by DS Butler
Anna liked to be close to Fiona all the time. She didn’t trust Fiona not to disappear like her father.
Fiona turned to look out of the window again. Although it was practical, she didn’t really want a male carer for Luke. It would be strange having a man around the house again. A man she didn’t know. It would have been different if Bruce was still alive.
But that was silly. Even if Bruce was still here, he would have been at work and she would be dealing with this situation on her own.
Unable to sit still any longer, Fiona got up and walked into the kitchen. She’d put Tim Coleman’s CV on the granite worktop. She pulled it towards her and began to read it for the tenth time.
On paper, Tim Coleman sounded perfect.
Fiona hoped he was. She hoped his caring for Luke would ease some of the pressure on her shoulders and give her more time to spend with Anna. Sometimes Anna got the raw deal. Luke’s special needs meant that sometimes Anna’s needs were overlooked. Fiona thought some extra bonding time would help to reassure Anna, make her realise Fiona wasn’t going anywhere.
Fiona jumped as the front doorbell rang. She shook her head. What on earth was wrong with her? She needed to get a grip. She walked towards the front door, feeling her stomach churn.
She had considered asking Jack Mackinnon to be here during the interview. He’d been so kind and so understanding, and it would have just helped to have a friendly face around. But she didn’t want to bother him. It was a bit of an imposition, and she never wanted to feel like she was a burden.
It was funny, now that Bruce was gone, she understood him more than she ever had when he was alive. She understood why he’d wanted to do things himself and why he hadn’t wanted to rely on anybody else’s money.
Although Fiona readily accepted financial help from her parents, she didn’t want to burden anyone emotionally.
She opened the front door and saw a man in his mid-thirties with light brown hair. He looked friendly enough as he smiled at her. “Mrs. Evans?”
“Yes. You must be Tim? Please come in.” Fiona felt Anna grab onto her legs. She pried off one of the little girl’s arms and took her hand.
“Thanks.” Tim stepped inside.
Fiona took his coat and noticed her hands were shaking as she hung it up. “Anna, why don’t you go and play for a little while so mummy can talk to Mr. Coleman?”
Anna pouted. The little girl’s lower lip wobbled, and for a moment, Fiona thought Anna might launch into a full scale tantrum. What would Tim think of that? He wouldn’t be very impressed with her if she couldn’t handle Anna, let alone a child with Luke’s problems.
Thankfully, Anna decided to behave on this occasion, and with one last pout, she headed off to play with her dolls.
Fiona led Tim through to the kitchen. “Can I get you a tea or coffee?”
“Coffee would be great, thanks,” Tim said, looking around the kitchen. “Lovely house.”
“Thanks.” Fiona switched on the kettle, glad she could keep her hands busy and focus on something mundane while she was doing the interview. “Your CV looks very impressive. I thought we could have a bit of a chat first, and if things go okay, I could take you upstairs to meet Luke. If that’s okay with you?”
“Sounds good to me.”
They chatted for a while, and as they did, Fiona felt herself relax in his company and within minutes she was certain Tim Coleman would be the right person to look after Luke.
For the first time in ages, Fiona actually felt hopeful for the future.
23
JOANNE JAMES SLID INTO the driver’s seat of her shiny, silver VW Golf, a seventeenth birthday present from Daddy. She rearranged her bright pink Juicy Couture tracksuit bottoms. She’d just had a spray tan, and she didn’t want streaks.
Joanne carefully reached for the gear stick, taking care not to smudge her freshly painted nails.
Before she pulled away, she checked her mobile phone for the fifth time that hour. “Bastard,” she said. Bloody Vinnie still hadn’t phoned. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that the police might monitor his calls, but he could have found some way to get in touch. He didn’t even know that she had made it out okay! All things considered, she’d got off pretty lightly. She’d had a nasty cough, but that was practically gone now.
Come to think of it, how did she know Vinnie was okay? She’d seen Craig Foster clamber through the broken window and she’d followed. She hadn’t actually seen Vinnie get out. Maybe he’d been arrested? But, no, that was silly. Vinnie always landed on his feet.
She just had to accept he wasn’t interested. Bastard. She glared down at her phone.
When she got his Facebook message last week, she’d thought things might be back on again. They’d dated on and off for six months last year. Then out of nowhere, Vinnie dumped her. She hadn’t seen it coming.
Joanne had tried to move on, she really had. None of her friends understood what she saw in Vinnie. To them, he was just a waster.
Thanks to her father, Joanne had never had to work a day in her life. She’d tried college and half-finished a beauty training course, but she’d never really stuck to anything because she didn’t have to. Why work when she could spend that time having lunch with her friends and having a good time?
Then Vinnie had come into her life and made her see how predictable and boring her life had become.
With Vinnie, things were exciting. He was a bad boy. Her friends called him her bit of rough. They’d all expected the relationship to last a few weeks before Joanne got bored. But it didn’t work out that way. It wasn’t her that pulled the plug.
She was used to being the one who walked away from her exes. The fact that Vinnie Pearson thought he could drop her like that really pissed her off.
