The One You Love (Emma Holden suspense mystery trilogy)

by Paul Pilkington

  ‘Yeah,’ Emma replied.

  ‘She’s gone,’ he said. ‘They took her away a few days ago, into a hospital. She’s been getting worse recently.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Emma said. ‘Is Mr Myers around? Doesn’t he live nearby?’

  ‘Used to. Peter moved to London a few months ago. I think he just wanted to get as far away from her as possible. Can’t say I blame him really – she fell apart after her son died. I know it’s all been extremely difficult for him.’

  So he’d been living in London. He had to be behind all this. ‘Do you have an address for him?’ Emma asked.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘I just need to see him,’ Emma said. ‘It’s really important.’

  ‘Funny, that,’ the man noted, suppressing the hint of a smile, ‘because you’re the second person to come looking for Peter Myers in the past hour. Never knew he was so popular.’

  67

  ‘Eh?’ Emma lifted her head from the passenger seat and turned towards Will. She felt dizzy with tiredness.

  ‘Hi,’ said Will, his hands wrapped around the top of the steering wheel.

  Emma noticed that they were parked in a residential road: houses tightly packed on both sides, a couple of homes boarded up with green metal panels. The sun had come up and birds were singing.

  ‘Are we here?’ Emma said, rubbing her forehead.

  ‘We’re here,’ Will confirmed.

  ‘But what time is it?’ Emma peered at her watch. She’d been asleep for over three hours. ‘You’ve driven all the way back down to London yourself? You should have woken me up.’

  ‘It was okay. You needed the rest and I wanted to help.’

  ‘Have we just arrived?’ she asked, trying to shake off the grogginess.

  ‘We’ve been here a couple of minutes. I was just thinking about what we should do.’

  ‘Which one is the house?’ Emma asked, looking out at the street, house by house.

  ‘That one just there.’ Will pointed. ‘I did a slow drive-past when we first arrived.’

  ‘Any sign of Dad’s car?’

  ‘None,’ Will replied. ‘It’s not in this street.’

  ‘This might still all be a wild goose chase.’ Emma looked across at the house. ‘But there’s only one way to find out. C’mon.’

  ‘Maybe we should wait,’ Will said, putting his hand on Emma’s arm.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe we should wait and think about what to do.’

  ‘We haven’t got time. Every second we wait here increases the chance that something bad might happen. Are you coming?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Will, getting out of the car.

  ‘It’s open,’ whispered Emma as they reached the door and noted that it was ever so slightly ajar. But no light was coming through the gap.

  They looked at each other, both breathing heavily, wondering what to do.

  ‘Maybe we shouldn’t,’ Will said, as Emma went to push at the door. ‘Maybe going in there isn’t the right thing to do.’

  ‘You don’t have to come in.’

  ‘I will,’ he replied. ‘If you go in, I’ll go in too.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, pushing the door.

  They both slid into the darkened house. As Emma closed the door behind them to block out the light from the street, it became apparent that at least one light in the house was on. The light was coming from one of the back rooms, down the end of the corridor in which they were now standing.

  They moved slowly along the wall, aware of each other’s breathing. The place smelt of damp and dirt, and it was a strain not to cough. As they passed a door to their left Emma heard a tapping sound.

  She stopped.

  ‘What is it?’ Will whispered from the darkness.

  ‘Someone’s in there.’ Emma pointed at the door. Slowly, she opened the door and the tapping sound stopped. ‘Hello?’ she said. ‘Who’s in here?’

  And then they saw. In the corner of the room, shrouded in darkness, was a human figure, hunched forward on a chair.

  68

  ‘The light,’ Emma directed. ‘Switch it on.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Will said. ‘They’ll know someone’s here.’

  ‘Do it,’ Emma said, moving across to the figure.

  The room exploded into bright light.

  ‘Lizzy, oh my God.’ Emma knelt down in front of her friend. Lizzy raised her head, a gag tight across her mouth. Her face was bruised and her eyes hollow and vacant. It was as if she didn’t recognise Emma.

