Next of Kin (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Woody looked her up and down, taking in the details of her coat and her outdoor shoes. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he asked.

‘You said we need to go shopping. We need food – milk,’ Sarah said, a little unsteady, unnerved by his return, unnerved at being caught.

‘I’ve told you not to leave the house on your own; I said that we’d go shopping later.’ He paused. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

Sarah shook her head, wondering what it was he thought he saw in her. ‘Nothing. I’m hungry, that’s all.’

He nodded, his gaze travelling around the hall. ‘You haven’t cleaned up.’

‘No, not yet, but I was going to do it as soon as I got back,’ she said, trying not to meet his eye, afraid of giving anything away. ‘Have you seen my car keys? I don’t seem to be able to find them.’ She kept her voice calm and even.

He stepped closer. ‘I’ve already told you I don’t want you going out alone. We’ll go in a little while. Why don’t you make a start on the kitchen?’

Sarah nodded, the sound of her pulse banging in her ears. She tried hard to stay calm and still as if she didn’t know the things that she knew, as if everything was right with the world. She slipped off her coat and hung it up, feeling Josh’s phone tucked away in her cardigan pocket as she moved, aware of its weight and its contents and praying that it didn’t ring.

‘Did you make a list?’ Woody asked.

‘No, but I can do it now,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder, as she headed into the kitchen. He nodded.

A moment or two later Sarah heard Woody climbing the stairs and let out the breath she had been holding. It would be fine. It would be fine, as soon as he went out again, whenever that was, she would go to the police. She was glad now that she hadn’t taken anything out of any of the boxes. It would be fine. She had put everything back where it had been. He would never know she had been up there. Never know. Never guess.

Sarah took a sheet of paper off the pad by the house phone and tried to concentrate on what she needed to buy. Her hand shook, her mind raced while upstairs she heard Woody moving around, going up the stairs, then down again and into the bathroom, back up, his footsteps and the creak of the boards oddly reassuring.

She closed her eyes. He didn’t know. He wouldn’t guess. Everything was normal. All she had to do now was choose her moment, make a plan. It would be all right if she could just keep it together. Sarah felt the tension beginning to ease in her shoulders. He didn’t know – nothing had changed as far as Woody was concerned, nothing at all. She stared at the paper. What was important now was to carry on as usual so that he didn’t suspect anything.

‘Milk, cheese, eggs,’ Sarah mumbled, the words spoken aloud like a prayer as she wrote them on the pad. When she had done the list Sarah started on cleaning the kitchen, every atom straining to hear what Woody was doing. A while later she heard his footsteps on the stairs and turned around.

‘I’ve got the list,’ she said, pointing towards the table.

She turned round to face him. He hadn’t guessed. It was going to be all right.

‘I don’t want you going out on your own,’ he said. ‘Is that clear?’

‘I’ve not told anyone about us if that’s what you’re worried about and I’m not going to. And we need to eat. And you’re not always here.’

He paused as if weighing up her reply.

‘We’re out of everything – milk, tea. What do you think I’m going to do? Run away? This is my home, Woody,’ Sarah said evenly, and then in an effort to deflect him, said, ‘Did the hospital ring about Ryan?’

Woody took her phone out of his jacket. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I thought you told me that you would let me know if they called,’ she said.

He grinned at her, a lazy knowing grin. ‘I didn’t have the phone on. I didn’t want to be disturbed.’ There was something unsettling about his body language. She watched him as he switched on the phone, waiting for it to power up, waiting for the familiar trill. He watched the screen and as he did, Woody said, ‘Have you been into my room?’ His voice was soft and even, apparently it was just a simple enquiry with no edge to it.

Sarah made an effort not to let the panic show. ‘Why? Do you want me to clean up there too?’ she said, wiping the sink down.

‘No, I just wondered what you were doing up there.’

‘Nothing. How long before we go shopping? ’ she said, not meeting his eye, not stopping her tidying.

