CHAPTER 20
Ella
I’m getting closer to finding Nate, I can feel it.
There’s a hum of energy in the night sky as I unlock the front door.
The stars are bright, and the moon is low.
Nate is still out there somewhere. If I play things right, I’ll bring him home.
Dad comes to mind as I step over the threshold, his eyes near the end as he spent his days trawling the coast trying to find Nate.
The house is lit up, nearly every light on downstairs, and the smell of cooking wafts through the hallway.
I slip my coat onto the designated hook and my shoes into their place.
The house is warm and smells of cooking and burning firewood.
It’s a welcome shift from the cold darkness that has carried around the house over the past few days.
Every day since I found the camera, I have searched the house to find nothing new, and at last the worry is starting to fade. Rufus enters the hall.
“Oh. Hello,” he says. I can’t ignore the micro-jump in his shoulders. Was he not expecting me home? There are two empty cocktail glasses in his hands, empty, and a stack of files.
His eyes follow mine to them. “I was finishing off a work thing. Do you want a drink?”
“Yes, that would be great,” I reply, because we’re playing house again, and if there’s anything I need, it’s Rufus on my side.
Without him, I have no home, no real money, and no place to hide.
I ignore the ever-so-familiar floral perfume that wafts from Rufus’s study door as I pass.
The way it hangs in the air to taunt me with his indiscretion.
I settle into the sofa as he heads to the bar.
He’ll make me a Manhattan, as he always does, in the same glass handed to me with the same smile.
I want to grab him and ask him about his childhood, what his favourite television show was growing up, and what made him so restrictive and controlled.
But I don’t. Instead, Marcus comes to mind, the way he looks at Jude when she speaks as though there’s no one left in the world.
I’m not sure Rufus has ever looked at me that way, nor did I ever question if he should.
I tuck my feet under me, and Rufus returns with the drinks.
The same glass with the same contents that we have most nights when he’s here.
There will be wine with dinner and then a nightcap before Rufus slinks off to bed.
His bearded jaw opens as he sips his whiskey, a repulsion curling my top lip.
The glass sits untouched in front of me.
“How was your day?” I say, folding my arms.
The appeal of playing house is fading. Underneath it is a dark, hollow shell of what I could have had. What I thought I had.
“Good,” Rufus replies, his phone in his hands as his thumb scrolls. His shoulders hunch so his back has a small hump that I’ve never noticed in him. I want to punch it.
Usually, at this time, we’d relax on the sofa together, devices in hand as we pretended to connect.
Our evenings together were never really together, and without people around us, there was very little left to say.
He would catch up on the news while I researched new podcast cases until dinner was called.
We have Helena most nights, and this is our sacred time together.
Now, he scrolls, his foot tapping and his attention elsewhere.
“Looking at anything good?” I probe again, ignoring the bleep from my phone.
“The news,” Rufus says.
I press my teeth together.
“Anything interesting at work? Any new cases?” I try yet another route, and my phone bleeps again.
“Nothing interesting to report,” Rufus says to his screen.
I dig my nails into my palms. Do I want to play pretend?
“Your phone is making a noise,” Rufus mumbles.
I suck in a short breath. “Low battery. It’s been happening a lot.”
This makes him stop, his phone held in midair as he finally looks at me.
“Do you need me to get you a new one?”
He walks over, taking the phone out of my hand and looking at it. He shrugs and hands it back to me. I wait because part of me is desperate to see what he does. But he simply returns to his seat, sipping his drink.
“I’ll get you another one. You can’t have it going off all the time like that,” he says.
A sadness unwinds in my throat, sitting in the middle of my ribcage and pushing the air out of it.
With each breath, it grows bigger as we sit in silence.
Rufus scrolling and me waiting, hands in my lap and ice melting in my drink.
My phone pings again, and when I glance at it, I find two new messages.
Threats that leave my senses heightened.
