Between the Lies Read online

  Between the Lies

  A psychological thriller

  A J Wills

  Copyright © 2018 by A J Wills

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any other means, without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the purchaser.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Inspiration for Between the Lies

  About the Author

  My other works

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Jez Hook woke with his heart trying to punch its way out of his chest. He sat up, and took a deep breath. It was early, 2:57am, according to his phone on the bedside table. He collapsed back onto his pillow, and stared through the gloom at three ugly watermarks on the ceiling, wondering at the cause of the fear spiking through his veins.

  The house creaked and popped; claws scratched in the attic. But there was another noise he couldn’t quite place.

  ‘Alice, are you awake?’ He tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Did you hear that?’

  She withdrew her arm into the warmth under the duvet, and rolled away with a soporific murmur. Her breathing deepened and slowed into a steady rhythm. In the next room, Lily’s bed groaned.

  There.

  He heard it again.

  Like the brush of cloth against a wall.

  Then a thud. Dull and hollow.

  Jez imagined a scrawny, heroin-addled junkie rummaging through their drawers, looking to fund his next hit, all tracksuit bottoms, gelled hair, and earrings, eyeing up the television set, their stereo, the iPad, and his Xbox. In an instant, fear resolved itself into outrage.

  He slipped a leg out of bed, the stripped floorboards icy on his bare feet.

  ‘I think there’s someone in the house,’ he hissed. ‘I’m going to take a look. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  Jez pulled a t-shirt on. As he reached the door, Alice gave a little snort, scrunching up her face, and rubbing her freckled nose with the back of her hand.

  He sidestepped a loose floorboard on the landing. He should probably call the police. But how long would they take to arrive? And what if the noises were a product of his overactive imagination?

  Lily’s door was ajar. He pushed it open with a trembling hand. The four-year-old, on her front in a tangle of sheets, had her legs drawn up under her chest, and her bottom stuck up in the air in that peculiar way she had of sleeping. A thumb wedged in her mouth and her favourite stuffed toy tucked under one arm.

  Jez backed out of the room and winced as the latch clicked shut. Over the banister, he could see light haloing around the lounge door. The flicker of a shadow. Someone moving around.

  He picked up one of Alice’s dumbbells next to her trainers on the landing. It weighed barely a couple of pounds, but felt reassuringly heavy. Then he took the stairs one at a time, his muscles wound up like springs, his senses supercharged.

  He noticed the bolt on the front door was drawn, so the intruder had either come through a window, or more likely, vaulted the garden wall at the back of the house, and forced the tired old lock on the kitchen door he’d been meaning to replace.

  The floor tiles in the hall were gritty with dirt. He put an ear to the lounge door, and listened.

  Silence.

  No, wait. Maybe a slight rustle. The sound of footsteps softened by the carpet?

  He pushed the door open. A figure stood hunched over Alice’s oak sideboard. Not the gaunt, skeletal physique of a desperate drug addict Jez had expected to find, but an older man, his greying hair neatly cut, and smartly dressed in a blue jacket, beige trousers, and brown brogues.

  ‘Hey!’ said Jez, with an assumed bravado.

  The man stiffened, then turned slowly, a framed photo in his hand, removed from the collection of family pictures on the sideboard. Jez recognised it as one of his favourite images of Alice and Lily. He’d taken it on his phone in the first flush of their romance. Mother and daughter with the same button nose, and dimples that pinched their cheeks when they smiled. Only their eyes were different. Alice’s were the colour of coral oceans. Lily’s a chocolate brown.

  ‘Put that back,’ said Jez.

  The man stared at him with dark, glassy eyes.

  ‘I said, put it back.’ Jez raised his voice.

  ‘She’s pretty.’ The man traced a finger across Lily’s face. Jez caught the rank odour of alcohol and stale sweat. ‘What’s she called?’

  ‘You’re drunk. Get out!’ Jez reached for the man’s arm, but he swatted it away, his face contorting into an ugly snarl.

  ‘Let me see her.’

  ‘I’ve called the police. They’re on their way.’

  The man dropped the photo. The glass in the frame cracked. Then he lunged at Jez, who was momentarily caught off guard, but instinctively pushed the intruder back with a firm hand on his chest.

  ‘I have to see her!’

  ‘Last warning. Get out.’

  When the man rushed at him a second time, Jez didn’t hesitate to use the dumbbell. He swung it like a boxer aiming a fight-winning uppercut, letting its weight create its own momentum.

  But he was too slow.

