doesn’t say anything I go on.
‘It wouldn’t have been hard for him to trace me from my licence plate. When I pulled in in front of Jane’s car I stopped for quite a few minutes so it’s possible that he was able to see my registration number despite the rain. The more he phoned me, the more traumatised I became. I presumed he’d thought I’d somehow seen him and was trying to warn me off from telling the police.
But the only person I’d seen was Jane. I tried ignoring the calls but, when I did, he would carry on phoning until I picked up and I began to realise that he never phoned when my husband was around, which made me think he was watching the house.
‘I was so frightened that I insisted on having an alarm installed but he still managed to get in and leave a calling card in the kitchen, a huge kitchen knife, exactly like in the photos. The next day, I thought he was in the garden and barricaded myself into the living room. I was put on medication which turned me into a mental and physical wreck, but it was the only way I could cope with the calls. Then, last Monday, after I got back from visiting you, I knew he’d been in the house while I was out. It wasn’t that anything was missing or damaged but I could sense he’d been there. I was so sure I called out the police but they couldn’t find trace of a break-in, and when I realised that the mug I’d left on the side before going out had somehow found its way into the dishwasher, I was triumphant. It was proof that someone had been in The Breakdown
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the house – except that when I said as much everyone
looked at me as if I was mad.’ I pause to catch my breath.
‘The thing is, I have early-onset dementia and I forget so many things that people don’t believe me anymore.
But I know he was in the house last Monday. And now I’m terrified that I’m going to be his next victim. So what I want to know is, what should I do? The police already think I’m imagining things so if I tell them the murderer is after me, they’re not going to believe me, especially when I can’t prove that I’ve been getting calls in the first place. I sound crazy, don’t I?’ I add hopelessly.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment and I imagine
him trying to work out how he can get rid of me without causing offence.
‘I have been getting calls,’ I say. I glance up at him, standing by the bookshelf, leaning against it, contem-plating what I’ve just told him. ‘I really need you to believe that I have.’
‘I do believe you,’ he says.
I look at him warily, wondering if he’s just humouring me. ‘Why? I mean, nobody else has.’
‘A gut feeling, I suppose. Anyway, why would you
make up something like that? You don’t seem like an attention-seeker to me. If you were, you’d have gone to the police and to the media by now.’
‘They could be a figment of my imagination.’
‘The fact that you’re telling me they could be makes it unlikely.’
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‘So you really do believe that I’ve been getting calls from the person who killed Jane?’ I ask, needing him to confirm it.
‘No. I believe you’re getting calls but they’re not coming from the person who killed Jane.’
‘Don’t tell me, they’re coming from a call centre,’ I say, not bothering to hide my disappointment.
‘No, it’s obvious that there’s more to them than that.
Someone is definitely harassing you.’
‘So why can’t they be coming from the murderer?’
‘Because it’s not logical. Look, what exactly did you see when you drove past Jane’s car? If you’d been able to see her clearly, you would have recognised her. Yet you told me you didn’t.’
‘I couldn’t make out her features,’ I confirm. ‘I had the impression she was blonde, but that was all.’
‘So if you had seen someone sitting next to her in the car, the most you’d have been able to say was that they were dark or fair.’
‘Yes, but the killer doesn’t know that. He might think that I saw him clearly.’
He leaves the bookshelf and comes to sit down next to me. ‘Even if he was sitting next to Jane, in the passenger seat? The police think she picked him up before she got to the lay-by. Well, if she did, he would hardly have been sitting in the back seat, would he?’
‘No,’ I say, wondering what it must have been like for him to hear all the rumours that his wife had a lover.
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‘And there’s another flaw to your reasoning. If he
really thinks that you might go to the police with vital information about him, why would he let you live?
Why not just kill you? He’s already killed once, so why not again?’
‘But if the calls aren’t coming from him,’ I say, bewildered, ‘who are they coming from?’
‘That’s what you need to find out. But, I promise you, they aren’t coming from the person who killed Jane.’
He reaches out and takes hold of my hand. ‘You need to believe me.’