you doing?’ He loosened his tie as he sat.
‘I really am okay, sir.’ Not this again. She could see what he was up to: he was questioning her mental state.
‘Those letters, they keep going around my head. I couldn’t sleep last night. You know how much I think of you and if anything happened—’
She smiled and sat opposite him. ‘Nothing’s going to happen.’
‘I’m not taking no for an answer. I want a panic alarm fitted in your house. No ifs, no buts.’
‘Okay.’ It was a small thing and if it made him feel better, she could accept having a panic alarm fitted, in fact, she wanted one fitted. She swallowed as her anxiety heightened. The threat was real, both she and Briggs knew it.
‘This killer knows things about you, personal things. I need you to think. Who else could know about you and Terry, I mean the most secret of details?’
Her heart began to hum and she placed her trembling fingers in her lap, out of his view. She couldn’t hide the quiver in her voice. ‘That’s the thing, no one.’ She knocked the chair over and stood, gasping for breath. She ran to his window and pressed her reddening face against the condensation on the pane as she breathed in and out. A member of the press glanced up, she moved away quickly. ‘It’s like whoever is doing this is in my mind.’
Briggs stood. ‘You’ll get through this, I promise.’
The only person who knew nearly everything about her past was Briggs. Had he been playing games with her? ‘I’ve got to go, work to do and leads to follow.’ She patted his hand and pulled away, not letting him onto her suspicions. If he had betrayed her in any way, she didn’t know if her heart could take it. As it stood, he’d been the only person in the whole world she’d trusted with the details of her past. Had she made the biggest mistake of her life?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
12 years ago
Halloween
I gasp over and over again as earth floods onto my stomach – cold, slimy, full of grit – and I fight the image of a clump of worms oozing out and finding all my bodily orifices. I want to go home and cuddle Miffy. I want to see my mum and dad, and I cry until I can cry no more.
‘Stop,’ I yell, but the earth keeps on trickling. I need to see. I need to anchor myself. At the moment, I’m flying in space on a cord clasped to a satellite and it’s about to snap. I don’t want to be set free, floating in an eternal sky with no end. My body never found, my sad end never known by anyone. Tears flood my face. I kick; it feels like one of my toes is broken. I don’t care if everything breaks as long as I can get out.
Think! Seconds, minutes, hours? Which is it? How long have I been here and who is laughing from above? My senses are still working which means I have time. I feel the earth trickling and a splodge of wet follows. Soon, all the room in my coffin will be filled, taking my precious air with it. I gasp for air. I don’t want to drown in rainy grit. I need to see what’s happening.
I grapple around my hair, clumps of it tangling in my wet finger, pulling out and getting caught around my ears. It’s in my eyes and mouth. I can taste a strand: it tastes earthy. My nose fills and my head is thick, my breathing is hard. It’s happening. I’m going and there’s nothing more I can do.
My finger catches the thin wooden stick and my heart feels as though it’s about to burst through my throat. I have a match, another precious match. Trembling, I grab the box and strike.
Wide-eyed, I stare at the glistening worm, long and thick, not a little wiggler. Its huge anterior stares at me. I can’t see eyes, I just know it’s the head end and not the thinner bottom end. Its segmented body wriggles a little closer and I drop the match and the light is gone. I bat my hand in front of me, catching the worm. It’ll find its way back when I’m gone. That’s what it’s come for. It smells how close my end is and it’s waiting to take me.
My body will stiffen, then it will begin to rot from the inside, producing belching