‘I know, I’m sorry. And the answer is no, Rob, I didn’t do it.’
‘Well, OK then.’ I lift my pint glass. I know what she means. It’s quite something to be forced into a situation where you have to consider if your partner might be capable of doing something like that, and that they must also think the same of you.
‘I feel like what we’re really voicing is that the way the coroner laid everything out earlier doesn’t feel like the whole picture – to either of us,’ I say. ‘Gary Day must have had a solid-gold alibi, that’s for sure. But you know what?’ I look my wife in the eye, ‘at the end of the day, I’m just glad it’s all over. I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ she says, and takes a sip of her wine.
Part 3
The Attack
Chapter Twenty-One
I didn’t have much time to get there. I stayed on the road, listening for cars as I walked, ready to jump into hiding, but no one appeared. Once I was in position, crouched behind the tree, waiting, I wasn’t thinking anything other than: would he really come?
It’s me, I’d texted. Did he have the phone? Was it near him?
I held my breath and felt an almost visceral thrill of satisfaction as it delivered.
Me who?
* * *
You know who. I have to see you. Come to the woods. Clearing on left before house. Will signal when you arrive.
I wasn’t afraid, waiting for him in the silence. I was focused and determined. It was quite calming standing there in the dark listening to the sound of my own steady breathing. Gradually my senses became heightened. I heard an owl, felt the wind pick up, heard the snap and rustle of an animal of some description moving about in the leaves – and eventually an approaching car engine.
The headlight beam bounced as the driver steered it into the clearing, coming to a stop, facing me. I stayed hidden away. The engine cut, the lights went off and I heard a car door opening, then slamming shut.
I took my pencil torch from my pocket, switched it on then held the light up in front of me, before covering it with my hand, showing it again – and repeating the signal once more. Would he risk it? Would he follow it into the woods to find me?
I held my breath and listened to the sounds of footsteps crashing through leaves, thudding into the ground. Yes, he would. His obsession had won. He couldn’t bear not to come running. I killed the light and there was a pause as he stopped, disorientated.
‘Alex?’ I heard him whisper. ‘Where are you?’
I flashed the light once more, and he set off again. I reached into my pocket, curled my fingers around the handle of the knife, swallowed, and once he was practically upon me, I stepped out from behind the tree.
He yelped then froze rigid, his eyes widening as I held up the torch to illuminate the blade.
‘Do not move,’ I said. ‘You really believed, in spite of everything you’ve done, that you’d been summoned here for sex tonight? You’re that narcissistic?’ I put the torch in my pocket, then reached into my coat and brought out the plastic plunger I’d carefully removed from the Calpol packet in the bathroom. Every parent has one these days. I stepped over to him and placed the knife tip at the base of his Adam’s apple – but not close enough to actually touch him – in one precise movement. Perhaps I should have been a surgeon, except I prefer to make the difference at grass-roots level.
‘Open, please,’ I instructed, and with my left hand, I squeezed the 5 ml water solution into his mouth. ‘Swallow and then open your mouth again.’
Terrified, he held it – I could see his cheeks bulging. I sighed, put the plunger back in my pocket, reached out and pinched his nose tightly. The fingers of the disposable latex gloves felt almost slippery as I squeezed.
‘If you spit it out, I’ll shove this knife right into you here and now,’ I said pleasantly. ‘I don’t even care any more.’
He closed his eyes and swallowed.
‘Good boy,’ I said. ‘Open wide, please?’
He did as he was told, and I reached back into my pocket for the torch and shone it in his mouth. All gone.
‘What the fuck have you just given me?’ He tried to sound angry, but his bottom lip trembled. He was frightened it was going to hurt.
‘It’ll be painless,’ I said truthfully. ‘You can relax. I’m going to move the knife a little bit further away from you so that you can sit down. I want to talk to you.’
He watched me warily, but stayed standing, although he visibly wobbled, almost swaying on the spot.
I frowned. The pills wouldn’t have an effect that fast. ‘When did you last eat something?’
‘What do you care?’
His words were slightly slurred and I realized he was sweating. Ah, now this was interesting. I relaxed immediately. This was going to be much easier than I had anticipated. ‘Jonathan?’
‘I had a bit of tea about an hour and a half ago.’
‘And your last shot?’
‘Same time.’
‘So you’re already hypo? That’s poor management, Jonathan. Really. Reach into your pockets and drop your phones – both of them – your keys, pen, any snacks you have, and your wallet on the ground. What’s your iPhone code?’
He didn’t take his eyes from me but did as he was told. ‘What did you just give me?’
‘Your code please?’ I held the knife steady.
‘2256. What did you just give me?’
‘Don’t shout. Two sleeping tablets – the same ones your mother takes – dissolved in water.’
‘Why?’ He couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice. ‘What is it you want from me?’
I raised my eyebrows, amused. ‘You think you have any bargaining power now? Really?’
‘I’ll say it if you want. I’ll say sorry.’
I shook my head. ‘You don’t have to say a thing. Not if you don’t want to. I already know you lied. For the record, pretending your iPhone was stolen outside the surgery, to cover up the fact there was never any initial message ‘stored’ on it in the first place, was weak. The texts on that,’ I pointed at the android phone, ‘were better. Obviously, they could have come from anyone, of course, although I get that was somewhat the point. Quite a nice touch though. Very dramatic. What did you do, buy another handset and message yourself?’
He cleared his throat and eyed the knife. ‘I’m sorry I did it.’ He looked me in the eye. ‘I’ll say sorry publicly too.’
I looked at him with interest. ‘Will you now? Why did you make it all up, Jonathan?’
He didn’t answer, just glanced wildly to his right and suddenly bolted off into the dark. I could hear him crashing off through the trees, panting with exertion as he hurtled towards the road. I sighed and got the torch out again, shining it up just in time to see him collapse and crumple to the ground. I bent and picked up his belongings, then walked over to him. It only took me about thirty seconds; he’d hardly managed to get any distance at all.
I stood over him. He was lying face down on the leaves, almost motionless. Perhaps he sensed me there, because he suddenly exclaimed: ‘Fuck off, you fucking cunt! You’re full of shit with your hands waving near!’
‘That’s it. You just keep lying down – and thank you.’ I said soothingly.