Follow the Leader (23 page)

‘It could have contributed to it.’ Allie shrugged. ‘Who knows what state of mind a killer could be in, what makes them do what they do?’

‘But why now? It’s twenty-six years since we left school.’

‘What if
he
thinks he was being bullied but you don’t, so you don’t remember him?’

‘I’m not with you.’

‘People have different ways of reacting to things, different trigger points and thresholds. I’m just clutching at straws.’ Allie wiped her hands on a paper napkin. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m ready to call it a night and get home to Mark before he forgets he has a wife again. How’s Lisa, by the way?’

‘She’s good, thanks.’ Perry sat forward and put his rubbish into the bag at his feet.

Allie caught the grin on his face as the harsh light of the streetlamp coming in through the side window lit it up.

‘That’s a big smile,’ she told him.

‘It is.’ Perry laughed. ‘But I’m sworn to secrecy.’

‘About what?’ Allie stared at him. ‘Perry, you can’t tell me half a story! And after the week we’re having, if it’s good news, then I want to know.’

‘You promise not to say anything to Lisa?’

‘I promise!’ Allie almost shouted. ‘Wait, she’s not . . .’ She looked at him and his grin widened. ‘She is, isn’t she? She’s
pregnant
?’

‘Yep, I’m going to be a dad.’

‘Ah, that’s great news! Come here.’ Allie gave him a hug across the seats.

‘She’s not too far along, though. That’s why I can’t tell anyone, just in case anything goes wrong.’ Perry grinned again. ‘But I’ve been bursting since we found out at the weekend.’

‘Well, congratulations, Daddy.’ Allie smiled. ‘Now, let’s go home.’

Both of them kept their thoughts to themselves about how close Nathan Whittaker’s daughter had come to losing her father.

Patrick sat up quickly, jolted from a fitful sleep. He’d woken
several
times that night, real fear from his dreams keeping him on constant alert. Any minute now, the front door would be kicked in and he’d be dragged from his bed, handcuffed and arrested for murder. He couldn’t get away with killing all these people, could he? But he must – he must stay away from the police for as long as he could.

He lay back in his bed, drenched in sweat, breathing rapidly and waiting for the swell of his chest to slow. The panic that took over him after dreams, memories shooting to the forefront of his mind – was it any wonder he was dreaming of everything? He shook the negative thoughts aside. It
wouldn’t
go wrong. He was too far into the game. He had planned this meticulously since Ray had gone to prison.

But it had gone wrong, hadn’t it? Because Whitty had survived. Simon Cole had reported it on the front page of
The Sentinel
and it had been all over the news. He was serious but stable, but Patrick wasn’t really bothered about that. He was more concerned that he hadn’t done what he’d set out to do. He’d thought three stabs would be enough, got cocky and let him walk away. He thought Whitty would die before he got help.

He hadn’t killed him.

It made him look weak.

An image of himself cowering under his bed came to his mind. He used to hide anywhere he could – different places so that Ray would give up looking for him. But he’d always find him, pull him out by a leg, an arm, an elbow – often by the hair. If he was lucky, he’d drag him into the middle of the room, administer a beating there. If he was unlucky, Ray would drag him down the stairs and into the living room, his back taking the brunt of bare runners on the stairs as they descended.

He pushed aside more memories of his childhood, threatening to send him off the rails. Ray didn’t control him anymore.

Once his breathing had returned to normal, he got up, showered and made his way downstairs. As he walked into the living room, he took another look at the map on the wall. All yesterday he’d made sure his planning was in place for today. He’d gone over and over his schedule, ticking it all off, ensuring everything was good to go.

Lying flat on the sideboard was the framed photograph he’d brought back from Suzi Porter’s house. He picked it up – couldn’t understand how she hadn’t known which one was him. It was easy to point him out. He was the one who made himself look small, whose smile didn’t reach his eyes, whose trousers were too short and jacket too tight. The goofy one – the waif. The one who took the brunt of all their jokes. He screamed out, threw the frame against the wall, enjoying the sound of shattering glass as it fell to the floor at his feet.

Well, who’s having the last laugh now, hmm?

He was. And he would be laughing all the more soon.

Just one more day and two more nights until 10.53 a.m.,
Friday
16 January.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

At half past nine, Rhian tiptoed downstairs and into the kitchen. Ignoring the empty wine bottle on the side, she filled a glass with water, took two headache tablets and swallowed them greedily. She shuddered as the cold water hit her stomach.

In the living room, she searched out her phone and flopped down onto the settee. Three text messages from Joe, the last one worrying about her lack of response. She’d refused to answer his call yesterday, plus several texts he’d sent because of it.

At her side, the coffee table was littered with personal paraphernalia, photos from years gone by. But none of the photos were of her. They were all of Suzi Porter; several were topless poses, suggestive and provocative. Rhian had fanned them out last night, lost count at twenty-seven and thrown them up in the air like a pack of cards, screamed when they had come down again like
confetti
. How could he still have them all? It was beyond a few holiday snaps he’d saved as mementoes over the years. And besides, this was his ex-wife. His
dead
ex-wife.

His last message said he’d be home by midday and, sure enough, she heard his car pull into the driveway as she checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Normally, she would be dressed and racing to the door to greet him, all smiles and hugs and making up for lost time. This time, she gathered all the
photos
, threw them back in the tin and put them out of sight behind a pillow.

She heard him come in through the garage door, and then he appeared in the doorway.

‘What’s up?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t you feeling well? Is that why you didn’t answer when I rang?’

Rhian paused for the slightest of moments. ‘Do you love me, Joe?’ she wanted to know. ‘You’ve been away for four days and I’ve been here alone, bored out of my brains.’

‘Look, I’m knackered.’ Joe pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘So if you have a problem with that, you know where the front door is.’

