Page 82 of The Lucky Winners


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Before I can react, he turns and begins to walk away, heading along the edge of the lake.

‘Hey!’ I yell, as loudly as I can. The breeze takes my voice and sucks out the volume. ‘Hey!’ I try again but the same thing happens.

He doesn’t hurry, doesn’t run. He just walks, as if he’s taking a stroll on a sunny afternoon. As if this is all perfectly normal and any sinister thoughts are in my imagination.

But Sarah died down there last night. What if it washim? What if she didn’t slip into the water and he killed her, thinking she was me?

My legs tremble as I stumble back inside and shut the door. I lock it, twisting the key so hard I hear the click echo in the silence. Then I hit a button and the electric blinds whir into their closed position.

I try to persuade myself there are plenty of reasons a random stranger might be checking out our house, but in my heart of hearts, I can think of only one person it could be.

I squeeze my eyes closed. I’m not ready to face it.

For a moment, I consider calling Dev. Telling him to come home. But I can’t. Not yet. I don’t even know what I’d say. Unless I tell him everything, he’ll simply wave away my concerns and try to reassure me that I’m catastrophizing.

I’ve felt creeped-out several times but not spotted anyone there. I’ve also been sure I’ve seen movement in the trees even though I haven’t had a definite sighting like today.

Has he been here, lurking in the shadows, for days?

Then the worst thought of all pops up. What if the text messages, calls and online posting of our personal space was never one of our new friends? What if it washimall along?

My stomach churns. My eyes scan wildly around the room trying to push the thought away, but it lingers, sticking to my skin like sweat.

Has he been inside this house?

52

The Watcher

He crouches for a while in the shadow of the skinny birch trees on the hillside, hidden behind the skeletal trunks that surround him. Dressed in lightweight dark clothing, he feels well hidden.

Their garden is a maze of topiary and roses, so perfect it makes his skin crawl. It’s a hot one today, but he barely feels it. He saw the husband go out for a run but he stayed put. His patience was rewarded when Janey stepped out on to the terrace, as has been her habit since they moved here.

She didn’t notice him, of course. Not at first. He knows how to stay invisible. He’s had enough practice. It was a moment he savoured when he revealed himself.

The panic when she saw him was thrilling, but he knew he’d stayed a safe enough distance for there to be doubt in her mind as to whether it was really him.

Back from the graveyard of her memories.

He gave her a little wave as he went, and she must think he’s left the area now. But he’s just found another sentry point. That’s the beauty of a monstrous construction like Lakeview House: there are a hundred points from which it can be well observed from the hillside. Like a humongous goldfish bowl with the water level dropping fast and the little fish within it failing to realize they’re in mortal danger.

He settles deeper into the warm soil, the weight of his binoculars resting against his chest. He chose this pair ofmilitary-grade optics carefully, sharp enough to see a speck of dust on someone’s shoulder from the right vantage point.

He’s not worried about her calling the police. Not with what’s at stake if she tells them about him. Their interest in her is already piqued and if they find out her nasty little secret too, well, she might find herself without a husband and serving time at His Majesty’s pleasure. He can only hope.

From this distance, the terrace is perfectly framed. The cream-coloured stones gleam under the lights, but there’s no further movement. Not yet. He twists the lens, adjusting the focus. Still no sign of her and, rather annoyingly, she’s pulled down the blinds.

For a while, he wonders if she’ll come out again. He shifts slightly, careful not to make sharp movements, the coarse bark digging into his back.

His heart clenches in annoyance, but he pushes it down. After all this time, he’s learned to be patient. Patience is a weapon in its own right, after all.

Then, finally, the blinds rise and the door opens and there she is.

To all intents and purposes, she looks like an innocent, afraid of her own shadow. But he knows better. He knows what she’s capable of.

Through the binoculars, he watches her closely. He can see every movement, every little flutter of her fingers, every wide-eyed blink. It reminds him of the terror on the face of the girl last night. Sarah. Shame she had to pay the ultimate price, but her death was not in vain.

It’s brought everything to a head quite efficiently.