She swallows and takes another sip of water. ‘Okay, we can move on to my next question. Why is there a dent in my bumper?’
‘I’m sorry, Mum. I promise I’ll never go near your car again. Please, please, don’t call anyone or say anything.’ I’m actually crying, something I haven’t really done for a few years but the enormity of everything is weighing heavily now. She has to keep quiet or my life is over.
‘Go to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning.’ She crosses the kitchen, opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine. I’ve driven my mum to drink.
‘Please, Mum.’ I need to know if she is going to call the police.
Slamming the bottle on the table she shouts, ‘I said go to bed.’
Without wasting a second, I run up the stairs and slam my bedroom door. I’ve never seen my mum that angry and I don’t want to see that side of her again. All I can do is wait until tomorrow to see what she decides to do. I walk over to my window, still in darkness, and peer out. I stare at the other houses, an intricate maze of buildings, some small, some tall, but all tightly packed around squares of grass. Cars are parked everywhere and I wonder if whoever killed Taylor is out there watching.
The house I’m interested in is the house in the distance of this rabbit warren. Mr Whittle’s. He’s evil. I know what he did and I wonder if he killed Taylor. I know she went to Cleevesford High and it wasn’t that long ago really. I’ve been watching Mr Whittle when I can. I gulp and look around outside. Maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe he’s out there, watching me and was there tonight, killing Taylor. He’s a dangerous man and he made sure I knew just how dangerous. The threat makes me shiver.
I stay dressed and get into bed, leaving my boots and coat on the floor, ready to put on as soon as Mum is asleep. Either I work everything out or I sit here and remain a target for a killer. I check my phone and scroll through Facebook. Everyone is talking in theWhat’s Up CleevesfordFacebook group. Young woman murdered. Soon everyone will know it was Taylor when her face is plastered all over the internet. Why wait. The sooner everyone knows, the better. I type three words, under the post.
RIP Taylor Caldwell
For a second, I regret making that post. After all, I was there and I’m trying to keep a low profile but I need to tell the killer that I won’t stay completely silent. A shiver runs through me. Maybe I’ve made a huge mistake. I don’t even use my real name on my profile and it’s new and the photo is of our old cat that died. I swallow. By breaking the news this fast, only the killer will know it’s me. I go to delete my comment but everyone is commenting now. I’ve done what I set out to do so I go ahead and delete. I click onto Annie Bell’s profile and look into her beautiful eyes. ‘It’s all for you.’ I kiss her on my screen and wait. Waiting until Mum is asleep is all I can do right now.
THIRTY-SEVEN
TUESDAY, 5 APRIL
‘Mr Bryson, may we come in?’ Gina waited next to Wyre on the doorstep. The sound of morning birds just starting to tweet began to fill the air.
The barefooted man led Gina and Wyre into his living room. What was left of a fire simpered away in the hearth with a little crackle here and there. ‘Please, it’s Evan. Have a seat.’
‘We’re sorry to have to speak to you again, so soon. As you are aware, a woman was found dead on the lane a few hours ago. You told one of our officers that you saw someone.’
‘Yes, it was a little before nine. I’d just woken up after falling asleep in front of a film and I heard something when I went to get a drink in the kitchen. I opened the door and heard a noise coming from the bushes. At first, I thought it might be a fox trying to get to my rabbit. It’s been strange around here, lately. I keep hearing things. It’s like someone is always lurking around. With what’s happened to Annabel, I keep checking outside in the hope that she’ll just turn up. It can get quite creepy living out here; road and trees at the front and trees and the field at the back. We are only a small row of houses and the industrial estate is quiet at night except for the odd lorry pulling in.’
‘Are you sure it was a person?’ Gina sat back on the wide settee, its cushions so soft they felt like they were hugging her.
‘Yes. It was definitely footsteps I heard, not a fox or a badger. I saw him, and I recognised him. It took me a while but it was definitely the same person.’
‘Same person?’
Wyre began making notes.
‘Yes. A boy. I saw him a while ago, I can’t even remember when. He was looking through Annabel and Grant’s front window. I came out and he scarpered. Then I saw him again, last night. I’d heard someone loitering earlier too. I think it was him, he’s always here.’
‘Who is this boy?’
‘I don’t know his name. He must be about fourteen, fifteen maybe. Quite tall and gangly with black hair. Annabel teaches kids of that age, maybe he’s one of her kids at school.’
Gina knew she had to make speaking to the school a priority. Ms Law had to know who this kid was. Even Tom Whittle had said there was a boy who had a crush on Annabel. With Elouise’s description, it was now confirmed that the boy was a key witness. Gina swallowed. Or, maybe he was the murderer. Either way, she needed to catch up with him to find out what he either knew or did.
‘It’s too much of a coincidence, that boy being around, lurking and watching. I’m no child psychologist but that’s weird behaviour.’
Gina had to agree with him.
‘I also saw someone else a few moments before seeing him.’
‘Who?’ Gina was hoping that he had spotted Grant or even Whittle.
‘Taylor. I’d definitely recognise her. I heard someone in the garden whispering Grant’s name at first, I listened through the slight opening of the kitchen window. When I looked out, she was wearing black and looking through the garage window. Maybe she planned to meet Grant there.’ He paused and looked between Gina and Wyre. ‘Wait, the incident on the lane. It wasn’t Taylor, was it? Did the boy follow her?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t confirm anything yet.’ The last thing Gina wanted was word getting out before Taylor’s aunt had received the news.
