Three For A Girl (Isabel Fielding Book 3)

by Sarah A. Denzil

  But we decide it’s best we don’t mention that I slashed Uncle Lloyd’s throat and had his business associates get rid of the body.

  God, Leah, I’d forgotten how white and soulless that house is. I hadn’t been there since I was fourteen years old, after all. In fact, the last time I was there was when I killed Maisie. I wandered through the house, examining every beige cushion and white ornament. Mum hasn’t changed a thing. She herself is quite different to what I remember. She doesn’t seem to be in much of a fog anymore, but she is on edge. She wrings her bony hands. The injected collagen on her face seems to have sagged, giving her a strange, lopsided appearance. Her lips bulged where they ought not to bulge.

  “Missed you, Mummy,” I lied.

  When she looked at me, the dark cloud of fear moved across her face like rainclouds. Then she grew very pale.

  “I missed you too, sweetheart. Gosh, you look so different from the last time I saw you. So pretty.” She reached out and touched my hair with trembling fingers.

  “I cut it,” I said. “And I dyed it black. Do you think it suits me?” I’d decided to ditch the red once we reached Greece. You can never be too careful.

  “Oh yes,” she said, but I can sniff out a phoney, Leah, and I knew she was bullshitting me.

  “We should have showers,” Owen said.

  “Yes, go ahead,” Mum replied.

  Owen turned towards the hallway, but I placed a hand on his arm. “Wait a minute, we’re forgetting something. Mummy, I think it’s best you give me your phone.” I held out my hand.

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “She’s not going to turn us in, sis,” Owen said. “She helped us get out of the country. She’s in this up to her neck and I don’t know if she can get out.”

  “Which means now we’re back, we’re a problem for her,” I reminded him. “Phone, Mum.”

  She pulled it out of her dressing gown pocket.

  “Could you show us where your house phone is? And the thingy for the internet.”

  “Router,” Owen said.

  “Yes, that thing. I’m fully institutionalised these days. I can never remember what anything is called.”

  We followed her around the house, gathering up anything she could use to contact someone. And then I took everything we found into the bathroom with me, dumping it in the sink. I even ran the taps. No, I don’t trust my mother one iota, in the same way that I never trusted my father and I certainly didn’t trust my uncle. Does that make you pity me, Leah? No, I don’t think it does. It makes me like you. I know what you went through with your own family. And now you’re left with no one but Tom, who is even more like me than you are.

  After showers, we reconvened at the table and dined on half a box of chocolates and some cold deli meat from the fridge. Mummy’s eyes kept drifting over to the knife block in the kitchen. I did the same, ensuring that all the knives were accounted for. They were. If she had a weapon, she wouldn’t keep looking at the knives, so I knew she was unarmed, and we had full advantage over her.

  “Did you know about Uncle Lloyd?” I asked, pointing hammy fingers at her.

  “I’ve heard rumours about what he does in Thailand,” she said. “But I don’t know whether they’re true or not.”

  “No, not about that,” I said. “About what he used to do to me.”

  She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “Poor blind Mummy.” I stuck out my bottom lip. Then I turned to Owen, who had a strange expression on his face. I thought he might be upset, but I couldn’t quite tell. I tried to mimic his expression for a moment, wearing it to see how it felt.

  “How did you miss everything, Mum?” Owen said, his voice is thicker than usual. “How did you allow this to happen to us?”

  And it was in that moment that I knew what he was planning to do, or at least what he wanted to do. “Wait. No, no. We can’t do that.”

  He regarded me with raised eyebrows and a frown. “We can do whatever we want to do, can’t we? Isn’t that the point of living this way? As fugitives.”

  Before we came, there’d been a big discussion about our next steps. Owen didn’t want to come back to the UK at all, but we had to spend most of the money we stole from Uncle Lloyd on getting out of Thailand, which meant we needed another source. Neither of us are the most talented thieves, so we decided to come back to the one person we knew had enough for us to start over. Here, with her.

  “If you do that, we won’t have enough money to live.”

