Dead Jealous (17 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Poppy ran, slowing to check her phone signal every few paces. Only when she reached the bluff did enough bars appear to make a call.

‘About time,’ she muttered. She tapped in the first few digits of Michael’s number when a voicemail message pinged up on the screen. She tapped
OK
and held the phone to her ear.

‘Poppy, it’s Michael. Can you call me as soon as you get this? I’m not mucking about. The police are here and I think they need to talk to you.’ He sounded more tense than pissed off. Scared, almost.

What the heck did the police want with her again? She’d told them everything she knew in minute detail, signed her name to a dozen forms and statements. They might be interested in her new theory about Maya’s father, but she wasn’t sure it would make much of a difference to their case. It wasn’t as if Kane would be going to court.

She had returned to the call screen when something moving caught her eye. It was the Druid card she’d left there earlier. The wind had blown it quite a distance from the edge of the bluff and it had caught in a mound of grass that was longer and greener than all the grass around it.

Something about the shape of the mound drew her. It was long and narrow, like a coffin. Like...a grave?

She didn’t want to go any closer, but her feet moved towards the patch of bright green grass. It was as though someone had a hand on her shoulder, pushing her forward. By the time she reached the edge of the mound her legs were shaking. She had to kneel down before she collapsed.

Her hand cupped over her mouth as she stared at the earth.

Maya?

All the times she’d been here and she’d never seen it. But if this was where Kane buried her it would make sense of why he had come up here to kill himself. Kane might have murdered Maya, but he was in love with her in his own crazy way. Maybe he’d wanted to be close to her.

And Beth...had Maya drawn her here? It was
always
up here... Beth, Kane...her dream...

The implications made her head spin. The gas she was sucking into her lungs didn’t seem to contain any oxygen. She felt like she was drowning, like she was going to throw up.

‘Poppy?’ a voice asked.

Poppy looked up to see Pete standing in the shadow of the trees. ‘What’s wrong?’ He lurched to her side and crouched down beside her.

‘Pete, look,’ she gasped, nodding towards the mound.

‘Look at what?’

‘The grass. It’s been disturbed. I didn’t understand why Kane came up here...but that’s why. I think she’s here.’

Pete hugged an arm around her and squeezed her. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘I need to get down there, find the police.’ She ran a hand over her dripping nose and pushed herself to her feet.

‘No!’ Pete grabbed her arm. ‘You’re in no fit state to go down there by yourself. Come on back to the house. I’ve got that detective’s card on the fridge. We’ll give him a call.’

He was right. Silly to go down there only to have to come back again.

Pete led her back along the worn pathway, through the strip of trees and across the cobbled yard to the farmhouse.

He pushed open the door and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Go on into the living room and I’ll find that number.’

Poppy nodded and made her way back down the gloomy hallway to the room she’d been desperate to escape from not ten minutes ago.

Michael was going to kill her. She pulled out her phone. Of course there was no signal, but there was a text message that must have reached her phone before she’d gone into the house. She opened it and read.

u need 2 call me rt now! Kane didn’t kill Beth. Need 2 know ur safe!!!

What?

Poppy’s gaze flicked up to the gallery of family photographs on the whitewashed stonewall, to the picture of Pete’s dad. But her eyes were drawn away from the black and white photograph to another – the one of Pete and Sally sitting on what looked like a sparkly new tractor. Sally in her farming gear, wearing a pink scarf over her patterned pink shirt. A pink scarf that looked a lot like the one Beth was found wearing. The one that had strangled her.

The air flew out of Poppy’s lungs. Every muscle in her body tensed. She’d got it wrong. So wrong. Kane had told her, and she hadn’t heard him.

She saw Kane again, the terror in his eyes. And he’d said that this land was in Maya’s blood! He meant that it was hers, that she belonged here because...her father owned it so she had a claim on it. What if she had tried to claim it?

‘Shit!’

Poppy heard footsteps approaching. She shoved the phone in her pocket and turned to face Pete.

He smiled uneasily. ‘I’ve given the police a call. They’re on their way.’

He was lying. There were no police coming. No one knew where she was – except for Bob! If the police were looking for her then Bob would tell them where she’d gone.

‘Poppy, are you OK?’

