The silent house arc, p.20

The Silent House (ARC), page 20

 

The Silent House (ARC)
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  Do you still want to know what I know about the

  case?

  Anna’s eyes lit up. Of course. Why?

  Because I’m ready to tell you. Get a notebook or some-

  thing. We’re going to find out who did this.

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  Chapter 16

  Anna and I didn’t go back to bed, instead we started

  sorting through all of the information I’d learned about

  the case, the suspects so far and the distinct lack of an

  obvious motive. I felt lighter after sharing it, and I knew

  Anna would feel more empowered to support Laura if

  she knew what was going on. I knew there was a chance

  it would jeopardise my job if anyone found out I told her,

  and that worry still niggled at me, but the relief of sharing finally outweighed this concern.

  Do you want to come out with me this morning? I

  asked, knowing I needed to clear my head after everything

  that had happened.

  No, she shook her head. I need to send some emails and have a chat with my supervisor. She gave me a sideways glance and I wondered how much of her PhD work

  would actually get done, but I didn’t comment.

  Driving into town, I knew exactly where I wanted to

  go. The Scunthorpe Arts Centre was based in a converted

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  church, flanked by the steelworks and several council buildings. There was something incongruous about the

  beauty of the old building directly opposite the ugly rear

  of the library, with the glow of the industrial chimneys

  behind, but to me it was an oasis in the desert.

  I’d seen the exhibition advertised for several weeks and

  kept meaning to go, but I’d never found the time. Today,

  however, I needed some beauty to detract from the threats

  and violence. It was a free exhibition, and I took my

  sketchbook with me in case it inspired any ideas.

  Heading into the main body of the church, I stopped

  to drink in the colours of the work around me. This

  particular exhibition was a mixture of glass and metal-

  work, but the ways the colours blended and complemented

  each other sparked ideas for my own textile projects.

  I spent an hour wandering slowly around the exhibition

  while people around me came and went. Sometimes I felt

  self-conscious, pulling out my sketchbook in public, but

  for once it didn’t bother me. An idea came to me of a

  piece I could do to represent the local landscape, and I

  sketched it out with notes at the side about colours and

  textures.

  When I was satisfied with what I’d come up with, I

  wandered through to the cafe area, only to see a familiar

  face on the other side of the room. DC Singh was sitting

  opposite a blonde woman in her fifties, and as I watched

  they both stood, she gave him a hug and a kiss on the

  cheek then left. Singh sat back down to finish his drink,

  and on impulse I wove my way through the tables towards

  him.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, hovering next to the chair the woman had

  just vacated.

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  ‘Paige,’ he said, smiling. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve just been in to see the exhibition. How about you?

  Hot date?’ I asked with a smirk.

  He laughed. ‘Not quite, that was my mum.’

  My surprise must have been written all over my face,

  because he laughed again. ‘What, think I’m too brown to

  be half white?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know . . . No, I don’t think . . .’ I

  stopped, flustered, as he tried to keep a straight face and

  failed. I took a deep breath. ‘I made an assumption, and

  I apologise.’

  ‘No harm done. My brother and sister are paler than

  me. Genetic quirk I suppose.’

  ‘Are you close to them?’ I asked, taking the seat oppo-

  site him.

  He nodded. ‘Pretty close. My sister still lives at home,

  so I see her and my parents regularly. My brother’s at uni

  in Birmingham, doing a PhD in pharmacology.’

  ‘Anna’s doing a PhD too, in London. She comes to visit

  pretty often though.’

  ‘Is it just the two of you?’

  I nodded and told him about our history, the deaths of

  our parents within a few short years and how we’d become

  closer since.

  ‘I find myself trying to replace Mum sometimes, though.

  Anna’s only two years younger than me, but I still feel

  responsible for her.’

  He sat back and folded his arms. ‘She can take care of

  herself, she’s clearly a capable young woman. Maybe you

  should cut her a bit of slack, relax a bit. I get the feeling you spend too much time worrying about her instead of

  living your own life..’

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  I shuffled in my chair and looked down at the table, not wanting to let on that he’d hit on an uncomfortable

  truth. The awkwardness was broken by a waitress coming

  to clear the plates left over from Singh’s lunch with his

  mum. I used the interruption to get up and fetch us a

  coffee each, hoping he’d change the subject when I

  returned.

  ‘What do you do for fun?’ he asked after I sat down

  again.

