Mind Blind (2 page)

He killed my sister.

When he fell out of the cupboard, I was too shocked to connect the break-in with Viv’s murder. I’m not sure I even remembered about Viv, to begin with. I was too busy being scared for myself and confused about him to remember that the worst possible thing in my whole world happened this week.

Once I realised that the two crimes coming so close together couldn’t be a coincidence, I didn’t expect him to admit it. But now he had admitted it, what was I going to do?

I couldn’t let him just sit there at our table, grinning at my nervous jokes and calmly admitting he’d killed my sister. I had to make him pay.

I was standing up by the dishwasher and lifting out the knife before I even thought about
how
to make him pay.

He sighed. “Don’t be silly. Put that down.”

“I’m not being silly. You killed Viv. I’m going to kill you right back, you murdering bastard.”

He actually laughed at me. “You can’t kill me.”

“I can.”

He stood up and moved away from the table. “No. You can’t. Really. You’re not going to get near me with that. I might be a crap burglar, but I’m quite good at… other stuff. Put it down or you’ll get hurt. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?”

“Why don’t you want to hurt me? You
killed
my sister!”

He looked at his hands again. “I didn’t actually kill her. I
wasn’t there when she died.”

“You said you killed her.”

“I sort of killed her. It was my fault. I took her to the man who killed her. I made the stupid mistake that meant she had to die. But I didn’t actually break her neck. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

I didn’t believe him. I didn’t believe that he hadn’t killed Viv or that he didn’t want to hurt me.

I lifted the knife. I didn’t know how to use it, except for chopping onions and peppers, but it might make him keep his distance until I decided what to do next.

I didn’t get to do anything next.

He moved so fast.

He stepped over to me, kicked my wrist, caught the knife as I dropped it, put it back in the dishwasher, then sat down.

I fell against the kitchen unit, rubbing my wrist. And shaking a bit. “You bastard.”

“Sit down. Knives aren’t going to help either of us. Sit down and calm down.”

I didn’t want to do anything he asked. I didn’t sit down. And I couldn’t calm down.

Now I was completely awake and really scared.

I was alone with the person who had killed my sister.

I thought about running for the phone or the door, but I remembered how fast he’d moved a moment ago. I thought about screaming, but who would hear me?

Then I thought, if he was going to kill me too, at least I could find out why Viv died first. I wasn’t satisfied by the ‘random attack’ story the police had persuaded Mum and Dad to believe. And if he really didn’t intend to hurt me, then I should gather evidence so I could get justice for my sister.

I looked at the boy properly for the first time, past his confident smiles and leather gloves, so I could describe him to the police, if I got the chance.

He looked younger than Viv and possibly older than me,
so maybe fourteen or even fifteen. He was clearly Scottish, with all those rolled ‘r’s, but he wasn’t pale and freckly like the MacDonald twins in my year. His tanned outdoor skin, light blue eyes and straight blond hair made him look like a baddie in an old WW2 film, or a Viking berserker. Northern, cold-hearted and slightly nuts.

He shook his head at me, as if he knew I was memorising his face.

I tested my voice, hoping it wouldn’t shake. “Tell me why you took her to a man who killed her. Tell me what mistake you made. Tell me why you’re in our house. Tell me everything.”

“First you tell me when your parents are due back.”

I glanced at the clock. It was after 1 a.m. “They’re at my grampa’s. They could be back any minute.” Maybe if he thought Mum and Dad were about to walk through the door, he would go away.

Rather than getting up and leaving, he frowned and looked out of the window. “No, they won’t be back in the next few minutes. There’s time for you to tell me what I need to know.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“That’s your choice. I’m not going to force you.” He shrugged. “Your sister had something that she promised to destroy, but she hid it instead. If I find it and remove it, then the people who killed her won’t come here looking for it. So I need your help.”

“I’m not going to help you!”

“Ok. I’ll be off then.” He stood up. “And the man who killed your sister will probably knock down your door sometime tomorrow. Good luck with him, Lucy.”

