You'll Be Sorry Page 8

  Mark put his hands on her arms. “Listen, her husband, he’s a nutbag, okay?”

  Her nod confirmed his question. “He said…he said if I ever saw her,” she pointed at Kerry again, “I was to get hold of him. He threatened me. Said he’d—” Sobs snatched her words, and she bunched her eyes closed.

  “Look, come inside. Please, just for a minute. I’m a copper. I won’t hurt you.”

  She snapped her eyes open. “But he’s a copper, and I know he’ll hurt me.”

  “Yeah, well, he isn’t right in the head, know what I mean?”

  She nodded. “I-I can’t come in. I have to get back for more deliveries. I’m not telling him anything, all right? I never saw her, you. I never came here. I don’t want anything to do with any dodgy shit. I—” She pushed off the wall, her footsteps echoing as she ran.

  Kerry’s heart rate went haywire. She gulped a mouthful of wine. Mark picked up the pizzas and closed the door. Chain and bolts in place, he sat beside Kerry, boxes on his lap.

  “Do you think she’ll keep quiet?” she whispered and hugged her knees.

  He nodded. “I can read people pretty well. I reckon it all depends on whether he forces her to talk. She’ll have the intention to keep quiet, but…” He flipped open a box and pulled a pizza slice away from the others, bit the pointed tip.

  To occupy herself, Kerry did the same. Though hunger usually deserted her when she was scared, she remained hungry. The first bite tasted wonderful, but the altercation at the door soured it. It wasn’t as good as it would have been if… She chewed, swallowed, took another bite.

  “We’ll just have to wait and see.” Mark stared at the rose canvas.

  Kerry nodded.

  “What shop does she work in?” he asked.

  “The China Cabin. I bought cups there once. I was meant to go in there yesterday and today to buy a replacement. I didn’t.” She swallowed. “He’s been there. Obviously.”

  Mark reached for another slice. “This is good pizza.”

  “It is.” She munched on the crust, pensive. “What will I do if he comes here while you’re at work? You know, apart from the usual. Don’t open the door, don’t make any noises. He’ll break in, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Yep. His kind, well…yeah, he’ll break in. But she won’t tell. That woman. She won’t tell.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Dan spent a restless evening pacing the house. Eventually, the red mist faded, and he set his mind to calculation mode. He had to get focused. Yes, he was pissed off Kerry hadn’t returned, pissed off she’d had the gall to leave him, but he needed to find her. Bring her home. Teach her a lesson she’d never forget.

  In the kitchen, he sat at the island and thought back to that morning. Kerry had seemed so normal. The same. Her actions resembled those of other times he’d left her in the basement overnight.

  He paused.

  Ah, no. She’d looked at him funny. When he’d told her she could apologise, her eyelids had twitched. He’d wondered at the time if she’d eyed him with spite. Shit. He should have known, should have sensed something was off. Maybe he had. After all, he’d followed her to Gradley.

  Satisfied he hadn’t messed up, he swung his thoughts in another direction. She had no money. He’d been sure to keep track of every penny. As well as he could anyway. He mentally tallied up a quid here and there every time she bought something, worked it out over weeks, months, years, and came up with the total of around a hundred. Hardly an amount she could start again with. She wasn’t to know he hadn’t actually checked the receipts properly to see if she’d scammed him.

  He tossed a shot of brandy down his throat. Hmm. He had slipped up. Standing, he stared out of the window. A credit card check. He hadn’t done one. Another thought sprang to mind. He couldn’t blame himself because he’d expected her home. She always came home. So the fault was hers again. No way was it his.

  He shrugged into his jacket and scooped up his car keys. He’d had one drink too many, but he’d just have to hope he didn’t get pulled over. He went through the list he had to abide by when people went missing. Credit cards. Mobile calls. Other shit. In the study, he stared at the desk. Kerry’s phone sat inside its holder, charger plugged in. What the hell was wrong with him? How had he missed that?

  Annoyed, he got in his car, revved the engine, and backed out onto the drive. He drove, his tyres destroying the flowerbeds.

  That’ll give her something to do when I bring her home.

