Her Last Secret: A gripping psychological thriller

by Barbara Copperthwaite

  There was no time for friends, or homework, or anything else. He’d had nothing until he’d met Ruby. Then he had made time because when he was with her, the world felt different. Better. Even with all the crap that happened at school and those bitches making her life a misery, he felt happier.

  But now her parents were threatening to call the Feds on him if he had anything to do with her. That was not cool. He didn’t know what to do. Yeah, it was kind of fun blowing off steam about how great it’d be to kill the entire world, but what the hell were they really going to do? He didn’t want to be without his girl. She was the only thing in his life where he felt free to be himself.

  ‘Son, I – I need to get to the toilet. Can you help me? I’m so sorry.’ His mum’s face sagged with shame as she spoke. It ate him up inside that she was reduced to this. And it made him angry that he was the one who had to do everything for her.

  He put her arms around his neck and carried her to the loo. Stayed outside, door open a crack, as she did her business. But all the time he thought about Rubes.

  She really didn’t mean it when she said she was going to kill her family and herself. Did she?

  Maybe he should stop her.

  Maybe he should join her.

  Eighty-Seven

  In the fading light of the afternoon, Benjamin stalked to the Prince of Wales pub, overlooking Blackheath’s open heath. The place was rammed with people celebrating. Spontaneous renditions of ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ broke out every now and again. One set of blokes was particularly keen on doing a screaming Noddy Holder impression – to much eye-rolling from the bar staff.

  He didn’t want to spend his afternoon there, but where else could he go? There was nowhere left to run. All options exhausted. He settled at a table in a corner as far from the singers as possible, and sank into an armchair. He popped a couple of antacids: thought and crunched, crunched and thought.

  The look on Dominique’s face as she had told him about Kendra plagued him.

  He didn’t understand how she had found out. He thought he’d been so careful, with a separate SIM card for contacting his mistress. The paperwork for the flat he had bought and now ‘rented’ to Kendra was well hidden. Being an accountant, he took care of all the family’s finances, so there was no way Dominique could have stumbled across anything. The pregnancy test lay in his pocket. So where had he slipped up?

  He had intended to confess all as soon as he got home, of course. And the confrontation between him and his wife had been the perfect moment to tell Dominique everything. Instead, he had panicked and picked a fight, defaulting to his position of complete wanker. The knowledge made him hot with guilt and anger all over again.

  It was Dom’s fault, though. Taking him by surprise like that, he’d felt ambushed. After that there was no chance he could tell her about the financial storm heading their way.

  Anyway, she had no right, no right at all, to lay down the law. Did she think she could take the house from him? The kids? If she thought she and her pal Fiona could clean him out in a divorce she’d be disappointed with the results – unless she wanted the shirt off his back.

  His fingers drummed on the table, its surface tacky with drink spilled by a previous occupant.

  He couldn’t lose Dom. He couldn’t cope.

  What would people say? They would think he wasn’t a real man; a real man could keep his family together.

  The way she had looked at him as though he had let her down. It was her fault. If she had been a better wife he never would have looked elsewhere – he wouldn’t have had to.

  Dominique was still beautiful, had a great body, and was intelligent. She would find someone else. Take a new lover, fall in love, even. The thought of another man’s hands on her made Benjamin furious. No way was he going to ever let that happen. He’d die before that happened.

  She would die before he let it happen.

  She was not going to steal his family from him. Why did she assume the children would be better off with her?

  Because he was going to be in jail soon.

  He shook his whole body free of the thought, dog-like.

  No, he was not going to let anyone else take anything from him. He would not lose control of his family. He would do whatever it took to keep his family together. Dominique couldn’t be trusted anyway, not with this weird sleepwalking business. She was dangerous. What if she hurt herself or the kids?

  If she did, Benjamin’s money worries would be over. There was that thought again. A lightning strike of selfishness. It was true, though. He and Dominique both had generous life insurance policies.

  He barked a laugh. Just to show himself he was joking. A sick joke, but just a joke.

  As if he’d ever hurt his family.

  The family Dominique was going to steal from him.

  She’d find someone else. She’d turn the children against him. He would be in jail and disgraced, unable to fight back.

  He ordered a double whisky on the rocks and thought the unthinkable. The pub’s walls seemed to be closing in. He couldn’t lose his family, too. He needed to take back control. He needed to keep them with him. No matter what it took. If that meant them all being together in death, then so be it. He’d be showing the world, shouting from the grave: ‘Look at me. Look how powerful I am.’

  The thought was so strong that Benjamin found himself growing hard. He shifted to accommodate the growing erection, his hand lingering on himself for a little longer than necessary, marvelling at the reaction he had produced. Feel that. That was how strong he was. Proof positive that he was a real man.The Man.

  A real man killing the people he loved.

  It was ridiculous. Unthinkable. His penis curled up, a snail retreating into its shell of shame.

  But he didn’t mean it. It was purely an abstract to occupy his mind.