  Mum nodded her head up and down enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. I can get you money if you want it. There isn’t as much that’s liquid as there once was, but I can move things around. How about a hundred thousand? I’m certain we can make that disappear on the books and then you both have enough to start a new life.”

  “How much is in the house?” Owen asked.

  I gave Owen a look that I thought conveyed my feelings on the matter, that I wanted him to drop this. We could not kill our mother. We may need her in the future, for one thing. I’m not as resigned to my own death as I used to be. There could be another way for me to live, with options that I didn’t see before. Money is the secret ingredient to that life. With money we can go wherever we want. Once I’ve dealt with you though, Leah.

  “It won’t be enough,” I said between gritted teeth.

  Owen cocked his head to the left. “Shut up, big sis.”

  “I hate to hear you fight,” Mum said, a forced smile on her face. “Please don’t. Isabel is right, I can help you. I love you both and I want you to be happy.”

  Owen exploded into laughter. “Do you hear this, Isabel? Lies. We’ve been nothing but lied to our whole lives.”

  “It doesn’t matter. None of it. What matters is survival, and we won’t manage that if we murder her,” I tried to remind him.

  Mum lets out a pathetic gasp. “Darling. Please don’t hurt me. I’m so sorry for whatever it is that I did to you.”

  Owen snorted. “See, she doesn’t even know what she did. She’s so stupid.”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  He shook his head. “If Dad was alive, I’d murder him twenty times over for what he’s done to us. He forced me to go to prison for you.”

  “That was your choice. It was our code, how we live,” I said.

  But he wouldn’t listen to me. “I never wanted to be part of that code. I’m not psychotic like you. I don’t enjoy killing and carving people up. Why should I pay for the way you and dad wanted to live your lives?”

  “You didn’t care much when Maisie died,” I said, shocked by this sudden resentment.

  “But I still didn’t want any part of it. I never have. You and him kept dragging me into it. And she,” he jabbed a finger at Mum, “is the worst of us all.”

  “Owen, no. Please. I’ve always loved you.” Tears began to run down her saggy face. It was quite disgusting to look at.

  “She isn’t like us,” Owen said. “She has a soul and she was a bitch anyway. We’re broken, Is. They were so cold to us that we never developed a conscience and she is the reason why. Dad, too. They did this to us. They made us who we are.”

  “What’s wrong with who we are?”

  “I know that we’re better than everyone else,” he said. “But they failed us. We’ve been in institutions ever since you killed Maisie, and what can we do with that gift in those places? Nothing. Our lives have been taken away because they didn’t teach us how to live with what we have.”

  “We can do a lot with a hundred grand, Owen. Stop being ridiculous, we’re not going to kill her.”

  He stood up and started walking around the table. Mum screamed, rose, and made an attempt to run away. Owen pounced on her then, slamming her up against the wall. I hurried around to them both and tried to prise Owen from her. But he simply wrapped his fingers around her neck and squeezed.

  Eventually, I gave up and watched my brother kill my mother. I didn’t feel much as I stood there and allowed it t
o happen. It’s strange. I could shrug my shoulders about the entire situation. Now we need to adapt to the fact that we won’t be able to get enough money to set ourselves up in a different country. Now we need to change the plan.

  But what does surprise me is Owen. Has he enjoyed this all along? Was he lying to me? He said that he doesn’t have the need to kill, but I don’t know what to believe. What to think. I can’t help but wonder what else he’s done, especially on the journey up from Felixstowe, when he left me in a cheap hotel at night and disappeared.

  Mother is gone and we have a little money raided from our childhood home. Perhaps the fugitive life will suit me better this time around. After all, Owen and I we have a friend to help us, but I won’t say more. What I want to tell you is that I see magpies wherever I go. I keep counting them off, wondering how my luck will turn out, wondering what the world has in store for me. They all keep bringing me back to you. Three for a Girl. Three for a Girl. You, Leah. That’s you.