  The road into Harmondsey deserted, Dan arrived at his office in short time. He barged past uniforms and entered the main office. Officers sat at desks, some doing paperwork, others chatting about cases. He approached a young blonde woman who sat alone, her head bent over a ledger. His touch to her shoulder had her jumping, and she looked up at him, hand to her chest.

  “God! I was in a world of my own there.” She laughed, her blue eyes bright.

  “Sorry about that. I need you to do me a favour. Need credit card checks done.” He scribbled the details on a scrap of paper. “I’ve had some purchases show up on my accounts that neither my wife nor I made.” He winked conspiratorially. “Keep it quiet, eh? I won’t tell if you won’t. You know what these credit card companies are like. It’ll take them ages to get to the phone, and I’m a bit busy at the minute. I need you to see if there were any purchases or withdrawals made today. Can you handle that? Just ring up and make out you’re my wife.” He jotted another word on the paper. “They’ll request that. It’s the answer to those dumb secret questions.”

  The blonde smiled. “No problem. You going to be in your office?”

  “For a while.”

  “I’ll hopefully get back to you in five.”

  He gave her the thumbs-up, winked, and returned to his office. He could have called the company himself, but he didn’t trust his reaction if they gave him the news Kerry had withdrawn a large amount of cash. He sat and bit a thumb hangnail. Winced as he stripped off the skin. It bled, and he ferreted in his draw for a plaster. The bloody thing wouldn’t stick—skin too wet—and he blew his thumb to dry it.

  Five minutes had passed, hadn’t it? He opened a new plaster. This time it stuck. He moved to the window and parted the slatted blinds. Harmondsey’s lights blazed in the darkness, bright whites, and hues of red and yellow. In the distance, cars zoomed on the main road, their taillights hundreds of red eyes.

  “You city people out there,” he murmured, “don’t be doing any killing tonight. I don’t want the hassle. Give me a couple of weeks off.” His breath steamed the window, and he snapped the blinds closed. “Like that’s going to happen.”

  Dan slumped down in his chair, feet on the desk. He went to bite his thumb again but remembered the plaster and drummed his fingertips on the desk instead. The clock ticked overly loud on the wall, and the sounds from the outer office clattered in his ears. Had someone turned the volume up around here or what?

  The knock on his door had him out of his seat and yanking on the handle in seconds. He swung the door wide. The blonde officer stood there, big grin on her pretty face.

  I’d fuck her.

  “Good news, sir.”

  He hid his immense relief with slightly widened eyes and a casual stance. “Really?”

  “No purchases or withdrawals today.”

  “On any of the cards?”

  “None have been used today, sir.”

  He frowned then smiled it away. “Good work, um…?”

  “Officer Rudd, sir. Nadine Rudd.”

  “Well, Nadine Rudd,” he smiled wider, “thank you very much for your time.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.” She walked down the corridor.

  Dan clutched the doorframe and watched her sit at her desk. His cock stirred. Nice arse, that one. Then Kerry crashed into his mind, dousing his desire. A seed of worry sprouted a shoot in his gut. What if Kerry hadn’t left him? What if she’d been a good girl this morning
and done as she was told? Had someone abducted her? With her face like that, she was fair game to any prick who liked raining blows on a woman. They’d have seen her, taken her… He flexed his jaw.

  No one hits her but me.

  He pinched his bottom lip. Closed his office door. Joe would be in soon for the night shift. Dan needed to leave.

  When should I report her missing? He stomped his foot. I wanted to find her by myself.

  He nodded. Either way—her leaving, her being taken—I’ll get her back.

  His next course of action firmly in his mind, he left the office. Once at home, he mulled over what he’d do tomorrow. If she wasn’t back by morning, he’d go to Gradley, give that china shop bitch a visit, have a look around. No Kerry, he’d go into work, act sad, play the upset man. Get a few nosy fuckers asking him if he was okay. Yeah, that’d work. He’d say he was fine, don’t worry about me, and go about his job. Later, if she still wasn’t back, he’d report her missing.

  After a large helping of brandy, he hopped in the shower, happy to have things settled. He climbed into bed, sprawled out, and slipped into sleep quicker than a knife slits a throat.

