The Honeymoon, page 26
I drag myself back to the present. ‘Jules won’t be long.’ I shrug on my coat, avoiding Mark’s gaze.
‘I really am sorry, you know,’ he says, his voice small.
I have to bite my lip to stop myself from bursting into tears. ‘Have you seen my phone?’ I ask instead.
‘It’s over here,’ Mark says, stretching an arm to the coffee table to pass it to me. ‘Looks like you’ve got a message from Angie.’
I take my phone and frown at the screen. Why’s Angie messaging me? I tap it open.
Have you seen the news? I can’t believe it!!
She’s sent me a screen grab from a private Bali Facebook group that she’s a member of. According to an ex-pat named Jackie, a man has been arrested in connection with the murder of George Kingsley. I frown, staring at the mugshot supplied by the police.
‘Everything OK?’ Mark asks.
I ignore him. My fingers can barely move fast enough to type.
Is this a joke?
No!!!
I blink again at the face I recognise. My insides run cold. I try to focus my eyes to read the text. It’s been roughly translated but the gist of it is clear. The person they’ve arrested, the one looking up at me from my screen with a haunting expression, is Ketut, the hotel barman.
Mark is waiting for me to explain what’s going on.
‘Ketut’s been arrested for George’s murder! I’ve just had this message from Angie.’
I show him my screen. He scrolls in silence.
This doesn’t feel real. How have I got this so wrong? I start to pace around the lounge. ‘Can you believe it? He served us drinks every single day! You went to that market with him!’
Mark’s muted reaction fills me with creeping dread. All the colour has drained from his cheeks.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, taking my phone back. He presses the heel of his palm to his eyes. I catch sight of the bruised puncture marks from the IV line.
‘It wasn’t actually a proper market, it was a . . . cockfight.’
I blink, convinced I’ve misheard him. He was gambling on our honeymoon.
Of course he was.
‘And George was there too.’
The floor rises up to meet me. My legs almost give way as I sink to the armchair opposite.
‘What? You knew George Kingsley?’ I shriek.
Mark gives an awkward shake of his head. Eyes wide and bloodshot. ‘I didn’t know him. We had one quick chat at the fight. He was showing me the ropes. That was it!’
My head pulsates with tension. ‘Then what?’
‘He was betting big – a few of the local lads were watching him pull out large wads of cash. He wasn’t being subtle at all.’ He coughs, wincing. ‘However, I was on bad form and kept losing. Gambling is illegal in Bali so there was this police raid at the end. Nothing like you see in the films, but it meant it was over before it began.’
Before he could win our money back. There was no confusion over currency at an innocent street market, as he told me.
Mark rubs his pale face. ‘George must have recognised me in the Blue Fin after Erin accidentally spilt that drink over him. I couldn’t believe the chances. I was terrified he was going to say something to you about me being at the cockfight when I’d told you I was at a market. Just before we left the restaurant, I bumped into him by the toilets and he told me there was another fight planned for that night. He asked if I wanted to go with him.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
Mark swallows. ‘These fights don’t last long. I knew I could be there and back before you went to bed, especially as you told me you were staying out for a drink at the hotel bar. I needed to try and win our cash back.’
So that was why he looked so ill and unsettled and wanted to leave the meal early.
I swallow. ‘So you went to this other fight when you told me you were locked out . . . Trapped on a fire escape . . .’
It’s all starting to make horrific sense. How foolish can I have been? He wasn’t coming to find his terrified wife who has a phobia of storms. Instead, he was gambling with strangers at a macabre illegal blood sport. For the second time on our honeymoon.
And one of those other gamblers ended up murdered.
‘No!’ He firmly shakes his head, seeing my face. ‘It wasn’t like that! When we got back to the hotel, I was going to find Ketut. To see if he could arrange a lift to the fight. But you went to the bar and I couldn’t risk coming there and you spotting me. I knew I should have gone to bed like I’d told you but I tried to walk to find a taxi instead. It began to absolutely chuck it down, so as soon as I realised how stupid the idea was, I turned around and came back. I thought you’d still be in the bar, I didn’t expect you to be back in the room.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’ I stutter.
‘Because of how bad it looks! But I swear I had nothing to do with George’s death.’ Silent tears drip down his cheeks. ‘Imagine if I’d gone to meet him – who knows what could have happened? I could have been killed too!’ Mark roughly wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to compose himself again.
My head is pounding. My phone buzzes in my hands. Angie’s sent another message.
Isn’t it extraordinary? Ketut seemed so nice! But I guess you don’t ever really know someone . . .
No, I think, looking over at Mark. You don’t.
65
Sophia
The engine is running but I can’t move. I sit staring out of the windscreen, my jagged breath fogging up the glass. The wind has picked up and rain pounds the roof of the car. Mark begged me to stay and listen to more of his apologies but I had to get out. I twist my wedding ring around my finger and try to make sense of the past twenty-four hours.
It pains me to believe a word of his confession, yet things have started to fit into place. I can’t stop going over and over the events of the last night of our honeymoon in my tired mind.
