Chapter 31
Thirty-One
THEO
The next day, while Jared worked on the farm, Sarah convinced me to spend Christmas Eve in the village.
That is until it began to snow and someone in Flora’s told us it was to turn into a storm. Sure enough, a quick check on our phones confirmed the snow was supposed to keep falling all through Christmas Eve and Day. There were weather warnings all over Sutherland.
By the time we returned to the farmhouse, the snow was beginning to lie on the ground, and Jared’s truck was parked outside the house. He was already home.
Sarah attempted valiantly to lift my mood, going on about how perfect it was that our first Christmas together was a white one. She was trying so hard while I was locked in my head about the murders that I didn’t see what else she was trying hard to forget.
Instead, I got through the day on autopilot.
Distracted myself by cooking. Jared wasn’t one for idle chitchat, which suited me fine.
The roast chicken dinner Sarah and I made was damn good, but much like the fajitas last night, I barely tasted it.
I kept waiting for the phone to ring. For the police to tell me they needed me, or worse.
Sarah had arranged all the presents under the Christmas tree and stuck a few little ones in Jared’s stocking that hung over the mantel. Jared returned the favor, and I watched their traditions unfold, feeling half there and half somewhere else.
We all sat down after dinner to watch a Christmas movie and then another.
The ten o’clock news interrupted the second one, and I was suddenly alert at the breaking news chyron that scrolled across the screen as the newscaster announced, “The Thames Valley Police are urging the public to stay safe this Christmas after the body of twenty-six-year-old Helen Miller, a dental technician originally from Hull, was found in Slough early this morning. The police released a statement confirming Ms. Miller is the latest victim of the Hangman serial killer.”
“Theo.” Sarah’s fingers curled around mine as I stared dazedly at the screen.
Urgency filled me. Urgency and restlessness and the utter horror that there was nothing I could do. “There are only two victims left,” I whispered hoarsely. “Charlie King murders his father and stepmother before he kills himself.”
“Then we have to hope the police figure out who he is before it comes to that,” Jared said from across the room.
I looked at him. For the first time in our acquaintance, he wore an expression akin to kindness.
That made me feel worse.
I turned to Sarah. “I’m sorry, my love. I just need … I’m heading to bed.” I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before she could object.
Later, when she came to bed, I pretended to be asleep.
At some point during the night, my mind finally shut down out of sheer exhaustion.
Guilt would find me in the morning again. But not for the same reason as the night before.
I woke up, the bedroom still dark, and turned to find the space beside me empty. Confused, I reached for my phone to check the time. It was barely five o’clock in the morning.
Worry coursed through me, and I got out of bed. The floorboards were freezing beneath my feet, and I hurried to pull on socks and then a sweater over my T-shirt. The farmhouse was old and bloody cold.
The stairs creaked as I made my way down them, a glow from the living room guiding me.
The sight that greeted me made my heart throb in my throat.
Sarah stood by the unlit fireplace, her head buried in the stocking that hung on the mantel. The one that was her grandfather’s. Her shoulders shook as quiet sobs wracked her body and pain flared in a sharp, stinging ache across my chest.
She was grieving, and I’d been so wrapped up in my own demons I hadn’t noticed.
Cursing under my breath, I crossed the distance between us.
Sarah lifted her tear-streaked face seconds before I reached her and came into my arms without hesitation.
Her sobs grew louder, though muffled against my chest as I held her tighter. “I’ve got you, my love,” I promised her gruffly. “Let it out. I’ve got you.”
She pulled at my sweater as if trying to burrow deeper into me. “I—I m-miss h-him so m-much,” she stuttered through her cries.
I squeezed her tighter, wishing I could take it all away.
There might not be anything I could do for the victims of the sick fuck who was out there copying my show.
But I could be here for Sarah. I could get her through this because I knew what it was like to lose a parent I adored.
“I know, my darling. I know.” I kissed her head again.
“You just have to miss him. There’s nothing else for it.
Some days it will feel like this. Fucking unbearable.
But most days, you will bear it. I promise. ”
She nodded against me, crying a little harder.
“And”—I lifted her head, holding her tear-filled gaze with mine—“on the days you cannot bear it, I will be here to bear it for you. Okay?”
Sarah’s face crumpled with a different emotion and she nodded again. “Th-thank you.”
“You never have to thank me for that.” I gently led her to the couch and sat her down. Then I made quick work of lighting the fire.
I could feel her watching me and was glad to hear her voice had calmed as she whispered, “Where did you learn to build a real fire?”
I glanced over my shoulder at her with a small grin.
“Haleshall Manor. My father’s ancestral seat.
It’s this three-hundred-year-old manor house on the Suffolk Coast, and it’s bloody freezing in the winter.
We’d spend Christmas there, and I learned from the staff how to light the fires.
They had many to light in the mornings.”
Sarah wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I sometimes forget that you grew up so differently from most people.”
“I suppose I did.” I stood once the fire was burning.
“Theo.”
“Yes?” I turned to her.
“There’s only one Christmas present I want from you this year … but I’m afraid to ask for it.”
Frowning, I crossed the room to sit beside her. “Should I be worried?”
“I … I know you and your father have an ugly past.”
I stiffened at the mention of the bastard. “That’s putting it lightly.”
She hesitated at my acidulous tone but then forced out, “I want you to go speak to him. To forgive him. Not for him. For you.”
Despite how I’d found her this morning, I felt a surge of anger. “Sarah … how could you even suggest such a thing? I know you’re grieving your grandfather, but my relationship with—”
“It’s not because I think family should forgive each other because life is short,” she cut me off. “It’s because … it’s because the bitterness you feel toward him and Saffron is eating at you, whether you’re aware of it or not. We almost lost this,” she said, gesturing between us, “because of it.”
“But we didn’t,” I clipped out, my heart racing.
“I’m afraid we still might.”
Her expression from the night I told her I loved her for the first time filled my mind. “I’m scared.”
“I’m worried that if you don’t make peace with the past, it’ll find us, Theo. That you’ll walk away from me again when it begins to hurt too much.”
Angry, I huffed. “And have you had a heart-to-heart with your mother? Have you forgiven her?”
Sarah sighed wearily. “I forgave her a long time ago. People can’t help who they are. And we can waste our lives feeling bitter that they won’t change for the better for us, or we can just accept who they are and try to be better for the people we love. So that we don’t repeat their mistakes.”
I looked away, glowering, because what she said made sense. But it didn’t mean I liked it.
“I wrote an email to my mum when I was fifteen telling her how I felt. She wrote one back, bemoaning that I blamed her for everything. But it didn’t matter. Because it was good to know she was aware of my feelings. Have you ever told your father how you feel about what he did?”
I shrugged like I didn’t care. “Not in so many words.”
Sarah was quiet for a long while. Then she whispered sadly, “I only have to mention it and you pull away.”
I looked sharply at her, opening my mouth to argue … then stopping. Because she was right. “Fuck,” I bit out furiously.
Her barely there smile was sympathetic. “Just think about talking to him. Please. Do it for you. And for us.”
Studying her precious face, I suddenly experienced some of the complicated emotions I’d been writing about for years. How it was possible to adore someone with every fiber of your being … and yet resent them a little, too, for having such power over you.
Sarah had such power over me.
And it would make me promise something I never thought I could. “I’ll think about it. Now come here.” I drew her into my arms and cuddled her against me. “Let’s talk of nicer things this Christmas morning. Why don’t you tell me about your first Christmas with your grandparents?”
I felt her smile against my chest before she began to talk. Eventually, her words soothed me, my heartbeat found a calmer pace, and I let myself forget about the promise I’d made.
At least for a little while.