And then he stepped closer so that he was in her space. ‘I know that you were up there, Sarah. I know that you have been in my room and if it was for something innocent you’d have owned up and not lied to me.’

Sarah felt her pulse lift. ‘I don’t know what you mean. Mrs Howard came round and then I had a bath and tidied my room and then I was going to go out get some shopping.’ She was talking too much, her voice sounded high and thin.

Woody held out his clenched fist towards her, palm upper most, fingers curled around something. It was impossible not to look. Slowly he opened it to reveal a small blue foam ball around the size of marble. Genuinely baffled Sarah stared at it.

‘Do you know what this is?’ he asked.

‘I haven’t got a clue.’

‘I put it into the lock of my bedroom door before I go out. Just in case you or Ryan got nosey. And then I check when I get back to make sure it’s still there. Do you know where I found it today?’

Sarah’s heart missed a beat. She had completely forgotten about having to push the key into the lock when she first went in. She had forgotten to look for whatever it was that had been blocking the keyhole and forgotten to put it back. Sarah made the effort not to let the realisation show on her face and instead shook her head. ‘Not a clue,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen it before.’

Woody grabbed hold of her arm. ‘Don’t lie to me. You were in my room while I was out. What were you looking for?’

Sarah shook him off. ‘Get off me. I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, but she knew that Woody knew she was lying. There was something in his expression, something wolf-like and dangerous in his eyes that made her flinch.

He smiled grimly. ‘I had hoped we might find a way to keep this going a bit longer, Sarah. Find a way to make it work, but I’m afraid this means that we’re going to have to part company sooner rather than later.’

‘You mean you’re leaving?’ she said.

He grinned. ‘No, not exactly.’

As he spoke he grabbed her again, tighter this time, with real force.

‘What are you doing?’ Sarah yelped.

‘You’re going to come with me,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something I want to show you. Something you’ll understand. It’s a way out of the mess you’re in. A way to make it all alright. You miss Ryan, don’t you? I know you do. You’ve been so sad since he went, so very sad.’ His voice was singsong, uncanny, unhinged.

Sarah froze and stared at him. ‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘Please, Woody, just stop this; you’re scaring me.’ But he was having none of it. She tried to pull away, tried to break free, pushing and struggling, but he was too strong for her. ‘Come on, you just need to do as I say,’ he said.

‘Or what?’ Sarah hissed.

He laughed and as he did Sarah saw something in his face, something in his eyes and with it came the realisation that it was now or never. With fear pumping through her like molten lava, Sarah leaned in close and bit his arm as hard as she could. Woody shrieked and let go, back handing her across the face and as he did, instinctively she twisted away, pulling as hard as she could, trying to dislodge his remaining hand, trying to tear herself away from him, turning left and right. As he was concentrating on keeping control of her arms and torso, Sarah kicked him as hard as she could in the shins. Woody yelped in surprise and pain and let her go, bending double so that he could grab his leg.

Sarah glanced at the back door. It was locked and bolted, by the time she had got it undone Woody would be recovered and on her. So she ran out of the kitchen into the hall. It took her a split second to realise that the front door was locked and the key gone. With no way out Sarah had no choice but to run upstairs. He was behind her now and gaining fast.

Sarah glanced left and right, weighing up her options. Her bedroom had a lock on the door but once she was inside there was no other way out. The bathroom on the other hand overlooked the kitchen extension. There was some chance she might be able to break the bathroom window and climb down onto the flat roof below, and some chance was better than none.

Scurrying inside Sarah turned and went to close the door. Woody was there outside, a step or two behind her, out on the landing and lunging forward to try and hold the door open, but she was on it and slammed the door shut behind her; turning the key in the lock and sliding the bolt across. She had barely pushed it home before Woody was banging against the door as hard as he could. Sarah leaned back onto it, feeling the force of the blows through the wood.

‘You bitch,’ he screamed, banging harder.

