Pact of silence, p.1
Pact of Silence, page 1
Pact of Silence
Linda Huber
Contents
Hobeck Advanced Reader Team
Are you a thriller seeker?
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Daria’s Daughter
Hobeck Books – the home of great stories
Also by Linda Huber
This edition produced in Great Britain in 2021
by Hobeck Books Limited, Unit 14, Sugnall Business Centre, Sugnall, Stafford, Staffordshire, ST21 6NF
www.hobeck.net
Copyright © Linda Huber 2021
This book is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in this book are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Linda Huber has asserted her right under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the copyright holder.
A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-1-913-793-48-7 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-913-793-47-0 (ebook)
Cover design by Jayne Mapp Design
Printed and bound in Great Britain
Created with Vellum
Hobeck Advanced Reader Team
Hobeck Books has a team of dedicated advanced readers who read our books before publication (not all of them, they choose which they would like to read). Here is what they, and other independent advanced readers, said about Pact of Silence.
‘It draws you in and keeps you turning those pages right until the last few chapters.’
‘This book held on to me from the start to the end.’
‘Another great book from Linda Huber!’
‘What an emotional rollercoaster! Darkly addictive and packed to the rafters with secrets, I was flipping those pages, desperate to see how it unravelled.’
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In memory of Alison, who loved books
Prologue
Marie, aged 16
There wasn’t a single other person in sight. Marie dropped her dad’s old rucksack at her feet and stood in the scrubby grass by the roadside, apprehension pulling at her stomach. A dog was sniffing around the deserted snack van outside the petrol station further along the road, while a handful of sheep in the field opposite grazed placidly, legs wet with dew. Beyond the field was the glint of Loch Dunvegan in early-morning sunshine, misty green hills in the background completing the island scenery. Marie swallowed. This was horrible, but it was the only way. Mum and Dad wouldn’t understand and they wouldn’t want to, either. They wanted a good daughter, and she’d never be that now.
For the hundredth time she slid her sleeve back to see her watch. The bus was late. Marie stared towards the village, pinning the scene to her memory. Dunvegan was enveloped in the usual Sunday morning hush, old whitewashed cottages mixed in with modern dwellings and shops. She should have brought more photos; the village would soon be as lost to her as the rolling hills and craggy mountains of Skye would.
A rumble approached from the right. Thank God, the bus. Hopefully it wasn’t Mr McDonald driving, or she’d be faced with a series of awkward questions before her journey began.
It wasn’t Mr McDonald, and Marie heaved her rucksack right up to the back seat, where she could stare out of the rear window as childhood vanished behind her. She pulled the rucksack onto her lap and hugged it, inhaling the smell of home. Never again would she lie on her bed listening to Sounds of the Seventies, and she’d never curl up in the corner of the sofa to watch Top of the Pops again either. You had to be sixteen to leave home without the police coming after you, so she’d had her birthday, all pink candles and ‘One big puff, lass,’ and now she was free to go. Marie’s gut cramped at the thought, and she pressed a hand against it. This was happening. Had they noticed she was gone? Would they come after her?
The island passed by the window as the sun rose into a perfect, open sky. A couple of sheep strayed onto the road, and the bus slowed down to inch round them – she wouldn’t see that in Aberdeen. Marie fished for a tissue and dabbed her eyes. Half an hour more and she’d be with Euan. He’d be on his way now to meet her off the ferry at Kyle of Lochalsh, then their new life together would start with the drive to the granite city.
The bus was crossing the island now, and here was the scenery, the views the tourists came for. Dark peaks behind green hills, the odd glint from the sun on the sea, white horses topping the waves today as they sped in front of the wind. And on, and on, and tourists and cars and more tourists, and a road sign for Kyleakin. Nearly there.
The ferry was in, and Marie stood at the front of the boat for the few minutes’ crossing. The wind blew her hair across her face as Kyle of Lochalsh grew closer, then the ferry jerked as it came to a stop on the other side. Marie trudged onto the slipway, where a crowd of holidaymakers was waiting to make the crossing to the most famous island in Scotland. She stopped, scanning the few buildings and the cars parked nearby. Euan wasn’t here. Her stomach lurched anew and she stood still, her head swivelling from right to left. Euan, Euan, please come.
If he didn’t, it would all be for nothing.
