Behind A Twisted Smile (Dark Minds Book 2) (24 page)

I found myself talking about Evie and her death, and then because he seemed such a good listener, I mentioned me and Martyn. I knew I probably talked too much and he might have thought me a trifle barmy, but I didn’t care. I used the opportunity as much as a cathartic exercise, and besides, being a comparative stranger, I would never see him again once he returned to the States.

“So you see, I’m stuck with these ideas, and no one will take me seriously.”

He flashed me a sceptical look. “You’ve sure either got a great imagination or—no, strange as it is, Kate suffered a fatal accident. She could be very rash sometimes, and rescuing a kitten sounds just like her. Moya, I don’t know you, and I’m afraid as persuasive and pretty as you are, I can’t get involved. The British police no doubt know what they’re doing.”

“You’re probably right.” Meaning no, you’re not. I had a sudden idea. “Did Kate take anything?”

His eyes widened. “Do you mean drugs?”

“Yes. But I don’t mean recreational drugs.”

“No. Never and she rarely had so much as a headache. She was one fit young lady. Why?”

I was thinking about Evie and the Valium. But testing Kate’s blood for medicines wouldn’t have worked. After her accident, she was so pumped full of drugs in hospital, a small amount would no doubt have been missed. If she had been doped up, it might have explained her diminished rationale in going up a ladder in icy circumstances, though. She wouldn’t have considered what she was doing, become wobbly and fallen. But then Martyn would have had to place the kitten out on the ledge to attract her. Was he that devious? Most definitely.

“Nothing. I just wondered. When do you go back home?”

“I have a few days booked here. I aim to conduct a little business in London.”

“Are you staying in touch with Kate’s family?”

He eyed me with a steely look. Eventually, he replied. “I wasn’t planning to. Now Kate’s passed away, there’s no point.” He raised a hand and let if fall aimlessly. “They do have my contact phone number, though.

I nodded. I couldn’t ask him directly for it—I had no grounds. But at least I knew I could get in touch if I needed to.

Chapter 32

The next day, I woke soon after six, and before any of my neighbours were up and about, I was out on a run. With the warm weather and lighter mornings, it put a spring in my step, and I had already decided to take advantage and go for a longer run than usual. I knew of a half-marathon down in Surrey a month later, and I thought it a good idea to train for it. Doing something different would help take my mind off other matters.

At Faye’s parents’ house, it had been impossible to avoid Martyn all afternoon. After Wayne and I finished talking, I wandered up to the house looking for the loo, and I bumped into him chatting with an older member of Faye’s relatives. The older man took the opportunity to fetch another drink, leaving me and Martyn staring at each other.

“Moya.” Martyn reached for me and drew me into his embrace. He hugged me close and kissed the side of my mouth before I had time to react. “Moya, it’s so nice to see you. Thank you for coming. You don’t know what it means to me.”

I stiffened and pulled back, aware of his breath on my face. “Does it? I’m sure I don’t know why. How
could
you, Martyn?”

He looked astonished. “But Moya, you know why. We’ve always been in harmony. You and I know each other inside out. Why did I do what…marry Kate? I think you know the answer to that.”

Before I had time to react, Faye walked up to us and slipped her arm through his. “Okay, Martyn?”

He smiled sadly, including her in his forlorn expression. “I’m just telling Moya how lucky I was to find someone who could take Evie’s pace.” He spread his hands. “I was as amazed as Kate was. And if you knew Evie, then you know darn well she’d have been the first to say I should take advantage of the chance of being happy again. She was a wonderful, warm-hearted woman. I miss her every day, just as I do my darling Kate now. I seem to be having such bad luck. Why do you think that is, Moya?”

More bullshit; how easily it dripped from his tongue. I didn’t bother answering Martyn; instead, I told Faye I had to go. I said goodbye and escaped.