  ‘I’m pretty busy with work, but I try to see friends at

  least once a month,’ I replied. As I said it, I was aware

  of how sad it sounded, but work had been my necessary

  priority for the last three years. Mike left me with huge

  debts that I was still repaying, and it affected my life to

  a massive extent.

  Singh waited expectantly, so I wracked my brains for

  something else to say. ‘I love going to art galleries, and I

  usually come to see the exhibitions here, whatever they

  are. I love all kinds of art, seeing different people’s interpretations of the world around them.’

  I found myself explaining to him about my aborted

  textiles degree, how I sometimes pulled out my felting and

  made some progress on my own art work, but life got in

  the way and I never seemed to finish anything. Or if I did

  finish it, I had no confidence in its quality as a piece of

  art, and it ended up sitting in a drawer.

  When I paused, I realised he was watching me intently,

  his eyes dancing.

  ‘What?’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re really passionate about this,

  so why are you settling for a job you don’t enjoy?’

  I shifted my weight uncomfortably. ‘I don’t hate being

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  an interpreter. I find it rewarding, a lot of the time anyway.

  It would be too difficult to go back to uni now. I’m too

  old.’

  He burst out laughing. ‘People study when they’re in

  their seventies. How old are you? Late twenties?’

  ‘Thirty,’ I told him, feeling defensive. ‘I need to pay my

  mortgage, though, and I can’t work full time and study.’

  It wasn’t the time to bring up my last relationship, the

  financial control that had left me with almost nothing. It

  was a miracle I’d managed to keep my flat.

  ‘Okay, I won’t push it,’ he said, smiling at me and

  laying a hand over mine for a brief moment. ‘I’m sorry.

  But I think you should look into it.’

  ‘What about you?’ I asked, moving the conversation

  on as quickly as possible. ‘What do you do for fun?’

  ‘Fun? I’m a police officer, I don’t have time for fun,’

  he joked.

  ‘You’re not working right now,’ I pointed out.

  ‘True, but I usually use my time off for sleeping and

  seeing family. Sad, but there you go.’

  I smiled at his self-deprecating shrug. Clearly, his family

  meant a lot to him. I wished things had been different,

  and that Anna and I had grown up surrounded by a large

  extended family. Both of our parents were only children,

  so when they died, our family halved in size. I wanted to

  know what it was like; maybe I’d have children of my

  own one day, and Anna too, so they’d at least have cousins.

  That brought my thoughts around to my friends’ sugges-

  tions that I tried dating again, but the mere idea brought

  me out in a cold sweat. I didn’t want to lay myself bare

  on a dating site, but I had no idea where else I was going

  to meet an eligible man who might be interested in getting

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  to know me. Also, I’d been such a bad judge of men in the past, I couldn’t trust myself not to get sucked in again.

  ‘I’d better go,’ Singh said, with a regretful grimace.

  ‘This was nice, though. We should do it again, when there

  isn’t a murder hanging over us.’ He frowned, as if he was

  blaming himself for having some down time when Lexi’s

  death was still unsolved.

  ‘Maybe,’ I replied, unsure of what he was asking. If he

  was just being friendly, I could cope with that, but if it

  was something else . . . I felt my face flush.

  He nodded and stood up, then hovered awkwardly for

  a moment before squeezing my shoulder and walking

  away. I turned to watch him leave and he turned back as

  he reached the door, raising a hand in farewell before

  zipping his coat up to his nose and pulling on a hat.

  I sat there for a while longer, hands wrapped around

  my coffee mug, staring into space. I felt like there’d been

  a shift in the last week, as if everything in my life had

  suddenly changed, but I couldn’t put my finger on why I

  felt like that. With a sigh, I bundled myself up and prepared to go back into the bitter February air.

  It was already getting dark, and at first I didn’t notice

  the two people in front of me as I crossed the square.

  They were clinging to each other, and it was only when

  one of them glanced over her shoulder that I realised it

  was Elisha. The man didn’t look like Alan from behind,

  though; he was shorter and slimmer. I realised it was Rick

  Lombard, the man she couldn’t seem to keep away from.

  She didn’t notice me, and turned back to snuggle in

  closer to her companion. They were walking in the direc-

  tion of the car park, so I told myself I wasn’t following

  them, they just happened to be going the same way as me.

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  They got into a grey Golf parked two rows away from where I’d left my car, and I pulled out after them. At the

  roundabout, they turned right, which was the direction I

  was taking to go home. I wasn’t following them, I told

  myself again. It was coincidence that I’d ended up behind

  them.