Praying the wood and the locks would hold Sarah turned round to tackle the window when she realised that the bathtub was almost full. The hot tap, not quite turned off properly drip-drip-dripped into the clear water. The sight of it stopped Sarah in her tracks. She looked round. It wasn’t the only unusual thing. Propped up on the shelf above the sink was a plain white envelope addressed to Woody, in what looked an awful lot like her handwriting.

Sarah froze. Outside the door she could hear Woody trying to break in, hear him screaming and begging her to open the door, but in the bathroom it felt as if time had stopped still. She reached out, picked up the envelope and slid out the single sheet of paper that was inside.

‘Dearest Woody,’ it began. ‘I’m so sorry, so very, very sorry, my love. I know how much you love me but I can’t bear to go on.’ There was more, but Sarah only needed the first line. There was no doubt now, if there ever had been, that Woody intended to kill her. The forms, the will, the page filled with her signature. It all led to this.

Sarah glanced round the bathroom taking in the details. There were candles arranged along every ledge, a full bath, flowers, and there on the side of the sink was a razor blade. Now she knew exactly what Woody had planned for her, and he had her exactly where he wanted her to be.

Panic fluttered through her. This was it. She knew with an unshakable certainty that she was going to die here if she didn’t find a way out. The bathroom window was far smaller than Sarah remembered, a foot across by perhaps two and a half feet high, the top third bisected by another smaller window. Realistically, unless she could push the whole frame out there was no way for her to squeeze out of it, and even if she tried, if Woody got into the bathroom before she got out and she got stuck Sarah could imagine him pulling her back inside, over the broken glass. Even if he couldn’t explain her injuries, if Sarah was dead it wouldn’t matter one way or the other, would it? The pulse was thundering in her ears. Think, think, there had to be a way out of this, there had to be.

Sarah took Josh’s phone out of her pocket and rang the number for his business phone. He answered after a single ring.

‘Sarah—’ he began.

‘Please listen, please help me. He’s trying to kill me,’ she said. ‘If they find me dead I didn’t kill myself, Josh. I didn’t, I truly didn’t. You have to believe me. I love you,’ she gasped.

Behind her, Sarah could hear the wood splintering. ‘I’m sending you the proof,’ she said, her fingers working the phone, sending the images of the will, the signatures, the passport, everything, sending them one by one. It seemed to be taking forever. She tried hard not to panic, tried hard to ignore Woody screaming outside the door, tried hard to ignore Josh begging her to talk to him. When she was done she stood the phone up on the back of the toilet, wedged between the cistern and the wall, with the line still open. ‘I love you,’ she said. ‘I’ve never stopped loving you.’

‘Come on, Sarah, open the door,’ Woody cajoled from outside on the landing, his tone softer now, more conciliatory. ‘Just let me in. We can work this out. I can explain everything. Please, you have to believe me; just open the door. Open it. Come on. It doesn’t have to be like this. We can find another way.’

‘How do you explain not being who you say you are? How do you explain the passport?’ she yelled. ‘How do you explain the will?’

There was a split second’s silence and then a terrifying crashing blow against the door.

‘I knew you’d been in my room. I knew it. I’m going to kill you, you fucking lying bitch,’ Woody screamed. ‘Dead like your brother. Drowned like your brother, do you hear me. I’m going to push you under and hold you down. Just like Ryan. Do you hear me? Why don’t you just let me in, let me in, and get it over and done with. Come on, Sarah. You know I’m going to get you in the end. There is nowhere for you to go, no one coming to help. Come on, don’t make me come in there and get you. You want to be with Ryan, don’t you?’

His voice was pleading and yet furiously angry. ‘When the police come they’ll find the door broken in, smashed down where I came home and couldn’t find you. They’ll see how desperate I was. How I tried to save you. You’ve been so depressed; so very, very depressed.’

Mind racing, Sarah tried desperately to think. She felt sick but if she gave up now he would win. She had only one chance and she had to take it. Picking up the scales Sarah smashed the bathroom window. Although it was too tiny to get through she didn’t think Woody would know that. She hoped it would make him think she was getting away.