  If he were going to do it – which he wasn’t – he would get it over and done quickly. Like ripping off a plaster. He wouldn’t want anyone to suffer. This was simply a way of them all being together and happy.

  If he didn’t do it then the kids would lose everything anyway. They’d be picked on, laughed at, face the humiliation of having a loser jailbird as a father. They’d have to live in some slum, owing rent to a dodgy landlord who’d rip them off. Barely enough money to afford to eat or heat the place. Every day a slog. He couldn’t do that to them. It was kinder this way.

  Not that he was actually going to do it.

  He could use the shotgun. It would be quick. Painless. Relatively. Perhaps he could chloroform them all first, so they would have no idea what was coming, no chance to feel fear. He wasn’t a monster, after all. He couldn’t stand the thought of hurting them. No, he’d be sending them to a better place, where they could all be together for ever, and happy.

  That was a nice thought, actually. All the worry and pain and arguments would be over. They would all be together, at peace.

  What if the rifle was too long for him to be able to shoot himself?

  Maybe he could take a load of tablets first, enough to kill him, but he’d have time while they worked to do what needed to be done with his wife and children. Then, if he couldn’t shoot himself, he would simply drift away and join his family anyway.

  The thought of going to sleep and never waking up comforted Benjamin.

  Around him, another rousing chorus of ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ started up.

  Eighty-Eight

  Jazmine was exhausted. She sat in her office, head in her hands, trying to get her mind around everything. Her business partner’s Christmas present to her had been to embezzle thousands, perhaps millions, from their partnership. Hers to him had been to go to the police and blow the whistle. She had given her statement and they had begun the process of investigating.

  ‘It may be several days before anyone is ready to speak with Benjamin, as we need time to gather solid evidence before arresting and charging him,’ warned the officer who took her statement.

 
It was four p.m. She had been back from the police station for over an hour and couldn’t face going home. She just wanted to be alone for a while, and the office seemed as good a place as any, even though it was Christmas Eve.

  She thought of their excitement when she and Benjamin had set up the business. They wanted to be more customer friendly, more dynamic than rival accountancy firms.

  It had all turned to dust thanks to greed.

  The door opened, making her jump. Three large men entered, all wearing suits. Behind them was an even larger man.

  Vladimir Tarkovsky.

  ‘Forgive my intrusion,’ he said, not looking the least bit sorry. ‘A very merry Christmas to you. I will keep this brief, so that you can return to your celebrations.’

  If he noticed the lack of celebration and cheer, he didn’t give any clue.

  ‘Mr Tarkovsky, what an unexpected pleasure. I would prefer it if you made an appointment—’

  ‘What I have to say is brief. I understand that you have been to the police regarding certain concerns you have.’

  She recoiled. How the hell had he discovered that – and so quickly? He must be seriously connected.

  ‘You understand that the last thing I would ever want, a man in my position, is to be linked to anything illegal. I am a good man, and the thought of something like that horrifies me. So, my men are going to take all of my files now, and everything that may connect me to your business.’

  ‘I’m not sure—’

  ‘Aren’t you? I was sure you would be. I dread to think the repercussions of being caught up in such a scandal – and not only for your business… for family members also. Terrible.’

  With the connections he clearly had, he could make anything happen – and make sure it was covered up. He was more powerful than her own family, by far.

  She stepped back, nodded, and sat down. She knew better than to argue.

  But inside, she was fuming. What the hell had Benjamin got her involved in? Dealing with corrupt Russians and thinly veiled threats; was her life now at risk as well as her business and reputation?

  She let the men clear all traces of Vladimir Tarkovsky from the office, and prayed it was enough to save her skin.

  Eighty-Nine

  Ruby was on the phone to Harry, trying not to shout. Keeping her voice to a whisper so no one would realise she was talking – which was pretty hard when they were having their first ever row.

  ‘What do you mean, you can’t go through with it? We planned it?’ she hissed. ‘You’re just like everyone else, you’re not there for me at all. I can’t believe you’ve let me down.’

  ‘Ruby—’

  She ended the call and stared at the phone. Hurled it across the room. It fell into three parts, the front coming away from the back, and the battery flying loose. No great loss there. She let it sit where it was, broken in pieces, like her heart.

  Fine, if Harry wouldn’t help her then she would do it alone. Yes, she wasn’t sure herself, but that wasn’t the point – she felt betrayed. She wanted the world to open up at her feet and for her to slip through the cracks, leaving pain behind.

  * * *

  Kendra couldn’t stop pacing. Ben had disappeared since she’d told him they were having a baby, the night before. It was Christmas Eve; she refused to spend another festive season alone. She grabbed up the bottle of cheap red wine that was sitting on the coffee table, already half empty, and the glugging noise of the liquid emptying into a goblet made her feel only slightly less tense. She took a swig, which turned into several, bitter tannins coating the back of her tongue. Better. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she tried to talk herself down from the nervous energy buzzing around her body, urging her to take action, to do something, anything. She couldn’t just sit around waiting patiently for Ben any more. She had started her plan and now she needed to finish it.

  ‘Where the hell are you? I need you!’ she texted.