I have Henry’s address. All I need is for this to stop, for Nate to come home and for Rufus and me to get married.
The words come out quietly. “Rufus, I think I need your help.”
It’s not giving in if I can make this work.
After dinner, served with the same level of conversation as we’ve always had, there’s a gentle knock at the door.
Colin enters, his shirt unbuttoned too low. He’s not wearing a coat, and his neck is red.
“Thanks for coming so late,” Rufus says.
We sit in the living room as an awkward trio.
There’s something so truly horrible about being around two people you’ve slept with, knowing that both of them have touched you and felt you in similar ways.
I keep my eyes low. My phone pings, but I shove it down the back of the sofa cushions.
“It’s certainly an odd request, mate,” Colin says.
I nod, pretending that Colin wasn’t one of the first people I went to when the messages started.
Everything he said the night of the dinner party struck me, and the next day I found myself on Colin’s doorstep.
He was the only person who could find me a weapon so fast, and now it sits tucked in the back of my bathroom.
“We need protection,” Rufus says, and I have to busy myself pouring drinks to hide the smile. He looks like a lawyer, even when he’s trying not to.
“I see,” Colin says, leaning back and placing his ankle on his knee. He’s showing off, but I divert my eyes from him as I hand them both a whiskey.
“And may I ask, who from?” Colin asks. I slide in next to Rufus, my hand placed on his leg. Still the doting wife.
Colin looks at me, his brow raising as he leans forward. The intensity in his eyes makes me look away.
He asked the same question when I visited him. When he got me the gun.
“Ella has a stalker. Some psycho from her podcast, we think. I’ve hired a PI to look into it, but while he is digging around, I need someone to be on guard. To protect her,” Rufus says. I lower my eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Colin says, but there’s a touch of humour to his words. He knows I’m lying to my soon-to-be husband and he loves it.
“So, can you help?” Rufus asks.
Colin runs his hand through his hair, his jaw tilting upwards so he looks both handsome and endearing.
“Of course I can.” Colin smiles wide.
They talk for nearly an hour, and I keep myself as quiet and unassuming as I can.
It’s not until Rufus shakes Colin’s hand at the door that the air fills back into my lungs.
I thank Rufus again, placing a kiss on his cheek.
Once I hear his office door close, the subtle click of his lock to follow, I slip into the ensuite.
Pressing into the cold bathtub, I lay myself flat and wait until my heartbeat has slowed.
I read the message again: Do you really want more protection? C
I type back fast: I’m handling it. Thanks.
His reply is instant and I imagine him walking home to his wife as we speak: Stay safe x.
I close my eyes and see Dad again, before I changed my name and before he disappeared from my life.
He smiles at me with his same wide smile, his teeth unbelievably white against his dark skin.
I try to whirl through as many memories of him as I can, but they get stuck and snag on each other.
Instead, I play the last time we saw each other, the busy park that we walked in with our arms linked, the sun blaring.
“How are you?” He asked it so casually, as though we weren’t all fighting for our lives, trying not to drown in grief and anger.
“I’m good,” I replied because I didn’t know what else to say.
He did all the right things, he asked about my work after university.
If I had found a place to live. If I’d made any friends.
And I did what any daughter would do, I lied to make the worry lines around his eyes fade away.
He told me he was moving away and I was glad.
He deserved to stop searching for something that wasn’t coming back.
But now, I am so close to having everything he wanted for me. If I can only get Henry to stop these twisted games.
My phone buzzes. Jude’s and Immi’s faces show up in a group video call.
I answer, wiping the tears that ran down the side of my face.
“Hey, you!” Immi says.
“Are you in the bath? In clothes? With no water?” Jude asks and it pangs at me that these two women, who both openly couldn’t get along, have come together for me.
“Yup, quiet, cold and really comfy. You should try it,” I say, wearing the uncomfortable facade I’ve not held for a long time.
“How was Susan’s?” Immi asks.