  The man saw it coming, parried it away, and rammed a hand into Jez’s face. His palm caught him under the chin, and snapped his head back.

  Jez yelped as fingers dug into his eyes. He fell back over the side of the sofa, and the stranger dashed past, into the hall, the stairs in his sights.

  In a few quick bounds, he would be in Lily’s room.

  Jez screamed, rage boiling in his veins. He had to protect his family. He blinked away the tears, and launched after the vanishing figure. He caught him on the bottom step, and with a cry of rage, brought the dumbbell crashing down on the back of the man’s skull. It connected with a crack, and the man’s legs buckled. He collapsed to his knees, and Jez hit him again.

  A splatter of blood patterned the wall.
Jez lashed out once more. Unable to stop. Venting his fury. Until exhausted, breathless, and burning with sweat, he dropped the dumbbell. It thudded on the floor, and rolled away.

  Chapter Two

  A light sparked on, and Alice appeared on the landing, rubbing her eyes. ‘What’s all the noise?’

  Jez, standing in the hall, opened his mouth, but couldn’t speak.

  She started down the stairs, her pyjama bottoms flapping around her legs, but a plaintive cry halted her mid-step.

  ‘Mummy! Mummy!’

  ‘Great. Now Lily’s awake.’

  She turned and ran back up, her feet dancing on the steps. The bedroom door latch clicked open, and the soothing murmur of her voice calming her daughter back to sleep carried through the house.

  When she returned, Jez hadn’t moved.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, her head tilted, her hair hanging loose.

  When she saw the crumpled body on the stairs, she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. ‘Oh my God!’

  A single bead of sweat rolled down Jez’s back. ‘I didn’t mean to,’ he said. He needed her to understand it had been an accident.

  ‘What have you done?’ A tremor in Alice’s voice.

  Jez tried wiping the blood on his hands on his t-shirt, but couldn’t get them clean.

  ‘For God’s sake, call an ambulance,’ said Alice, frozen to the spot.

  Jez stared at the body. Everything was a bit fuzzy. None of it seemed real. He fixated on the smallest details. Tiny black hairs that sprouted from the top of the man’s ears. A cluster of moles on his neck. A gold band on his ring finger. He noticed the elbows of his jacket had been worn shiny smooth, and that he had holes in the scuffed leather soles of his shoes. Specks of blood peppered the Farrow and Ball cream walls, and had seeped into the seagrass carpet on the stairs.

  ‘Jez!’ said Alice. ‘Where’s your phone?’

  ‘He was drunk. He was going for Lily. I had to stop him.’ Jez swallowed hard, forcing back the urge to vomit. ‘He found that picture of the two of you together on the beach. He said this horrible thing about Lily being really pretty.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He was trying to get upstairs. I had to stop him.’

  Alice said nothing.

  ‘It was an accident.’

  Jez blinked, forcing away the memory of how his rage had taken hold, possessing him. How he’d been unable to stop himself even as the man lay unconscious.

  Eventually Alice said, ‘We should call the police.’

  Jez clenched his hands into tight fists, his nails digging into his palms until the pain drew him back to the moment. Alice was right. They had to do something.

  Without thinking, he grabbed the man’s ankles, and pulled him off the stairs, grimacing when his face thudded on the floor. He straightened his legs, and unfurled his arms. It seemed like the right thing to do. He’d looked so awkward, bent and twisted on the stairs, lying in his own blood.

  ‘How did he get in?’ asked Alice, descending slowly.

  ‘He probably forced the back door,’ Jez snapped.

  ‘You were going to fix the lock.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ His skin prickled with irritation.

  He knelt on the hard floor by the man’s side, and reached into his jacket pocket. He found a well-worn brown leather wallet bulging with cards. Inside, tucked behind a clear plastic panel, was his driving licence.

  ‘His name’s Marcus Fenson. He’s from Broadstairs.’

  When he glanced up at Alice, she’d frozen with eyes wide. Her skin was deathly pale. ‘You okay?’

  After a second or two, she seemed to come to her senses, and forced a smile. ‘Sure,’ she said.

  The pixelated thumbnail picture on the licence made Marcus Fenson look a lot younger. In the photo he had fewer lines around his eyes, and his hair was a dark, lustrous black that fell over his ears.

  Alice floated down the last few steps, and tiptoed over the blood that had seeped into the carpet. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and crouched next to the body. With a trembling hand, she reached for his neck.

  ‘He’s dead,’ she said after a moment. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, her eyes red.