  As we drove in the direction of the steelworks, an

  unearthly glow lit the rapidly darkening sky – coke being

  pushed out of the ovens and flaring in the cold night air.

  It was a sight you grew up with around Scunthorpe, but

  today something about it made me shiver. A couple of

  cars had moved between us at a junction, but ahead of

  me I saw Lombard indicate and turn into an industrial

  estate. I knew I shouldn’t follow them and it could get

  me into trouble, but curiosity got the better of me, and I

  did the same.

  I pulled into the estate to see the car turning behind a

  warehouse, but I hung back and slowed down. Driving

  past the turning, I saw their car stop next to a small hut,

  so I carried on up the road and pulled into the kerb by

  the next warehouse. Before I got out, I grabbed a torch

  from my glove compartment, then shut the door as quietly

  as I could and walked back up the road.

  Peering around the corner, I could see a light on in the

  hut, so I hugged the fence and walked nearer, keeping the

  torch in my pocket for now. The outside of the warehouse

  wasn’t lit, and I wondered what they were doing there at

  this time. As I got nearer, I could see the hut was some

  sort of office, with a bank of CCTV screens flickering

  with grainy images. The sight made my heart sink, realising

  I’d been caught on camera, but neither Lombard nor Elisha

  were looking at the screens. He was sitting in a chair with

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  her on his lap, and they might not have noticed if I’d walked in the door.

  Elisha pulled away and stood up, so I backed away,

  hoping to still get a view through the window whilst

  remaining hidden in the darkness outside.

  Come on, show me the new stuff, she signed.

  Lombard rolled his eyes, but he got up and took a

  bunch of keys off a hook on the wall, and the two of

  them walked to the door. I scuttled back against the fence,

  out of sight of the door, and waited for them to pass.

  They came out of the office and crossed over to the ware-

  house, pushing the door closed behind them. I didn’t hear

  the sound of a key turning, and I only hesitated for a

  moment before creeping after them.

  The door creaked as I opened it, and I held my breath,

  but nothing happened. Inside a warehouse, I knew the

  acoustics would play havoc with Elisha’s hearing aids, so

  hopefully she wouldn’t be able to pick out the sound of

  the door amongst other noises. The place was stacked

  with huge shelving units from floor to ceiling, full of

  pallets and wooden packing boxes. I could see a light

  down the end of one aisle, so I headed towards it, keeping

  to the shadows as much as possible.

  As I got closer, I could see Lombard and Elisha leaning

  over a packing case. They both had their backs to me,

  and he leaned over to show her something in the case.

  Is that everything? she signed, frowning.

  No, there are more in those three, Lombard replied,

  indicating the other boxes on the end of that row.

  Can I see?

  He thumped the lid down. Why? Trust me, it’s all there.

  It won’t be a problem.

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  She looked like she was going to argue, but before she did he came up to her and wrapped his arms around her,

  lifting her up onto the packing box. Within seconds, they

  were tearing at each other’s clothes, and I started to back

  away. I had no idea what was in those boxes, but I didn’t

  want to stick around for the show.

  Hurrying back the way I’d come, I felt my way along

  the shelves. My eyes hadn’t readjusted to the darkness

  after watching Lombard and Elisha, and I couldn’t

  remember where I needed to turn to get back to the door.

  My heart hammering, I picked up speed as I hurried along

  the aisles, but then my foot caught on a stack of pallets.

  They wobbled precariously, and for a second I thought

  I’d been lucky, but then they started to fall. I ran out of

  the way just in time as they clattered to the ground, shat-

  tering the silence in the warehouse.

  Would they have heard that? I wasn’t sure if Lombard

  wore hearing aids, but Elisha couldn’t have missed such

  a commotion. Sure enough, I heard movement behind me

  and threw caution to the wind, switching on my torch

  and sweeping it around until I spotted the door, then

  lunged towards it.

  As I burst out into the night air I didn’t stop to look

  back, racing across in front of the warehouse and back

  up the road to where I’d left my car. I leapt in and threw

  it into gear, turning around with a screech of tyres as

  Lombard raced around the corner after me. He tried to

  get in front of the car but I steered around him and raced

  back to the main road, tearing through the traffic lights

  as they turned red and heading for home and safety.

  I’d been so stupid, following them in there. Had they

  recognised me? What would I do if they reported me to

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  the police for trespassing? Losing my job would only be the start of it. Then a worse thought struck me – what if

  one of them had killed Lexi and was now threatening me?

  What lengths would they go to in order to keep me quiet?

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