Love You to Death: An Absolutely Gripping Thriller with a Killer Twist

by Caroline Mitchell

  With definitive proof that Emily’s real daughter had long since passed on, the possibility of mistaken identity was discussed. Ruby’s stomach clenched. She could get into big trouble for withholding evidence. She was out of her depth, and Lucy had only just begun. Worrow’s voice washed over her as she relayed her opinion that killers didn’t just disappear into thin air. But Ruby knew that the biggest question of all waited to be answered.

  Was this the end of the killing spree?

  Given Lucy’s recent taunting contact, it seemed she had only just begun. An image resurfaced from Ruby’s memory, bringing with it a slice of pain. Even now it hurt to think of her little girl. With her cupid bow lips and tuft of soft black hair, giving up her baby was the hardest decision she ever had to make. She had not given birth to a murderer, Ruby told herself – it could not be true. But the evidence was mounting up, and she wondered if she was approaching this viewpoint as a detective, or a mother who could not face the truth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  A text beeped on Nathan’s phone: ‘MISSION COMPLETE’. The product was loaded, concealed neatly into a lorry-load of furniture. Mission complete indeed. The corner of his mouth rose upwards in a smile. Who did Quinny think he was? Tom Cruise? Jerking his shirt sleeves down his wrists he checked the silver cufflinks. Give him his due: Quinny had done everything he asked despite the fact he had just got out of prison. Nathan shrugged on his Armani jacket, admiring its cut. He was in better shape now than when he was in his twenties. He ran his fingers through his hair, admiring his reflection in the mirror. Lenny’s welcome home party was in full swing now, and big band music vibrated from below. They had spent a small fortune preparing the club – it had never looked so grand. It was the party of the year; the guest list would have been of great interest to the police. At least fifty per cent of his guests were packing heat. He just hoped his brother could stay out of trouble long enough to prevent the filth turning up.

  After five years inside, it was hardly any wonder Lenny was as tense as a coiled spring. Nathan hoped that this morning’s bit of business would go some way towards quenching his thirst for revenge. The guy he’d visited was a meathead, a twenty-five stone hulk with a pea for a brain. His fate had been sealed the second he grassed on his brother for the grievous bodily harm that had put him inside. Meathead survived his kicking after the verdict came through, but Lenny would not rest until he paid him a personal visit. Their victim had mistaken Nathan’s aloofness for weakness, making his brutal reprisal all the more of a shock as he and Lenny pinned him to the floor. He could still remember fatso’s expression as Lenny produced, not a knife or a shank, but a spoon. ‘All the better for scooping, my dear.’ Lenny’s thirst for violence knew no bounds, and Nathan could still see fatso’s freshly plucked eyes, white and viscous, like two plump boiled eggs. He was one of the lucky ones; Lenny had let him live. Nathan had managed to persuade him that such a savage act would serve as a living advertisement to any other players thinking of serving them up.

  He exhaled a heavy sigh. He should re-join the party. Leona would be waiting, throwing a cautious eye over him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He had come to accept his mother’s interference in his life, and inviting Leona to Lenny’s homecoming party seemed the acceptable thing to do. It was not as if he could ask Ruby. Leona had greeted him like an overexcited puppy. The girl had little substance and her behaviour was all for show.

  Sliding his phone from his pocket, he deleted Quinny’s text before dialling the number.

  ‘Hello?’ Quinny responded cautiously.

  ‘It’s me. Everything go as planned?’

  A sigh of relief followed. ‘Oh, hello boss; I wasn’t expecting your call. Yeah, everything went smoothly. I start the ball rolling tomorrow.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Nathan said. ‘Remember to get rid of the phone, then buy another pay as you go.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Quinny said, sounding as if he was outside as the wind took his words. ‘It’s just that it seems like a waste of money, changing phones all the time.’

  Nathan’s voice sharpened. ‘Are you questioning my judgement, Quinny?’

  ‘What? Oh no, no, of course not. Sorry, boss, just trying to save you some money.’