That was almost as much of a surprise as the kick. “You know my name?”

“I know everything, except where your nana’s ashes are.”

“What?”

“Vivien hid what I need in your nana’s urn, in the understairs cupboard.”

“She hid something in the ashes? Gross!”

“Yeah. But clever.”

I nodded. “Viv is always… was always… But why would she hide something in the ashes? Why didn’t she just hide it in her sock drawer? Why would she do something so… disgusting and disrespectful?”

“She was probably afraid of the people who might come looking for it.”

I shivered. “So who was she hiding it from?”

“I suppose she was hiding it from me. From me and my… the people I work for.”

“Who are you? Why did she hide something from you? What did she hide?”

He shook his head. “I’ve given you answers, now you give me answers. I didn’t find the urn under the stairs. Where is it?”

I didn’t want to give him any useful information, but this answer might get him out of my house. “It’s not here. Mum didn’t like it in the house, it gave her the creeps. So Dad said someone else would store it until next year.”

“Next year?”

“We’re going to scatter Nana in the sea, in the same place my great-granddad was scattered, on their wedding anniversary, next spring.”

“So who’s got it now?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t
know
?”

I was telling the truth, but there was no way to prove that to him. And now, for the first time tonight, he looked angry.

Was she telling the truth? Did she really not know where her own great-grandmother’s ashes were? I couldn’t tell for sure without touching her, which I didn’t want to do. But she wasn’t planning her words like a liar.

“I really don’t know,” she repeated. I sensed slight panic, but no deceit.

“So who might have it?”

“Dad might have given it to Grampa, because he’s nearest. Or Uncle Vince might have taken it, because he’s got more storage space than Grampa.”

“If your grandfather is nearer, I’ll go there first. Give me both addresses, though.”

“I’m not giving you their addresses! I don’t want you and your murdering gang anywhere near my family.”

“Lucy, the man who did kill Vivien already has those addresses on file. That’s where I got
your
name and address. If I don’t go now, on my own, then he’ll go, with all my… with lots of others, as soon as he works out what she hid and where.”

“How is that worse than you going tonight? Am I meant to think you’re good news and they’re bad news?”

I smiled reassuringly.

She wasn’t reassured.

“What harm can I do? On my own?”

She rubbed her wrist.

Oops. I shouldn’t have shown off with flashy kicks. She now had a very good idea how much harm I could do on my own.

“Come on, Lucy. I didn’t attack you, you tried to attack me! I won’t hurt anyone. I’ll just search their cupboards and leave. Trust me.”

She didn’t trust me. Fair enough. I didn’t trust me either.

I sensed her make a sudden decision.

“I’ll go.”

“What?”

“I’ll go. I’ll find the urn, then give it to you. If I do that, will you leave us alone?”

“Yes. No. No!” I hadn’t seen that one coming. “I mean, yes, once I have what’s in the urn, I will leave you alone. But
no
! You can’t go. Don’t be daft.”

I suddenly had a clear picture of this skinny girl, shorter than me and younger by the looks of her, in a dark house, searching under the stairs. Then I saw her hauled out by Malcolm, and Daniel putting his foot on her stomach.

I’m not a fortune-teller. I read minds, not the future. But I knew that Malcolm or Mum would drag everything out of me as soon as I went back, then my family would start searching for the codenames too. If they found this girl in their way, Lucy would be the one who’d get hurt.

The only way to stop all of the Shaw family being killed was for me to get the codenames tonight. Then I could protect this family, protect my family, maybe even protect my own future.

Though it was probably too late to protect Lucy.

She’d seen my face. Her sister had been killed for seeing my face.

So it probably was too late for Lucy. But I could try.

“Are you thinking?” she asked. “It looks like hard work.”

“You can’t go,” I repeated. “It’s not safe.”

“
You’re
not safe. I suppose we could go together, then I can stop you stealing anything, damaging anything, hurting anyone…”

“Yeah? You can
stop
me doing anything, can you?”