A car horn beeped, and oh, he was here and she was safe; everything was going to be all right. Her heart singing, Marie fled towards the battered Ford Escort now manoeuvring into place for a quick getaway. At the top of the slipway, she spun round for one final look. The narrow stretch of water she’d just crossed was sparkling in the sunshine, and beyond it lay her island, Skye, with its shining waters and wonderful, moving shadows and her beautiful Black Cuillin Mountains.
Today she was leaving for good – and she was taking the secret with her.
No one could ever know.
Chapter 1
Sunday, 14th March
The best thing about living bang in the centre of York was that you could walk home after a meal out with an old friend. Emma Carter crossed the road and waved to Jasmin as the other woman’s car passed by. They’d be able to do this more often now that Jas was living in Leeds and not London.
The floodlit towers of York Minster provided a breathtaking backdrop as Emma hurried on. She would usually stop and admire it – but not tonight. Luke would be home now, and wow, oh wow, at long last she could share the news she’d been keeping from the world since Friday. Telling your guy he was going to be a dad was definitely something you wanted to do face to face, but Luke had spent the past five days in Ralton Bridge, helping his parents after last week’s storm demolished half their roof. Emma thrust her hands into her jacket pockets. It was still blustery even in town, and of course it had been a whole lot worse out in the wilds of Yorkshire where Marie and Euan lived. But Luke had coped. He was lovely like that, her Luke. A kind person, and oh, this was going to be so good. Their baby – they’d be a family.
Emma laid a hand on her middle, fingers spreading protectively. It would be okay this time. She...
Her footsteps faltered as she rounded the corner into Aaron Street, then stopped. Glassy black windows were clearly visible in their mid-terrace home, a ground floor flat with a lovely view of the Minster from the living area. That was – odd. Luke had left Ralton Bridge over an hour ago; he’d texted her before driving off. Even in the rush hour it didn’t take all this time to get here, and Sunday evening traffic was usually light. Hopefully they hadn’t had a power cut or something equally disastrous. Imagine trying to get hold of an electrician at ten o’clock on Sunday evening.
Five paces on, the mystery deepened, because there was the car, parked on the street instead of in their private space behind the building. Had Luke brought his parents back for some reason? The private space was narrow and tended to be muddy underfoot, and Euan’s hip made walking on slippery surfaces hard for him. Emma hurried the twenty metres to the flat, fumbling in her handbag for her keys.
I
He was standing in the kitchen area, an almost empty glass of red wine in one hand. Emma stopped dead. Here in the dimness, with the Minster floodlights throwing eerie shadows across the room, Luke looked like all the ghosts in medieval England had been chasing him down the A19. In the course of four days, he seemed to have lost his upright posture, and dark, staring eyes in a pale face completed the panda look.
He put his glass down on the kitchen island and came to meet her, enveloping her in a tight, silent hug, a pulse in his neck throbbing against Emma’s cheek as if he’d been running.
It was a moment before he spoke. ‘I’m fine. I just wanted to get inside quickly.’
Emma pressed her face against him, breathing in his familiar aftershave, then leaned back to see him properly. Luke might be fine, but something wasn’t. She’d never seen him like this, eyes shifting all over the place and hands trembling against her back. After a few days away her husband was usually more of a ‘whirl you round the room and into bed’ kind of guy.
‘Luke? Is something the matter with your parents?’
He kissed her forehead. ‘Let’s sit down. Glass of Merlot?’
Emma shook her head. By the look of things, the wine would have helped, but even the odd glass was off the menu now that a baby was on the way. She poured orange juice into a tall glass while Luke topped his up with wine.
He took a big swallow. ‘It’s Dad, Em. He needs another hip replacement.’
Frowning, Emma took her juice across the room to the sitting area. A second hip replacement didn’t sound like a terribly big deal. Euan’s first hip had been done about ten years ago, and she’d heard the story of the wound infection and subsequent long stay in hospital, but surely that wouldn’t happen again?
‘He’ll be worried after last time, I suppose.’ She let her voice trail away. Was this really about a hip replacement?
Luke joined her on the sofa, then knocked back half his wine in two gulps. Emma removed the glass from his grasp and put it on the coffee table, then took both his hands in her own.
‘Luke. I can see something’s up. Just tell me.’
Silence for two beats. Then: ‘We’re going to swap houses with Mum and Dad.’
