‘I’ll drop you home.’ Richie took her by the hand. John’s breath rattled. He wasn’t long for this world.
‘Why do you care?’ Sarah said. ‘You know what they say about me; I’m bad news.’
‘Believe it or not, I like you, although you’ve dragged me through so much shit I’m questioning my own sanity, never mind yours.’ He levelled her with a hard stare. ‘Let him die alone. It’s all he deserves.’
‘But I want everyone to know what he did.’ The injustice of the situation made her sick to her stomach, but Richie was guiding her towards the door.
‘They will. But now I’m getting you out of here. I don’t want you blamed when he croaks.’
Sarah allowed herself to be led away. The nurse met them in the corridor. ‘Are you OK?’
‘It all got a bit much,’ Richie said sombrely. ‘I doubt he’ll see out the night.’
She delivered a slow nod, most likely wondering why they were leaving. ‘Is there anyone I should call?’
‘No,’ Sarah said flatly. ‘They’re all dead.’ The nurse would find out soon enough. But for today, Richie was right. It was time to move on, and she knew where to start.
Sarah was in the hall when she heard the familiar swish of the cat flap in the kitchen. For a second, she imagined another letter and she was instantly filled with dread. But Lewis was in custody. Could it be?
‘Sherlock!’ she exclaimed as she entered the kitchen. ‘I thought you were dead!’
As she checked him over, her cat arched his back responding with a loud miaow. ‘Have you been in the wars, me old Sher?’ Sarah cooed, as he allowed her to stroke him for once. His fur was matted and dirty and he had lost a little weight, but there was something about his swagger that took her by surprise. Curling his tail around her leg, he pushed his face against her jeans, happy to see her. Sarah stood in surprise as she watched this sudden display of affection. He’d always been so uptight before … She laughed as realisation dawned. ‘Were you out doing the deed? You dirty old dog. Is that what it was?’ Another loud miaow in response.
‘You do look kinda pleased with yourself.’ Sarah had never got around to getting Sherlock neutered. Perhaps that’s what was wrong with him all along.
Opening the cupboard, she took out Sherlock’s kibble and emptied some into a bowl.
‘And here was me thinking you hated me.’ She sniffed away happy tears as she stroked her cat. ‘You were just repressed.’ She filled a saucer of milk and lay it next to the food on the ground, feeling a sense of satisfaction as she watched him wolf it down. Tomorrow, she would give him a wash, but right now, she was glad of his company.
Sarah opened the fridge door and plopped a cooked chicken breast on top of Sherlock’s bowl. ‘Just for tonight,’ she whispered, as he arched his back in response to her touch. There was a sense of peace as her job, her past, her life all reached a resolution. There was just one more thing left to do.
58
Wednesday, 18th December 2019
Sarah stood, arms tightly folded as the demolition machinery trundled up to Blackhall Manor. Her breath was frosted and the tips of her fingers were growing numb. She wriggled her toes to keep the blood flowing. Here on the hilltop, you felt every ounce of the cold. At least the photographers and small band of press that had gathered were at the other end of the field. Some of them had braved the wind to capture the final chapter of the story which had haunted Slayton for decades. She did not see Gabby until she was almost standing beside her. Next to her was Jahmelia, in blue dungarees.
‘Hey, how are you, Jahmelia?’ She was the last person Sarah had expected to see.
‘She’s been having nightmares,’ Gabby replied, as Jahmelia eyed Sarah suspiciously. ‘I told her mum I’d take her out for some fresh air.’
‘And you brought her here?’ Sarah said quietly, frowning.
‘Closure,’ Gabby simply said. Jahmelia had recovered well over the last few weeks, although it had been touch and go in the first few days. But while her physical scars may have been healing, the mental scars might never fade. And she was not the only one. Libby had hidden herself away, with her parents arranging private tutoring as she took the term off school. The community was still recovering from the aftershock of the horror story that had begun on Halloween night.
‘How did you know about the demolition?’ Sarah was dressed casually today, in jeans and a knee-length puffa jacket, watching the press with a measure of distrust.
‘Richie mentioned it. I saw your car, figured you wouldn’t mind me trespassing on your land.’ Gabby and her team had worked hard to get Lewis charged with Angelica’s murder, Libby’s abduction and Sarah and Jahmelia’s attempted murders, among other crimes. After taking advice from a solicitor, Lewis had admitted everything, blaming it on PTSD. It wouldn’t surprise Sarah if he gave a defence of temporary insanity when it went to trial. When she remembered his face at Blackhall Manor, it seemed believable. Christian had been an unwitting accessory who had grown frightened of the man he had once looked up to. Sarah hoped he would be spared prison time. The young man had been through enough.
‘Trespass away,’ Sarah said, as the wind snatched her words. ‘I’m only here to make sure they do it right.’ The house had been left intact with every stick of rotting furniture, every cracked cup and saucer, every moulding piece of clothing inside. She watched the wrecking ball draw up to the abandoned building, as workmen paced in yellow high-vis jackets and hard hats. There was a hum in the air, faint, but she could feel it. A negative vibration that made you want to walk away. On cue, Jahmelia tugged her grandmother’s hand. She felt it too.
‘I wanna go home.’
‘OK, Jay,’ Gabby replied. ‘In a second.’ The clouds rolled in above them, carrying unshed December rain. Christmas was on the horizon, and a small measure of hope was in the air. The jingle of an app tinkled as Jahmelia played on her phone.
‘Is any part of you sad about it?’ Gabby said, her eyes trained on the house. ‘I mean, there must be a reason you’ve left it standing for so long. Are you sure you want it flattened?’
Sarah considered the question, brushing her fringe off her face. Her scar didn’t bother her as much as before. ‘I left it standing because I was scared of it, not because of any loyalty to the house,’ Sarah replied.