I remember leaping out of my skin when he turned up at the bedroom door, after I presumed he was asleep under the covers. I thought he was sweating with a breaking fever but he must have been flushed from running back to the room once he realised how stupid it was to go and meet George. Despite everything, I can’t help but thank God he did turn back.
My stomach lurches thinking how close Mark could have been to getting caught up in what happened to George. I slam my palm against the steering wheel. How stupid he’s been! I’m furious, not only with him, but with myself too. How blind I’ve been to miss all of this.
I’m about to reverse off Jules’s drive when my phone rings with an unknown number.
‘Hello?’ My voice cracks.
There is a drawn-out pause down the line.
‘Oh, my God, Sophia! You have to help me.’
I sit bolt upright. ‘Erin?’
‘Jamie is a monster. I think he killed his ex-wife and now he’s going to kill me!’
Her words come out in one continuous stream. It takes me a second to work out what she’s saying.
‘Sophia, he’s trapped me in the house. I can’t escape. He knows that I’m on to him! You have to help me!’
Goosebumps break out across my arms at the fear in her voice.
‘I can’t leave.’ Her voice is painfully tight, clogged by tears. ‘I don’t know where he is and I don’t—’
‘I’m coming over. I’m at Mark’s sister’s, so I won’t be long. If he’s locked you in then break a door down. I promise, I—’
‘I can’t leave him because I’m pregnant.’
I close my eyes.
‘Sophia?’
‘I’m still here.’
She’s sobbing.
I take a deep breath. ‘I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but you and your baby are in danger. Please, Erin. You need to think of your child now.’ Jamie may not have killed George, but who knows what this man is capable of? ‘I’m on my way. Try and get yourself to safety and call me again.’
A fire is lit inside me as I screech off the drive.
66
Erin
As darkness falls, the storm worsens and a bolt of lightning suddenly splits the murky black sky. The house seems to be holding its breath. I pray that Sophia will get here before Jamie does. I’ve tried to find other ways to open the front and back doors but there are no spare keys anywhere. He’s locked all the windows too. I’m completely trapped. The realisation swirls in my chaotic mind.
Hurry up, hurry up.
I’m shaking in fear at what my husband has planned for me. There’s too much adrenaline zipping through my body to allow me to sit still. My head is pounding.
Suddenly I hear a scraping of tyres against gravel. Surely Sophia can’t have made it here that quickly?
There’s a scratch of a key in the lock.
It’s not Sophia.
‘Erin!’ Jamie slams the front door behind him and thunders through the hallway and into the kitchen. ‘Are you all packed and ready for Veni—?’ He swears. ‘What the hell has gone on here? What the fuck have you done to the smoke alarms? Why have you smashed them into a million pieces? Have you lost your mind?’
Can the baby hear my heartbeat quickening? Does the pulse of my blood carry through my veins and feed into this tiny thing? Do they know how scared I am?
‘I know you’ve been watching me,’ I pant. ‘They’re not smoke alarms, they’re cameras. Following my every movement.’
Why does my head hurt so much? The buzzing noise is only getting louder.
He goes to say something, deny it, but catches himself and lowers his voice. ‘It’s for your own good, Erin.’
‘What?’ I stutter.
‘You’re not well. You’ve not been well for a long time and I just wanted to keep you safe.’
‘No! You’re a liar.’
‘What did you call me?’
I don’t get the chance to repeat myself as he picks up a mug from the draining board and launches it at the stone wall. It shatters across the floor.
‘Say that again!’
Strands of spittle spray from his lips, his eyes wild and terrifyingly dark. It hits me that I have no idea who this man really is.
Something else is thrown – a wine glass this time. My breath is trapped in my chest. I’m growing light-headed. The corner of my vision starts to blur, a sudden wave of heat washes over me and my legs slump to the cold tiles.
I think of the coffee and the cereal he left out: they both tasted funny. I thought the milk was off, or that maybe it was a change in my taste buds because of the pregnancy hormones, but I was wrong. He’s drugged me.
The dim kitchen light seems to glow and fade. I blink. I’m still on the floor in a crumpled heap. I have a throbbing headache and a ringing in my ears. The room sways even though I’m not moving.
Is this what he did to Claire? Drugged her so she fell down the stairs? Made it look as if it was self-inflicted? An accident?
Jamie’s voice somehow continues to pierce through the high-pitched buzzing. I shut my eyes to concentrate. Rain is pounding against the patio doors. There’s a flash of lightning. The sound of a phone ringing. It’s impossible to know what’s real and what’s in my head.
‘You have to believe me that I never wanted it to get like this,’ Jamie says, as if he is at the other end of an echoey tunnel. ‘If I could change what happened on that night by the cliffs then I would. Of course, if you hadn’t put your foot out . . .’
‘What?’ I gasp.
‘I know what you did, Erin,’ he says matter-of-factly. ‘George fell because you tripped him. You didn’t even check he was dead. You just assumed he was! You left him lying there. What sort of person can walk away like that?’
It’s as though he’s taken a plank of wood to my chest.
I try to protest. Words gurgle in my throat, unable to reach the surface.
