Page 15 of She Saw What He Did

‘You fuckers, you won’t get away from me,’ he yelled.

Chapter Eleven

Ellen looked at her phone. There was still no text from Peter. She’d have dinner and pop down the pub, she decided. Maybe by then he’ll have seen the text and meet her there. She’d diverted the station’s calls to her mobile, but she knew it would be a quiet night. There was a hissing sound from the kitchen and she hurried to the saucepan of pasta that had boiled over.

She tossed the pasta into a colander and took a bowl from the cupboard. The six o’clock news burst onto the television screen and she turned her chair around so she could see it. It was always interesting to see real crimes.

‘Prime Minister Robert Preston is to gather his cabinet at Number Ten on Wednesday in advance of the summit in two weeks’ time. The summit is to be held at Asquith Hall, in Cornwall. Asquith Hall, the stately home of Lord and Lady Asquith, has been chosen over Chequers for what many consider to be one of the most important summits in decades. The Prime Minister’s stance regarding Russia and the Ukraine has angered many in government since his election in May …

Her phone bleeped with a text. It was from Peter.

‘I’ll meet you at The Admiral. See you about eight.’

Ellen turned back to the news. Peter always said it was pointless watching it.

‘Bloody politics,’ he’d say. ‘It’s not like anything will affect us here.’

‘We’re not that cut off,’ Ellen always argued.

‘You’re always saying we are,’ he would counter.

She planned to suggest the holiday tonight. Ellen felt it would do them both good. Maybe they could go to Spain. Peter should be able to get a week off from the hotel. She’d check some places online and show him tonight. The job site she’d been looking at earlier was still open on her computer. She’d apply later. Maybe she’d be lucky next time.

*

Abby

We’ve taken a different route to the beach. The climb down is arduous and it takes us much longer, but we need to keep our distance from the man. I’m having difficulty walking and my arm is bleeding where I fell on it.

‘Can we rest, just for a minute?’ I plead.

Jared looks at my arm before rummaging in his rucksack. His hands are trembling, and he has difficulty holding our first aid box. I wait, my ears pricked for any sound while he removes a bandage and carefully wraps it around my arm.

‘We’ll be on the boat soon,’ he assures me.

I nod.

‘Can you carry on?’ he asks.

We both know it’s a stupid question. I have to carry on. We finally reach the beach and the fizz of the foam as it sweeps across the sand is music to my ears. I taste the salt in the spray and let out a long breath. Ahead of us is the jetty. Seagulls hover above the body and screech loudly as we approach. I stare in horror at the mutilated body splayed a few feet from us. I turn my head and let out a small sob.

‘Don’t look,’ says Jared.

‘Oh God, what’s happening. We’re on this island with a madman,’ I sob.

‘Let’s go,’ says Jared firmly.

I keep my head down and follow Jared to our boat. I limp forward and wait as he throws his rucksack in. He doesn’t climb aboard and my heart sinks.

‘Jared?’ I question, feeling tears prick my eyelids. ‘Shouldn’t we go?’

‘He’s shot holes in it. It’s full of water.’

My relief at seeing the boat is now replaced with panic. I turn to the speedboats that sit alongside ours.

Jared follows my gaze.

‘Do you think it’s too good to be true,’ I whisper. ‘It could be a trap.’

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