  Nathan snorted. ‘I can afford it. But you can’t afford to mess up. You don’t want to end up back inside now do you?… a good-looking boy like you.’ His tone was light as he delivered the threat, but the young lad knew the score.

  Quinny’s voice dropped: ‘No, no I don’t. I’ll text you tomorrow from the new phone. When are you coming?’

  ‘What did I tell you, shit for brains? Not over the phone. Stick to the plan.’

  ‘Sure, sorry, boss, I—’

  Nathan hung up, locking the door of his private office as he left. Since Lenny came out, all of his senses had been on high alert. Staying on top of the game was not easy with so many newcomers snapping at his heels.

  The music had changed now: the live band playing a slow, melodic ballad, transporting them back in time. Lenny loved all the old stuff. The dress code was ‘big band era’ and their guests had not let them down. Nathan milled through the crowd, receiving numerous slaps on the back and ironclad handshakes. Even his more dubious friends had worn tuxedos; the women on their arms looking glam in their vintage swing dresses. Around him, people were laughing and joking, but business was still underway, with Lenny serving up tasters of his finest class A in the private booths. Their attractive young escorts were there too, to sweeten the deal. There was no need, not today. But Lenny couldn’t help himself: that’s just the way he was.

  ‘Dance with me, babe,’ Leona’s hand snaked around his waist, and Nathan turned to greet her.

  ‘I don’t do dancing,’ Nathan said, loosening himself from her grip. He had grown to dislike the thin sour odour of her perfume, her skin chemistry turning an expensive scent into something which smelt like urine.

  Her smile slid from her face, but she still looked pretty despite her disappointment.

  ‘You’ve got friends here, go and enjoy yourself, have some cocktails. I’ve got a bit of business to do.’

  ‘OK then,’ she said, stealing a kiss before joining her friends at the bar. Leona was no stranger to this life; her father was one of Lenny’s oldest friends.

  ‘You’ve done yourself proud, boss,’ Fingers said, handing him a glass of champagne. ‘This party will be the talk of the town.’

  ‘It’s good to see the old crowd again,’ Nathan said. ‘Just keep an eye on Lenny, will you? If anything starts, make sure you and the boys nip it in the bud. I don’t want any bust ups. Not tonight.’

  ‘He won’t misbehave,’ Fingers said. ‘Not with yer mum about.’

  Nathan nodded in agreement. As tough as he was, Lenny would never disrespect his mother by ruining the party she had spent months organising. ‘Cheers,’ Nathan said, knocking back the expensive Cristal. He surveyed his club, knowing he should be proud of his wealth and authority. But the better things went, the warier Nathan became. Underneath the veneer of success lay a greasy underbelly, and in this game, things had a habit of sharply turning on their head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘What’s dat smell, bitch?’ The pasty-looking teenager sniffed the air. Ruby didn’t recognise him, but she knew his mates who were hanging around in the stairwell of her block of flats. He dug his hands down the front of his tracksuit bottoms, dragging them even further down his torso. ‘It’s bacon, that’s what, ’n’ it stinks.’

  ‘Leave her alone, man, that’s Ruby. She’s alright she is,’ the tallest of the three said. At twenty years old, Darren was a young man who was respected on the estate, and Ruby figured the gobby one was most likely trying to impress him. Darren’s mother was a heroin addict who shoplifted to fund her habit. Ruby had taken him under her wing a couple of years ago when she helped him to get an apprenticeship in a hotel kitchen. It was all thanks to Nathan, of course, who pulled in a favour to give the kid a chance to b
ecome a trainee chef. His mother was still shooting up most nights, but at least now he had his own money and a little bit of hope. Ruby figured that spending his evenings in the stairwell with his mates was better than watching his mum get high.

  ‘Cheers, mate,’ she said to Darren, offering him a cigarette. They were currency around here, and it was wise to have a pack handy, just in case. ‘You’ve not seen anyone suspicious knocking around tonight, have you? It’s just that I’ve been getting a bit of grief lately and I think they know where I live. Anyone come this way that you don’t know?’

  Darren took the cigarette and slid it behind his ear. ‘Nah, we ain’t seen nobody. Just the usual dropouts.’

