‘Did she find out that Amber and Jess went to Dad’s old school?’ Milla asks. ‘And that Jess was probably the anonymous witness in the case against him?’
Lucy’s head whips round. ‘How did you know about that?’
‘The police know,’ Milla says. ‘They came to the house.’
‘Shit.’ Lucy’s brow creases.
‘That’s why I came to get you. Why I had to ask if you killed Amber.’
‘Because you think …’ Lucy starts, but can’t finish.
‘Dad was the last person to see Jess before she went missing, wasn’t he?’ Milla says. ‘And he was out, in the car, on the night Amber was killed. We all were. But maybe he found Amber instead of you.’
‘But he didn’t know who she was. At least, I hadn’t told him …’ Her voice trails off, perhaps realising that if Bronwen could find out the truth, so could their dad.
‘How was he when he got back that night?’ Milla asks.
‘Well, he didn’t come back straight away,’ Lucy admits quietly. ‘And when he did, he seemed distracted. But that was understandable; he was exhausted from his trip, and he’d thought something bad had happened to me. He went for a shower, and I went to bed, so I didn’t see him again that night.’
‘Luce,’ Milla says, taking a breath. ‘Do you think he could have killed her?’ She forces herself to look at her sister, sees the tears, now snaking down her cheeks. But Lucy doesn’t answer her question.
‘Where’s Mum?’ she says.
‘I … I don’t know,’ Milla stutters. ‘I tried calling but she didn’t pick up.’
‘Try again,’ Lucy begs. ‘Please.’ Milla does as she’s asked and switches to speaker mode, but it goes straight through to voicemail again. She frowns. She’s left a couple of messages now, and her dad must have left dozens. She phoned her mum’s work too, and they said she wasn’t in the office.
So where is she?
Milla opens Find My iPhone, but her frown deepens at the No location found written underneath her mum’s contact. ‘That’s weird,’ she murmurs. ‘She never turns her phone off.’
‘Dad said she left before he woke up,’ Lucy whispers. ‘You don’t think she’s left him, do you?’ Her eyes widen. ‘Do you think he confessed to killing Amber and she ran?’
‘Don’t be stupid!’ Milla throws back. ‘She’d never leave us.’ Not Dad would never kill Amber, she realises with a stab of guilt.
‘Well where is she then?’ Lucy whines.
Milla thinks. This is 2024. There must be some way of finding her. Not Snapchat – her mum’s never been near it – but some way. She feels the cold metal of Felix’s car key in her hands. ‘Fuck, I know!’ she calls out, then checks if the app from that impulsive Christmas present is still active on her phone.
A car key tracker.
AFTER
Monday 13th May
Rachel
He’s back. He looks different now. Calmer. I should be relieved, but I’m scared. There’s an intent in his expression that wasn’t there before.
When he pushed the piece of tape back over my mouth, I thought he was going to smother me to death. And even when his hand lifted, I struggled to breathe; my nose filled with snot. But then he left the room, and gradually I found some rhythm again. That’s when I realised that the tape had lost some of its glue, and I’ve been moving my face ever since, like a cow chewing grass, to try and loosen it further. But even if I do dislodge it, I’m not sure what I want to use my voice for. To scream for help, or to persuade him to let me go?
‘Your old man’s a fucking prick,’ he murmurs. ‘He thinks he’s better than people like me. That he can do what he wants to us, because we don’t really matter.’
I move my mouth, but the tape holds.
‘But you matter to him, like his precious little girl matters.’
He leans forward, his face hovering close to mine. I push my head against the pillow to gain as much distance as I can, but it only gives me millimetres.
‘He treated my mum like filth,’ Sean growls, the knife appearing in his hand again. ‘When she was clearing up his mess, and fighting cancer at the same time. And he never once said sorry, not even when she told the school about her diagnosis.’
I can smell his breath, feel his spittle on my skin. The blade grazes the exposed part of my shoulder. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but my throat is too constricted to ask.
‘And then you turn up at my flat,’ he goes on. ‘Shouting your mouth off. It’s like you’re asking to pay for what he’s done.’
I want to ram my eyes shut, make Sean disappear, but they widen in fear.
Bang, bang, bang.
It takes a moment for my brain to register that someone is thumping on the front door. Sean rears back. A look of fear passes across his face, then it hardens as he realises my mouth isn’t covered up and moves forward again. He drops down on top of me. One hand clamps my mouth, the other holds the knife against the dip of my neck. ‘Don’t speak,’ he mouths. His body is heavy. I feel like I’m suffocating.
‘Sean Russo!’ The words catapult through the letter box. My chest explodes with an adrenalin surge. It’s DI Finnemore. This is my chance.
What will they do when no one comes to the door? Do the police know Sean has kidnapped me? Or is this about Jess? Or Amber? Either way, they can’t break in without a warrant. If Sean is a suspect in a murder investigation, or that of a missing child, the courts would issue one without question. But if this is just a routine inquiry, Finnemore wouldn’t have even applied for one.
Am I really going to lie here passively and wait to find out?
I whip my head to the right, then switch left, and again, hurling it side to side. My lips slide against his fingers. The traction loosens his grip, just enough for my mouth to open a fraction. I grab his middle finger between my teeth, clamp down.
‘Ah, fuck!’ he hisses. But as he tries to pull that hand away, the other pushes forward. I feel a sudden, searing pain as the knife cuts through my skin below my collarbone. But instead of stalling me, it has the opposite effect. Fight. I fling my head forward, it slams into his. He’s dazed for a moment, and I use the chance to twist and squirm underneath him. I can’t get away, but it’s enough to make him feel unbalanced. He puts his free hand on the mattress to steady us both.
And I scream.
The hand is back over my mouth in an instant, pushing hard. The knife slides deeper into my shoulder. It’s agony. My vision blurs.
I force myself to pull back, focus on the noise.
Banging, rustling, thudding, shouting.
The door flies open. The pressure on my mouth, the knife, disappears. I gasp for breath. Sean is dragged off me. I hear the crack of a Taser, watch his body stiffen, then collapse inwards.
Sean Russo, I’m arresting you on suspicion of kidnap and false imprisonment, grievous bodily harm with intent, and also for the murder of Amber Walsh …
Sean murdered Amber. He’s the criminal, not my husband. I always knew that.
… And for the grievous bodily harm of Caden Carter. You do not have to say anything but …
Who is Caden Carter?