  ‘Shit,’ said Jez. He rocked back on his haunches. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, of course I’m sure,’ Alice snapped. ‘What were you thinking?’

  ‘I...I...I don’t know.’

  ‘How could you have been such an idiot?’

  ‘Alice, I’m sorry. It was an accident.’

  Her shoulders shuddered as tears flowed hot and fast down her cheeks.

  ‘I was trying to protect you,’ said Jez. He reached for Alice’s hand, but she recoiled from his touch.

  They sat in silence for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts, Alice’s gentle sobbing the only sound breaking the silence.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ Jez said eventually.

  Alice stood suddenly, and with a deep breath her tears ceased. She pulled her shoulders back, and with her jaw set defiantly, said, ‘You’ll have to get rid of the body.’

  Chapter Three

  It hadn’t exactly been love at first sight, at least not for Alice. She’d been more concerned about the damage to her car than the strange man who’d distracted her attention as she reversed out of a parking space. Fortunately, the damage had been mostly cosmetic, and the Renault she’d hit had escaped without so much as a scratch.

  ‘I’m so sorry, but you forgot these,’ said Jez, holding up a bunch of flowers in a cellophane wrapper.

  Alice frowned. ‘Sunflowers?’

  ‘I was behind you at the checkout. They were on the floor. I thought you’d dropped them.’

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘Oh,’ said Jez. ‘Well, I’ve paid for them now. You should have them anyway.’

  ‘Right.’ She took them, and threw them on the passenger seat. ‘Thanks, I think.’

  ‘I really am sorry about your car.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said, inspecting the scuffed paint and dent in her bumper. ‘It’s only a lump of steel and plastic.’ The words tripped lightly off her lips, but it was obvious she didn’t mean them. It was an eight-year-old Mini Cooper with sports trim, a chunky leather steering wheel, and polished red paint that gleamed in the sun. It suited her personality, although she’d since sold it, after deciding they didn’t need the cost of running two cars.

  ‘No, I insist, I’ll pay to get it straightened out.’

  ‘There’s no need. The insurance will cover it.’

  ‘I want to.’

  ‘Look, thank you for the flowers.’

  ‘I’ll leave you my number in case you change your mind.’ Jez conjured up a business card from his wallet.

  ‘I should have guessed. We’re in the same line of work.’

  Jez raised an eyebrow. He thought he knew all the estate agents in town, and would have certainly remembered her face.

  ‘Lambert and Steele. I’m a legal secretary.’

  ‘Right,’ said Jez. ‘I thought you meant…’

  ‘No,’ she said, pulling a face. ‘Not an estate agent.’

  ‘My name’s Jez. I mean, it’s Jeremy, but everyone calls me Jez.’

  Her face finally broke into a smile. ‘Alice,’ she said, offering him a delicate hand with immaculate red painted nails. ‘I’d better get going.’

  ‘At least let me buy you a drink.’ The words tumbled out of his mouth before he realised what he was saying. It wasn’t like him to be so bold. She was well out of his league. Glamorous and sophisticated, with lustrous brunette hair, and delicate make-up. He didn’t think he’d have much chance with a woman like that, especially one who took so much care over her appearance just for a Saturday afternoon supermarket dash.

  ‘Please?’ he said, and regretted the desperation in his voice.

  Alice glanced at a slim silver watch on her thin wrist. ‘I don’t know. It’ll have to be a quick o
ne. I have to be somewhere at six.’

  They found a bar on the quay overlooking the creek, and drank champagne sitting in high-backed chairs. He discovered she liked dancing barefoot in the sand, and lying on a beach watching the clouds race across the sky. She hated January - ‘the longest, coldest month’ - spiders, fennel and insincerity. He told her his idea of a perfect weekend was a lazy Sunday morning in bed. He explained his loathing of football, aubergines and birthdays - he despised being the centre of attention - and that his favourite band was The Killers. He liked his coffee strong and black, and regretted having never learned to sail. She laughed at all his jokes, and two hours passed in the blink of an eye.

  ‘It was fun,’ she said, as she stood to leave. ‘But I really have to go.’

  They exchanged an awkward handshake, and when Alice leaned in to kiss his cheek, they bumped noses, and collapsed in a fit of giggles.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to go out for dinner with me sometime?’ said Jez, emboldened by the champagne.

  ‘I’d like that,’ she said, without hesitation.

  Four days later, they met at an Italian restaurant on the water’s edge, ate pasta, barely taking their eyes off each other all night. They held hands under the table, and at the end of the evening shared their first kiss. Two weeks later, Alice introduced him to Lily.