  ‘You gettin’ grief, miss? You should call the police,’ the youngest of the group sniggered.

  ‘Miss?’ Ruby said, stifling a laugh. ‘You’re not in school now, although by the looks of it, it’s way past your bedtime.’

  She disappeared into the lift to the sounds of their laughter. Sure they had their fair share of troublemakers on the estate, and gang culture was evident, but there were a lot of decent kids just trying to get by. Thoughts of Darren and his crew fell away as the lift ascended to her floor. She had been dreading going home all day and had left only when Downes had kicked her out of the station at just gone eleven.

  It seemed to take for ever to get her key in the fob, and the first thing she did when she got into the living room was to reach her hand across the paint-blistered wall and turn on the light. The round paper lampshade cast the space in a gloomy yellow hue. She wondered what she was doing staying in a dump like this. She still had the keys to Nathan’s flat in her bag, and it took all of her willpower not to turn on her heel and go there. Gently closing the door, she scoped out her flat. Apart from an old-fashioned dresser, a second-hand sofa and a ten-year-old TV, the living room was completely sparse. Her bedroom housed a small double bed and wardrobe, and the kitchen was no bigger than a cupboard, with basic amenities for cooking. But she preferred to eat at work, and despite the station kitchen not being much bigger, the food tasted better from there. Her flat had always given her the creeps. She had not been surprised to discover that the previous tenant was found overdosed on the sofa because a faint echo of his hopelessness still hung in the air. Still, it was as much as she could afford with her budget, and relatively close to work.

  Satisfied the place was empty, she poured herself a drink. Had someone been in her flat? The truth was she did not want to know. For now, she was alone. But for how long? Cursing her paranoia, she knocked back the contents of her glass. A slug of whiskey hit the back of her throat, running like firewater into her belly and rewarding her with a warm glow. A gift from Downes before he discovered her penchant for rum. She kicked off her shoes and leaned back on the sofa, watching the door. To her right was the bottle of whiskey. To her left was a baseball bat. But she was plagued with thoughts, and even the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream could not make her feel any better.

  By one a.m., all she could think about was Nathan, and she longed for his company. Drunk on whiskey and feeling insecure, calling him seemed like the best idea she’d had all week. She wiped her hand with the back of her mouth, slowly screwing the lid back on the bottle. I just want to hear his voice, she thought, then I’ll go to bed. Her reservations muffled behind a drunken stupor, she dropped to her knees in the corner of the room and peeled back the stained red carpet. The smell of dried-in cigarette butts rose up to greet her but she continued until she found the loose wooden floorboard. Her secret hidey hole: one that even her fellow police officers would not locate. Pulling back the loose board she swore as her thumbnail ripped backwards, making her yelp.

  Ruby shook her finger, the broken nail sending darts of pain up her thumb. She sucked it hard before examining the damage, feeling like a toddler that had been relegated to the naughty step.

  ‘Shit,’ she said, shaking her hand one more time before digging out the phone. It was turned off, and she didn’t have the charger. Hesitating only seconds, she pressed the on button, deciding to leave it to the lap of the Gods. If the phone’s battery was flat, then she would just go to bed. If it came alive she would make the call. The screen lit in a blue hue, and her heart gave a small leap in her chest. Fine. That was the way it was going to be. She called up the only number saved on the phone, filed under the letter ‘N’.

  Biting her lip, she listened to it ring out, her sensible thoughts drowned by the numbness of alcohol. An automated answering machine told her to leave a message. It was a shame. She would have liked to have heard him speaking. Inhaling a deep breath she realised she had dialled before rehearsing what she was going to say. ‘It’s me.’ Long pause. ‘I just want to ask what’s going on? I mean, have you been in my flat because someone’s been in my flat, more than once, and, well, I don’t like it. If this is some kinda ploy to frighten me… well, I know you wouldn’t do that, but if it’s your brother… ’ She rubbed her forehead, wishing her words would make sense instead of a jumbled mess. ‘Oh, listen, it doesn’t matter. I’m drunk… very drunk… forget I called.’ She hung up the phone and turned it off, managing to place it under the flooring before going to bed.

