Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
HAVEN
PRESENT
I try to close the door, but Scott reaches out a strong hand and prevents me from doing so.
That only leaves me with one other option.
I start backing away from him.
‘How did you find me?’ I cry. ‘What do you want?’
‘Hello to you too,’ Scott says as he steps into the room before closing the door behind himself.
I wish Joel was here now. I wish he’d never gone out for a walk. Most of all, I wish I hadn’t answered the knock at the door.
‘Stay away from me,’ I say. I grab a pen from the small desk in this room. ‘Stay away from me or I’ll hurt you with this!’
I hold up the pen so he can see that I have a weapon, although I’m not sure it’s one that he deems worthy of staying away from. I guess not because he keeps slowly advancing towards me.
‘I just want to talk,’ Scott says as he takes small steps closer. ‘And you’re very good at talking, aren’t you, Haven? You’re something of an expert in it.’
I keep backing away but I’m going to run out of space soon.
‘You’ve been telling my family that I’m a murderer,’ he goes on. ‘That’s not very nice, is it?’
‘Just get out now or I’ll call the police!’
‘Call the police? Attack me with a pen? Which one is it? Make your mind up.’
Scott sniggers then and this must be what it feels like to be face to face with a cold-blooded killer and have nowhere to go. I’ve seen this same fate befall countless characters on TV shows over the years, but now it seems it is my turn to experience this and, worst of all, this is not fiction.
As my back bumps into the wall, I know I cannot retreat any further.
All I can do now is raise my hand with the pen in it and prepare to strike as soon as Scott gets too close.
But he stops and stares at me. Why? What is he doing?
Toying with me? Playing with his prey? Savouring the situation for several more seconds?
‘You have to stop this,’ he says simply, not looking at the poised pen but right into my eyes.
‘I’m not going to waste my breath telling you that I’m innocent because you have clearly already made your mind up about that.
But what I have to do is warn you that if you don’t let this go, things can get a lot worse for you.
I don’t want that and I’m sure you don’t either, so drop this and we can all move on. Trust me, it is for the best.’
As I process what Scott just said to me, I realise he is offering me a chance to make it out of this hotel room alive.
That is not a chance I thought I would get when he barged his way in here and started walking towards me.
But now that he is giving me a chance, I’d be an idiot not to take it. Wouldn’t I?
‘Okay, I’ll do what you want,’ I say, conceding because what other choice do I have in this situation? Agree and live, or disagree and die?
‘Thank you,’ Scott says, letting out a relieved sigh.
‘But you have to admit to me that I was right,’ I say. ‘Admit what you did. Admit that you killed that poor woman who loved and trusted you and you did it for nothing more than money.’
If it seems like a bad idea to potentially bait the murderous man in front of me, it’s too late to worry about that because I’ve already gone and done it.
But I have to. I can’t just give him everything he wants without making him admit to his guilt and do battle with whatever conscience he has, for a few seconds, at least.
‘I’m not admitting that,’ Scott says, shaking his head, and he looks horrified that I would even suggest it. But that only makes me more determined to get him to do this.
‘Why not? It’s just the two of us in here. I’m not recording anything either,’ I say, pointing to where my phone lies on the bedside table. ‘Check it. There’s no hidden cameras or anything. I had no idea you were coming here. So this is just between us two.’
‘Why do you need to hear me say it?’ Scott asks.
‘I just do,’ I reply. ‘I just need to know that I’ve not been imagining things.’
Scott stares at me and I’m wondering if he is close to giving me what I want. Of course, hearing him confess to murder right in front of me is not really what I want, but it is what I need if I am to be able to stop myself from spending the rest of my life second-guessing all of this.
‘I can’t do it,’ Scott eventually says.
‘Because you’re a coward,’ I say to him in disgust.
‘No, I’m not,’ he snaps back, and I see a fire behind his eyes at my suggestion. That ‘C’ word seems to have ignited something in him. Maybe that’s the button I need to press to get him to confess. Or maybe I would be foolish to anger him anymore.
‘You’re a coward who killed your grandmother and you hate the fact that I am the one person who has seen through you,’ I go on, baiting him further.
‘I’m the one person who looks at you in disgust while everyone else just thinks you’re this nice guy who works hard running his own business.
You hate it, but it’s a fact. I know exactly who you are and I always will. ’
I should have shut up talking a long time ago, but I didn’t and, as Scott steps towards me, I fear I have made a grave error in angering him to this point.
As he pushes me back against the wall, I consider screaming.
This might be the last chance I get before he wraps his hands around my throat and squeezes the life out of me.
But I don’t scream and he doesn’t strangle me.
Instead, I notice something very unexpected.
Scott has tears in his eyes.
He doesn’t look angry. He looks upset. He doesn’t seem strong now either. He seems weak.
Bizarrely, I realise he isn’t holding on to me because he wants to hurt me.
He is holding on to me for support.
‘What is it?’ I ask him, afraid that this could be even worse than anything I had imagined. As Scott lets go of me, I see tears rolling down his cheeks.
What has caused this burly man to break down right in front of me? It can’t be all down to what I have said, can it? It can’t just be guilt over what he has done, surely?
There is something else. Something more. Something worse?
‘I did not kill my grandmother,’ Scott says as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed and wipes his eyes. ‘I loved her. I didn’t visit her as often as I should have, but I did love her and I did not hurt her.’
I don’t know what to do now so I choose to say nothing and wait for Scott to speak again.
‘You couldn’t just leave it alone, could you?’ Scott goes on, growing increasingly distressed. ‘You couldn’t just think she fell down the stairs like everyone else thinks.’
‘I don’t know what is happening here, but I think you should leave,’ I say, but I already know it’s not going to be as simple as that.
‘No, I can’t leave here with you thinking I’m a murderer,’ Scott says. ‘It’s not fair.’
I have a sudden crisis of confidence then. Have I got this all wrong? Is Scott actually innocent?
‘You are wrong about me,’ he says, looking up at me through red-rimmed eyes. ‘But you are right about something.’
‘What?’ I ask anxiously.
‘My grandmother was murdered,’ he says. ‘But I wasn’t the one who killed her.’
‘Then who?’ I ask, prepared for whatever bombshell might be about to come my way.
But nothing could have prepared me for the truth.
Nothing could have prepared me for finding out who the real killer is in this family.