Perhaps I used running as much to escape as to keep fit. I don’t know for sure. All I can say is I felt energised as well as relaxed: a paradox but true. I ran past the park, where I usually spent time, and headed out of town. I tore up the hill, my lungs aching and my legs stinging, until I reached open countryside. Field after field interspersed with light woodland, the trees already budding and showing signs of bursting into tender green leaves.

Although I felt weary after the climb, it was a good tiredness, not one that hung around due to depression and desolation. As I ran further, the trees grew denser, but the sun shone down between the trunks, casting a golden kaleidoscope of colour over the grass. The ground was rich with colour: white wood anemone, pale-yellow primrose, purple foxglove, darker-gold celandine, tiny wild daffodils and here and there a glorious wild carpet of heady-scented bluebells. I paused and looked around me, breathing in the aroma of the ancient woodland, wood sorrel and wild garlic crushed underfoot.

I felt alive. Alert. Sweat trickled down my forehead and between my breasts. My legs ached but still felt good; I had a lot of running left in me. My heart pumped stronger, faster, cleansing me of pent-up frustration.

I walked until I reached the edge of the woodland and then realised I recognised the area. I stopped, shocked. Not only that, I
knew
this place. Looking across the fields, in the distance, I could see the rear of Martyn’s house. I identified the trees along his property and the gate set within the wooden fence. I swear I hadn’t intended going that way. I had never run so far in this direction before, and I didn’t know why I chose the route that day.

I glanced at my watch. It had taken less than an hour from my place and judged the distance to be about seven miles or so. I glanced from the house to behind me and through the trees. I could just make out the buildings of the town. When I was in the house and glanced from the bathroom window, I estimated a walk of about fifteen to twenty minutes across the fields to the urban outskirts. Driving would depend on traffic, the time of day and which best and direct route you took. Evie said Martyn was at the hospital, working. Could he have driven home, knowing she had invited me round but that I would have taken about half an hour to get there? She was insistent I go over as soon as I could. I carried on walking, drawn to the house. From where I was standing, all I could see was the roof and first floor.

He could have gone home, killed Evie and left before I arrived. But even bold Martyn would have been risking me arriving early or someone seeing him. Was he that self-assured?

But then again, the police inspector said there were witnesses at the hospital who confirmed he was there all day. His car never moved from the car park. I shook my head in annoyance. I was missing something vital.

By now, I was barely one hundred metres away from the back fence of the house. I could see the roof of the shed. I wondered if Martyn was out. I had no idea whether he was at work or if he had taken compassionate leave after Kate’s funeral. There wasn’t a sound except for a couple of rooks making a racket in an oak tree above my head. I edged closer to the gate, wondering if it was locked, and put my hand on the latch. A fallen branch snapped beneath my foot. Startled, I snatched my hand back.

I waited, hardly daring to breathe; the chance of Martyn being in the garden at that precise moment was slim, but he seemed to have the luck of the devil. Evil is as evil does. After a brief wait, I went to raise the latch again, lifting the metal and giving the gate a tentative push. Nothing. I pushed again, but the gate wouldn’t budge, and I discovered it was bolted on the other side. I stupidly let the latch drop and it made a clatter.

I heard a movement behind the gate, bolts being drawn back, a key turning in the lock, and in panic, I took to my heels and fled into a thicket of trees.

“Who’s there,” he demanded.

I stood flat with my back to a tree, head pressed against the trunk, hands close by my sides.
Please don’t let him come out
. I held my breath. I could hear my pulse throbbing in my ears.

I heard a laugh, and the pitiless sound of it made my blood turn to ice. “I know you’re out there, Moya. Why not come and play? I know what you enjoy, I’ve been there before. Come and see what I’ve got for you,” he whispered.

He laughed. Much louder this time. I could hear the maliciousness, and I heard the gate slam and the bolts being put back in place. I waited until I was sure he had gone and wasn’t going to jump out on me. Peeking round the tree, I peered through the bushes, and making quite certain I was alone, I began running. I kept to the trees; I didn’t want him to see which way I had gone. Branches whipped my face as I tore past, roots threatened to trip me up, but I didn’t care. I didn’t stop until I had left the fields and woods and was back on the nearest road.