  But if he came around right now, he would smell she had been drinking. He’d realise she was lying about the pregnancy.

  Dawn had been a real pal: stealing the positive test from the maternity ward where she worked, so that Kendra could give it to Benjamin. She’d told Dawn it was to test Benjamin’s reaction, and her friend had gone along, saying better to find out his attitude now than when there really was a baby.

  Stuff it, if he turned up she’d suck on a mint. As she finished the glass, she did exactly that, and sprayed freshener into the air, and perfume all over herself for good measure.

  More pacing. Time passing. No reply from Ben.

  She tried calling him but only got voicemail. She sent more texts. Some calm, some hysterical, some argumentative, trying every variation in desperation of getting some kind of response from him.

  But there were no replies. Her grand plan to trick Ben into leaving his family was failing. She spent the whole afternoon texting as her impotent rage boiled over.

  Ninety

  Dominique knocked on Ruby’s door, trying not to feel intimidated by the ‘Keep Out’ sign’s beady-eyed glare.

  ‘I’ve got food,’ she called. ‘It’s almost half four, you’ve spent the whole day in your room. It’s Christmas Eve, Ruby, don’t you want to spend some time with your family?’

  An indecipherable mutter was her only reply.

  Dominique predicted her daughter would spend the rest of the day holed up in her bedroom, and not appear even to eat. She would leave some food outside the door and something to drink, but Ruby was renowned for her stubbornness and may not even take that much from her mother. Instead, she would lurk in her bedroom, filling the house with a mist of resentment so thick that Dominique could almost see it, could feel it filling up her lungs and choking her.

  She wished she had the luxury of being able to throw a hissy fit and take to her room for a day. But there was too much to do; the cooking, the cleaning (yes, she had a cleaner, but it was amazing how untidy the place got with two children and two adults in the house), playing peacemaker. It was exhausting, draining. Quitting for a day was tempting.

  She snorted a laugh, imagining everyone’s reaction. Benjamin would be furious on principle, Ruby would…

  Ruby would what? Probably be glad that her mum wasn’t around to get in the way of her plans.

  Even Mouse would probably just read for the day, if Dominique weren’t around to look after her.

  Her little girl wouldn’t be little for much longer. Once Mouse reached the difficult teenage years, Dominique’s role as a mum would lessen, she was sure. Ruby certainly wanted as little as possible to do with her these days, and Amber was bound to follow suit. The thought of missing a moment of her childhood by hiding in bed made Dom’s heart sink.

  Sometimes she felt like the only thing her family needed her for was to feed them. That, and stand between people in arguments, always trying to play the role of diplomat, always absorbing the insults and fury flung at herself or others.

  She was going to have to step up, she realised. Her family was slipping away, but that was partly her own fault. Watching it happen and sighing in sadness about its inevitability served no positive purpose at all.

  Time she stopped letting life happen to her, and started making some positive decisions. Time she took an active role in her own life.

  Did that mean leaving Benjamin? That this would be their last Christmas together? The thought made her soar with lightness and shiver with fear all at once.

  Benjamin’s words from the argument haunted her.

  ‘Is this one of your funny dreams?’

  This wasn’t one of her dreams. Was it? No, she was certain that she had truly experienced that awful moment on the street when her husband’s mistress had confronted her.

  When she and Benjamin had first got together she had been dazzled by him, had followed him like a flower follows the movement of the sun. He was strong and protective, but gave her space to flourish and build confidence in herself again.

  Now she felt l
ike a shrivelled-up bloom, parched and stunted.

  She wondered if Benjamin’s lover was thriving under his love now. Did this Kendra woman know Benjamin as well as she did? That his confidence was a disguise? Did she realise that, for all his outward appearances, he wasn’t materialistic at all?

  What drove him to buy the latest gadgets, to have a big house, and good clothes was the need to look after and nurture his family. They were everything to him. This was the soft side he only showed to her and the children. He wanted to give them everything because he was a good man. A man who really did work long hours; she knew that much because she had seen it herself. She worried about his health, drinking too much, eating rich food, rarely having time to exercise. He gave that business everything he had – so that in turn he could give his family everything. He still had a chip on his shoulder about never quite measuring up to his own father’s high standards, which made him constantly feel a failure in comparison.

  The affair was a terrible betrayal. But intuition told her there was something else going on, too. Perhaps she should talk to him, try to find out what and see if she could help him.

  Or she could leave him to his own stinking mess, because he had betrayed her and the children in the worst way possible.

  The latter sounded a lot more appealing.

  Even if she and Benjamin split, she wasn’t the type to stop worrying about him, though. She had vowed to love him for life, and even now she knew she would never completely stop.

  As she pondered, it hit her. The only thing that really, truly got to her husband was his business. Something must be wrong with it to be causing his volatile behaviour. Perhaps it was losing money.

  If that was the case, she didn’t care. So what? It was lovely to have a comfortable life but she wasn’t bothered about trappings. As long as her family was together, it didn’t matter if they had spare cash.