He stared at her, then at the floor. Emma froze, shock fizzling through her. The flat belonged to Luke; he’d bought it before they met with money he’d inherited from his grandmother, but for heaven’s sake, they were married. Wasn’t this something that merited a discussion, not a blunt, ‘we’re moving’? Ralton Bridge was a charming little place in the stretch between the North York Moors and the Yorkshire Dales and Luke had grown up there, but he’d never spoken of any wish to go back. And they’d only just finished doing up the flat.
She jerked her hands free. ‘I don’t… Luke, why?’ And where had the macho announcement come from, for heaven’s sake? He wasn’t usually like that.
He pulled her close again. ‘I’m sorry to spring it on you like this, but Mum and Dad are desperate. They can’t cope with a big house any longer, and now Dad’s hip’s playing up and Mum’s terrified he’ll fall downstairs. You know how nervy she is, and with Dad being a bit older and another operation, they need a much smaller place. And preferably one without that big garden.’
His voice fell to a whisper on the last few words. Emma took a sip of juice, struggling to find the right questions.
‘Okay, I can see that. But wouldn’t it be better if they just sold the house and found a little bungalow? I thought you loved living here, and I certainly do.’
‘I do too, but, um, Mum and Dad made a really generous offer. Financially, I mean. It’s a good-sized place, Emmy, and we could make it fabulous. It’s a house that could give us a future, don’t you think?’
This would be the time for her news, but the joyful announcement she’d dreamed of making stuck in Emma’s throat. Look at his eyes, roaming around the room, not meeting hers for more than a mini-second at a time. There was something he wasn’t telling her. They’d only been married a few months and they were still discovering things about each other, which was lovely, but… you needed honesty in a relationship to feel safe. And the Luke she thought she’d known until tonight would never have agreed to such a life-changing move without discussing it with her first.
She turned away. ‘Why didn’t you include me in the conversation about it? I’d have come up for the weekend.’
He grabbed her hand again. ‘I wanted to fetch you there, but Mum was in a real state. She insisted we sort it out right there and then. I was scared she’d lose it completely, and Dad was miserable. He feels it’s all his fault.’
‘I still don’t understand why you agreed to swap houses. Their house would sell well, and they can do what they want now your mum’s stopped working.’
He looked straight at her. ‘Maybe I did let them sweep me away with their plans. But Emmy, think about it. A lovely big house, and nowadays it’s only twenty minutes from York in the fast train. With the money Dad’s offered me, we could do it up the way we want it, have kids, make it a real family home. We’d have a much healthier lifestyle there than here in the middle of a city.’
It was her turn to be silent. A healthy lifestyle. It was exactly what the nurse at the GP surgery had recommended a few months ago when Emma went for advice about getting pregnant after the miscarriage she’d had at uni. Fresh air, along with a minimum of booze and caffeine and lots of vitamins was the recommended regime. According to the nurse, these very early miscarriages were usually nature’s way of correcting something that had gone wrong with the pregnancy. That didn’t make it any less sad, of course, and it had led to the break-up of that relationship – but in the circumstances, maybe Luke had a point.
Emma pictured the house on the edge of Ralton Bridge. A huge open plan kitchen-living room plus a pantry downstairs, four bedrooms upstairs. The possibilities were endless if you had the cash to do it up. And the garden, with a rose bed and a patch of lawn at the front, and a long, flat grassy area at the back with plenty of space for trampolines and swing sets. Hadn’t she always wanted to live in a house like that, with a clutch of kids running around? Well, yes. One day. But – now? Like this?
Luke raised her hand to his cheek. ‘You’re okay with this, aren’t you, love? I couldn’t bear it if—’
For half a second, unending depths of hurt and horror flashed from his eyes, and Emma smothered a gasp. This was obviously hugely important to him. Okay, left to herself she wouldn’t move quite so far from town, but this wasn’t only about her now, was it? In Ralton Bridge, their child would have horses and cows on the doorstep and not a traffic jam in sight. And it was time he learned her news.
‘Luke, I – I’m pregnant.’
His eyes widened, then he flung both arms around her and hugged her close. ‘Oh my God. That’s – amazing. A baby, Emma!’ He let her go and punched the air, a goofy grin spreading across his face. ‘So you’re okay about the move? That garden’s perfect for a family. At least – we’ll make it perfect.’ Another shadow flitted across his face, then he was grinning again. ‘I’m going to be a dad!’
