Page 127 of She Saw What He Did

‘I have to then call the police,’ she said.

Chapter Seventy-Seven

His mind wandered back to when he’d collected her from the house. He’d searched her bag. There’d only been one box. Of course, the loo, that’s when she’d hidden it. The scheming little bitch must have got a replica. She hadn’t had an upset stomach at all. He smiled at her cleverness. She’d hidden it then. He’d been a fool. He should have been more vigilant.

*

A few hours earlier

Abby

I can’t take my eyes off the photo. Sam isn’t smiling. She always smiles for the camera.

‘Why isn’t she smiling?’

‘What?’ he asks, lifting his head from my bag.

‘She isn’t smiling. Sam always smiles for the camera.’

‘She doesn’t like me, that’s why,’ snaps Lester. ‘Now let’s move.’

I grip my stomach and groan.

‘I have to go to the loo again.’

‘Jesus,’ groans Lester. ‘Hurry up.’

I rush to the loo and shoot the bolt across. My hand reaches shakily for the box hidden behind the cistern. I let out a long breath and slip it into the pocket of my coat. Lester is too hyped up to notice. Sam is safe. It’s time to take my revenge.

*

He leaned his head back. He couldn’t feel his neck or his face. He wanted to scream but he couldn’t. She’d got him. The passenger door had opened easily enough. He should have realised. That’s when she’d swapped the boxes. Fuck it, why hadn’t he realised? Well, the bitch wouldn’t find her daughter and serve her fucking right. He wondered if Ellen was close by. She’d save him. She was good at that. It would be alright. Ellen would make it all okay.

The voices were closer now. He was going to miss his plane.

He tried to mutter, ‘Bitch’, but the word froze on his paralysed lips as his final breath left his body.

*

Abby

‘Mr Prime Minister,’ I say. ‘I’m so terribly sorry …’

‘What?’ asks Prime Minister Robert Preston.

The sound of sirens reaches our ears.

‘What the …?’ he says, moving to the door.

‘I was sent to give you this. I’m supposed to assassinate you.’

I hold out the box.

He steps back, his eyes wide.

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘It’s not the real thing.’

‘What?’

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