  * * * *

  In the unfamiliar room, the unfamiliar bed, Kerry stared at the ceiling. It appeared grey, the dark-blue curtains lending it a shadowy hue. The street silent outside, she strained her ears for any noises. The possibility the redhead had gone back on her word and called Dan as soon as she could swirled around Kerry’s mind.

  Something tapped down the hallway. Then silence. Maybe Mark had turned over in bed. There…there it was again. A bird’s beak on glass. Jittery, she tried to regulate her breathing, her arms by her sides over the covers, trapping her body inside a duvet sheath. Eyes wide, she breathed quietly.

  A car whooshed past.

  Silence.

  A distant whoop, possibly from a drunk.

  Silence.

  And, oh fuck, that tapping again.

  Her pulse throbbing in her ears drowned any following sound, and she lifted the quilt and sat up, legs dangling over the side of the bed.

  Silence.

  She stood, moved over to the door, and pressed her ear to it.

  Another set of taps, louder this time.

  She closed her eyes and counted to ten. Opening the door a crack, she peered into the lit hallway. Funny, Mark had turned the light off when they’d gone to bed. Was someone trying to get in? She swallowed and opened the door wider, slipped through the gap, her legs cold. She’d borrowed an old shirt of Mark’s for bed. Her intention to go to his room, she tiptoed over the carpet, her back to the wall. Light from a lamp in the living room glowed. She moved on, shoving her fear aside. If Dan had come, she’d deal with it. With him. She just needed to peek and see before waking Mark.

  At the corner, she took a deep breath and held it. On the exhale, she turned, pressed her front against the wall, and leant out. Mark sat on a sofa, the coffee table pulled up to his shins. A tray containing wood chips sat on top of it, and he held a large chunk and a whittling tool.

  “Shit!” she said.

  Mark jumped, the tool’s point poking skywards. “Fuck, Kerry! What are you doing up?”

  She sat on the other sofa, her legs wobbly with relief. “What are you doing up? I thought… I heard tapping noises. Thought…”

  He lowered his hands and stared at her. “I didn’t realise I’d made so much noise.” He looked down at his hands then back at her. “I, um, I do this when I can’t sleep. You know, make knickknacks.”

  “Is it difficult?”

  He smiled. “There’s an art to it. I could teach you, if you like.”

  “Um, no. Thanks anyway. It isn’t my thing.” It felt good to say no and not get slapped for it.

  He bent his head and scraped the wood. “And what is your thing?”

  She thought for a moment. “D’you know, I have no idea now. I used to like jogging, but that got stopped, and I can hardly start it up again now. Not until… Um, I’m not into anything artsy or crafty. I like reading, though. Oh, and cooking. And eating.”

  Tapping sounded, but it wasn’t Mark. He tilted his head towards the front door. Kerry gripped her knees and hugged them to her chest, her lower lip trembling. He stood and quietly drew the bolts back. Finger to his lips, he listened. Silence. She glanced at the clock. Just past three a.m.

  Only Dan could be out there at this time of night. Oh God.

  She watched the seconds tick by. Two full minutes with no tapping, and Mark moved away from the door. He sat on the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands steepled beneath his chin.

  “If it’s him,” he whispered, “he’s doing a pretty shitty job of scaring us. I mean, tapping? Come on!”

  Kerry nodded, straining her ears for sounds.

  Another two minutes passed. They sat in silence, so still.

  Five more, ten, and Mark said, “Well, I’d say whatever it is has gone. I’ll check, then I suggest you get back to bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa so I’m closer to the front door.” He went over there, opened it, and peered through the slim gap. Taking off the chain, he poked his head out. “No one. Want to see?”

  She shook her head and released her legs. Dragged her feet down the hallway, pushed open her bedroom door, and climbed into bed.

  What was that noise? Did he come and make it just to scare us? Is he going to play some sick, nightly game?

  If it was Dan, he’d know by now who rented the flat. Mark would have to watch his back at work, while on patrol, everywhere. Dan being Dan, he’d assume she’d been having an affair and had run off.

  Bloody hell.