  Emma untied the gag whilst Will stayed back, glancing at the door, ready for whoever might enter the room.

  ‘Em,’ Lizzy mouthed, gasping for breath. ‘Stephen’s father.’

  Emma cupped Lizzy’s face. ‘Everything’s going to be okay. Have you seen Dan?’

  Lizzy shook her head.

  Emma smiled supportively, then looked up at Will. ‘You untie her. I’m going on.’

  ‘We both go,’ Will said.

  Emma nodded. They untied Lizzy, switched off the light and helped her out of the house, across the road, and into the car.

  ‘We’ll be back,’ said Emma, feeling a sharp shard of pain shoot up her back; Lizzy was exhausted, and carrying her had been hard work.

  ‘I’ll go first,’ said Will as they entered the house for a second time. This time they moved a little more quickly, past the staircase on their right and towards the door at the end of the corridor. They stopped at the door, able to hear muffled voices.

  Will looked to Emma for direction, his hand on the door handle.

  Emma nodded.

  As they opened the door a gunshot rang out.

  69

  ‘Dad,’ Emma said from the doorway, ‘put the gun down.’

  Edward stood over Peter Myers, the gun aimed at his head. Peter Myers was clutching his knee, which was a mass of blood. He was strangely quiet for a man who had just been shot through the leg.

  ‘I’m going to finish it,’ Edward replied.

  ‘Please, don’t do this,’ Emma pleaded, edging into the room. ‘It shouldn’t end like this.’

  ‘He deserves to die,’ Edward said. ‘First his son ruined your life, and now he’s done the same. Do you really want to save the life of the man who murdered Dan?’

  ‘Dan’s dead?’ Emma said, her stomach plummeting.

  ‘In the kitchen. His body has just been dumped there on the kitchen floor. I’m sorry, Emma, but this… monster has killed your fiancé.’

  ‘No,’ Emma said, shaking her head and bringing a hand to her mouth as Will put an arm on her back. She felt as though she was going to be sick. Peter Myers looked at her, grimacing, but offering no hint of remorse.

  ‘I’m sorry, Emma,’ Edward repeated. ‘But can’t you see now why this man doesn’t deserve to live? He just wanted to hurt you and everyone you love. He deserves everything he gets.’

  ‘No,’ Emma said, trying to push the images of Dan out of her mind. ‘He’s a victim like the rest of us.’

  ‘How can you say that? He’s not a victim,’ Edward spat.

  ‘He’s suffered too,’ Emma said. ‘Stuart Harris began this, but you’re not the one to finish it – not like this.’

  ‘Em’s right,’ Will said from behind her shoulder. ‘Put the gun away, Dad. Miranda needs you. You’re going to have another child who will need you. We need you too.’

  Edward gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘If he lives, then you’ll go to prison.’ He took neither his aim nor his eyes off Peter Myers, as if the guy was going to leap up and fight back. ‘Has he told you, Emma? Has your brother told you what he did? He was an accessory to murder.’

  ‘He’s told me everything,’ Emma said. ‘We can work this out.’

  ‘No,’ Edward replied. ‘As long as this man is alive, it could all still come out.’

  ‘Who do you really want to protect?’ Will asked. ‘Me, or yourself?’

  ‘You, of course,’ Edward replied. ‘I w
ant to protect my son.’

  ‘Then you might as well put the gun down, because it’s already too late for me. I’ve told the police everything.’

  ‘What?’ Emma glanced around.

  ‘I called them when we first arrived here, while you were still asleep. They should be here any minute.’

  ‘You idiot,’ shouted Edward, taking his eyes off Peter Myers for the first time. ‘You stupid idiot!’

  Emma saw her chance. In one smooth movement she spun towards the floor, sweeping Edward’s legs from underneath him. He fell to the ground like an uprooted tree.

  ‘Get the gun,’ Emma shouted to Will, as she held Edward in position with a carefully placed knee. ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ she said as he lay motionless and defeated on the floor. ‘I couldn’t let you do it to yourself.’

