Page 57 of One Step Behind
‘I assume you mean the same style you received before?’
‘Yes. Exactly the same.’
‘Is this the first one you’ve had since Matthew Dover was brought into hospital?’
‘Yes.’
‘Has there been anything else happening? Any other dolls or someone following you?’
‘No, of course not. I would’ve said. It’s him though. It has to be. I told you he still had his phone. Have you spoken to him?’
DS Church sighs and I feel her annoyance in the pause before she speaks. Am I being a nuisance? Is she tired of my calls? I bite back the desire to apologize. Whether she’s had enough of me or not, she needs to take this new email seriously. ‘My colleague and I were able to speak to Mr Dover yesterday,’ she says. ‘But it’s early days in his recovery and our investigation of him, Jenna. I need to ask you to be patient. I’ll be in touch when we make progress.’
Ifyou make progress, I find myself wanting to retort.
I think of all the hours DS Church and I have spent together, me in the squeaky office chair with the broken wheel that sits beside her desk. Hours and hours of time away from the hospital, away from Beth and Archie, giving statements about melted dolls and being followed. Everything I said was typed up and given to me to read and sign.
I thought I trusted DS Church to stop you, but now I’m not so sure.
‘Will you send me the email you received and I’ll pass it on to cyber analysis?’
‘Yes. I’ll do it now.’
‘Is there anything else?’
The nightmare I had last night rushes into my thoughts. I’d almost forgotten it, but now it feels so real that I want to tell DS Church how I was chased through Westbury town centre, running for my life. I want to tell her how I kept shouting for help, but no one came. And when I finally stopped I was by a busy road withbuses zooming by and you were at my side. You put your hands around my neck and I couldn’t breathe and then you let go and I was falling into the road.
‘Jenna?’ DS Church prompts with another frustrated sigh.
‘No, there’s nothing else.’
With that she says goodbye, leaving me gritting my teeth against the scream fighting to get out.
It’s starting again and no one is doing anything to stop you.
I thump my fist against the steering wheel. I thought if the police could just find you then everything would be OK, but it’s not.
The need to do something gnaws at my insides. I call Rachel’s mobile and leave another message begging her to call me. ‘I’ve got an update from the police. You’ll want to hear it,’ I lie, hoping it will be enough to convince her to return my call.
I reach into my bag and pull out your keys and tap your address into Google Maps. It’s an eighteen-minute drive.
Your keys jingle in my palm and I realize how much my hands are still shaking. I have a sudden desire to drive home and bolt the door behind me, but that’s exactly what you want me to do, and so I swallow the fear, clench my hands into two tight fists until the shaking stops, and drive across town. I won’t let you keep doing this to me.
I start looking for your house at the wrong end of the mile-long terraced road, the end nearest to town with To Let signs in every other front garden and lawns left to overgrow. They remind me of the student houses I lived in years ago.
I keep driving, all the way to the other end where the small front gardens are neat, and lacy net curtains hang in the windows.
It’s nine twenty in the morning and the street is empty. I park up, your keys in my hand, and walk straight to your front door like I’m supposed to be here. I’m doing nothing wrong, I try to tell myself over the furious beating of my heart in my chest. If anyone asks, I’ll say I’m a friend, here to feed your cat.
I find the right key and let myself in, trying to ignore the doubt now circling like vultures in my thoughts.
The smell of garlic hits me as I step in and close the door behind me. No going back now. I stand for a second. My breath is coming in short gasps as the reality of what I’m doing hits me.
‘Hello?’ My voice is weak. I’m in your house. I’ve walked through the front door just as you did mine. But what if you live with someone? What if there’s someone else here?
‘Hello?’ I try again, forcing a strength into my voice that I don’t feel.
Time ticks by. A minute of silence, then another just to be sure before I dare to move.
