Chapter 51
NOW
Late August
Sunday
The road was busier than last time, with weekend tourists and locals passing through. Enough for us to be seen.
‘Pull in here,’ I said, pointing to a gap in the hedgerow. ‘We’ll be out of sight from the road.’
Ben glanced at me as he braked gently. ‘You’re getting far too good at this.’
A knot twisted in my stomach. He was right. Who had I become?
Sneaking around.
Stalking.
How had this become normal?
Ben turned off the engine and looked at me. For a moment, neither of us spoke. There was still time to turn back. Go home.
I let out a deep sigh. But then what?
Prison?
Ben leaned forward, reaching under his seat.
‘What’s that for?’ I asked as he pulled a crowbar out.
‘They’re not going to leave the house unlocked with everyone out,’ he said simply.
I nodded but the knot in my stomach tightened. This wasn’t just slipping through an open window. This was breaking in.
‘This way,’ I said, as we stepped out of the car and made our way towards the fence.
I paused as we reached it. My gaze darted back and forth. My body tensed.
‘This feels wrong,’ I said quietly. As nervous as I’d been clambering around in the dark last time, at least I’d felt shielded. Protected. But 1.30 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon in broad daylight offered nowhere to hide. ‘What if someone stayed behind?’
‘They won’t,’ Ben replied, his voice certain. ‘Like you said, it would look bad for the stables.’
I grunted.
We climbed over the fence and crossed the yard, walking quickly. My heart was pounding as though we had sprinted instead.
‘Round the back,’ Ben instructed as we approached the house. He stepped forward as we reached the door, hunching over as he positioned the crowbar.
I glanced around nervously. No, this definitely wasn’t like last time.
The wood split with a sharp crack. I flinched.
Ben gave the door a shove. It swung open and he stepped inside.
I hesitated, casting a glance back behind me. Tempted to turn and run.
‘Come on,’ Ben hissed.
I followed.
The house was the same as I remembered it. Except somehow it felt smaller. More claustrophobic.
‘There’s a desk over there,’ I said, pointing to the corner of the living room.
Ben nodded. ‘I’ll check there. You look in Ryan’s room.’
I turned to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Memories of the last time I’d done so caught me off guard and I gripped the rail.
I’d left Ryan that day. No plan, nowhere to go, just the certainty that I couldn’t stay. And yet, here I was, two years later.
Still trapped.
I reached the top of the stairs and paused as I glanced at the four doors. Ryan’s, Denise and Martin’s, the guest room and the bathroom.
I turned to the master bedroom. It had to be them.
I pushed the door open and surveyed the room. Everything was neat and organised. Typical Denise. The office in the stables was Martin’s domain. The house was hers.
I crossed to the dresser, pulling the drawers open, one after the other.
Nothing.
I tried the bedside cabinet on the right. Still nothing.
I moved around the bed to the other side and the second cabinet.
A folder.
I pulled it out, flicking through the papers inside.
A bank statement. My fingers froze. I checked the name.
Denise Blackwater.
I sighed and kept turning the pages. Another one, and another. All in her name.
I shoved the folder back and stood up. I’d looked through every drawer and found nothing.
My gaze drifted around the room again. There had to be something here. But where? Denise was organised. Careful. She wouldn’t leave something incriminating in plain sight. She’d be smarter than that.
I turned back to the bedside cabinet and tipped my head to the side. What if…?
I reached forward, tugging the bottom drawer off its runners and out of the cabinet. I peered inside at the base of the cabinet.
An A5 envelope. I shoved the drawer aside and grabbed the envelope.
Another bank statement. But this one was different. A different bank. A different name.
My name.
A car engine rumbled outside and I turned sharply towards the window. Ryan’s truck was parking in the driveway.
No! He wasn’t supposed to be here.
I grabbed the drawer and rammed it back into place, raced across the room and down the stairs, towards the living room. We had to get out before he saw us. Before—
‘No!’
My scream was deafening but it didn’t drown out the thud as Ben crashed to the floor.
Ryan swung round, staring at me. The crowbar still raised in his hands.