  70

  ‘Don’t do it,’ Will said, as Emma reached for the kitchen door. ‘Don’t look.’

  ‘I have to,’ Emma replied, her hand shaking and tears falling. ‘I have to see him.’

  ‘It could haunt you for the rest of your life,’ Will responded. ‘Let me…’

  But Emma had already opened the door.

  The first thing she saw was Dan’s bare feet, blackened with dirt. Then, as she opened the door wider, the horrific scene became clear.

  ‘Oh, please, no,’ Emma cried, as she saw Dan’s face. Dried tracks of blood snaked down from his hairline and spread out across his cheek.

  As she slid down onto her knees, she heard voices.

  One of them was Gasnier’s.

  But it all seemed so far away. Blinking through the tears she stroked Dan’s hair, something she had done thousands of times before, but never really appreciated until now.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry. I love you so much.’

  She placed her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

  Her heart was in overdrive, pounding through her body and into her head, dominating her senses. But then she noticed something else.

  It was Dan’s heartbeat.

  ###

  Enjoyed The One You Love?

  Read the opening chapters of the sequel, The One You Fear, available from December 12th 2012.

  Emma Holden and her friends are trying to move on from the horrific events surrounding Dan’s kidnap. But a shocking revelation drags them back into the nightmare and forces them to question everything they once believed to be true. More secrets will be revealed, more lies will be told, and more lives are under threat. Packed with twists, turns and cliffhangers, The One You Fear is a 33,000 word novella, which begins four weeks after the events of the first novel.

  Prologue

  Margaret Myers held the remote control tightly in her hand and pointed it towards the sleeping television. She pressed the stand-by button and the box sprang to life, illuminating the otherwise dark lounge. She watched, transfixed and scared, as the images played out in front of her. A policewoman, arms and legs pounding, was running down a rain-sodden street, giving chase to a man. She looked just like that girl – the one who had ruined it all with her wicked ways. The programme frightened Margaret. Programmes like that gave you funny ideas.

  Two weeks ago the television had spoken to her.

  It told her that she should end it all.

  Margaret Myers changed channel, her hand shaking like a jackhammer. The lottery draw – this was better. She didn’t like the police programmes; didn’t like them at all.

  She remembered the time when the whole family would sit down in front of the television on a Saturday night and watch the quiz shows, their dinners on their laps – herself, her husband Peter, and her dear Stephen. Back then everything was good.

  But that was then, and this was now.

  A man and woman had visited and told her that Peter had been arrested. He’d done something wrong. She couldn’t remember what. They wanted her to come with them, to spend some time resting in the same place they had taken her to a few weeks ago – the hospital that was full of disturbed people.

  She hadn’t been fooled by their weasel words and plastic smiles. This time she wasn’t going anywhere. They thought she was stupid, or crazy, or both. But she knew what they were up to. They had taken her son and her husband, but they wouldn’t take her.

  The draw was starting. She leaned forward in anticipation as the arms in the machine kicked up the balls, before sucking one up through the plastic tube and spitting it out down the chute.

  And the first ball is… number twelve.

  She caught her breath. Number twelve. Stephen had been born on the twelfth of December.

  Again a ball was sucked up the tube.

  And the second ball is… number twelve.

  She blinked, shaking her head. It was a mistake. Someone had placed a duplicate ball in the machine. Why hadn’t people noticed?

  And the third ball is… number twelve.

  ‘No, no, no, it’s not right, it can’t be.’

  She jabbed at the controller, blackening the screen and sending the room back into darkness. For a few seconds she just sat there in the pitch black, breathing heavily, her hands curling into tight fists.

  And then a noise – was it someone at the door?

  At first she didn’t move, but just sat there in the darkness. Would somebody be calling at such a late hour? Maybe it had been her imagination.

  But there was a definite knock this time.

  Margaret Myers rose from the sofa and moved into the corridor, edging slowly towards the front door.

  ‘Hello. Who’s there?’ There was no answer. She grasped the door handle – but then she stopped herself. Maybe they had returned for her, to take her away to their place, and evict her forever from the family home.

