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

A few feet away from Nick was the coffee table with Maggie’s laptop on it. He had only to open it, guess her password – why the fuck had she gone for Isla1997? – and there would be Isla’s life laid out in front of him. Her network of friends, all those posts about uni, about Sweden . . .

‘Yvonne.’ She had to stop him thinking about Isla. ‘What have you done to her?’

‘Oh, Yvonne made a very silly mistake. At the time of your disappearance, she was supposedly at the Agricultural Marketing UK Conference. But when she came to dinner a few days ago, she’d obviously forgotten what she’d said before. She claimed to have been at the Technologies for Small Businesses Conference. Wrong!’ He grinned. ‘She underestimated my memory. Everything that happened at that time is seared into my brain, Mags. Understandably enough, I think you’d agree? I always suspected she might know something, and her unnecessary lie about the conference supported that conclusion. Okay, so she could have forgotten which conference she was at, but why not just say so if that was the case? Why lie about it? So, I put a tracker on her car. Followed her to Craibstone Wood on one of the bikes from Sunnyside. Confronted her, just as she was putting on her walking boots.’ He paused. ‘Tried to get her to tell me what had happened that day, but the stupid bitch fought me. Correction – she tried to fight me. Before I knew it, she was dead, having told me precisely nothing. But no matter. It’s all worked out in the end.’

‘What did you do with her?’

‘With the body? Slung it in the boot of her car, drove a few miles to the river, chucked her in there. Maybe she’ll wash up somewhere, but there won’t be anything on the body to indicate murder. Actually, it wasn’t murder. I didn’t want her dead, did I? Not before she’d told me what I wanted to know, anyway. I hit her too hard, Mags, but that was her own fault for cutting up rough. I don’t think the police will suspect suspicious circumstances even if they find her. She could just as easily have tripped on the riverbank, having extended her usual walk by a few miles, and hit her head. Fallen in. But I doubt she’ll be found now. Probably halfway to Ireland.’ He nodded. ‘She helped you get away, didn’t she? Stupid bitch.’

‘Yvonne was a really good person.’ For some reason, Maggie felt she had to say it. ‘She didn’t deserve that.’

Nick raised his eyebrows.

He crossed the room to Duncan’s body. He dropped to his knees, pressing his fingers to first one wound and then the other. Then to Duncan’s neck. Then he rolled him onto his back and – oh Jesus! – brought his lips down on Duncan’s mouth.

He placed his palm on the bloody chest and pushed, like he was performing compressions.

‘Oh, dear. A hopeless case.’ He stood and looked down at Maggie’s phone. He wasn’t wearing the gloves any more. ‘Right, time to make that call.’ He put the phone to his ear, and his face suddenly changed as he put on a look of shock and tears came into his eyes. ‘Ambulance!’ he yelled. ‘Please, ambulance!’ And then he was giving it, ‘My dad’s been stabbed! My stepmother – she’s killed him! Please, I need an ambulance. I’ve tried to bring him back, but – but . . . No, I don’t think he’s breathing. I tried doing first aid on him. Yes. Okay. But his chest – he’s been stabbed in the chest . . . No, I think there’s blood in his airway –’

And suddenly there was someone else in the room.

Maggie had forgotten her name.

The airhead lassie that was married to Nick. She must have stepped through the smashed door, and now she was taking in the scene, her eyes flicking from Maggie to Duncan to Nick.

‘Oh God!’ The lassie pushed past Nick; dropped to her knees at Duncan’s side; put a hand, without flinching, to his neck.

‘Lulu!’ Nick’s eyes widened, now, in real shock. And then he was speaking into the phone again: ‘And we need the police too. I forgot to say, we need the police. I’ve tied her up, but . . . Yes. Okay, yes, I’ll do that. My wife is here. Can I hand you over to her?’

He shoved the phone at Lulu and dropped to Duncan’s side.

‘He killed him!’ Maggie got out. ‘He killed Duncan!’

But the lassie, Lulu, was speaking into the phone. ‘I’m trained in first aid. I’ll do it. I’m going to hand you back to my husband. Nick . . .’ She put her fingers into Duncan’s mouth. ‘Nick, take the phone. Tell me what they’re saying.’

‘You can help him?’ Maggie got out.

Oh, please, let her not be an airhead.

Let her be able to save him.

Nick’s hand was trembling convincingly as he took the phone from Lulu. ‘Right,’ he said after listening to the person on the other end. ‘She’s doing that. You’re trying to clear the obstruction?’

Lulu nodded.

‘Now you have to tip his head back . . . Oh God, oh God. Dad!’ And now into the phone: ‘I’ve already tried that!’ And to Lulu: ‘Chest compressions. Thirty compressions and then two rescue breaths. Do you know how to do that?’

But Lulu was already doing it, deftly, her eyes focused on Duncan’s face.

‘She’s doing it,’ he said into the phone. ‘My wife knows how to do it. But please – they need to hurry! He’s not responding! Is he, Lu? Is he responding?’

‘No,’ she said shortly, not looking away from Duncan.

‘This is all my fault, Lulu!’ Nick choked. ‘Dad sent me a text message saying he’d locked himself in the loo and she’d gone haywire. I didn’t think, I just came straight here. I should have replied, I should have told him to stay in the loo! By the time I got here, she had the knife and she was threatening him with it, but when I – when I smashed the door to get in, she stabbed him! She just – she pushed the knife into his stomach, and before I could get to them, she’d done it again. Look, there, in his chest! Oh God, Lulu, she’s killed him for real this time!’





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Lulu - June 2019





‘I knew he was in danger!’ Nick sobbed, as Lulu continued with the compressions. ‘I could see how angry she was! I could see she was furious that we were being reconciled. I should never have left him alone with her! Oh God, Lu, is he dead?’

Lulu said nothing.

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