‘No, you get back to Josh, I’ll take a shower and join you in an hour. And, Emma, don’t try ringing Alex. He’s back on the road now. It might not be safe. He said to tell you that Jamie’s fine and he’ll speak to you soon.’
I nodded dumbly, the guilt making me feel like my heart had been wrenched from my chest. I knew I had frightened Jamie last night, and for that I was thoroughly ashamed. To be honest, I had frightened myself. I was on an emotional see-saw, experiencing cycles of lucidity and aggression, with a hazy fog of confusion in between. The slashed dress, the incident in the car park . . . had I orchestrated it all myself? It was a chilling prospect. But I had received phone calls . . . hadn’t I? I knew it was him. I had not imagined a hooded face at the window. It had been dark outside, but it was Luke . . . it had to be. I said my goodbyes to Theresa, my thoughts tormenting me. Perhaps if I saw a doctor, cleared my head, then these torturous feelings would go away. I needed to eat, to make myself strong. I had to fight for my family if I had any hope of winning them back. And somewhere in my mind was the thought that I was not the only one with secrets. Theresa was hiding something too.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
ALEX
2017
I hadn’t intended to call Theresa, but the further I got from home, the guiltier I felt. I thought about how I’d feel if I was the one back in Colchester, completely oblivious of the fact my son had been taken away. I knew Emma would be checking the webcam and would panic when he didn’t show. Yet again I found myself relying on my sister-in-law to bridge the ever-widening gap between my wife and me. I could only hope that she would make her understand.
Mum’s house in the suburbs was warm and welcoming. Deep luxurious carpets graced the floors, and floral sofas dressed with plump cushions and soft throws made the living room a very inviting place. I inhaled deeply as the enticing aroma of freshly baked Victoria sponge teased my senses. It felt good to be home. Jamie loved it here too, and it did not take long for him to settle in. I wished that we’d moved here earlier, but Emma had expressed reservations. She’d needed time to dig up the body on our land, of course. I wondered what Theresa had done with the remains and felt my appetite fade. Shuddering, I directed my focus to Jamie, who was sitting on the living-room floor. Wearing a huge smile on his face, he tore open the wrapping on the present my mother had bought.
‘A Nintendo DS!’ he squealed, taking it from the wrapping paper, pausing only to give Mum a hug.
‘You shouldn’t have gone to so much expense,’ I said. ‘He’s only four, he’ll barely be able to play.’
But my words fell on deaf ears. Mum was positively glowing in his presence. Despite our regular phone calls, it had been hard for her, living so far away. It was a part of our relationship that Emma could not understand. Mum and I were close, but it was not something Emma had experienced, and once I saw her rolling her eyes as Mum called us for the third time that day. I caught my thoughts. What was I doing? Trying to justify leaving my wife? I had a good reason. I had unearthed more than a body last night. Simmering resentment had risen to the surface too. But I could fix this. I had to. We were over the worst. Emma would be by my side when she was well enough to join us.
‘If I can’t treat my only grandson then who can I treat?’ Mum said smugly. She was only five foot one, and with her short permed hair and colourful clothes, she was the sweetest person you could ever meet. But Mum was like me: fiercely protective of her brood. I knew she was desperate for the truth. ‘Besides . . .’ She lowered her voice. ‘You made it sound like he’s going to be here for some time. I didn’t want him getting bored.’
I knew the remark was a request for further information, but I was still raw from recent events. ‘I’ll fill you in later,’ I said, with as much reassurance as I could muster. I slid my mobile from my pocket, activating the screen to bring up a recent missed call. ‘I’ve got a phone call to make, can you watch Jamie for five minutes while I take it outside?’
‘Of course. I’m not going anywhere,’ she said, throwing me another enquiring look.
‘Thanks. There’s some business I need to take care of that can’t wait.’ I pocketed my phone and walked into her small garden.
Before we had left for Leeds I’d conducted a hurried online search and hired a private detective to dig into Luke’s whereabouts. Since our grim discovery in the field I had come to my own conclusion. But I still needed to know the identity of the man I had met in the pub. There might have been a grain of truth in what Emma had said about seeing someone at the window, but it was surely beyond a coincidence that the man calling himself Luke Priestwood had contacted me. I returned the missed call, nibbling my bottom lip as I was put through. The private detective, a man by the name of Edwin Burrows, sounded more like a grandfather than one of the all-action types who usually portrayed such roles on TV. Pleasantries over, he launched into the reason for his call. ‘I thought you’d like to know that I’ve tracked down your Luke Priestwood. Seems he’s been keeping tabs on you through social media.’
I frowned. I had been waiting for him to tell me there was no trace of him.
‘Are you sure it’s definitely him?’ I said, scratching my head.
‘Without a doubt. I’ve checked out his credentials. He taught art in Colchester before leaving under a cloud. He’s worked various jobs since then. His credit history’s nothing to write home about. He’s had a few relationships; doesn’t seem to hang on to them for very long.’
‘And now?’ I said, trying to come to grips with this latest revelation.
‘He works in the York art gallery, but I wouldn’t bother visiting, he’s on leave for the next couple of weeks.’
‘How?’ I said. ‘I mean, you said he was keeping tabs on social media. I’m not on Facebook and neither is my wife.’
‘But her sister is,’ Burrows said. ‘I friended her myself. Seems she’s not too fussy about who she accepts. You should have a word with her, she’s sharing images of your son online and saying how much she’s going to miss him when you move. They’re innocent enough, but she should change her privacy settings and only friend people she knows. Anyone can hide behind a fake name and a phony profile picture. She’s too trusting by far.’
I ran my fingers through my hair as life took another twist. How I’d missed having normal friends, good company, an ordinary life. It was all within my grasp if I could just figure out what was going on.
My forehead creased as an image flashed in my mind. If the man I’d spoken to really was Luke Priestwood, then who had we just dug up? I thought of Theresa, insisting we keep digging. Of her tears as she gently wrapped the skeleton in the cloth. A sudden sense of urgency bloomed. I had to get hold of Theresa and find out what the hell was going on.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
EMMA
2017
Despite Theresa’s reassurances, I felt forlorn. I had wanted to leave work, catch a train and get to Leeds to see my son, but an influx of customers gave us all a busy afternoon. Theresa had advised me to give my husband some space, assuring me that she wasn’t letting me out of her sight. But the day had dragged on as I continuously checked my phone, waiting for Alex to call.
Now, with evening drawing in, I was finally back in Mersea. Theresa’s holdall thumped against the front door as she entered the living room. I’d told her I’d be going to Leeds as soon as I had cleared it with Alex. There was no way I could stay away from my family for very long. Besides, Luke was closing in, and I didn’t feel safe here any more. I picked up Alex’s letter from the kitchen table and read it three times before it sank in. What did he mean, ‘I know everything?’ How was that possible? How could he possibly know?