“Maybe I can. You’re all cocky now, boy, but I knocked you down pretty good in the hall.”

I couldn’t let her know how she did that. “You took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“So here’s another surprise. We’re going together. We’ll find the urn, you’ll get your mysterious
thing
and you’ll go away.” She glared at me, completely determined.

I needed those addresses. What was the most efficient way of getting them?

I could take off my gloves, grab Lucy and demand her grampa and uncle’s addresses. She was probably too stubborn to tell me voluntarily, but I might be able to read something useful while she was concentrating on refusing to tell me. I wouldn’t get the exact postal addresses – she would only think those if she was actually writing them down – but she’d probably visualise the streets and the houses.

However, we’re not meant to let targets know we’re mindreading, so I’d have to hurt her, twist that sore wrist perhaps, as an excuse for touching her. But if I hurt her she’d scream, which would alert the police.

Also, if I touched her, I’d read the thoughts behind her grief and fear, and I might scream louder than her. Then she’d see exactly how much of a wimp I was.

So it was the rational decision to let her lead me to the right house.

And if we found the codenames and if I persuaded Malcolm and Mum to let me brief them verbally, perhaps they wouldn’t find out that Lucy had seen me. It was unlikely, but it was the best chance I could give her.

So I nodded.

“Let’s go now then,” she said. “Before my parents get back.”

“Don’t be daft! How will your parents react if you’re not safe in bed when they get home?”

She didn’t want to agree with me, but she shrugged.

I glanced at the window. “Anyway, it’s not going to be
quick or easy getting out of here. There are two policemen watching your house.”

“There are police watching us? Why?”

“Probably hoping for evidence that one of you killed Vivien. Suspecting the family is easier than doing real detective work.”

She was horrified. “But
you
killed her! I’ll tell them that right now.”

She headed for the front door.

“Lucy, stop! If you drop me in it now, your entire family will be in danger!”

She stopped. Right by the understairs cupboard.

I spoke softly. “I know you want someone to blame for Vivien’s death, so you can tell the police about me later, if you want. But wait until I get the secret safely away. If you shout for the police now, you’ll see me in handcuffs, which I’m sure would make you happy, but then
my
family will come searching for the secret.”

She raised her eyebrows as I said ‘my family’. I was probably telling her too much, but the truth might scare her into doing what I wanted. “Yeah. My family. There are lots of them, they’re all bigger than me, and if you hand me to the police they’ll be very annoyed.” Probably. Or maybe they’ll be relieved to get rid of me.

She was balancing revenge and caution, trying to decide which was more important.

But I couldn’t wait for her decision, because suddenly I sensed…

Exhausted grief.

Desire for comfort.

Worry.

Her parents, moving at driving speed up the road.

Even worse, slightly further away, I sensed sharp wakefulness. More police, two of them, following the Shaws.

“Your parents! They’re nearly home!”

“How do you know?”

Shit, I’d broken one of the basic rules: knowing stuff I shouldn’t know. “Em… I think I hear a car. Get to bed. I’ll be… where can I hide?”

“You’re not hiding in my bedroom!”

“Damn right!”

She looked around frantically. “In the study!” She pointed at the door opposite the cupboard. Then she said, more calmly, “I’ll come and get you once they’re in bed.” I sensed a sliding deceit behind her words. She was already trying to think of ways to make my night even more difficult.

“Wait until they’re asleep,” I said. “Be patient.”

We nodded to each other, both agreeing, both plotting.

By the time the key turned in the lock, Lucy was running upstairs and I was closing the study door.

I crouched under the desk and waited.

I sensed the Shaws’ weariness and their concern for Lucy. One of them clumped upstairs to check on her. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t mention finding me downstairs. But she must have been in bed, pretending sleep, because the adult felt relief and love.

Her parents were both exhausted. They pottered around taking off coats and shoes, then, after a few minutes of doors opening and closing, toilets flushing and lights clicking off, the house was quiet.

No one was asleep yet, but I couldn’t wait any longer.