Page 52 of She Saw What He Did

‘Damn,’ he muttered, making his way upstairs.

He poked his head around the couple’s bedroom door and then moved on until he found the child’s room. It was full of stuffed toys. The box had to be here. His hopes raised, he began to search methodically, being sure to put everything back the way he had found it. He didn’t want Abby Miller to know he’d been here. She’d contact the police and that was the last thing he needed. He didn’t want the place crawling with cops. He’d never get the box.

‘Fuck it,’ he bellowed when he realised it wasn’t in the kid’s room. They were making him take drastic action. He didn’t want to, but what choice were they giving him? They were driving him nuts. Why couldn’t they have just minded their own business? He could have been in South America if it hadn’t been for them. He sighed and went back downstairs and into the kitchen. He studied the calendar again. Today was marked with a red pen and said, ‘Show and tell at nursery.’

That was it. She’d taken the damn thing with her. She was showing it off. If she lost the damn thing … He forced himself not to think of that possibility. If it was her favourite then she wouldn’t lose it. He bit his knuckles.

‘Damn them to hell,’ he mumbled, opening the back door.

There was nothing else for it. He would have to put ‘plan B’ into action.

*

Sparrow parked the Fiesta outside the holiday cottage. His head still covered with the hood of his jacket and his eyes shielded with sunglasses. He didn’t want anyone able to identify him. Chances are no one would see him, but he wasn’t taking any chances. A dog barked somewhere, and he jumped. He was a bag of nerves. What if something went wrong? It mustn’t go wrong, he knew that. He had to take things slowly and carefully. That way no mistakes could happen and if it didn’t seem right then he wouldn’t go through with it. There’d be other days. He frowned. What a dump this was. Still, he wasn’t going to live here. He walked the short distance to the cottage. Anxiety was making him breathless and he forced himself to slow down. Take it easy, he told himself. Mistakes happen when you rush. He looked around and then opened the back door. It was warm inside. He stepped down into the basement, looked around and made a mental note of what else he needed and then left. If the Millers thought they could make a fool out of him then they could think again.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Friday

Daphne stopped by the car.

‘What have you forgotten?’ Joe asked from the front door.

‘My glasses,’ said Daphne.

‘You’re going to be late.’

‘No, it’s okay. I’ve given myself plenty of time.’

She fumbled in her handbag, checking she had everything. She wished the horrible churning in her stomach would go away. Ever since Jared and Abby had returned from St Cecilia’s she’d had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that just wouldn’t leave her. She was afraid for all of them. She didn’t want Joe to know the extent of her fears. Maybe he felt it too. Their son could have died on that island.

‘I’ll see you at the restaurant,’ said Joe, kissing her. His unshaven face scratched her chin. It wasn’t right to be so anxious at their age. How could her son have been such a fool?

‘You’ll hit the rush hour if you don’t go soon,’ said Joe, jolting her out of her reverie.

‘Right, I think I have everything,’ she smiled, opening the car door.

‘It’s only for one day,’ grinned Joe. ‘How much do you need?’

‘Have a good meeting at the bowls club,’ she said.

Joe waved as his wife drove off and then closed the front door.

*

Abby

Sam hugs her dolly close as I tie her shoelaces. I’ve had very little sleep and have spent the first part of the morning trying to think of an excuse to get out of the meeting. I can’t seem to shake off the feeling of impending doom that seems to sit permanently on my shoulder like a heavy cloak.

‘Here’s Nana,’ Sam says, pointing out of the window.

I watch Daphne park the car. Daphne is sensible. Nothing would happen to Sam while Daphne was with her.

‘It’s only me,’ she calls, letting herself into the house.

‘Thanks for doing this,’ I say.

‘Don’t be silly. Hello Poppet,’ she says, bending down to Sam. I spot a small bald patch on the top of her head and wonder how long that has been there. The last time she lost her hair was when Jared and I had gone through our bad patch following his affair. I hope she isn’t getting stressed again.

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