. And the sedatives should mean she’ll sleep.’
‘Yes.’ I take in my sister’s expression, which is but-
toned up. Tense. So far we’ve talked mostly about Mum.
Leanne’s again had to leave my niece and nephew in
London. Josh and Annabelle must be missing their mum.
Jonathan’s taking more time off work but Leanne clearly
needs to get back to town as soon as Mum’s stable. These
emergencies and the geography are taking their toll. She
looks tired and drawn.
I’m exhausted too, after such a long session with the
police. They’re desperate for any crumb from my time
with Alex which might suggest where he could have
bolted to. The trouble is he lied to me so much, it’s im-
possible to know what to suggest.
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Matthew’s agreed to stay on the case, thank good-
ness, but Tom is still quietly furious with him over the
fake acid attack so it’s all very tense. Tricky. Exhausting.
As Leanne makes tea and coffee, a text buzzes into
my phone. It’s from Jack at the paper. He wants to meet.
I’m pleased but also surprised to hear from him. I get this
little pull inside – the first pleasant sensation today. His
text says he’s worried about me and also has news from the
Maple Field House campaigners. A date’s being set for the
demolition. Our editor, Ted, wants to give the coverage to
another reporter and Jack wants me in the loop. He thinks
it’s unfair for me to lose a story I’ve worked so hard on. I
find myself smiling – pleased that Jack’s looking out for me.
‘Who’s that from?’ Leanne is now handing me a mug
of coffee.
‘Guy from work. Wants to meet. There’s some stuff
we need to talk about.’
‘You shouldn’t be thinking about work.’
‘Well, there you’re wrong actually, Leanne. It’s driving
me completely nuts not being able to work. The editor
won’t have me back in while the police keep pushing to
have my phone extension recorded. There’s absolutely
no way a paper could ever agree to that, obviously. The
nightmare that is HR insists I take all my holiday, and lieu
days too, hoping this will blow over. But I have respon-
sibilities. Running stories that I should be working on.’
I check my watch. ‘He wants to meet me. Quick chat.’
‘You’re not serious? With all that’s been going on?
And me driving all the way from London. You’re surely
not thinking of going out on your own?’
I bite into my lip, reconsidering. ‘No, no – you’re right.
Of course not.’ I pause; I was thinking about meeting Jack, actually. ‘But how about I ask him to come here? It’s about
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an hour’s run so he’ll probably pass. But – would you mind?
If he says yes? I’m dying to know what’s going on at work.’
‘Why don’t you just ring him?’
I don’t know how to answer this; I don’t like to admit
that I’d rather like to see Jack.
‘And he’s definitely kosher, this guy? Safe, I mean?’
At this, I feel a complete jolt of surprise. ‘Jack? Safe?
Of course he’s safe. What are you implying?’ I reach up to tighten the band on my ponytail, wondering when it
will stop. This appalling circus of everyone in my life
becoming a suspect. Of nothing feeling normal anymore.
Endless sessions with the police.
‘Look – I don’t mean to cause offence, Alice. But with
everything going on and after what happened with Alex…’
‘What? So you’re saying I’m still a poor judge of char-
acter? You really think I haven’t learned my lesson about
trusting people?’
‘No, no.’ Leanne is now blushing. ‘I’m not saying that.’
There is a long and terrible pause in which we just
stand, sipping at our drinks.
‘OK. If you really want to invite this Jack over, it’s
fine. But keep it short. Yes? We’re both tired.’
I send a text and finish my coffee. I rather expect Jack
to make an excuse, given the distance, but to my surprise
he replies quickly to say he’ll drive straight to the house.
So I text the address and update Leanne.
‘Look. Jack was really good to me the day I got that
horrid first call in the office. He’s a nice guy, Leanne.
He’s been through a lot himself – he lost his wife a year
or so ago. Anyway, he’s watching my back in the office.
It sounds as if the editor is giving my campaign story
away. You know – the demolition of the flats that I’ve
been working on for a long time.’
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Teresa Driscoll
Leanne narrows her eyes. ‘OK. But you need to be
careful, Alice. With everyone.’
‘You think I don’t know that?’
* * *
When Jack finally arrives, I take him into the kitchen
and Leanne appears immediately from the sitting room,
pretending she’s looking for sparkling water but clearly
keen to give him the once-over.
He has a bottle of red wine and Leanne raises her
eyebrows as if she feels this is a bad fit for a quick visit.
But I break the ice and pour us each a small glass as Jack
asks how I’m doing and says how much everyone in the
office misses me and is thinking of me.
‘I keep telling her that she should stop worrying about
work. Isn’t that right, Jack? Don’t you agree that she needs
a break until this whole wretched business is sorted by
the police?’ Leanne puts her hand over her glass as I of-
fer her wine.
Jack doesn’t reply immediately but does this sort of
half-smile at Leanne before turning to me.
‘I expect you’re finding it quite difficult not being able
to work, Alice. Some of us think it’s a story we should be
covering, actually. This stalking. But Ted has a point that
it could make things worse. Give this creep the oxygen
of publicity. I can see where he’s coming from but it’s
so frustrating. A story right in our midst that no one’s
allowed to cover. Christ. I think if it were me, I would
want to write about it.’
‘Exactly that!’ I find myself pointing at him and taking
in a long, slow bre
ath before turning back to Leanne. ‘You
see. Another journalist. He understands. We hacks need to 150
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write about everything. Yes, Jack. Yes.’ I clink our glasses.
‘That’s exactly how I feel. Furious that I can’t write about it.’
‘Well, I think you’re both crazy. Writing about per-
sonal stuff. It’s asking for trouble. Obviously.’
Leanne then stands and excuses herself to the sitting room,
closing the door behind her. Jack raises his eyebrows at me.
‘Sorry, Jack. She’s finding it difficult. Our mother isn’t
well and this whole police inquiry – it’s all a bit much.’
‘For you too?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I heard about the fake acid attack. That’s mostly why
I’m here, actually. It sounded absolutely ghastly.’
‘How did you know about that?’ For a moment I’m
wondering if someone at the café posted something on
social media.
‘Actually, the police called into the office again.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. That pregnant DI. Routine, I think. Speaking
to everyone. And she spoke to me on my own.’
‘Why on earth did she do that?’
Jack takes a sip of his wine and holds it in his mouth
a moment before swallowing and then replying.
‘Mix-up. I was covering a story out near the coast
and apparently it wasn’t far from where that new attack
happened. My car was seen.’
‘What – on CCTV?’
‘I don’t know. But I explained I was on a story. Must
have been a coincidence. But I guess it’s good they’re
checking everything. Reassuring, actually.’
‘Yeah. I guess so. Though I’m sorry if it felt awkward
for you.’
‘No. Not at all. Anyway, sounds absolutely terrible –
what happened.’
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Teresa Driscoll
‘Yeah. It was pretty terrible actually, but I’m OK now.
Tom’s got a private investigator helping with security.’
‘Right. Good. That sounds good. I mean, a bit sur-
prising … but good if it makes you feel more secure.’
‘Yeah. I wasn’t sure about it to start with, to be honest.
But it’s just to boost what the police are doing. So – did
they say anything else, the police? About me, I mean?’
I feel this shift inside, terrified that my double identity
will leak.
‘No. Just asked me why I was near the coast. Why?
Is there something else going on?’
‘No, no.’ I look into his face and am so very glad he