by Alison Keane
“Wait, what?”
She looks at me with such contempt that I realise I shouldn’t stick around here questioning why they’re letting me walk out of here.
I should go.
Now.
But I can’t. Not after what they’ve just told me. It could have been a tactic to mess with me, but I don’t think it was. It wasn’t the invoice that convinced me, it was the look in DS Hobson’s eyes. This was never about him thinking I made up my accusations last year. He thinks I hurt Mikey and got away with it.
“I need to talk to you,” I say urgently. “This is so messed up. You’ve got it wrong. I didn’t hurt Mikey. I didn’t even know he was hurt. I was attacked. I thought he was the one who did it, but if he wasn’t—”
“We have a murder to investigate.” She moves to the door, clearly waiting for me to leave.
This is what I wanted, isn’t it? To get out of here? But everything’s changed.
“But I’m in danger,” I hiss. “You have to help me. What if whoever hurt Mikey is the same person who hurt Steph?”
DC Stevens narrows her eyes and I know what she’s thinking. They think it’s me. They think I’m the one responsible.
I shake my head. “I didn’t do this. I didn’t.”
“I’ve got to get back to work.” She doesn’t meet my eyes.
She’s not saying they think I did this, but she wouldn’t, would she?
But why would they let me go?
“Come on.”
My heart pounds as I get up. What do I do? Where do I go? Dad’s not going to listen to me if he thinks I did this, no matter how hard I try and persuade him it wasn’t me.
The photo of me is still on the table. I grab it. It’s the only concrete thing I have left.
“Look,” I say breathlessly. “You still haven’t explained this. Why would Nathan have had a picture of me when we didn’t know each other back then? I haven’t been in the Builder’s Arms for a year.” I stare at the picture and trace Mikey’s outline with my fingertips. All this time I’ve hated him and he’s a victim in all of this.
“I have no idea,” she says drily. “Why don’t you ask him instead of wasting police time?”
“No, it’s not that. You don’t understand. There’s something going on that’s…” I trail off as I realise that no matter what I say, they think I’m guilty.
I shove the picture in my pocket. It’s the only physical proof I have that there’s more to this than meets the eye. I keep my fingers wrapped around it like it’s a precious jewel.
DC Stevens leads me along the corridor and presses the door release button to let me out. I hesitate. I would have given anything to be released without charge when I arrived here, but now I’m not sure. Am I better off here for my own protection?
Or is it best if I get the hell away from here as fast as I can? I’ve got to try and get one step ahead.
She holds the door open for me. “Off you go.”
I take a deep breath. As tempting as it is to ask them to keep me here for my protection, police custody is not something I should be aspiring to right now. Not until I know for sure that I’m not responsible. There are two possibilities here: I’m guilty or I’m in danger.
I walk out the door and she slams it behind me.
I freeze.
Nathan is sitting in one of the chairs opposite the desk.
My stomach lurches and I grasp at the edge of the desk for support. What the hell is he doing here?
“Hi, Ellie.” Nathan stands up and walks towards me.
All I can do is stare at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I came here to get you.”
“But…” I shake my head. “How did you know I was here? I didn’t tell you my plans changed.”
He smiles. “I heard brakes squealing outside. I thought something had happened so I looked out the window. I saw you getting into the police car.”
“Oh,” is all I can say.
I wrap my arms around myself. The photo in my pocket is the only proof I have that something’s not right. It’s the only thing that stops me from accepting that I’m the one who hurt Mikey and killed Steph. The police won’t believe me and now the man who had that photo is standing here in front of me.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.”
I stare at him. He’s got an almost manic look in his eyes like we’re off to a party he’s been looking forward to for ages. Why does he look so pleased with himself?
“What?”
He smiles conspiratorially. “Come on. Let’s go back to my place. There’s something I’ve got to tell you.”
My fingers are still wrapped around the photo in my pocket. Nathan’s eyes are so kind and full of warmth, but this picture tells a different story. He’s a liar. And he wants me to go back to his place?
I glance back at the duty officer behind the reception counter but she’s typing noisily and not paying us any heed. I look behind me. The door I’ve just come out of is closed. There’s no sign of Hobson. Even if he was here he wouldn’t listen to me if I begged him to arrest Nathan and question him. By insisting an injured man was setting me up, I’ve destroyed any credibility I had with the police—and I didn’t have a lot to begin with.
I can’t think straight. Does he seriously think I’m going anywhere with him?
But what else am I supposed to do? Go back to my flat alone and wait for him to come for me? Nathan is not what he seems and I don’t know what he wants from me. I can’t call Dad. I can’t go back to my flat.
I take a deep breath. My heart is pounding so hard I’m worried I might pass out again.
“Don’t you want to know what I’ve got to tell you?” Nathan asks, eyebrows raised.
He’s getting suspicious of how I’m acting. And even though my gut is telling me to get as far away from him as I can, I’ve got to be careful.
The fog in my brain clears a little as I realise how serious this is. This isn’t about keeping my head down and saving money to move away anymore. I’ve got to get the hell away from here if I don’t want to end up like Steph and Mikey. I don’t know what he’s planning. I don’t know what he wants from me.