He speaks over me. ‘You think you’re so innocent in all of this. I shouldn’t have punched him, but at least I didn’t kill him. That was you.’
I blink. My eyelids are too heavy to hold up. The muscles in my face seem to be melting.
There’s one final realisation before the blurriness in my head threatens to take over. Sophia isn’t coming.
67
Sophia
The windscreen wipers are no match for the heavy rain that’s pounding against the glass. I’m tearing down the country road, hands gripping the steering wheel. My mind is struggling to process everything I’ve learned in the past forty-eight hours.
I should probably slow down a little, take more care on these unlit lanes, but I have to get to Erin. I round the corner and begin the approach up to their house at the top of the hill, flicking my lights to full beam in an attempt to see through the darkness of the woods. Every so often there’s a fork of lightning in the distance. I bite down the voice that’s telling me to turn around and run to safety. Hide.
I need to get to Erin. I’ve never heard anyone sound so scared in my life.
A loud ringing sound startles me. I peel my eyes from the road to see Amira’s number flashing up on my screen. I frown and accept the call. ‘Amira, is everything OK?’ I have to shout over the sound of the rain. ‘I’m driving.’
‘Sophia, I just had to call you!’ She sounds as if she’s out of breath. There is a click-clacking of her fingers speeding over a keyboard. ‘I’ll be quick. I’ve been thinking about Erin and Jamie.’
I’m about to tell her that it’s over, Ketut has been arrested, we got it wrong, but she speaks over me.
The signal dips in and out. I’m only able to catch certain words.
‘I didn’t catch that. Amira?’
‘I said . . . George’s autopsy report . . . not what we expected.’
There’s something about her frantic breathlessness that sends a shiver up my spine.
‘Say that again?’
‘I . . . another look at George Kingsley’s autopsy report. It mentions . . . rash . . . neck.’
‘Yeah?’ I try and remember. There was something in the report about this. ‘A rash on George’s neck? A shaving rash or—’
There’s a delay on the line and she talks over me.
‘George was . . .’
‘What?’ Goosebumps spread across my tense body. ‘Amira, I really can’t hear you. Try again. What did you say?’
‘George was strangled . . .’
This time I catch what she’s trying to say, but then there’s a crackle and a loud beep. The call cuts out.
Shit.
He was strangled? The police definitely didn’t mention it in their report.
My mind is too clouded. The answer feels as though it’s staring me in the face, but I can’t find a way to see it clearly.
A sudden corner appears. My breath is trapped in my throat as I press hard on the brakes. Spindly birch trees sway ominously before me, lit by my rain-splattered headlights. There’s no way I want to go down into the thorny ditches. I drop down a gear. I need to take these unfamiliar bends slowly.
Amira’s number appears on the in-car system once more, and I jab to accept the call.
‘Hi. Are you there? Did you say George was strangled?’ I say hurriedly, in case I lose her again. ‘Listen, I’ve just found out that a barman from the hotel, a guy called Ketut, has been arrested. Do you think he strangled him?’
She’s not listening to me. Her voice talks over mine. ‘I can’t really hear you either. If it cuts out again then I’ll text you what I’ve found.’ Another gap of static. ‘But – hang on, where are you anyway?’
‘I’m—’ There’s a beep. No signal whatsoever. I must be in the deepest part of the woods now, exactly where Jamie stopped the car and told me to stay away from his wife. The place where he lied to my face that Erin suffered from a serious mental illness, blaming her changed behaviour on something that doesn’t exist.
I stab at the phone screen but it won’t reconnect the call. Just then another car speeds past, its headlights dazzling me.
‘Shit.’ My hands fly to the wheel, gripping it tightly, a sweat breaking out at the back of my neck.
Amira said she’d text me. I can’t risk trying to call her back; I need to concentrate on not getting myself killed. I shiver, despite the warm air blowing out of the heaters.
Hang on, Erin. I’m almost there.
68
Erin
I don’t know how long I blacked out for, but it’s clear that Sophia isn’t coming; she would have been here by now. If I’m to escape from this man, this monster, then I need to stay lucid. But the more time that passes, the harder it is to focus. With all my might I try to summon the energy to pick myself up off the floor. A constant thud pounds at the back of my head. I blink rapidly, praying my eyes will focus on the familiar shapes in the cold kitchen.
Jamie’s taken out a wine glass – just one – and is lining up painkillers and sleeping pills beside a bottle of vodka. The easy motion of his movements chills me. It’s growing more and more obvious that this isn’t the first time he’s performed this set-up – making it look like an overdose.
I have to get out of here alive. My baby depends on me. Being strong is the only way I can save us both.
My stomach flips as he speaks. ‘At first, I liked how possessive you were, taking such an interest in my ex-wife. Found it kinky, if I’m honest. It was proof of how much you truly loved me.’
The walls are closing in. He sounds as if he’s being interviewed but there’s no one else here. I push my hands on to the tiles and try to lift myself up. I’m fighting against the wooziness in my mind. I have to stay focused, stay calm, work out what to do next.