  They thought they were so clever.

  ‘Go away; I’m not coming with you. Leave me alone.’

  Something was pushed through the letterbox. It fell onto the carpet, and she bent to pick it up.

  It couldn’t be –?

  She cradled the object in her hand, tears swelling in her eyes. ‘It can’t be.’

  Then she grabbed the door and pulled it open.

  ‘It’s you,’ she said, breaking into a broad smile. ‘It’s really you.’ She threw her arms around him. ‘They said you were dead, but I always knew you’d come back to me.’

  One week later

  PART ONE

  1

  Emma Holden woke in a sweat, her head damp against the pillow. At first she didn’t know where she was. Then she remembered. She was in a luxury apartment a few miles outside the small Cornish seaside town of St. Ives, down in the far south-west of England. Dan had surprised her with the news that they were going away for a few days, from Friday until Tuesday. They’d both needed to get away from London for a while, just four weeks after the terrible events of Dan’s kidnap at the hands of Peter Myers. It had felt so claustrophobic in the capital, surrounded by all the raw, painful memories, so Emma was overjoyed at the chance to escape for a few days and release some of that pressure.

  ‘Are you awake, Dan?’

  There was no reply. She reached across the double bed but Dan wasn’t there – the covers had been pulled back and, raising her head off the pillow, she saw that the bedroom door was ajar. She sat up and only then remembered the nightmare. It had been the same dream again, the third time in two weeks. Again it was her wedding. She and Dan were standing at the front of the congregation, filled with excitement and love. For a split second she turned away, and when she looked back, it was Stuart Harris next to her, smiling warmly. The service continued and when they reached the vows, first Stuart’s voice and then his face began to change. Suddenly it was Stephen Myers beside her. He looked older, but still had the same vacant stare and delusional smile. The priest announced, ‘You may now kiss the bride’ and Stephen Myers lunged at her, thrusting his mouth towards hers as she tried to fight him off.

  Each time she had woken at that very same moment.

  She got out of be
d, went into the hallway and through into the main kitchen and living room. It was certainly an amazing apartment. The kitchen was full of top spec appliances, all of which were new – washing machine, dishwasher, oven, and espresso maker – which, by the smell of it, had just been used. The manager, who owned the majority of the apartments in the block, had met them on their arrival the previous day and explained that they had a refit in the spring.

  Bright early-morning late-September sunlight was streaming through the patio doors at the far end. Dan was sitting outside on the small decking area, staring out to sea and over towards the town of St. Ives to the west. On the table in front of him was the freshly made coffee.

  Dan didn’t seem to notice Emma’s approach – he was still staring into the distance as she reached him. ‘Morning,’ she said, taking the seat next to him. She noticed there were two cups of coffee on the table.

  Dan smiled at her. ‘I woke up early and thought I’d try out our new machine.’ He gestured towards the cups.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ Emma said.

  ‘You haven’t tasted it yet,’ he joked.

  ‘Well, it looks great.’

  ‘Actually it tastes great too, but I’ve got to admit, it was my second attempt. The first time I burned it. It was revolting so it went straight down the sink.’

  ‘Then top marks for perseverance,’ Emma quipped, taking a sip. ‘Lovely.’

  ‘It’s such an amazing view,’ Dan said, as they both looked out across the sea. A small fishing vessel was making its way from St. Ives towards open water. It looked so fragile, bobbing up and down on the waves like a toy. Even though it was a spectacularly sunny morning with a flawless blue sky, there was a keen wind whipping up the water into white tips.

  Emma stole a glance at Dan; his short, dark brown hair was messy from sleep in the way that she always found so endearing. He still didn’t look himself. He had been injured physically during his time in captivity, but nothing too serious – mainly bruising, which had now healed. But mentally – well, Emma wasn’t sure. He hadn’t opened up yet about what had happened during those days at the hands of Peter Myers, or about how it had affected him. And although she was desperate to understand, so she could help, Emma didn’t want to press him. He needed to be ready to talk.