Her Last Tomorrow (14 page)

I run upstairs and grab a pair of shoes, cramming my feet into them and rushing to tie up the shoelaces. It takes twice as long as it usually does, my hands shaking and fingers not doing what I want them to. I take the stairs two at a time and head out the front door, slamming it behind me. I have to stop this. Now.
 

When I get to the end of my drive, I see Derek putting the rubbish out in his bin. He stops at the same time I do and we look at each other. After a few seconds I glance off down the road in the direction of Jubilee Park. I can’t see Tasha.

I look back at Derek. He’s still looking at me. In a rare moment of clarity, I realise I have to stay. This is my alibi.

Sitting around waiting for news is horrible. I know, because it’s what I’ve spent the past few days doing. Sitting around and waiting for bad news is worse, particularly when you know what the news is going to be. I’m just waiting for the call to tell me that Tasha is dead.

It feels weirdly peaceful, tranquil. As if the whole sorry saga is almost over and I’ll be reunited with my Ellie. How will Ellie’s kidnapper know the deed has been done in order to return her? Whoever it is, they didn’t have much difficulty in coming very close to us on two separate occasions — when Ellie was taken and when I received the message about the police officer outside the house — so they probably wouldn’t have too much trouble doing so again. It’s pretty likely that Tasha’s death would hit the news, particularly after the media attention we’ve had over the past week or so. And then what? They’d just plonk Ellie back down on the drive and that would be that? It sounds doubtful, but it’s all I’ve got to hope for.

Eventually, after what seems like an interminable amount of time, the phone rings. I dash to answer it before stopping myself. I look at the clock. It’s 9.30pm. Who answers the phone on its first ring at 9.30pm? I give it a few seconds before picking up.

‘Hello?’

‘Nick? It’s Emma.’

‘Oh, hi,’ I reply, trying to sound relaxed. ‘What’s up?’

‘I was just wondering if Tasha’s left yours yet,’ she says, the worry now clear in her voice. ‘Only she was meant to be here over an hour ago and I can’t get hold of her on her mobile.’

‘Really? She left here not long after eight,’ I say.
 

‘Shit. Do you think she’s alright? Was she going anywhere in between?’

‘I dunno,’ I say, trying to sound reassuring. ‘I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll try and call her and then ring you back.’

I wait a second before calling Tasha’s phone. I know I need to phone her, because it’s one of the areas in which people often fall flat on their faces. It’s a bit of a giveaway when a husband doesn’t even bother to call his wife’s phone when he realises she’s missing.

The phone goes through to voicemail.

I call Emma back. As I wait for the sound of the ringing to start, all I can think about is not wanting to be the one to find Tasha’s body. The phone barely rings once before Emma answers.

‘Voicemail,’ I say. ‘Listen, she walks through Jubilee Park to get to yours. She probably sat down to clear her mind in the fresh air and hasn’t realised the time. I’m sure it’s fine. You walk over here and I’ll walk to yours. We should meet halfway. She can’t be far. Might be a good idea to bring Cristina or Leanne with you. One of you needs to stay at yours, though, in case she turns up there.’

‘They couldn’t make it,’ Emma says. ‘They had to cancel. It was just going to be me and Tash.’

‘Well I’ll leave now and we’ll meet halfway,’ I reply. ‘Keep your phone on you.’

I give it a few minutes, knowing full well that Emma will leave immediately. If I wait a bit, she’ll cover more of the journey than I will and is more likely to come across Tasha’s body, meaning I won’t need to. I’m not sure I can handle it.

After what seems like an age, but the clock on my phone tells me was barely four minutes, I put on my shoes and leave.

I walk purposefully, but not quickly. I don’t know how well they can trace the route a person takes using mobile phone tracking, but I don’t want this to look anything other than completely natural.

Within a few minutes, I’m at the park. My heart is thudding against my ribcage as I realise what’s about to happen. I’m about to find my wife’s dead body.

Before I see anything, I hear a voice.

‘Nick!’ she yells. ‘Over here!’