She forced herself to smile at Beth’s killer. ‘I just feel a bit sick. Do you mind if I go outside?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Thanks.’ Controlling each step, she walked past Pete, down the hallway, towards the door. If she could just get outside she stood a chance. She could run...call for help.

She reached up to turn the handle but could feel Pete behind her. He wasn’t going to let her out there by herself. He wasn’t going to let her lead the police to Maya’s body. He wasn’t going to let her live.

Unable to control the panic any longer, she wrenched open the door and darted into the sunlight.

A hand clamped onto her wrist and yanked her back.

Pete stared into her eyes and slowly he nodded, as if he’d seen the truth reflected there. ‘You should have left well alone.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

While Meg and Jonathan went to check with Bob and Mo, Michael began walking towards the white trailer van. His pace quickened to a jog. And then a run.

Dealer Boy was bent over, attaching the trailer to an old clapped-out Ford Escort. Michael grabbed his shoulder and pulled him upright. Tariq’s eyes widened and his hand closed into a fist.

‘Have you seen Poppy?’ Michael asked quickly. As much as he’d love nothing more than to get into it with this guy, fighting now would waste time.

Tariq frowned. ‘Why d’you wanna know?’

‘
Have you seen her?
’

Tariq yanked his shoulder out of Michael’s grip. ‘Yeah. She was here, about an hour ago.’

Michael swallowed against his dry throat. Of course she’d say goodbye to the guy, it made perfect sense, but he couldn’t help feeling...
what...jealous?

‘Nothing happened,’ Tariq said, breaking into his thoughts. ‘It’s not me she’s interested in.’

Poppy had told him about what had happened between them? Michael nodded, but it didn’t stop his muscles from tensing. ‘Do you know where she went?’

‘What’s the problem, what’s going on?’

‘The guy who they thought murdered those girls? Turned out he had an alibi. She said she was on her way twenty-five minutes ago.’ Michael spun around. ‘So where is she?’

There were a couple of kids playing with water balloons at the edge of the wood. There were adults too – chatting and mucking about. Not one of them was Poppy. He pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. As he expected – Poppy’s phone rang out. He sighed and tried to hold back the profanities until the answering service kicked in.

There was a click and then a rustling noise. But there was no pre-recorded greeting. She’d actually answered. He started with a few choice words but then stopped and listened.

‘I’ll help you look for her, yeah?’ Tariq said.

Michael put out a hand to shut him up. ‘Poppy? Poppy, are you there? Can you hear me?’

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

‘How did you work it out?’ Pete asked. He had a tight hold on her arm and was dragging her across the cobbled farmyard. She stumbled but Pete hauled her to her feet and continued pulling her along. Her pocket was vibrating. Someone was calling her. She slipped her hand inside and dragged her finger across the screen, hoping it would answer the call.

‘I don’t know what you mean, Pete! Please don’t hurt me!’

She tried to speak loud enough that whoever had called could hear. But what was the point? She wasn’t even sure it had connected, and the further they moved away from the yard, the more likely it was that her phone would lose signal.

‘Pete! Please! Can we go back to the
farmhouse
and talk? Whatever you think I’ve done, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.’

‘I liked you,’ he said, angrily. ‘Seemed like a nice girl. Not like a lot of them down there.’

He was talking about her in the past tense – that didn’t bode well.

She tried to yank her arm out of his grip, but he just pulled her against his chest and part pushed, part carried her past the outbuildings, past a set of kennels where three sheepdogs wagged their tails excitedly.

‘Let me go!’ she shouted. He’d grabbed a shotgun from the house before dragging her out here. Even if he did let her go, she didn’t stand a chance.

‘I didn’t know she was my sister. I’m not a bad person, Poppy. It was her. She threw herself at me. She didn’t tell me she was my sister. Then she wanted money. Said that she’d tell if I didn’t pay up. Said she’d get a lawyer and take the farm away from me. Might look rich, but we’re in trouble with the bank. I couldn’t afford to pay them and her.’

With one arm, he carried Poppy down a steep mud track.

She kicked her heels against his shins, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

Ahead, down the steep mud track that was scarred with tractor tracks, Scariswater was coming into view. Not the shore she knew, but another, more secluded one. Trees hung over the grey waters like broken umbrellas, shielding the bay from view and waves sloshed against the shingle like they were trying to climb ashore; like they were coming to get her.

