Maybe she’d just got in the way at that point and chosen her as a target. No – they knew too much.
You begged, didn’t you?
Wouldn’t anyone beg and plead if they were being buried alive? This part of the letter didn’t alarm her too much. She walked to the kitchen and took a long swig of beer. Yes it did – it did alarm her. It was as though they were watching her as Terry locked her in the shed. A cold prickle ran across the back of her neck, like someone had reached over to touch her with icy fingers, just like Terry’s when he was about to throttle her.
Now I have your attention.
She felt her hands start to tremble.
Only Terry knew about her being imprisoned in their shed, but Terry was dead. The dead can’t come back to life and haunt the living. Someone knew her secrets? The wind picked up and a light whistle rattled the air vent above the kitchen window. She ran over to the window and pulled the blind down. Ebony burst through the cat flap, making her heart pound. She made a gap in the blind with her fingers and peered out. The foliage at the bottom of her garden rustled as the breeze burst through.
I know. I know everything.
She stopped still in the middle of the kitchen, holding her breath.
We are the same.
‘We are not the same!’ She snatched the beer bottle from the table and flung it at the kitchen wall, watching it shatter as the liquid drizzled onto the floor. The cat darted up the stairs. Maybe her only way to solve this was to finally face what she did in all its glory, especially if someone knew all her secrets.
Her deep sobs made her sound as if she were choking. She murdered Terry and now he was back to make her pay.
She stumbled up the stairs and hurried to her bedroom. Then as she went to close the curtains she noticed a spec of movement amongst the trees outside. She grabbed the curtains, closing them on whatever was out there. Back to the wall, she slid down onto her bottom and closed her eyes and all she could see was Terry.
I watch.
I wait.
I am coming.
Those words wouldn’t leave her. I watch. I wait. I am coming. I watch. I wait. I am coming. I watch. I wait. I am coming. She closed her eyes and all she could see was Terry laughing at her as he grabbed her finger and threatened to bend it back until it snapped. He was sending her crazy. ‘Leave me alone,’ she yelled as she burst into tears.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sunday, 1 November
I feel almost speechless as I stare at the screen. Say something!
I hit a random mix of keys in a temper and then it comes to me.
DI Harte,
We’d all like to feel safe but truth is, we’re not. The worst thing is, imagining you are crazy. Even worse is, believing that you are.
They make you crazy, it is their fault.
We’re not crazy. We need to stand up and roar, show them who we really are.
I draw another triangle at the bottom. Again, making it so easy for you DI Harte.
I look at her face staring back at me from the board and realise I’ve been grinding my teeth.
I truly am sorry for what I’m about to do. Innocent casualties weren’t a part of my original plan, but the plan has changed. I feel ignored and that can’t happen. The whole thing is too big to remain a secret forever more.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Gina led the way through the tiny yard at the back of Cleevesford High Street, still confused by the false awakenings she’d had during the night. She stopped in front of the gate and checked the plaque. Maurice Dullard – MBACP. Several other business plaques were screwed to the wall, architects, surveyors and a financial advisor.
‘Here goes.’ Jacob went through and rang the buzzer next to the door. Above them, a bird flapped and a wedge of moss hit the ground. ‘That was close. Why do I have an odd sense of foreboding this week?’
‘I think we all do.’ Gina stared through the pane of glass, wondering which one of the three floors Maurice worked on. Eventually the man came into view around the bend on the narrow stairs, carefully navigating his hefty weight down, one careful step at a time. The man huffed and puffed as he opened the door.