Page 38 of The Girl in the Grave
He pushed the handle of the front door down and swore when it didn’t open. He knew Jodie was off work today, as he’d left her in bed and crept around so as not to disturb her. Pulling the key out of his pocket, he inserted it into the lock and swore again when it wouldn’t go all the way in. She must have got up, locked it from the inside and gone back to bed. She never locked the bloody door, why today?
He went around to the back of the house: the chance of her locking both doors was slim to none. He let himself through the side gate and walked towards the kitchen door, passing the window. This door was open, thank God, and he let himself in. The kitchen was exactly as he’d left it; his plate of toast on the side, his still-full mug of coffee next to it. His phone wasn’t on the table and he’d put it on silent, so he’d either left it on the corner of the bath or it was still tucked under his pillow from when he’d switched off his alarm.
Stepping out into the hall, he heard a moan. He stopped. A louder one followed, then the unmistakeable sound of a man’s deep grunt. Josh’s chest filled with dread, then hurt, then anger – all at once.How could you? Behind my back. In my bed.He stood at the bottom of the stairs, wondering who it could possibly be. Someone he knew? A stranger? He didn’t know which was worse. He considered turning around and walking straight back out of the door, then he realised he couldn’t; he needed his phone.
Taking the steps two at a time he reached the top where he could see their bedroom door was ajar. He looked at the heavy wooden candlestick on the small console table, but he didn’t pick it up; violence was never the answer. Right now his priority was finding Annie. If he lost it and got arrested, he’d be no help to anyone. Taking a deep breath, he strode towards the door and pushed it wide open, immediately recognising the mop of black hair on the man on top of his wife.Thatwas why the van was parked in the street.
Ignoring the voice of reason telling him not to, he lunged at Carl and grabbed a handful of his hair, dragging him backwards off the bed. Jodie let out a strangled scream and pulled the duvet around her to cover her nakedness. Drawing back his fist, he went to punch Carl as hard as he could – but hesitated seconds before unleashing. Carl was a pathetic wimp, cowering on the floor, his hands up to protect his face. Josh realised that neither he nor Jodie were worth it.
He dropped his arm and strode towards the bed where Jodie lay whimpering. She flinched as he reached forward – she should know him well enough to know he would never hit a woman – and reached under the pillow to grab his phone. Without a word, he then turned and walked back out of the room and into the spare room, where he kept most of his clothes. There, he pulled out a small case and stuffed it with the essentials: clothes, underwear, socks. Going into the bathroom, he grabbed his toiletries off the shelf and threw them in. Snatching his phone charger from the socket in the kitchen and his laptop off the sofa, he walked out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.
Dragging the case behind him down the street, he realised he felt a small sense of relief. It was over, all the misery and suffering were done with. Neither of them had been particularly happy for the last couple of years or had the balls to do anything about it. Well, it was over now. He had no idea where to go or what he was going to do but he could sleep at the station if he had to. He didn’t know how he felt about Carl, what he was going to do about him. He just prayed he stayed out of his way for the time being. At least until the desire to smash his face in had subsided.
Fifty-Three
Beth had rung Josh several times and it had gone straight to voicemail. She was back home waiting for the security guy to come and repair the front camera, so she couldn’t go anywhere. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, she went out into the garden and walked down to the lakeside. She’d changed into a pair of cut-off denim shorts and aStranger ThingsT-shirt. Sitting on the grass, she stared at the water, looking out at all boats on the lake. She’d purposely asked for the mooring to be removed when she bought the house, because she didn’t want to risk anybody landing and coming onto her property. It was probably the only house that edged onto the lake without its own jetty. Would she actually have one now? She watched the boats big and small as they sailed along Lake Windermere. The large steamers were packed with tourists. This was a popular place to holiday; murders and missing girls didn’t happen here very often. Her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, interrupting her thoughts.
‘Hello.’
‘It’s me; sorry, I left my phone at home.’
Beth paused before answering: something was wrong. Josh’s voice sounded strained. ‘I did something that might make you mad, and I felt as if I needed to confess.’
‘You wouldn’t be the first person today. What’s up?’
‘It might be better to tell you in person. How’s it going? Any sign of the missing woman?’
The sigh was so loud she pulled the phone away from her ear.
‘No, we have a few leads we’re following. But you know how this works; it’s either a feast or a famine. To be honest with you I’m not holding out much hope for her: it’s been almost forty-eight hours with no sightings. Where are you?’
‘I’m at home waiting for the security guy to come and fix my broken camera. Have you eaten yet? I can make you something?’ She didn’t tell him she agreed with him that time was running out, he didn’t need to be told twice.
‘That, my friend, would be amazing. I’ll be over soon.’