  Chapter Twenty

  Leah

  He had made no effort to hug me back. The entire conversation had left me reeling. How could a man who had at one time seemed so wrapped up in his first love, have ended up with no feelings about it whatsoever? In truth, I was glad when Tom gathered his meagre belongings and moved into his new flat. I was glad, and I never thought I would be.

  My mornings have been routine. The morning sickness, the dry toast, the kiss from Seb, and then the quiet house. I tried texting Dominic to see how he is, but he doesn’t reply. I miss his calming presence in the cottage, and our occasional home lunches together, watching Bargain Hunt on the TV. Since the pregnancy, Seb arranged for me to only work afternoons in the shop, but we haven’t told his mum about the baby yet. I want to wait until the three-month mark.

  Now that I’ve accepted that I’m going to be a mum, and after a meeting with my GP, I’ve decided to try a safer anti-psychotic drug. The thought of having no meds scares me to death. As a former psychiatric nurse, I know what can happen. Even now, I’m aware of the fact that not all medication works for everyone. I could easily go back to being ill. I have this horrible feeling that something bad is going to happen. Sometimes I dream about Isabel standing over my belly with a knife in her hands and a wild grin on her face. Sometimes that person is Tom, but he doesn’t have a knife, he just demands to know why I’m replacing him.

  While stretching out my tired limbs on the sofa with a peppermint tea, my phone rings. For a moment, my heart skips a beat, and I realise that I don’t want it to be Tom. I bite my lip out of guilt, and accept the call.

  “Hi, Leah.”

  I know right away that the voice on the other end of the line is DCI Murphy. “Hi.” I screw my eyes shut. Please have found her. Please. Please.

  “We had a hit on CCTV footage today,” he says. “It looks like Isabel and Owen have somehow returned to the UK. The CCTC camera was in Felixstowe.”

  “Do you have her in custody?”

  “No.”

  My heart sinks.

  “I’m sorry. I know this is a blow for you,” he says. “I called you as soon as I heard. Leah, I think you and Tom need to move somewhere else right now. There has to be a reason why she came back to the UK.”

  “To finish what she started,” I say for him. “To come after me.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this for you. I wish I had better news.”

  “How are we going to raise the money to move? Seb’s needed at the farm.”

  “You have to find a way. She’ll come for you. That seems to be the only constant when it comes to predicting her behaviour.”

  “I’m pregnant,” I blurt out.

  “Fuck.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “I think the word you meant to say was congratulations.”

  He joins in with the laugh, but I can tell he’s still thinking about me, and Isabel, and probably about his failures. No matter what happens, Isabel manages to outwit him and the rest of the world.

  “Congratulations,” he says, trying to sound happy for me. I appreciate it.

  “It’s early days yet.”

  “I’ll do what I can to keep you safe,” he says. “Even if it means breaking the budget slightly.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “Stay safe yourself. She could come after anyone connected with her past.”

  “I will, Leah.”

  “Did you ever check up on that information about Neal Ford? In connection to Jess’s murder.”

  “He had an alibi,” Murphy said. “He was with his ex-wife, apparently.”

  “Oh, right,” I said. I remember Cassie telling me that Neal was at home working on the script alone. Either she was mistaken, she lied, or Neal is lying. Truth be told, I’d been going through so much that I hadn’t given it much thought before now, and I decided to let it go for now, making a mental note to speak to Cassie soon.

  I disconnect the call and stare at the television with unblinking eyes until the tears begin to fall. There was a part of me that had moved on from her and begun to hope. I thought she’d chosen life over her revenge. I thought she’d given up on her obsession with me. I was wrong. I’m always wrong.

  The first person I call is Seb, but there’s no answer, so I call Tom instead.

  “Then let’s get ready for her,” he says. “We’ve put up a fight before, we can do it again.”

  I shake my head and tell him how ridiculous that is. But he doesn’t seem to comprehend that he doesn’t have the intelligence to go up against her. And that isn’t an insult to him. She’s smarter than us all. She’s more resilient than us all. She’s more relentless than anyone I know, and she has fun the entire time.

