Page 57 of The Perfect Son
“Yes. I remember unlocking it. It’s not an easy door to open.”
She nods. “I’m just wondering how someone might’ve got in? And what they wanted when there’s nothing missing.”
“You think I’m making it up?”
She shakes her head, swishing her blond hair from side to side. “Not on purpose, but I think our minds have a way of playing tricks on us. You’ve been through so much, Tess. It’s natural to feel scared and to worry about being alone.”
“I’m not scared. I mean, I am but that’s because there have been other things happening.”
“What things?” Shelley frowns beneath her bangs.
I hesitate, suddenly reluctant to tell her, but I have to. Shelley is the only one I trust. She’ll know what to do. “There have been hang-up calls to the house every day and... a man left a threatening message on the answerphone. Here, I’ll show you—” I leap up and head to the dining room.
“Tess, it’s OK, I’m not doubting you,” Shelley calls after me.
She is, but I understand why. I’m not sure I believe me half the time, but the answerphone message exists, and now that I’ve started telling Shelley, I’m desperate for her to hear it.
“Just listen,” I say, pressing play on the machine.
There’s a beep and the room is filled with the sound of the electronic voice: “You have no new messages.”
“What?” I jab the answerphone again and the same message plays.
“It was here.” Tears blur my vision and my voice drops to a whisper. “It was.”
Could I have deleted it without realizing? Maybe Jamie fiddled with the buttons and deleted it by accident.
“Tess,” Shelley says.
I shake my head. “It’s OK. I know. I’m letting my imagination get the better of me.”
It’s a lie for me as much as for Shelley. The answerphone message was real; so was the faceless man in the baseball cap. Someone has been in this house, and they may not have taken anything but theywere looking for something. I’m sure of it. Maybe it was the intruder who deleted the message.
But if I try to tell Shelley all this it will only make her worry more. I have to figure this out for myself.
“I think I need to lie down,” I say. “You’d better get to your client anyway.”
“Are you sure, Tess? I can stay.”
“I’m fine, honestly. I’ve not been sleeping, that’s all.”
“Call me if anything else happens,” Shelley says in the doorway, hugging me tight. “It will be OK. I’ll see you later.”
I nod and shut the door, bolting it from the inside. Then I dig in my bag for my phone and find a local locksmith. They’re coming first thing tomorrow to change the locks. Part of me knows Shelley could be right, but there’s another part of me that knows I shut those doors. I walk through the house again, smelling the air as I go. If I’m sure the door was locked, and nobody broke in, then that means someone let themselves in.
Who has a key to this house, Mark?
You did, of course, but that has been burned to smithereens. And I do. Shelley has one too, but I know it wasn’t her, because she was with me in Tesco. Who else?
We didn’t change the locks after we moved. This house belonged to your mother; it’s where you and Ian grew up.
Ian must have a key. It must have been him. But why?
CHAPTER 34
Shelley texts me at six p.m.:Accident on A12. Stuck in traffic.
By the time she arrives, bottle of wine in hand, the paella is overcooked and Jamie is already in bed reading a book.
