Page 110 of Dead to Me

There were footsteps, and then Marcie’s voice again.

‘Hold his arm out.Please.’

Ned hesitated, and Reid used the moment to kick back as hard as he could in the direction of Ned’s shins.Some remnants of his training were still there, and he twisted just afterwards, seeking to break Ned’s hold.

But Ned wasn’t the kind of amateur Reid had been trained to fight off.He never even loosened his grip.He just kicked Reid on the side of the leg so hard that it collapsed under him, leaving most of his weight hanging agonisingly off his neck and arm.

He felt his twisted arm being straightened and pulled outwards and scrambled to get his other hand against the wall.To get his feet under him.Anything.

And then he heard another voice, one he’d genuinely believed he would never hear again.

45.Anna

It had taken the cab another twenty-one minutes to charge down the M11 towards the Sedgewick family home in Great Shelford.Halfway through that time, Anna had realised she should call the police, too.She gave them Philip and Marcie’s address, deciding to tell them there was a violent altercation going on at the house for good measure.Which was possibly even true; a thought that she tried not to let in.

They had slowed to a stop on the road outside, and Anna asked the driver to drop her next to the gate, unsure about what she would be walking into.She shoved an extra twenty-pound note she’d found in the purse at him and asked him to wait and be ready if she needed him.He’d looked a little alarmed at this but seemed willing to hover.

There had been no sign of any activity as she’d stepped quickly and quietly up to the front door, but it had been locked, an eventuality she hadn’t thought about.

They could be killing him,she thought, numbly.

And without any more thought, she’d started running round the side of the house, out towards the beautiful, pristine lawn.She ran until she heard voices floating out through the French windows, and then she slowed rapidly and flattened herself against the nearest wall.

It was Marcie’s voice she’d heard.Marcie’s shrill words, calling someone a whore.

Oh,she thought, just afterwards.That must be me.

How had Marcie understood that her husband was a cheat, and been clever enough to kill a young woman and almost getaway with it, and yet been stupid enough to misidentify his mistresstwice over?

Though maybe it wasn’t so hard to understand.Anna herself had been wrong; looking at every man with suspicion and letting sweet Marcie jab her with a syringe full of scopolamine and laughingly apologise for her spiky sequins making her hugs uncomfortable.

Anna almost gasped as she heard Reid’s voice in reply.Reid, actually him in the flesh, for the first time in eighteen months.Reid, saying loudly and clearly that she wasn’t a whore.

About fucking time, Anna thought, while, in spite of herself and the circumstances, she was smiling about as broadly as she’d smiled in months.

She was just on the point of wondering where Ned was when she heard the unmistakable sounds of a struggle.Anna abandoned stealth and turned to peer in through the open French window.

None of them were looking her way.Ned had Reid pinned up against the far interior wall with his back to her, the two of them locked together painfully.And Marcie was fixated on them, her back almost entirely to the French windows, too.

Fuck, fuck, fuck,Anna thought as she ducked down and crossed the threshold into the room.She scooted across the floor until she was behind the kitchen counter and out of sight.

Marcie had gone full nuclear.Obviously.She didn’t seem to have a middle ground.And Anna was going to have to do something, because there was no sign of the police yet.Why hadn’t she pulled up loudly with the taxi driver and banged on the door?Maybe that would have stopped them.

Or maybe it would have panicked them.

Anna wasn’tdressedfor this.A crumpled ballgown wasn’t good combat gear, even with the flat shoes.And she had noweapons.The spiky Jimmy Choos were in the Uber, and the most she had in her handbag was a phone, a May Ball programme and a wallet.

Come on, Anna,she thought, as behind her the conversation went on.You can improvise.

This was a kitchen.And kitchens had knives.In fact, there was a great big wooden block of them on the counter across to her left.She only had to be quiet enough to get to them.

The process of scooting across the floor again, standing up and sliding out a knife at random– inwardly thinking,please, please, not a cheese knife– was the most heart-pumpingly, spine-crawlingly awful thing she could remember doing.

Well, it was the most awful right up until Marcie came back and she had to stand up and creep up behind her until she was close enough to do some damage, all the while wondering what she’d do if it turned out that Ned had a gun.

Neither of them was looking at her.They were both too focused on Reid, and his arm, just waiting for the syringe in Marcie’s hand.

Even Anna struggled to look away from Reid.He was really here.He’d come to try to save her.

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