“You know what?” I say, linking my arm through his even though touching him makes me want to scrub my skin until it’s raw. “I think I need a drink after all that. Can we go to the pub first?”
42
Ellie
Nathan puts his arm around me as we walk into the pub and it’s all I can do not to shove him away. It’s Sunday night—there’s still a crowd but it’s far thinner than it would be on Friday or Saturday as people filter off to get an early night before work on Monday.
Work.
So much has happened this weekend that I haven’t even thought about work. Friday seems like a long time ago now. I was so terrified of losing my job—that seems trivial now after everything that’s happened.
It’s too hot in here. I tug at the neck of my coat. I can’t take it off in case I need to get out of here quickly. Panic rises in me as I look around. It feels like everyone is watching me. Do people know the police wanted to speak to me about Steph?
Nathan smiles at me. “You find a seat. I’ll get the drinks in.”
“No,” I say quickly. “No, let me. I must owe you ten rounds at this stage.”
I try not to let him see that I’m watching him like a hawk. I need to buy the drinks tonight. I need to be in control. Nathan nods and I hurry to the bar.
“A double vodka soda lime and just a soda with lime.”
The barman nods. “Sure, love.”
I stare into the mirror behind the bar. My heart pounds.
The barman comes back with the drinks. “This one’s got the vodka.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. I’m struggling to breathe properly. I have three pills left in my bag. My emergency supply of sedatives. If I crushed up one or two and dropped it in Nathan’s drink…
I take my change and pick up the drinks, rem
inding myself that my drink is in my right hand. What am I thinking? Am I seriously planning on drugging Nathan to stop him from coming after me?
What if he catches me? Even thinking about it is making my hands shake so hard that the drinks are sloshing around. I’ve got to try and calm down.
The more I think about it, the more I realise it’s what I have to do. It will be a lot easier to slip something into his drink than it will be to get him out-of-his-mind drunk.
And anyway, I think, recalling the weird fog in my brain on Friday and this morning: it’s not like he thought twice before drugging me.
“Thanks,” Nathan says as I put the drinks on the table and slide the one in my left hand towards him. For a moment I worry that he’s on to me; that he’s going to take the one with no alcohol in it.
He doesn’t.
My hands shake.
“What’s this?” He lifts the glass to his nose and sniffs it.
“Vodka,” I say as theatrically as I can. I make a big show of gulping down half the contents of my glass. “I need something stronger than beer.”
For a horrible moment, I wonder if he’s going to reject it and go up for a pint, but he doesn’t. He smiles at me and tips half the glass down his throat. He winces. “That’s strong.”
“Yeah, well. I need strong. After what happened to Steph.”
“Really?”
I look up. He’s smiling.
A shiver runs down my spine. “Of course. She was my friend.”
“You weren’t saying that on Saturday. You were cursing her for lying to you and ripping off your dad.”
My cheeks flush. “I was just mouthing off.”
“Don’t worry,” he says. He leans forward and his hand creeps up my leg. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
I pick up my glass and gulp down the rest of it. God I wish there really was vodka in it, but I can’t afford to get pissed right now.
“What do you mean?”
He shifts in his seat. The smile never leaves his face. “I told them, didn’t I?”
“Told them what?”
“That you were with me all Saturday apart from when you popped to Steph’s and she wasn’t there. Just like I said I would.”
“Right.” My pulse is roaring in my temples and it’s a struggle to fight back the feeling of nausea.
“I said you came back and we made love for hours.”
The thought would have delighted me just days ago, but now it’s about the most repulsive thing I can think of. I want to puke. Who is he? Who is this monster that I allowed into my life? Is that his game? He wants to hold this over my head; to own me?
Nathan frowns. “You don’t look very happy considering I’ve just saved your arse.”
“Thank you,” I say, forcing a smile. “I just really need a wee, that’s all. I’ll pop to the loo and get us some more drinks.”
He doesn’t object. Good. I need to get as many of these rounds in as I can even if it makes a dent in my savings. This is a necessary expense to make sure I can get out of here on the first train tomorrow morning.
I hurry past the bar and into the toilets. I use the pill bottle to crush up two of the pills onto a piece of toilet paper. When I’m done, I wrap it carefully, as though my life depends on it—which it just might.
“Same again?” the barman asks.
I nod. I realise I’ve been a bit stupid. What if Nathan had gone to the bar and realised I was getting doubles for him and sodas for myself?
I take the drinks and return to our table. “This place is dead,” I say, casually taking a gulp of my drink. “We should go somewhere busier.”
He shrugs. “Maybe we should go back to mine. I’ve got to work at six in the morning.”
No, that’s absolutely the worst thing we could do. “I can’t,” I whisper, forcing tears to my eyes. “That’s where I was when I found out about Steph.”
Nathan looks at me and I can tell he’s not impressed. I don’t know what other excuse to give him. I’m not going to his house. No way. He’s been playing me all week and now it’s time for me to play him.