  She stared at the ceiling, knowing sleep wouldn’t come—unless it snuck up on her without her knowledge. Inevitably, her thoughts strayed to Dan. If it wasn’t him, was he asleep now, or was he sitting at home, plotting his next move? Had he cleaned the basement? She knew the answer to that. Not yet. He’d expect her home, contrite, saying she’d made a mistake in leaving. After all, cleaning was her job, and he’d want her to fix it.

  Images of herself as a new bride came unbidden, surprising her. She looked at her younger self, so full of hope and trust, and wanted to scream: Don’t marry him! How stupid had she been? Her face flamed, and she held off tears of anger. She’d so easily slipped back into blaming herself, but Dan had blinded her, Dan had made her think she couldn’t cope without him, Dan had…

  “Bastard!”

  She let the tears fall, trying to keep her sobs quiet, but the emotion of the past couple of days, years… Sara’s death, meeting Mark…all too much. She rolled onto her side and, arms around her middle for comfort. The door opened, and a shaft of hallway light pointed a finger across the carpet. Mark stepped inside. He sat on the bed and rubbed her back, said nothing. The extra comfort brought on harsher sobs, and, far from being embarrassed, past caring what she looked or sounded like, she sobbed on.

  I’m done.

  Minutes passed, her sobs decreasing with each one. Mark rested his elbow on his knee, his forehead in his hand. Guilt swept over her at putting him, a virtual stranger, through this. She wiped her face with her shirt sleeve and sniffed, her jaw aching. Her chest hitched every few seconds. Her eyes itched, and her throat burned. Her back was still so sore from the gravy burn.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Shh. You needed that.”

  Kerry nodded. “All that pent-up emotion had to come out sometime.”

  “I did the same when…when I found out what Dad had done. Amazing, though, how we can hold it all in, keep it together when we have to. Then when it’s safe, out it all comes.”

  “Except it isn’t safe,” she whispered.

  “No.” He patted her back, sat for a while, then left her alone.

  She’d have plenty of time to think in the days to come. She closed her sore eyes.

  With another chest-hitch, her body relaxed, and her mind contained nothing but the whispered words: Sleep. Go to sleep.
>
  Chapter Thirteen

  Dan’s day at the office zipped by. He’d woken bright and early after a surprisingly good, solid sleep. Refreshed and raring to go, he’d driven to work determined to act as though nothing was wrong.

  Joe Hicks came into the office just before Dan’s shift ended.

  “Any new leads on the Sara Westholm case?” he asked.

  Dan sighed. “No. Looks like this’ll be an unsolved.”

  Joe scratched his chin. “Nothing from forensics?”

  “Not yet. You know how long they take.” Dan picked up his car keys. “I’ll leave it to you for the night. It’s been quiet.”

  Yeah, the good city people listened to my request. No murderers out today.

  He stifled a laugh, stood, and walked to the door.

  “Keep your fingers crossed I don’t call you in the night then.” Joe winked.

  “Will do. Catch you whenever.”

  Dan walked out via the back door. He glanced at the sky. Black clouds, their bellies full, hung static. In his car, he glanced at his watch. Five-forty. Perfect timing. For sixty seconds—he counted every one—he stared out of the windscreen. A splat of rain hit the glass, and he jumped, started the engine. By the time he pulled out of the car park, the rain hammered onto the bonnet and bounced off the road, the sound like applause. Seemed the summer was coming to an abrupt end.

  On the winding road to Gradley, he slowed to take a peek at the tracker. Kerry’s car remained where she’d left it. He narrowly avoided careening into an oncoming vehicle. Visibility poor, he hunched forward and gripped the steering wheel, squinting.

  He arrived and parked beside Kerry’s car, most of the others gone as shops prepared to close and the torrential rain forced people home. He reached into the back seat for his long black coat and slipped it on, then drew the collar and back over his head to prevent him from getting too wet. Leather gloves encased his hands. He locked the car via the key fob and dashed towards the street where The China Cabin stood. His head down, coat lapels shielding his face—got to think of CCTV—he entered the small shop and flicked the lock. Drew the blinds down over the window and door.