She’d been really down after he’d dumped her. Tears, ice-cream, lying in bed all day – the works. She hadn’t had her hair or nails done in over a month.
Her dad had been beside himself with worry. But as the weeks passed, she’d slowly started to put her life back together. She’d even gone out on a couple of blind dates her friends set up. They were nice enough, but none of them matched up to Vinnie. They were all too strait-laced. One was an estate agent who had spent most of the evening talking about local house prices. He couldn’t have been more boring if he’d tried.
Then Vinnie had sent that message on Facebook, and she’d thought he missed her and wanted to see her again.
Of course, she’d said yes. Vinnie wanted her to come along on one of his jobs. They were exciting, and no one really got hurt. She’d been determined to show Vinnie that he could trust her, that she was up for a laugh.
When he’d broken up with her, he’d laughed and called her daddy’s little Essex princess. By going along with Vinnie on this job, she intended to show him just what sort of person she really was. That he could rely on her.
She hadn’t thought anything would go wrong. Like Vinnie said, shop owners were insured. It didn’t bother them. She didn’t do it for the money, of course, but the buzz was exciting. She liked the power.
She crunched the gears as she pulled away from the parade of shops and glanced at the gold Omega watch on her wrist. Her dad had bought it for her 18th birthday.
Damn, she was going to be late for dinner. Mum was doing shepherd’s pie.
She put her foot down as she came up to the pedestrian lights and crossed just as they turned from amber to red.
“Green,” she said aloud, even though there was no one else in the car.
She took the next right turn and hurtled over the mini roundabout. The tyres screeched as she turned into Finch Lane.
Finch Lane was lined with hawthorn bushes and long wild grasses, which made it hard to see cars coming in the other direction.
She recognised the opening beats of a song she liked on the radio. Rihanna – fantastic! Joanne looked down at the radio and reached for the volume control to turn it up.
Her eyes only left the road for a fraction of a second
. But that was long enough.
When she raised her head, she swore. In front of her, a stationary black Volvo blocked the lane.
Joanne slammed on the brakes. The squealing sound sent cold shivers down her spine.
The car was sliding sideways, out of control, and for one terrifying moment, she thought she was going to smash into the car. But her car screeched to a halt a few metres from the side of the Volvo.
That had been close. Far too close. She sat there for a moment, her hands still gripping the steering wheel, breathing heavily. Then she wiped her sweaty palms on her tracksuit bottoms. The radio was still blaring out Rihanna’s latest song. Joanne reached out a shaky hand and turned down the radio.
The silence was only broken by the sound of her own breathing. She couldn’t hear any traffic. She was too far from the main road.
She focused on the Volvo.
It didn’t look damaged. She couldn’t see anyone inside. She flung open the door and the warm green scent of the summer’s evening washed over her. She took a couple of deep breaths and headed over towards the car.
What sort of bloody idiot would stop in the middle of a road? She stalked up to the car ready to give the driver a piece of her mind. You got all sorts of people driving along these country lanes, lots of old people bumbling along. It was probably some old granddad who’d stopped to look at his map, unaware he was blocking both lanes.
But there was no one in the driver’s seat.
Confused, Joanne looked around. What the hell? What kind of idiot would leave their car in the middle of the road? They hadn’t even pulled it over to the verge, for God’s sake. A few hundred yards back, there was a small lay-by. So why hadn’t they stopped there?
She pressed her hands against the smooth metal of the driver’s door and peered inside. But there was nothing inside the car to give her any clue to the driver’s identity. On the back seat, there were a couple of bottles of cleaning fluid, but nothing else. Had they run out of petrol? Broken down?
She swore and turned around, thinking she’d have to go back and go the long way round that would add another fifteen minutes to her journey. She heard the hoarse cawing sound of crows, roosting in the trees above and shivered.
She was glad of the long summer evenings. This was not an experience she would want to have after dark. It was creepy enough now. She never realised quite how isolated it was in this area before. There were no other houses. And very few cars took this route. The lane only led to the tiny village of Finch Hill.
Joanne pushed her hair back from her face and grabbed the bottom of her velour top, fanning herself. She was sweating. That was going to ruin her spray tan. Annoyed, she turned to head back towards her own car.
She froze. There was someone standing next to her car. A man, dressed in black.
Her heart flipped over in her chest. Who was it? The driver of the Volvo? Why did he just stand there like that? Why was he next to her car?
The sun, low in the sky, made her squint. She raised a hand to shade her eyes.
Don’t let him know you’re scared, she told herself. Keep your distance, and you’ll be all right.
“Is this your car?” she called out. “Do you need some help or something?”
The man in black didn’t answer, but shifted his position so he was facing her. At least, she thought he was. The sun made it hard to see him properly.
“I could call the AA for you? Or the RAC maybe?”
Her heart was really thundering now. She looked back at the Volvo. Perhaps she could jump inside and drive the hell away from this weirdo who wouldn’t speak. She could do it. The Volvo’s keys were in the ignition.
As soon as she’d thought of keys she patted down her pockets. Shit. She’d left her keys in the ignition of her Golf, too.