I turn in the direction of the voice and see Emma. One side of her face is lit up by the blue light of her mobile phone, which is pressed up against her ear. She’s looking down at the ground, on which all I can see is a dark heap. I know immediately what it is.

I jog over, my whole world slowing down around me as I struggle to process what’s going on, even though I’ve expected it — planned it.

‘Yeah, she is,’ Emma says into the phone, the panic clear in her voice and on her face. ‘Her husband’s just arrived.’ She swings the phone upwards to move the microphone away from her mouth. ‘She’s been attacked, Nick.’

I struggle to catch my breath.
Attacked
.

I try to speak. ‘Is she... is she...’

‘She’s okay,’ Emma says. ‘She’s breathing. The ambulance is on its way.’

All of a sudden, the darkness of Jubilee Park becomes a whole lot darker.

The ambulance goes hell for leather between Jubilee Park and the hospital.
A serious head wound
was what the paramedic said, and it needed treating quickly.
A huge loss of blood
. I toy with the idea of asking them to slow down, but I don’t.

It’s the sickening gurgling noise Tasha makes the whole way there which gets me the most.

When we arrive at the hospital, the paramedics usher me out of the ambulance and a waiting nurse takes me through into the waiting area as the paramedics wheel Tasha out on the stretcher. They disappear through a different set of doors as the nurse tries to reassure me everything will be alright and that Tasha’s in safe hands. I have no way of telling her that’s not what I want to hear.

I’m given a paper cup of hot, sweet tea — too sweet — and told that a doctor will come to see me shortly to let me know what’s going on and to let me see my wife. Emma decides she’d rather have coffee and sets off in search of a machine.

It’s all a blur. I’ve no idea how much time passes. It seems to fly by, yet at the same time it feels interminable. Before long, though, I recognise the familiar voice of McKenna. She’s starting to follow me around like a bad fart. I wonder how the hell she found out about this so quickly. Had they been watching? No. That wouldn’t be reasonable. I tell myself that the doctors or paramedics probably recognised her or knew who she was from all the recent press attention. They’d know her name. There might even be some sort of marker on the medical records which alerted the police. I don’t know, and right now I don’t care. All I know is I’m in no state to want to speak to McKenna.

‘How is she?’ the DI asks as Emma rounds the corner with her paper cup of coffee.

‘I don’t know,’ I say vaguely, surprised at how hoarse and distant my voice sounds.

‘Do they know what happened exactly?’ she says, looking alternately at both me and Emma.

‘Isn’t that your job?’ I reply, trying to add a biting venom into my tone and quickly realising it’s coming naturally.

‘We can’t speak to her until the doctors have seen her, Nick. I was referring more to what she was doing in the park at this time of night in the first place.’ She gives me a look that says
You were arguing and she stormed out, didn’t she?
I take great pleasure in watching her face as Emma tells her she’d invited her over for a couple of drinks with the girls. McKenna’s eyes don’t leave mine.

‘The doctors say it looks as if she was attacked deliberately,’ she tells me, her voice neutral. ‘She had no purse, bag or phone on her so we can only presume the attacker took them from her.’

‘A mugging?’ I ask.

‘That’s what it looks like,’ she replies, again looking as though she’s sussing me out. ‘Have you been at home all evening?’

‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘I only left when Emma called and said Tasha hadn’t turned up.’

‘On your own, I presume?’

I shrug and force an odd sort of smile, as if to say
Well yeah, unfortunately.
‘Actually, if you mean can I prove I was at home, yeah, I can. I went out to the front garden a few minutes after Tasha left. Derek was on his drive, putting out his bins.’

‘You want to use Derek as your alibi again?’ McKenna asks. ‘Is that wise?’

‘Wait. Alibi?’ I say, trying to sound shocked and angry. ‘You mean you think I did this?’

‘Not at all. What makes you think that? I just need to find out who was where and when. Establish the facts. Tell me about Derek.’

‘He was there,’ I say. ‘He’s the only person who saw me. Then I went back inside and nothing else happened until Emma called.’

