by Jack Jordan
‘How should I know?’
‘Mum can’t stay here if it’s not safe. You know that.’
‘I know.’
They listened to each other breathing. It was monotonous enough to make Naomi’s eyelids flicker again as the pills began to coax her under.
‘Did you know that Dane and Hayley dated?’ she asked.
‘How did you hear about that?’
‘So you knew?’
‘Of course I knew. She was my best friend.’
‘You never said anything.’
‘You’d finally found someone who made you happy. Mum would never have forgiven me if I told you.’
‘He was questioned when she disappeared, did you know that?’
‘Half the town was questioned. Hayley was … friendly with a lot of people.’
Naomi’s depression had kept her in the dark. There had been secrets in her own home and she hadn’t even realised.
‘Were you? Questioned, I mean?’
‘Why are you asking about Hayley all of a sudden?’
‘The police think that what’s happening to me might have something to do with her disappearance.’
Grace didn’t reply, but Naomi could hear each breath coming quicker than the last.
‘Grace, I said—’
‘I heard what you said.’
They both fell quiet again. A car crept up the road. A bird sang from one of the trees lining the street. Naomi took a deep breath.
‘What happened between you two, before she went missing?’
‘It was a long time ago,’ Grace replied dismissively.
‘But if what happened to Hayley is connected—’
‘You said you’d never tell.’
‘I won’t. I haven’t got anything to tell. You won’t talk to me. You’ve been pushing me away ever since.’
Grace sighed heavily.
‘Have you ever thought that I’m protecting you?’
‘But I’m your sister, you can confide in me.’
‘There’s nothing to confide, all right? It was a long time ago.’
‘But we’ve never been the same since. I miss you.’
Grace straightened out imaginary creases in the duvet. ‘Get some rest,’ she said, pulling it up below Naomi’s chin. Her hands were shaking. ‘Call me if you need anything, not Mum. It will only worry her.’
Naomi nodded.
‘Goodnight, Naomi,’ Grace said from the door.
‘Goodnight.’
Naomi stared into the darkness and listened as Grace went down the stairs and closed the front door behind her. Silence rang through the house. She was alone again.
All these years she had thought her sister had asked her to keep her secret because she was ashamed of the fight she and Hayley had had. But it was clear to her now that something bad had happened … something Grace was protecting her from.
TWENTY-NINE
Grace sat deep in the corner of the sofa in the living room with her hair covering her face in thin strands. She was wearing the dress Hayley had given her before they stopped talking; she hadn’t taken it off for three days. The fabric didn’t smell of Hayley any more but of her own sweat, the musky scent of misery wafting from her whenever she moved.
The detectives watched her closely, eyeing every scratch and bruise on her skin.
The room felt too small for the four of them: the detectives, her mother and her.
Her mother tried to take her hand. Grace moved it away.
The detectives sat on the sofa opposite, drinking the tea her mother had insisted on making, brought in on a tray with a sugar bowl and a jug of milk, as though they were guests, not police officers preparing to pick her daughter apart. Her mother sat beside her with her hands jittering in her lap. She leant over the coffee table and moved the milk jug until it was in line with the sugar bowl. Mum was a fixer, but she couldn’t fix this.
‘You know Hayley better than anyone, Grace,’ DI Roster said. ‘Do you know of anyone who would want to harm her?’
She shook her head and thought of the hands that had given her the bruises, scratched her, pulled her hair, dragged her away from Hayley. She swallowed down the tears. It was all her fault.
‘The more we know, the more chance we have of finding her,’ DS Cunningham said.
‘Mrs Miller said that the two of you had a disagreement,’ DI Roster added. ‘What was that about?’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ Grace whispered.
‘Is the tea all right?’ her mother asked. ‘I can make coffee if you prefer. I should have asked.’
‘Tea is fine, thank you,’ DI Roster replied. His eyes never left Grace. ‘Hayley’s mother thinks you fell out over a boy,’
‘Her mother barely knew her. No one did.’
‘Except you, right?’
Grace lowered her head and eyed the detectives through her hair, which moved with her breaths.
‘You may be the only person who can help us find her, Grace.’
Her cheeks burned under DI Roster’s scrutiny. She had promised Hayley that she would never tell; she had learned the hard way that she couldn’t trust anyone enough to tell them the truth – especially the police.
‘What happened between the two of you?’
Tears burned in her eyes and filled them to the brim.
‘Are you keeping a secret for her? Is that it? You aren’t helping her by keeping it to yourself. You’re stopping us from finding her.’
Her whole body shook. Tears slipped down her cheeks and quivered on her jawline.
‘You like to dress like Hayley, don’t you? Style your hair the same way, wear the same perfume. You admired her a lot, didn’t you, until she began sleeping around?’
‘They didn’t deserve her,’ she whispered.
‘What was that?’
‘I said they didn’t deserve her. They used her. She was destroying herself.’
‘She was destroying the image you had of her, wasn’t she?’ DI Roster said. ‘You realised she wasn’t perfect after all.’
‘I knew she wasn’t perfect. I just wanted to protect her.’
‘And you ended up pushing her away.’
She shot up in the chair, spit flying from her mouth. ‘You don’t know anything!’