And she left her phone in the car. A lot of good that was. Great. Just bloody great.
She looked again at the Volvo. Could she do it? But what if it didn’t start? What if he really had broken down?
She edged forward, walking toward the passenger side of her Golf. If she could get inside quickly, she could push down the locks, then climb over into the driver’s side and get away.
The setting sun had made it impossible to see the man clearly, but when she moved closer he stepped forward, too, and that was when she saw his face.
She let out a strangled scream, and her hand smacked over her mouth.
Oh, Jesus. He was wearing some kind of mask, with big, scary eye sockets that made him look like some kind of mutant fly.
It was a gas mask, she realised. But why on earth would he be wearing one of those?
But she didn’t have time to wonder why. She lunged for the passenger door. Her fingers felt clumsy as she grasped the handle. She could sense him coming for her, but she didn’t dare look up.
She threw herself into the car, pulled the door shut. The hard metal edge of the door connected with her ankle bone. When she finally heard the door slam shut, she clambered over the handbrake to press the locks.
Thank God. She climbed into the driving seat, trying to slow her breathing. She’d made it. Now all she had to do was drive home and get away from this nutter.
Not bothering to fasten her seatbelt, Joanne turned the key, shoved the gearstick into first and stamped on the accelerator. The engine roared, and the masked man took a step back, out of the path of the accelerating Golf.
Joanne sped along the country lane, barely slowing down for the twists and turns. She had lived in Finch Hill all her life, and she knew this road like the back of her hand. She knew every bend, every bump in the road, so she flew down Finch Lane, determined to get away.
The breath caught in her throat as she jerked the steering wheel, narrowly missing a baby rabbit at the side of the road. One of the wheels connected with the grass verge, and the car seemed to tilt to the side. She only just kept the Golf from tumbling into the ditch that ran along the side of the lane.
She couldn’t wait to get back to the safety of the village. She glanced in her rearview mirror. There was no one there. She was safe.
Perhaps she should call her dad. She wanted to make sure the police caught that weirdo. She didn’t want to give him enough time to get away. She reached for her iPhone, which she always kept in the little holder in front of the gearstick. But she fumbled the phone, and it slipped from her grasp, falling into the passenger footwell.
Shit. She wasn’t about to slow down so she could pick it up. She was better off driving as fast as she could and getting out of there.
Joanne checked the rearview mirror again. There were no headlights behind her. She felt the tightness between her shoulder blades ease. Thank God. Maybe she had overreacted. Maybe the masked man had been going to some kind of fancy-dress party. But he must have known how scary he looked. As soon as she got home, she would tell her dad and get the freak reported to the police.
A large popping sound made her jump. The noise was loud enough to send her heart thumping in her chest again. The car slowed and swerved to the side of the road. Joanne pressed down on the accelerator, but the car pulled to the right side of the road and made an awful grinding sound.
Oh, God, she’d blown a tire. Had she run over something sharp? Had she damaged the tyre when she hit the verge? Or had the man in the mask done something to her tyre?
She tried to keep the car straight, to keep driving, thinking she just had to get to the main road to be safe. But the car was going slower and slower, and the grating noise was getting worse and worse.
What could she do now?
She had to call for help. She pulled over to the side of the road and glanced behind her. She looked through the rearview mirror, then checked over her shoulder just to make sure.
There was nothing there. Nothing but an empty lane and rustling trees.
She fumbled in the passenger footwell until her fingers closed around the smooth case of her phone. She smiled. She was less than a mile from home, all she had to do was call her da
d and … Joanne looked up.
Framed by the passenger window, the masked man stared in at her.
The thick plastic eye protection distorted his features. Despite the distortion, she could see the burning fury, the hatred, in his eyes.
At that moment, Joanne James knew she was going to die.
24
OBLIVIOUS TO WHAT HAD happened further down the lane, Laura Vincent steered her Astra around a bend in Finch Lane. She hated this road, particularly at dusk. It was so hard to see the oncoming traffic. She usually drove slowly, but she was already late. Again. Her husband had left an angry voice message on her phone, telling her he’d picked up two-year-old Gracie from his mother’s two hours ago. And where the hell was she? He went on and on, complaining that she treated his mother like an unpaid babysitter.
Laura had been working late. It wasn’t as if she’d been out partying or having fun. But he didn’t seem to understand that.
Laura’s mobile rang again. “For God’s sake,” she muttered under her breath, “I’d get home quicker if he would just leave me alone.”
She reached over to her leather handbag, which was sitting on the passenger seat, and tried to locate her mobile phone. It was playing some silly tune from Gracie’s favourite TV show.
She looked down. Where the bloody hell was it? She had too much junk in her bag. She could never find anything.
She dumped the bag upside down, emptying the contents out onto the passenger seat, and her eyes fixed on the glowing light of the phone’s screen.
As she reached across further to grab it, from the corner of her eye she saw a flash of silver. It took a moment to realise the silver VW Golf was in front of her, on the wrong side of the road. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, before dropping the phone, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and stepping on the brake as hard as she could.
But her reactions weren’t quick enough. The front of her car slammed into the VW Golf.