Sinking down onto my haunches, I stopped and got my breath back. My heart was hammering in my chest, and my sides hurt from the exertion. I had been stupid. He had, no doubt, seen me coming. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to picture Martyn up on the first floor, possibly even in the bathroom from where Evie had met her death, and watching my progress towards the house.

I looked down at my hands and saw they were shaking. I wrapped my arms across my chest and closed my eyes, rocking back and forth slightly on my heels. I knew I had to go back. The answer to Evie’s murder—I was certain it was murder—lay in that house, and I knew I had
seen
that answer in my subconscious. If only I could remember. Finding that answer was paramount, because apart from avenging Evie’s death, and almost certainly Kate’s, I had to make sure he didn’t do it again. If Martyn had killed all those people, starting with the two boys in Switzerland and then three women, it made a total of five victims. If Martyn, in his delusion or with his extreme ego, thought he could get away with it, he might pick on yet another person as prey. I didn’t want anyone to be at risk and especially my friend, Faye. When I thought of her, I felt my throat constrict. With her dark, silky hair and lovely candid smile, I knew she was a prime target. Martyn seemed to take delight in ruining those closest to me. He didn’t appear to pick strangers; he got close to his subjects, making it personal.

But worrying about his behaviour had to be set aside. First of all, how was I going to get inside with Martyn living there? I needed to know which hours he worked. Perhaps I could find out from the hospital; there was bound to be a set work rota for each week. I wondered who of Evie’s work colleagues I could ask. Staffing hours were likely to be confidential, but there had to be someone to whom I could talk.

It was strange, but once I had a plan forming, I didn’t feel quite so wretched. My goal was to prove Martyn had killed Evie and Kate, and then surely that would lead to Amanda’s retribution for her cousin’s death.

Chapter 33

That evening I had a wonderful surprise. Jon showed up on my doorstep. I couldn’t believe it when I opened the door to his knock. As he stood there in a crumpled work suit, overnight case on the doorstep, and his tired eyes holding that lovely gentle smile I liked to think he kept just for me, I squealed and leapt into his arms.

“You might have rung me!”

He laughed and held me tightly before releasing me and kissing me hard on the lips. “I wanted to see the look of surprise on your face. I’m dog-tired, but the thought of you kept me going. Are you going to invite me in?”

I closed the door, and he grabbed me again and hungrily explored my mouth. He ran his strong hands down my back and across my buttocks. Gradually, my tension of that day eased away. For the first time in my life, I knew what it was to feel passion and yet secure with another human being. I likened it to going home.

“I don’t suppose you’ve eaten yet? I didn’t fancy the airline food,” he said, after coming up for air.

“I haven’t, but I’ve got plenty of supplies in. Only, there’s something I want to show you first.” I gave him what I hoped was my sexiest seductive grin and taking him by the hand, led him upstairs.

I removed his suit jacket and tie, undid the buttons on his shirt and peeled it from his back. He reached for my sweatshirt and dragged it over my head, devouring my bare breasts with his eyes. We fell together onto the bed. Trousers, pants and socks were tossed into a corner, the bed protested under our weight, and lamplight streamed in from the window.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he ran his fingers through my hair.

Later, we went downstairs and I put together salmon pasta drizzled with delicious, homemade, garlic olive oil and a salad. Jon made a fuss of Tango before uncorking a bottle of white wine and pouring it into my grandmother’s cut glasses.

The salmon tasted delicious, but neither of us had a huge appetite. We nibbled and talked, catching each other’s eye between bites and smiling. We had been together for nearly eight months, and when I thought back to our first meeting and how I had coerced Jon into ‘going’ out with me, it made me feel kind of choky inside. How lucky I was to find him that day at the gym.