‘Grace, calm down,’ her mother said, and reached for her hand. She noticed the tears streaking down her daughter’s face. ‘Oh Grace. I’ll get you a tissue.’
‘Would you ever have hurt Hayley? She hurt you, didn’t she? Did she make those scratches on your arms? Give you the bruises?’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about!’
‘Then help us understand, Grace.’
The room fell silent. Her legs quivered. She listened to the rush of her heart and tasted the salt in her tears. She wiped her palms on her dress.
‘That’s Hayley’s dress, isn’t it?’ DS Cunningham asked. ‘She’s wearing it in this photo.’ He held up the photo that had been splashed across every newspaper, every missing poster. Hayley smiled for the camera. The dress fitted her perfectly. On Grace, it hugged her thighs and pulled taut over her stomach.
A memory flashed in her mind: Hayley’s eyes rolled back into her head. Saliva dribbling between her lips, followed by moans of confusion and fear. Grace caught the sob in her throat and ran from the room.
‘I’m so sorry,’ her mother said. ‘She’s distraught. Hayley is her best friend.’
Grace bounded up the stairs, pushed open her bedroom door, and crept into bed.
She wanted to tell them what had happened to Hayley, but she couldn’t trust them. If she told them, they might arrest her too. The words filled her mouth, begged to be let out, but Hayley’s words echoed inside her head, the last words she had ever said to her, calling down the street as Grace stormed away.
Please don’t tell them. They can’t know. You know what will happen to me if they find out.
Grace sobbed into the pillow until she was exhausted enough to close her eyes.
T
HIRTY
The blood splatters on the watch face belong to Josie,’ Lisa said as she glanced down at her phone. ‘But they didn’t find any hairs in the strap.’
Marcus thought back to the woods that morning, the way the sun had peered through the tops of the trees and shone in the links of the watch. He imagined faint arm hairs caught between them like tiny bones being gnawed by metal teeth. Someone had taken care to remove any traces of the owner.
‘How long will it take to check the different blood types found at the scene?’ he asked.
‘Ling said she’d have the results by morning. Guess her team is working overtime this weekend.’
Like us, Marcus thought.
‘I want samples from immediate family, friends, lovers, in case nothing shows on the system.’
He looked at her and wondered what she did all day after she’d delegated everything to those below her. She looked up and met his eye.
‘You going to go faint on me again?’
‘No.’ He looked through the glass partition into Josie’s hospital room and eyed the stitches in the woman’s neck. ‘What did Ling say about the attack on Josie?’
‘Due to the difference in the skin tears, she can’t confirm that her throat was cut with the same weapon as the others,’ Lisa said with her eyes on the window. ‘But the hesitation the killer initially showed is gone, which could be why the cut was made differently to the others. His confidence is growing the more the bodies pile up.’
She sighed and put her phone back in her pocket.
‘I want to know why he wants Naomi alive. Why would he want to ruin someone’s life to such a degree but let them live? He clearly enjoys the kill. Perhaps it’s fun for him, like a cat playing with its prey.’
‘Cats don’t do that for fun,’ Marcus replied. ‘They play with their prey to wear them out, so that when they finally make the fatal bite to the neck, the prey is too tired to defend itself.’
‘You need to get a life.’
With this job?
They both glanced back through the glass.
He thought about Naomi’s sister Grace and the report he had read on her interview during the search for Hayley Miller. He thought of the cuts and bruises that had littered Grace’s skin, and wondered if someone had hurt her to keep her from talking. It seemed to him that everyone but him had a secret to hide.
‘You’d think Naomi would be an easy catch,’ Lisa said. ‘She’d never see him coming.’
‘Maybe that’s the point,’ Marcus replied. ‘The statistics speak for themselves. The majority of homicides are committed by someone known to the victim.’
‘Statistics,’ she scoffed under her breath.
‘All I know is that I don’t want to see Naomi on Dr Ling’s cutting table. I won’t let that happen.’
‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep,’ Lisa replied.
The heart monitor beeped on the other side of the glass. Marcus thought back to the forensic team jumping back from Josie as she blinked at their feet. Lisa had been thinking of it too.
‘I can’t believe they didn’t know she was alive,’ she said. ‘They were working around her for hours.’
‘Sam said he couldn’t find a pulse. It had been too faint.’
He thought of the man’s face draining of blood. There … there wasn’t a pu-pulse. I promise. I promise.
‘She could have died right at their feet, Marcus. They won’t get off easy. Someone will lose their job when I’m done with them.’
Marcus looked through the glass at Josie. The only movement was the rise and fall of her chest.
‘When can we arrest her?’ he asked.
‘We don’t know if she’s guilty yet.’
‘Of course she is. Naomi said—’
‘I know what Naomi said, but she isn’t the one with her throat cut, is she? I want to hear what Josie has to say.’
‘You don’t trust Naomi?’ he asked.
‘I don’t trust anyone who comes across as helpless as she does, and you’d be stupid to fall for it.’
You don’t trust anyone, full stop.
He could feel her watching him. The heat of her gaze burned against his cheek.
‘You’ve been reading up on the Hayley Miller case, haven’t you?’
