The Stepson: A psychological thriller with a twist you won't see coming

‘Oof, give me ten.’

Upstairs in their room, Maggie trailed Duncan from the wardrobe to the chest of drawers to the en suite, as he threw off the clothes he was wearing, had a piss and pulled on shorts and a T-shirt. As he went on about how glad he was to be back, not saying much about what it had been like in prison, Maggie psyched herself up for what she had to tell him. She’d decided not to say anything about what Nick had done, or her suspicions about Dean’s death, while he was inside. There was nothing he could do about it other than worry himself to death. But now she needed to speak.

Before she had a chance, as he sat on the bed to tie the laces of his running shoes, he said, ‘I think there’s maybe an issue with Nick.’

Hallelujah!

But Maggie made her face serious. ‘Aye,’ she went, rocking Isla in her arms. ‘I think there is.’

‘I’ve been spending too much time with this little one.’ He smiled at Isla. ‘Irresistible as she is, I think I’ve maybe been neglecting Nick a bit. Making him feel . . . overlooked? That was the impression I had when he came to visit me in Dumfries. He said it was good to get uninterrupted time with me.’ He shook his head. ‘What kind of crap father needs to get put inside and made to sit at a table in the visitors’ room to spend quality time, as they call it, with his son?’

‘That’s blethers!’ Maggie puffed. ‘You’ve always spent loads of time with Nick.’

‘Not since Isla was born.’

‘Well, obviously no parent can spend as much time with their first child once a second one comes along. If Nick wasn’t so fucking self-centred, he’d realise that and not guilt-trip you about it.’

‘He wasn’t . . .’ Duncan frowned. ‘Nick isn’t “self-centred”!’

‘If only that was all that was wrong with him!’ Maggie put Isla down in her cot and sat down next to Duncan on the bed. She turned her right hand over so he could see the burn. ‘Nick did this. And my leg’s burnt too. He superheated a mug and gave it to me on a tray. Fucking boiling tea tsunami. Missed Isla by inches, and I had to go to A&E. I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want you worrying.’

Duncan took her hand gently and examined it. ‘Ouch. That looks painful. But I’m sure Nick didn’t mean to give you a mug that was too hot.’

‘Of course he did!’ She snatched Bunny up from Isla’s cot. He’d not been the same since the hot tea had been spilt on him, the soft fur now matted at one side. ‘That’s where the tea landed,’ she hissed, waving the rabbit in front of Duncan’s nose. ‘That could have been Isla! Her delicate wee skin –’

‘Maggie –’

‘Naw, Duncan. You’re going to have to face up to this. There’s more. Isla – I only ever left her alone when he wasn’t here. I was in the kitchen, and I heard . . .’ Jesus, she was choking up all over again! ‘I heard Isla screaming on the baby monitor, and then Nick’s voice saying, “Don’t cry, little sister.” By the time I got up here, he’d gone, but Isla was going mental, screaming her head off. And there was a big bruise on her! Aye, it’s faded now, but it’s still there – see?’ Gently, she lifted the sleeping Isla from her cot and turned her so Duncan could see the place.

‘What, this?’ He pointed to the yellowish mark on the side of her head.

‘Aye. I put a cold compress on it right away, so it healed up quick. But that was a bad bruise. He must have hit her, Duncan. He hit Isla!’ She held Isla close, then laid her back in her cot. ‘He must have sneaked out of school, biked back here . . . He threatened me with social services. He’d make out that I did it, if I went to the cops.’

Duncan was staring at her, shaking his head. ‘But why on earth would he want to hurt Isla?’

‘He’s jealous of her! You’ve obviously picked up on that subconsciously, eh? Which is why you’re going on about spending more time with him. He hates me and he hates Isla.’

‘It was probably a voice on the radio you heard, not Nick. Did the school say he’d been AWOL?’

‘Naw,’ she admitted. ‘He was clever about it. He must have sneaked away, as I said. And he . . . I think it was Nick who killed Dean, Duncan. And then tried to set me up for it.’

As she explained what had happened – the phone call that had lured her to The Phoenix Centre, finding Dean’s body, realising that the knife was one from Sunnyside – Duncan put his head in his hands. ‘Oh God, Maggie, listen to yourself! This is ridiculous! Someone must have broken in here and stolen the knife. Of course it wasn’t Nick! He was at the rehearsal for the school play the whole time. The police confirmed that. Nick said . . .’ He looked at her. ‘Nick said you pointed the finger at him, and that’s why he was questioned by the police. I didn’t believe that for a minute. I thought it was just Nick and his . . . weird ideas about you. I assumed the police must have questioned everyone who could have had access to the keys to The Phoenix Centre. But – did you really do that? You really told the police that Nick could be responsible?’

‘Aye, I pointed the finger at Nick! Maybe he didn’t do it himself. Maybe he got some other bastard to do the actual murder.’

‘Why on earth would Nick . . .’ He lifted his head, hair wild. ‘No. Maggie . . .’ He exhaled slowly. ‘This has been a horrendously stressful time for all of us, but this . . . I think maybe you need help.’

‘You’re in denial!’ Maggie shot back at him. ‘Go on then, go for your run with golden boy! Never mind that he’s probably busy planning his next scheme to get rid of me and Isla!’

‘You’re letting paranoia get the better of you.’

‘This isn’t paranoia!’ Maggie shoved her burnt hand in his face. ‘And neither is this!’ She snatched up Isla, who was now yowling, and turned her to show the bruise. ‘But you’d rather believe it’s all in poor mental Maggie’s head than that there’s anything wrong with this family!’

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