  Bringing the baseball bat for company, she stripped off her clothes and left them in a pile on the floor before climbing under her duvet.

  * * *

  It felt like coming out of a coma when she was woken by a figure standing over her, cast under the shadow of moonlight. Grasping the baseball bat between her hands, she drew back to swing in defence as her heart clattered out of her chest in horror.

  ‘Babe, babe, it’s me, take it easy.’

  ‘What?’ Ruby said, still half asleep, as her body had jumped to her defence before her mind caught up.

  Nathan pulled off the black woollen hat and sat on the edge of her bed. ‘Shit, Ruby, do you sleep with a baseball bat?’

  ‘You’re lucky it wasn’t a knife.’ She leaned her head back against the pink padded headboard as she allowed him to take it from her hands. Her broken thumbnail stung, reminding her she was not dreaming. Besides, her dreams of Nathan were happy and carefree. On a beach, or in a cosy room with a crackling fire. Not sitting on the bed dressed in black like the Milk Tray man. ‘You frightened the crap out of me,’ she said as soon as she caught her breath. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘You called me.’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  Nathan took the glass from the bedside table and gave it a sniff. ‘Mr Jameson says you did.’

  A vague recollection of a rambling message came back to her. What had she been thinking? ‘Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to drop everything.’

  Nathan tore his eyes away from her skimpy camisole before rising from the bed and walking around the room. ‘You said someone’s been in here?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ruby said, smoothing back her hair as she wondered how he gained access to her flat. ‘It’s a proper Piccadilly Circus in here.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be staying in this dive. It’s not secure.’

  ‘Obviously,’ she said, and gave a wry grin. All the same, she didn’t want to be left on her own. Not now she was sober. ‘Have you time for a cuppa?’

  Nathan took the chair at the end of the bed. ‘Sure, it’s not as if I was busy or anything.’

  ‘Oh… sorry, do you need to go?’

  Nathan waved her concerns aside. ‘It was just a party. I was glad of the excuse to get away.’

  With graceful ease Ruby slipped out of bed, clad in nothing but a white satin cami and mismatched knickers. She kept him talking as she made the drinks, worried he might slip away as effortlessly as he’d found his way in. One thing about Nathan: you never knew what was going on in his head. She decided on two hot chocolates instead, wondering what his tough nut cronies would think if they saw him sipping the drink covered in whipped cream and mini marshmallows. It was the least she could do given he had dropped everything to come to her.

  ‘I thought I wasn
’t going to see you again,’ she said, sprinkling the last of her marshmallows.

  ‘You’re a hard habit to break.’

  ‘Yeah like nicotine, or something toxic.’ She was going to say drugs, but she didn’t want to spoil the moment. Handing him the mug, she grinned as he took a sip, resisting the urge to lick the whipped cream clinging to his top lip.

  She climbed into bed and budged up, patting the space beside her. ‘C’mon, come and sit beside me. I promise I won’t pounce.’

  Nathan joined her on the bed, sitting on top of the covers. ‘Why don’t you stay in your new flat? It’s a lot safer. Look how easy I got in here. Anyone could have walked in, and you’ve got your fair share of enemies around here.’

  Ruby shuddered. She had put enough people away in the last few years to know he was right. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I was ready for you. I only stopped because I recognised your voice.’ It was true. Nathan’s deep voice was one she could identify anywhere.

  ‘I’m serious. I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself. Who have you pissed off now?’

  ‘Have you spoken to your brother?’

  ‘Yeah, I have and he’s not been near the place. I know it’s not been the same since you went to the other side, but my mum still has a lot of respect for you and your family. She wouldn’t allow anything to happen to you.’

  The other side? Ruby swallowed back the words on the edge of her tongue. Mentioning Frances, his apparent girlfriend Leona, or her meeting with Lenny would not go down well. She leaned her head on Nathan’s shoulder. He was cold but smelt good. It was a safe smell. She wasn’t about to shatter the misguided faith he held in his brother, and she certainly was not going to tell him about her communication from Lucy.