He looked at her and saw the distrust in her eyes.
‘You knew an awful lot when we interviewed Josie. Before that, you didn’t even know Hayley’s name.’
‘I can’t ignore the similarities, boss. Josie was her sister, and now she’s lying in a hospital bed. Dane was questioned about her disappearance, as was Grace, Naomi’s own sister. And Blake—’
‘Why do you think I’m not looking into it, Marcus, huh? Can you use your brain for a second? The superintendent wants it buried. The corruption scandal nearly destroyed us and we’ve only just earned the town’s trust back. We can’t afford to lose it again.’
‘But if it’s connected, you could solve Hayley’s disappearance for good.’
‘Or have two unsolved cases for the town to hold against us. I told you not to pursue this, Marcus.’
‘I’m just doing my job.’
‘You want to keep it?’ She glared at him, but this time he refused to look away.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She glanced down and sighed at the screen.
‘I’m going home. You should too. Early start tomorrow.’
‘I’m going to stay.’
‘Suit yourself, but you’ll be getting the bus.’
She left without saying goodbye, strolling past the nurses’ station in silence, even when the nurse on shift wished her goodnight.
Marcus waited until she was out of sight before entering Josie’s room. Her chest moved up and down faintly, fed by the air creeping through the tube filling her mouth. He sat down beside her and studied her wound.
Her throat was stained with dark bruises. Stitches lined the wound, which was red and inflamed. But even beneath the bruises and the swelling, the resemblance to Hayley Miller was striking. He thought back to the missing persons photo at the front of the file. They had the same blonde hair and ice-blue eyes, their lips formed from the same mould. Marcus wondered if Josie’s malicious nature was born of the life she had led, or whether it was something else she and Hayley had shared, woven within their DNA.
Dane Hannah had had a relationship with Hayley Miller, and now he was dating her younger sister. Was that by chance? Or had he chosen her because of the likeness they shared? He looked at Josie’s chest rising and falling with the machine, her eyes moving gently behind her eyelids.
‘No one has come to see you,’ he whispered. ‘Is Dane all you’ve got? Is that why you hate Naomi so much?’
The door opened and the overhead light flicked on.
‘Who the hell are you?’
The man was tall, with a shaved head and tattoos up both arms. His skin was tanned and leathery. But Marcus could see the similarities between him and Josie. They had the same blue eyes, just like Hayley.
‘Detective Sergeant Marcus Campbell. I was just leaving.’
‘Good. I ain’t sharing a room with no pig.’
Marcus stood and took one final look at Josie lying in the bed. She looked almost angelic beneath the wounds.
The man stayed in the doorway, tensing his muscles and puffing out his chest so it was difficult for Marcus to slip by. He smelt of stale sweat and cigarettes.
Marcus made his way down the corridor with a quick stride. He was certain that when Josie woke up, she would lie about what had happened. He had to find out the truth before then.
THIRTY-ONE
Naomi woke up to loud bangs that had infiltrated her dream. She had been back in the woods. Josie had a fistful of her hair and was thrusting her head into the woodland floor, knocking the teeth from her gums until blood exploded from her lips in a hot red mist.
She shot up in bed, smoothing down her hair where Josie’s fist had been, and listened to the sound reverberating through t
he house.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
She peeled back the sheets and moaned as the pain woke.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
She hobbled to the door, wrapped herself in her dressing gown, and stood on the landing and listened.
She longed to hear Max’s claws tapping against the hardwood floor and his tail knocking against the banister. But instead she was alone, shivering at the top of the stairs as she tried to find the courage to open her own front door.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The stairs creaked under her feet. Her heartbeat echoed in her throat.
She crept towards the sideboard and felt along the top for the keys. Even with the key poised and shaking before the lock, her hand refused to grasp the handle.
She imagined a variety of people behind the door. Josie with her neck still cut open, pulling at her leg like she had from the woodland floor. Detective Sergeant Marcus Campbell, bringing bad news of Max after one of his numerous operations. Max wouldn’t be coming back to her – he would be retired from his duties once he recovered, and would be found a home with a foster family who could care for him and his needs – but she still longed to see him one last time, and hear of his progress. But the most vivid thought was of the person who was set on destroying her. Maybe whoever was harassing her had finally decided to end it. It wouldn’t be the first time she had been confronted at her own front door.
Beneath the fear, she decided that she couldn’t be so passive any more. If someone wanted to destroy her, she would fight. Fight until the end.
She unlocked the door, then slipped the key from the lock and placed it between her fingers, her hand clenched around it, the metal poking out like a spike. If it was someone who wanted to harm her, all she had to do was give one good punch to the stranger’s eye or throat. If the person spoke, she would aim for the direction of their voice. If she opened the door to silence, she would wait.
The door swung back with a creak. The cold night nipped at her bare legs.
‘Hello?’
Someone sniffed back tears. Naomi clenched her fist around the key.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
She breathed out and placed the keys on the sideboard with a shaking hand. She wasn’t sure if the relief she felt was because it was Dane, or because she didn’t have to hurt anyone. It took a certain person to commit bodily harm, and even when the time came, she wasn’t sure she was capable of it.