McKenna nods again. I can see she knows it’s unlikely I’d have left home and gone to the park to beat my wife up, especially with the media attention we’ve had and everyone in the local area knowing our faces. But she knows something’s not quite right, I can tell. She just doesn’t know what.

We sit in a stony silence for hours, only occasionally punctuated by one of us going to get another cup of tea or coffee or making the usual remarks about hoping we’ll hear something soon. We’re given updates every hour or so. They’re increasingly positive, telling us they’ve stopped the bleeding, kept it away from her brain and that she’s conscious again. What really fucks me off is that McKenna goes to see Tasha twice in the early hours, the doctors seeming to give preference to the police over her own husband.

Around six in the morning, the doctor appears in the doorway and tells us Tasha is stable, but has a bad concussion. She’s also lost a lot of blood. ‘She’ll be weak,’ he says.

‘Can I see her?’ I ask, more to McKenna than the doctor.

‘Fine with me,’ she says, turning to make eye contact with the doctor, who nods.

I’m led into the ward by McKenna, who smiles as we reach Tasha’s bed. She’s lying back, her head angled towards the window. It’s starting to look like a bright and sunny day out there. It’s the first time I’ve noticed the weather since Ellie disappeared.

‘Hi,’ I say gently. After a couple of seconds, Tasha moves her head towards me. It’s almost zombie-like and I swear I can hear her neck creaking as she moves.

‘Nick,’ she whispers, in a deep rasp.

I look at McKenna. That’s a good sign, surely? I realise I’ve found myself pleased that she’s alive and recognises me. This shouldn’t be the case. I should be gutted. Gutted that she survived the attack. Gutted that Ellie isn’t coming back. This whole situation is one enormous mess.

‘How are you?’ I ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

‘I’ve been better,’ she replies.

‘Did you see who did this to you?’

She shakes her head slowly. ‘It was dark. He came from behind. I don’t remember anything.’

‘The doctor reckons there’s no permanent damage. Her cheekbone is fractured and she’ll have a lot of bruising for a while, which’ll hurt. But she’s a tough little cookie, your wife. She’s a fighter.’

‘She certainly is,’ I say, looking at Tasha. ‘She certainly is.’

Once we’re both back from the hospital, I take some time to get Tasha upstairs to bed. She was adamant she didn’t want to stay in hospital and even the doctors could see there was no point arguing with her. She’s going to need to rest for a few days, at least. That should give me some breathing space.

My first instinct is to get round to Alan’s house and fire off a dark web message to Geoff, but I don’t have the faintest idea what I’d say. I want to rip the guy’s throat out, but I know I need to remain calm and collected.

Back downstairs, I make myself a cup of coffee and sit quietly at the kitchen table. My only option is to find Ellie myself, but where do I start? My best hope is the police, but there’s no way I can go to them now. How can I explain that I hid vital evidence from them, then arranged for a contract killer to murder my wife?
Oh, it’s okay, officer; he fucked it up and she’s still alive. No harm done.
I can’t see that one cutting much ice.

That can mean only one thing: I’m completely on my own with this one.

There’s very little I know about the kidnapper. I know they want Tasha dead, for whatever reason. I also know that they know where we live. I try desperately to think who could have a grudge against Tasha so badly that they’d want to kill her. Could it be work related? It’s possible; I can imagine she’d have ruffled enough feathers. It’s the way she is. But enough to make someone want to murder her? I can’t see that, somehow. But anyway, why Ellie? If they wanted Tasha dead that badly, why not kill her themselves? Why go to the effort of kidnapping a small child? That leaves me with the realisation that the kidnapper must be completely deranged.

I try to think back to some of the research I’ve done into personality disorders and the effects they can have on people. Would the kidnapper be a psychopath or a sociopath? Who would want to kidnap a child and demand the mother be killed in return? Somehow, this person’s grudge involves Ellie. I fail to see how a small child could’ve upset an adult so much, but it’s all I have to go on right now.