Long-lost twin sister of author Faye Mathis reported missing.
So now everybody will know. I click through the article. If the media is connecting me to Claire, they may also know that my house was searched and I was brought in for questioning. If they do, Janice will never want to speak to me. Why would she let a potential murderer into her house?
Suddenly my phone pings.
Janice Tideswell has sent me a Facebook message.
Can you come this afternoon?
CHAPTER 40
THE SISTER
Hello, Sister.
It’s all coming together. My man is putting the finishing touches in place and setting the plan in motion. We will be together soon, sisters together at last. He has been working very hard, so hard he has hardly had time for me, but I know it’s all for us, our future together. It’s what we have both wanted for so long.
To see you on your knees.
I hope you feel it. I hope you sense that I’m coming for you. That you’re looking over your shoulder at every moment.
I heard the police were knocking on your door. I heard that they interrogated you. Naughty girl. Did you tell them about me? The problem is you don’t know enough to tell. You have no idea where I am or what I’m doing, and you have no idea what it is I really want.
It’s been a bad week for you Faye, from blazing rows in pub carparks to being rushed to hospital. Yes, that’s right, I see everything. I would feel sorry for you, but I don’t.
I never have.
I will watch you fall and I will enjoy every minute of it.
CHAPTER 41
FAYE
It’s my first attempt at a disguise. I stare at the woman in the mirror and I don’t see Claire or me. I see a pale-faced woman with dark hair. I’m wearing a wig that I found in a box in the attic and last wore at a Halloween party about three years ago. I went as Morticia Addams and Scott dressed as Gomez. It’s one of the last times I can remember us laughing easily and enjoying each other’s company. I loved sashaying around in a long black dress while Scott’s pencil moustache gradually unpeeled throughout the night. Of course, that was just before his affair began. The wig is not great quality, but I manage to comb it into a bun that juts out below a baseball cap. Then I put on a pair of square-shaped glasses and a baggy t-shirt over black leggings.
There’s no law against me going to see Claire’s neighbour, but I don’t particularly want to be recognised by anyone in the area, especially now the press have got wind of this. And if DS Oliver suspects I’m sticking my nose in where it’s not wanted, that might work against me.
Nathan is in York visiting the northern branch of his office and won’t be back until later. It still seems strange that he wants to help me, but perhaps he’s right, maybe I have been underestimating him.
My phone alerts me that the taxi is waiting outside—while I’m usually fine driving, I sometimes avoid it during more stressful moments in case I have an episode—and I make my way downstairs, and out the front door.
The driver is quiet as I get in. If he wants to know why I’m going all the way to Little Ingleby, he doesn’t ask.
The car air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the muggy weather outside and this itchy wig. I resist the urge to tear it away and concentrate on staying calm as the miles tick by.
When the village comes into view, I pull in a deep breath.
The truth is, I’m not just here to see Janice, I have another reason to come to Little Ingleby. I’ve even brought a few tools with me. The taxi pulls up and I grab my backpack and climb out of the car. When I heft it onto my shoulders, the weight tugs at the muscles in my back. Then I walk towards the one place that might give me answers.
* * *
I keepmy head down as I walk past the Blackburns’ house. For now, I just want to find out if anyone’s at the property. Sweat runs down my back when a car moves along the road. But they don’t stop. They’re driving fast, but I get a quick glimpse of a BMW as it speeds around the corner. To my relief, it’s not a police car.
But there is a car in the driveway, which is interesting. A small, ten-year-old Skoda.
I make my way around to Janice’s house, remove the hat, wig and glasses and shove them into my bag. She answers on the first doorbell ring.
“Hi,” she says. There’s a moment of hesitation, as though she doesn’t want to let me in. But then she steps away from the door. “Come in.”
