One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four.
The light shifts inside.
And there she is.
Her head tilts, catching the glow of a pendant light, and for a heartbeat, she looks almost innocent.
But he knows better.
That face – the one that shattered everything.
The memory burns hot, twisting deep in his chest, until his knees threaten to buckle.
But he does not falter. He can’t.
Not now.
65
Merri
A noise breaks the silence. Just a snap – a quick crack, like breaking wood. I’m not yet fully used to the sounds of this brand new house, but that was unusual.
I freeze. Every sense I have is sharp and focused, straining for the slightest sound.
‘Hello? Dev?’ I call, my weak voice barely carrying beyond the living room. Nothing answers but the silence. I tell myself it was probably just the wind, or a branch, but I’m not doing too well at thinking rationally just now.
There it is again … another noise. This time a dragging, scraping sound from somewhere down the hall. A wave of stone-cold dread crawls up my spine, and I clutch the blanket tighter, willing myself not to look, not to move. How can someone be inside the house? I realize with horror that maybe they were already here when I arrived and I’ve locked myself in with them.
Footsteps.
Closer now. They pause, then resume, steady, unhurried, like those of someone who knows exactly where they’re going.
A figure appears in the doorway.
I feel the blood drain from my face, a sudden, sickly drop as if I’ve been yanked down through the floor. My legs threaten to buckle, but I force myself to stand, barely able to process what I’m seeing.
The figure in the doorway takes a single step forward, and my stomach clenches as he pulls back his hood and tugs off a worn woollen hat. He’s still in shadow and holding something in his other hand – a hammer. Heavy and dark with stains along the edge. I squint through the dim light coming through the blinds, my breath caught, as he steps closer, revealing his face.
It’s been years, yet there’s no mistaking him, even with time’s ravage of his features. David’s father – David senior – whom I called Mr Webb all those years ago – is probably mid-to-late sixties now, with pallid, sunken skin and a mouthful of nicotine-stained, broken teeth. Yet he looks agile and wiry. A sickly grin spreads across his face.
The last I’d heard, all those years ago, he was at death’s door with pneumonia in hospital.
‘With my health failing, I never thought I’d see the day when I’d find you. But here we are.’ His gaze travels slowly around the room, lingering on the high ceilings, the polished wood, the untouched perfection of it all. He raises a brow, smirking. ‘Fancy that. Your good fortune turned out to be mine, too. It led me straight to you.’
I glance around, desperately searching for something – anything – to protect myself. But the room feels empty, too big, the door too far to offer any real escape.
I force myself to speak. ‘What – what do you want?’
‘Just you,’ he says, his tone too casual, as if we’re catching up over coffee. ‘After all, we have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we, Janey?’ His eyes glint with something dark, something that makes my skin crawl. ‘You have a lot of explaining to do because, you see, you left me with nothing.’
He takes another step forward, and I instinctively shrink back. I don’t want to let him see the fear taking over, but it’simpossible to hide. He watches me, enjoying my reaction, and continues, his voice tightening with anger.
‘Thanks to you, I have no son. David is gone. Him and Beth, together.’ His voice wavers, then hardens. ‘And my Maureen …’ A shadow crosses his face, brief and raw. ‘She died,’ he says, his voice cracking. ‘Within a year of Beth and David. Did you know that? Maureen broke in half after what happened. She stopped eating. Stopped speaking. And then her heart gave up and she just … slipped away.’ His chest rises and falls, his breathing shallow and ragged. ‘Did you ever think to check on her?’ he whispers. ‘Did you even care at all?’
I say nothing because it’s obvious he’s not looking for a reply. Not really. He’s just spewing out years of blame and resentment.
‘You’re the reason Maureen and David died. You lied to the police, claimed your innocence, but you took everything from me. So, I think, if you’re a reasonable person, you’ll agree I’m owed a full explanation of what really happened that day.’