“It was… good.” There’s an edge to her words and I can see Jude shift slightly.
“You can tell us,” I say, working the edge of my sleeve. It was dangerous to get Jude to see Susan.
“I did what you said, I told her that I was a journalist doing a follow-up piece. I expected anger, but there wasn’t any. She was sad that Henry was out. She kept it vague. Until I brought up your name,” Jude says.
I sit up, the bath making a weird sound as I shift my weight. “Wait, you did what?”
I explicitly told Jude not to include my name, not yet. I can’t have her know about me, know who I am.
Jude shakes her head, her braids swaying. “Don’t worry. I just mentioned that I knew Nate’s sister personally. She seemed confused at first, but then she sort of warmed up. She asked questions but then she let something slip. Robbie’s cousin was deeply involved with Robbie.”
“A cousin?” Immi says. My eyes dart down to her picture on the screen.
“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s a blood relation from what my research shows,” Jude adds.
“What’s her name?” Immi asks.
“Genie. Have you heard of her, Ella?” Jude says, but it doesn’t ring a bell. I shake my head, my fingers working at the edge of my sleeve, the fear bubbling away. This won’t end well.
“The name isn’t familiar. Do you think she’s involved?” I say.
“It’s hard to tell, but honestly, no. She moved away years ago. Too many holes in that boat,” Jude says, popping a piece of orange into her mouth.
We sit in silence, my back leaning against the bath again.
“Have you heard any more from your mum?” Jude says after a beat.
I show my cards, knowing that it will change the course of it all. But maybe it’s the best option. “She gave me Henry’s last address, so that’s good.”
The two women talk at once, their words pitchy with emotion. I wait, closing my eyes to them until the silence follows.
“What are you going to do?” Immi asks.
“I’ve called in sick, so I’m going to head down there.” It’s looking less and less likely that I can return to work. But that’s a problem I can solve later.
Jude and Immi stare at me through my phone, the same look on their faces.
“To do what?” Jude says after a beat.
I lick my lips and glance at the gun’s hiding place in the toilet cistern. “Talk to him. Get him to stop?”
It’s Immi who laughs, a gentle but mocking giggle. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but Ella, that’s not a plan.”
Jude nods. “She’s not wrong.”
I glance behind me, the door tightly locked. I can’t guarantee Rufus isn’t on the other side.
“You don’t know Henry like I did. We have a history. I honestly think this is all part of some sick, twisted loneliness.” I tread around the truth, feeding them enough to keep them safe and to get this sorted.
Jude rubs her forehead. “And what if it goes wrong?”
I chew on my lip, glancing between the two.
“You’re not going alone,” Jude says finally.
“Exactly,” Immi nods. She’s in the shop, her lights dipped low so that strange shadows play across her face.
I push my hand into the cool side of the bathtub.
“It’s in Dorset.” My eyes fall onto the sink, something about it looking a little bit off.
“Yes, we can drive,” Immi says.
“It’s dangerous,” I add to no effect. Inevitably, they are coming with me, but there’s still a fight to be had.
“We’ll take two cars. That way, if we need help or one of us has to head back, then we can.
” Jude sits on her bed, the phone propped away from her so that we can see her full body, her feet pressed into the mattress.
The juxtaposition between the two women is achingly beautiful.
Immi sits pristine and close to the screen, the details of her life not on show and her sharp features softened by the low light.
Jude sits bright in her room, wearing a vibrant orange fleece which is printed with black and white tiger faces, her braids piled in a high bun atop her head, and her feet bare.
Two or three books are piled high on her nightstand.
“I have pepper spray that you can use. Take it in with you. If anything goes wrong,” Immi says. I smile at their innocence. Nearly ten years ago, I filled a bag full of rocks and my bloody clothes to drop into the ocean and hide the evidence.
Regardless, I nod at their naive plan. Knowing that the pepper spray will be ignored for the weapon that I have. I close my eyes, sinking into water that’s not there.