He ended the call, and Beth sat there for a few more minutes. In spite of the underlying sadness for Chantel Price and the missing woman she enjoyed the view, the fresh air and peace. Things were beginning to shift in her life, she could feel it. As if her soul was beginning to wake from its self-induced coma. She turned to look at her house, so different to the Victorian terrace where it had happened. Wherewhathappened, Beth? She closed her eyes and was immediately back there…
She’d been walking along the corridor towards her kitchen, squinting through her hangover in search of a glass of water, wondering why Robert had left the light on.
She’d opened the door and stepped into the large room and heard her feet rustle on what felt like thick plastic sheeting. She looked down, surprised to find she was right. Looking up she was shocked and confused to find that the entire room had been covered; clear plastic sheeting had been taped to the walls, floor, cupboards, even the kitchen table. She didn’t understand.
The door that led out in to the garage opened, and she watched open-mouthed as a man stepped through it wearing a set of bright blue surgical scrubs, his face obscured with a mask, his hair covered, blue rubber gloves on his hands. For a moment Beth was certain she was having some kind of horrific nightmare, then she saw the glint of the butcher’s knife in his hand and knew whatever was about to happen was real. She whimpered and stumbled back as he took a step forward and their eyes locked. Suddenly she knew what the plastic sheeting was for and fear flooded through her.
Her instincts kicked in at last and she knew if she didn’t move quickly she was going to die. She had to get to a phone. She had to lock herself in a room until the police arrived. After several agonising seconds, her feet engaged, and she turned to run. She would have made it out of the door had she not slipped on the damn plastic underneath her and lost her footing. Scrabbling for purchase, she did the only thing she could think of and screamed as loud as she could over and over until the man’s dead weight dropped down onto her back and his hand clamped over her mouth. She bit into it as hard as she could, sinking her teeth in and breaking the skin. He shouted out in pain and swung his fist, connecting with her temple. Beth had felt the explosion of black and silver stars as her vision blurred. She tried to throw him off her. He cursed and pulled his hand away in shock. The moment his hand left her mouth she began to scream again, clambering to throw him off her and make a run for it. He fell to the side and she crawled on all fours out into the hallway. Dragging herself up onto her feet, she ran towards the stairs and the safety of her bedroom, where her phone was in her handbag.
The heavy footsteps ran in the opposite direction and she pumped her legs even harder. Too scared to turn around and see what he was doing, she carried on, hoping she’d scared him off. The sound of the blood rushing through her head filled her ears with white noise as she told herselfdon’t pass out, keep going.As she was about to reach the top step she felt a gloved hand clamp around her ankle.
His grip tight, he tugged so hard she lost her balance and began to fall back down the stairs. He fell with her and they landed in a tangled mess at the bottom, where her head smacked against the sideboard. She felt warmth as a gash opened across the side of her head and blood began to pour from it. Dazed, but not about to give up, she kicked out at her attacker, screaming again. This time he wrapped something around her mouth, pulling it so tight she dry-heaved. She kicked and fought until she felt herself slowly losing consciousness and could feel herself being dragged back towards the kitchen. Dazed and disorientated, she couldn’t do anything to stop him as she finally blacked out.
When she opened her eyes again she was lying flat on her back on a hard surface, which she soon released could only be the kitchen table. She was tied down, her arms and legs fastened tightly to the table legs. Beside her, his back was to her and she wondered what he was doing. He turned around to reveal he’d exchanged the knife he’d had in his hand for a small, sharp scalpel. He crossed the room towards her, a surgeon about to perform an operation, and she began to throw her head from side to side. He lifted a finger to his lips to shush her and she knew then, without question, that her life was over.
It was at that exact moment that the noise of splintering wood had broken through her thoughts like sweet music. She heard shouting from somewhere near the front door and thanked God for sending help. Her attacker lunged for her, but someone launched themselves at him, knocking him to the floor. Armed officers were standing over the two men grappling on the floor. Josh; he’d got there in time. The room went black for the second time as she passed out, bloodied, bruised, but alive thanks to Josh and the rest of the team.
She opened her eyes, her heart racing at the memories and stared at the calming water of the lake until her breath returned to normal. Standing up, she grabbed her bottle and walked back towards the house, leaving the kitchen doors wide open; it was too nice to close them, and Josh would be here soon. She was definitely getting a little braver. She had Phil to thank for that; his kindness and weekly classes had gone a long way to building back her self-confidence. Busying herself, she began to chop mushrooms, onions and garlic to sauté in a pan. She put a pan of water on to boil; she would add some pasta to it when the sauce was ready.
The intercom buzzed and she went to answer it. She didn’t recognise the car, but Josh turned up driving a different car almost every time he came. A hand came out of the window and waved wildly, so she opened the gates; no one but Josh did that geeky wave. Walking to the front door, she opened it and felt her mouth fall open at the sight of her friend as he climbed out of the car. He looked ashen, the stubble on his face was darker and thicker than she’d seen before. He smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes like it normally did. Something was terribly wrong.
‘Something smells good,’ he said as he reached her.