“Come on,” I say. “I’m going somewhere else. You can go home if you want.”
A strange look crosses his face. His cheeks are flushed from the alcohol but I’ve got a long way to go yet to get him where I need him, and I need to be careful. “Why aren’t you frightened? You were afraid to leave my flat yesterday and the day before.”
“It was my real father who was following me.”
“Yeah I know,” he says, pronouncing the words carefully. “But what about what’s happened to Steph? It’s not safe for you.”
I grab his hand even though touching him makes my skin crawl. “Thank you. It’s so good of you to look out for me. Do you know Mikey Grant?” I stare at him, stunned. I don’t know where that came from. I suppose the need to know the truth is too strong for me to suppress. Why would he hurt Mikey?
He flushes. “What?”
Fuck. I need to keep him on side—just for tonight. “Mikey Grant,” I say, waving my hand. “Sorry. I must be getting pissed. I just don’t know why he’d do this to me. I wish you could understand what he’s like.”
He shakes his head. “I’d have told you if I knew him. I don’t know many people here, I told you.”
How did I fall for that? It’s unbelievable to me now. I was so desperate for love that I was willing to believe it. What an idiot.
The photo I found in his flat is burning a hole in my pocket. I want more than anything to slap it on the table and ask him to explain why he had it, but I can’t let him know I suspect him.
I drain the last of my soda and lime, wishing I had a better idea of what to do. My plan has so many holes in it. I massage my temples with my knuckles, kneading harder and harder until I’m causing myself actual pain.
“Come on,” he says. “We should go. You have a headache.”
“Do you know the best cure for a headache?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Ellie…”
“What? I just want to have a little fun after the craziness of today.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he nods at his glass. “I still have half my drink left and you’ve polished off yours.”
I poke my tongue out at him. It kills me to flirt with him, but I’ve got to do it and it’s got to be convincing. “Well finish it then. Come on. Or else I’ll finish it for you.”
He frowns, but he lifts his glass to his lips all the same and drinks from it.
43
Ellie
“Come on,” I say, trying to stop my voice from shaking. “Let’s go to the Dog and Duck.”
He grabs my hand. “Why don’t we just go back to my place. I don’t want to be tired at work tomorrow.”
I think about it for a moment. I could bide my time and run when he’s at work. Maybe it’s a more sensible plan than the one that’s currently forming in my mind, but I can’t. I can’t go back there with him and pretend that everything is okay. Who knows what he’ll do to me if I slip up and he knows I’ve seen through his act?
“Just one more,” I say. “I’m buying.”
“Okay, fine.”
An hour later, I’m starting to think this plan might work. I had a quiet word to the barman when Nathan went to the toilet. I told him I was pregnant and that I haven’t told Nathan yet, so he’s been giving me cokes and pretending they’ve got vodka in them.
Nathan’s stopped telling me we should leave, which is encouraging. He’s on his fifth double vodka now and he’s starting to slur. I don’t know how far I’m going to have to go to get him absolutely wasted.
He gets up to go to the toilet again and I seize my chance. His drink fizzes up when I pop the crushed up pills in and stir it with my finger. I keep a hawk-like eye on the door to the toilets to make sure he doesn’t pop out and catch me.
“Shots?” I say, widening my eyes and grinning across the table at Nathan.
He smiles. His pupils are
dilated and his cheeks are pink and blotchy.
Have I done enough? It’s impossible to know.
I order two tequilas knowing mine will be water. Still, I go through the pantomime of putting a pinch of salt on my hand and then sucking the piece of lime when I’ve had my fake shot.
“Last orders, folks,” the barman says to the thinning crowd.
Shit. I hadn’t realised it was that late. I shake my head. Even though I’ve stayed sober, there’s so much noise in there at the moment that it’s hard to think clearly. I’ve also got a headache.
We drink up and go outside before I’ve thought of a plan. Nathan takes my hand and I start to panic. It’s cold out and I could do without that—I don’t want the cold air sobering him up. Why is he still standing? Do those pills have the opposite effect when they’re taken with alcohol?
I look around. I no longer fear the man in the shadows—I need him. But there’s no-one there.
Damn it.
I could really use his help right now. He doesn’t know me—so he might just believe me.
There’s one place I know will still be open, but I can’t bring myself to go there—or can I? This isn’t about keeping my head down anymore. It’s about my safety.
I close my eyes and try to fight back the tears that are coming.
“I know where to go.”
I drag him along the street towards the Builder’s Arms.
“I love this place,” Nathan says as we walk in the door.
I wrench my hand away, filled with a stronger hatred than I’ve ever felt for anyone. I bet he loves this place. I used to love it too until my life changed forever. Just in here. I glance at the door that leads to the toilets. That’s one place I can’t bring myself to go—it’s a step too far.
Nathan walks towards the bar.
“No,” I say, “I’ll get them. Let’s sit over there where it’s quiet.”
We can’t sit at the bar. Not in here. I know too many of the regulars and I need Nathan off their radar so I can feed him as much booze as I can get into him without anyone refusing him service.
