Chapter Eighty
One Year Later. The Times newspaper.
A drama based on the kidnapping was recently aired on the BBC. Mrs Neal set an elaborate trap for her husband after he sent a hit man to kill her. She has always maintained that her husband fled the country to avoid arrest.
Mrs Neal said last night: ‘I’d only recently found the courage to put the house on the market again. I’m shocked at the news. I haven’t been able to go near the house since my kidnapping.’
Mr Neal’s body was discovered by the estate agent handling the sale. Ironically, it was found in the basement, where his wife had been held during her ordeal.
Police confirmed the death is not being treated as suspicious, and no further action will be taken.
‘We have concluded our investigations. It seems Mr Neal entered the basement and forgot that the door self locked. We send our condolences to the family following this tragic accident.’
***
A year earlier
She sits in her car. The Panama hat and sunglasses conceal her features perfectly. She has parked beneath overhanging trees, so no one is likely to spot her. Even if they do, they’re unlikely to take much notice.
She pulls a flask of coffee from a large carpet bag and pours some into a mug. She drinks it slowly, savouring the flavour. She doesn’t want to rush anything. She thought her hands would shake, but they’re steady. She feels calm and in control, unlike those first few frantic, anxious weeks.
She changes the track on the CD player and relaxes to the sounds of Mozart. She checks the time on her phone. Not much longer now. Her nerves are steady, her resolve firm. This is the right thing to do.
Adrenaline pumps through her, making her feel more alive than ever. She has never lost anything she loved. Not once. And she isn’t going to lose now. Anyone who thinks they can win her over is a fool.
There are two things she values most, and she will go to any lengths to protect them.
People have always underestimated her, underestimated what she will do for love. But love is all that matters. When you lose someone you love, or even face losing them, the pain is unbearable. And when someone steals what is most precious to you… They have to be punished.
She waits until the couple leaves the house and then gives herself another five minutes before climbing out of the car. The fresh night air clears her head. She inhales deeply and walks down the drive to the house. She rings the doorbell.
She hears footsteps approaching and reaches into her bag.
Taken by surprise, Daniel steps back.
‘Hello, Daniel.’
The .45 pistol is aimed at his head.
‘What the…’
She nudges him backwards. ‘Step back into the house, Daniel.’
She sees him start to tremble; sweat spreads across his forehead. The house is too hot, and she too begins to perspire.
‘Look, you have to listen to me…’ Daniel begins.
‘I don’t have to listen to you at all. You’re scum, Daniel. And when I think of all we did for you…’
She smiles, and watches as he wipes the sweat from his face.
‘Listen, I got in a mess. It was Nic’s fault. He…’
‘Always someone else’s fault, isn’t it, Daniel?’
‘Please put the gun down,’ he pleads. ‘There’s no need for this.'
‘You know where the basement is. Go.’
She watches his expression closely. He thinks I’m bluffing.
‘I don’t want to use this, Daniel. But if you don’t do as I say, you’ll give me no choice.’
He follows her instructions and walks down to the basement.
‘This is madness,’ he says.
‘Is it? I call it justice. But we can beg to differ.’
‘Look—’ he begins, but she raises a hand to stop him.
‘Goodbye, Daniel.’
The door closes with a click. For a moment, he stares at it in panic. Then he realises and smiles.
Stupid bitch. She didn’t have the sense to remove his phone.
He goes to pull it from his pocket, only to remember, to his horror, that he has left it charging upstairs.
‘Fuck!’ he yells.
He stares at the door in blind panic. It’s locked, and he doesn’t have a key. There’s no way out. He starts to pound on it frantically.
‘Julia, wait. Please. I don’t have my phone!’
Julia drops the unloaded pistol into the carpet bag and quietly closes the front door behind her. No one has seen her arrive or leave.
Later, she’ll slip Donald’s pistol, which he uses at the shooting club, back into the safe. She pulls her phone from the bag and calls the estate agents.
‘Hello, this is Mrs Neal. I’m afraid we won’t be selling the house after all. My ex-husband had no right to put it on the market without my consent. Please remove it from your lists. I’ll collect the key in a few days.’
She knows Jo doesn’t want to bother with a house sale. Not yet.
She starts the car and smiles.
***
‘Did you shoot him?’
Julia, startled, spins around with the gun still in her hand.
‘Donald,’ she says, surprised.
‘I know that I would have done.’
He steps towards her, gently takes the gun from her hand, and places it back in the safe.
‘I didn’t use it,’ she assures him. ‘But Daniel Neal won’t bother us again.’
‘You always were more sensible than I am,’ he says with a smile.
Julia leans into him, grateful for the warmth of his love.
‘We have Jo, and our gorgeous grandson,’ he says softly into her ear. ‘That Logan guy, he’s a good chap, a hard worker. I need someone like him to help run the business. I think he’d be perfect.’
Julia smiles. But both Daniel and Donald underestimated her for years.
And the one thing a man should never underestimate is how far a mother will go for her child.
Even if that means murder.