‘Oh, I’m not
that
bothered about being lonely.’ Rhian pulled the tin out from underneath the pillow and slammed it down
on th
e coffee table. She lifted the lid and tipped the contents out. ‘I’m more bothered about you still being in love with your ex-wife!’

Joe’s face contorted as the photos scattered to the floor. ‘You nosy little bitch,’ he snarled.

‘Were you still in love with her?’

‘Leave it alone.’

‘Were you still in love with HER?’

‘You have no right to go through my personal belongings!’

‘I have every right. I live here too and –’

‘You don’t own this place. It’s mine!’ He prodded himself in the chest. ‘Fuck, I must be out of my mind to still be with you.’

‘You
do
still love her, don’t you?’ Tears pricked at Rhian’s eyes.

Joe looked down at the photos and then back at her. ‘Pick them up,’ he said.

‘No.’ Rhian folded her arms.

‘I said pick them up.’

‘Why? Do you want to masturbate over them? Is that what yo
u do?’

‘The woman is dead, for fuck’s sake. Put them back in the tin.’

But Rhian wouldn’t. ‘Is that where you were on all those late nights? Were you fucking her? You had lots of opportunities to screw her when you were off seeing Jay. Were you seeing your son or were you seeing her? You still won’t tell me where you were on the night she was killed. I’ve a good mind to get in touch with the police and tell them to check out times and dates. You cou
ld easily –’

‘Oh, so now you’re accusing me of murdering her as well as fucking her!’

‘I know you’re involved in her murder somehow.’ She stood up quickly. ‘What happened – did you make a pass at her and she turned you down so you got mad?’

Joe swiped the back of his hand across her mouth.

Rhian dropped to her knees, tasting blood as her top lip split. She cried out in pain. ‘What did you do that for?’

‘You drive me crazy, do you know that?’ he seethed.

Rhian pointed to the photos. ‘Have you any idea what it feels like to be your girlfriend and see that you have photos of your ex-wife spreading her legs?’

‘She’s not spreading her legs.’

‘She might as well be!’

‘They’re things I kept to show Jay when he was older.’

‘And you expect me to believe that?’

‘Believe what you want.’ In silence, Joe collected up the photographs and placed them back in the tin. He closed the lid and put them underneath his arm. Then he stood for a moment before sighing loudly. ‘I’ve had enough of you and your childish antics. I think it’s time we called it a day.’

‘Wh – what?’ Rhian faltered.

‘You heard.’ Joe bent to retrieve a photo that he’d missed.

‘But why?’

‘You really want me to spell it out for you?’ He glared at her. ‘You don’t contribute in any way to this relationship except to moan and spend my money.’

‘I do! I have my own business and I –’

‘You paint nails for your friends when you can be bothered. And let’s face it – you’re not interested in earning any money because you don’t need to. I pay for everything, which I wouldn’t mind if you weren’t such a fucking nag.’

Rhian was still too shocked to speak.

‘I should have listened to everyone’s warnings. They were right – you
were
just after a sugar daddy and I fell for it. Well, not anymore. Go back to Mummy and Daddy. That’s where you belong.’

‘No!’ Rhian rushed to him and threw her arms around his waist. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of anything. Don’t you see? It’s because I love you so much that I can’t stand the thought of you with her.’

Joe pushed her away.

‘I’ve said I’m sorry. Tell me what else I can do!’ Rhian grabbed his arm, held on to it as he walked away. But he pulled it from her grip, leaving her standing there in dismay.

‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘I want you out.’

‘No! Joe!’

At the sound of the front door slamming behind him, Rhian ran to the window. She just about had time to see him screeching off in the car.

At Car Wash City, Joe went into his office and slammed the door. He put the tin on his desk and sat down, head in hands. Damn that stupid bitch. Thank God, he’d come to the conclusion that he needed to finish things with her before he’d gone home today. Coming back to her sneaking around behind his back had been the last straw.

The photos were laughable. Although he hadn’t seen them in years, they weren’t hidden away. He’d relegated them to the garage because he didn’t want to be reminded of happier times before everything had gone sour, plus he’d been saving them for Jayden. And now Suzi had gone, they would be even more personal to the
ir son.

He picked up one of the photographs. In their early twenties, he and Suzi had been on holiday to Benidorm. Suzi was lounging on a sunbed in a bikini, eating ice-cream, a large sun hat hiding most of her face but not her infectious grin. He’d taken the photo and then lain down next to her, kissing her long and hard he’d become so horny that he hadn’t been able to stand up for half an hour. And now she was dead. His eyes watered. He sniffed, wiped his nose on the back of his hand and sat up straight.

Joe would need to pick the right time to show Jayden the photos. Once the police had found Suzi’s killer, and they were able to bury her, afterwards it would be good to sit with Jay, remove the topless images and share memories with him. Father and son time sounded good to him. He hadn’t had much of that.

He stopped. Perhaps this could be a second chance for him and Jayden. If Rhian wasn’t around, he could spend more time with him. He’d have more bloody money to spend too; it was definitely time to get rid of the freeloader.

How wrong he had been to think that he could be satisfied with someone who looked like Suzi. It wasn’t the same – it would never be the same. He should have listened to other people. He reached for his phone and brought up Rhian’s number, paused over the connect button. He didn’t need her whinging at him. A text would suffice. Quickly, he tapped out a message and sent it to her. Afterwards, feeling much better about things, he made the decision that if Rhian was still there that evening when he went home, he would throw her out himself.

He stood up, stretched and looked around his office. Everything seemed to be as he’d left it. He marched over to the forecourt to chat more to the lads, see if anyone had been sneaking around while he’d been away. If not, the coast was clear and he had money in his pocket again.