  “How can I fight her now that I’m pregnant? How could I fight her anyway?”

  “I’ll do it,” he snaps. “I can take her on.”

  The empty sound of his voice makes my skin go cold.

  “What we need to do is meet,” I say. “All of us. Me, you, Seb, DCI Murphy, maybe even Seb’s family. We need to talk about what to do next. Make the decision together. We know exactly how dangerous she is, we know—”

  “Leah, stop,” he says. “You can’t organise this. There’s no point in going anywhere because she’ll find us wherever we go. You know that people recognise you on the street. As soon as you lost anonymity, the papers published your name and they printed your picture at the trial. You’re infamous. Someone will post your whereabouts online and she’ll find us. Game over. Why not sit tight? Fight back for once.”

  I hang up and throw my phone down, hearing the plastic cover crack against the floor. That’s enough from him, I think. He sounds toxic and hateful; I can’t stand it. I bend down and retrieve my phone, which fortunately hasn’t smashed, place it back in my pocket and pull on my boots.

  ***

  A soft layer of frost covers the hedgerows. Even in a hat and gloves I’m freezing cold. Ice has formed over the puddles on the way to the farm. I pull a piece of bunting from the nettles, a remnant from the last wedding at the farm. It must have detached from the outside of the barn and blown away.

  It surprises me to see that the farm shop is closed. Donna usually opens about 9am. I continue on to the farm courtyard, hearing nothing but the sound of the chickens in the courtyard, scrabbling about in the frozen mud. Even Seb’s brother’s dog, Patch, is missing, and he’s usually bounding around, ready to sniff my fingers for potential treats.

  “Hello?” I call, tentatively opening the door to the farmhouse kitchen. No one knocks here. This kitchen is the centre to the entire business. It’s where flasks are filled with tea, Tupperware boxes are stuffed with sandwiches. Where minutes are stolen leaning against the table.

  I hear voices.

  “He wouldn’t leave the car. It’s not like him. If he wanted to stay out all night, he’d drive.”

  “Hello?” I say again, stepping through into the room. “Am I interrupting?”

  “No,” Seb says, offering me a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Nothing like that. Josh didn’t come home last night.”

  “Oh, was he with Mags?” I ask. Mags is his girlfriend of six months. It’s a complicated on again off again relationship that neither me nor Seb tend to get involved in.

  Donna shakes her head. “I called her and she didn’t see him. His truck’s still out in the yard.”

  “Maybe he wanted to drink. Did he book any taxis last night?” I suggest.

  Donna sniffs and wipes away a tear. “I didn’t see him come in from the fields. In fact, I went out to check and saw that he hadn’t even finished fixing the fence he said he was going to do. The barbed wire is still all tangled up.”

  “Oh,” I say, the tips of my fingers beginning to feel numb with fear. My mouth goes dry and the blood drains from my face. “Oh.”

  “What is it?” Seb asks.

  It’s the last question I want to be asked. I don’t want to tell them, because then it makes it real and it makes my suspicions real.

  “I just had a phone call from DCI Murphy. Isabel has been seen on CCTV with her brother.” I swallow. “In Felixstowe.”

  Donna’s body goes rigid and her eyes widen so that I can see the whites of them. Her hand flies up to her pale face and she lets out a sob. “We need to call the police.”

  Seb grimaces. “I’ll do it now. When did DCI Murphy call?”

  “Less than thirty minutes ago. I phoned Tom to warn him and then I came straight to you to tell you.”

  “I saw your missed call,” he admits. “Sorry, I should’ve answered.”

  I walk over and slip my arm through his. “Hey, it’s okay. I had no idea Josh was missing.” The warmth of him is a comfort, but at the same time I can feel the tension running through him.

  “When was Isabel in Felixstowe?” he asks. “How long does it take to drive here from there? I know it’s down South somewhere.”

  “I don’t know,” I confess. “I guess the police need time to confirm the CCTV hit. It must have been flagged sometime over the last few days. I’ll call Murphy and find out more.”

  Donna slowly lifts her hand from her face and points at me.