‘She hurt me too, Pete! Maya – she’s been messing with me.
I wanted her dead too!
’

He stopped and his grip on her loosened. She fought her way free of him, stumbled and fell hard onto the mud slope. Pain shot through her shoulder but she didn’t have time to feel it. She scrabbled backwards until her feet got traction and she was able to push herself up.

Pete was staring at her. He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. She was going to have to come up with a damn good story, and fast.

‘Why do you think I was looking for her? She messed with my dad,’ Poppy gabbled, saying the first thing that came into her head. ‘She split up my mum and dad, Pete. I hate her. I was going to kill her myself if I found her. Look, I won’t tell anyone. You can trust me. I won’t tell them that you killed her.’ She edged slowly backwards. But the lake was back there, waiting patiently like it had waited all year. Her gaze flashed around.

Woods. Lose him in the woods!

‘Wasn’t me,’ Pete said quietly.

Her feet stopped moving. ‘What?’

‘It was Sally. She lost her temper. She does that – gets all het up. Stabbed her. Then that other girl came looking for her.’

The Other Girl.
Beth.

‘She knew, see. She knew that bitch was my sister. It were only a matter of time before she told someone. Then they’d work it out. They’d come looking and they’d take Sally away from me. And the baby. Baby needs a mother.’

‘You only did what needed to be done, Pete. You did the right thing. You’re a good man.’

He nodded, but there was a faraway look in his eye, like he wasn’t really listening. She wanted to run. But her legs were shaking and he was so much taller than her – he’d catch her easily.

Slowly, he turned his gaze on her. ‘I thought it would be hard – killing someone. But it’s no different from slaughtering sheep. They struggle too. They all do. Then they go calm, like they know it’s their time. She were like that. She knew.’

Poppy swallowed the bile that burnt the back of her throat.

He was going to kill her. Just like he’d killed Beth.

Would she struggle or would she be calm? Would he leave her floating face down in the lake or would he bury her in some forgotten corner of the farm?

Suddenly the very act of breathing seemed important. The sensation of the breeze on her skin. The sight of light dancing through leaves. She wanted to see it all and feel it all. It was all so beautiful and yet she’d ignored it all until they were special last things.

Mum and Dad would be gutted. Even Jonathan. Gods, she wished she could talk to them, tell them all the things she’d never said. And
Michael.
She never got to talk to Michael, sort things out. It wasn’t fair! Wasn’t fair that it should end like this.

Her heart and her head were so full of never-going-to-happens that she didn’t notice that Pete was moving towards her, his big weather-worn farmer’s hand reaching for her.

She grabbed the phone out of her pocket. The screen lit up. Someone was on the line. Someone was listening!

‘At the farm!’ she shouted. ‘Pete. It’s Pete!’

Pete grabbed the phone from her hand and stared at the screen.

From nowhere a surge of energy rushed through her body and she ran.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Michael ran. Instinctively, he headed for the lake. Nothing made any sense. Poppy’s voice was muffled. All he knew was that she was in trouble.

But where?

‘Where is she?’ Tariq shouted.

Michael stopped, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make out what she was saying through the crackles and rustles.

A scream. Fuck! Someone had her and they were hurting her. He spun around, searching the horizon.

‘Pete, no!’ she was shouting.

Pete? Who the hell was Pete?

To their right, the bluff rose steeply. A few scrubby plants clung to the hill that only sheep would be stupid enough to climb.

‘Michael!’ a gruff, out-of-breath voice called to him. He spun around. Bob was clutching his chest gasping for breath. ‘She went to the farm.’

That was it. Pete was the farmer!

‘Shit! Tell the police!’ Michael threw himself up the steep rise of gravel and scrub. It wasn’t so much running as climbing. His foot skidded out from under him and he slid back. A hand grabbed his shirt. It tore, but it gave him just enough time to find his balance again.

Tariq nodded at him and they were both on the move again.

Right then the clouds parted and the sun beamed its spotlight on them. Great! Now they were climbing under a heat lamp.

Sweat dribbled down his back and his lungs were on fire, but he couldn’t stop, not even for a moment. A lot could happen in a moment. A moment was all it had taken for Poppy to hit her head on the side of the yacht. In a moment, filthy lake water had flushed the air from her lungs.

He charged forward, overtaking Tariq. He wouldn’t let her die. Not again.