I Trust You

I

Trust

You

By

KATHERINE

PATHAK

≈

© Katherine Pathak, All Rights Reserved 2016

The Garansay Press

Books by Katherine Pathak

The Imogen and Hugh Croft Mysteries:

Aoife’s Chariot

The Only Survivor

Lawful Death

The Woman Who Vanished

Memorial for the Dead

(Introducing DCI Dani Bevan)

The Ghost of Marchmont Hall

Short Stories:

Full Beam

Mystery at Christmas Cottage

DCI Dani Bevan novels:

Against A Dark Sky

On A Dark Sea

A Dark Shadow Falls

Dark As Night

The Dark Fear

Girls Of The Dark

Hold Hands in the Dark

The Garansay Press

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means - graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or information storage and retrieval systems - without the prior permission in writing of the author and publishers.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

© Katherine Pathak, 2016

#ITrustYou

Edited by: The Currie Revisionists, 2016

©
Cover photograph Pixabay Images

Prologue

T
he sound of the wind beating against the flimsy strips of glass that passed for windows in the tatty old pre-fab was almost deafening.

              The woman was relieved. It muffled the noise of the damned kids. Her elation at first having those precious bundles in her possession had long since faded. Now they were just hard work. The baby cried all the time and demanded feeding around the clock.

              There was no time to think about or do anything else but tend to their every need. It wasn’t at all what she had imagined.

Frank had no tolerance for them at all. Oh, he was proud of his achievement and liked to brag about how special they were, sure. But the practical stuff – forget it. Frank was in the bar down by the harbour most nights, trying to forget they all even existed.

The woman had a half decent job before, too. It was in an office with some other nice ladies and the pay hadn’t been bad. At least she’d got out of their dump of a home every day. She’d given that up on the promise of having everything she’d always claimed to have wanted – only to discover that didn’t amount to a crock of shit.

The fierce gusts outside had died down. Now all she could hear were the shrill, animalistic cries of the little boy. The woman stood over the cot and placed a hand gently on his tummy, hoping it might soothe him without her having to pick him up. Her shoulder was aching with carrying him around most of the night.

His eyes were the lightest blue. They gazed up at her with such entreaty and reproach. It was as if he didn’t want to be here with her and Frank. Like he’d rather be somewhere else. His personality was so clearly defined, even though he couldn’t communicate yet.

The pre-fab suddenly began to vibrate with the rhythm of Frank’s boots approaching along the wooden jetty. She felt her body stiffen with fear and dread. She glanced down at the kid. He felt it too, enough to stop his grizzling and stick a tiny thumb in his mouth. The boy was smart. There was no point in appealing to Frank’s sense of compassion. He didn’t have any.

The woman decided that these kids had the right idea. The vibrations had subsided and been replaced by an eerie stillness, even the wind had hushed itself to a soft whisper. She pulled off her grubby clothes and climbed under the damp duvet covering the pull-out sofa, pretending to be fast asleep.

Because as soon as the man she called her husband had finished his cigarette, out on the landing stage, leaning against the wall of the hut, he’d be coming through that door to join them.                

Chapter 1

M
arisa Coleman held on tightly to her wide-brimmed sunhat. The speedboat made a sharp turn around the bay, sending an arch of spray up over the side which splattered down onto her linen dress.

              She parted her plum coloured lips in an exhilarated smile. The thin material would dry out soon enough in the strong, south coast sunshine.

              Marisa watched her husband at the wheel. He stood confidently with his legs slightly apart, bronzed in blue shorts and cabin shoes. His thick, wavy hair was naturally tinted blond by his outdoor lifestyle which had also shaped his arms to be muscular and strong.

              He turned and flashed her a grin. Eliot was sharing the experience with her, but at the same time checking that he wasn’t pushing things too far - going a little bit too fast for his wife’s cautious nature. Marisa nodded her head to him, as if giving reassurance to an exuberant child. Eliot needed no further encouragement and powered towards the opposite headland.

              She felt her heart beating faster. Marisa concentrated on watching the distant movements of the people on the beach. It was a glorious day and this brought visitors flocking to the Dorset coast. Particularly to the secluded splendour of White Bay, so-called because of its wide expanse of fine, soft sands. She could see families clustered in small groups, children sitting cross-legged and filling buckets with colourful, plastic spades. The sight made a lump form in Marisa’s throat.

              Eliot had slowed down the outboard engine so they were gliding towards a small cove, carved straight out of the Jurassic cliffs which formed this coastline. The boat rocked gently in the swell. Eliot made his way to the bow and looped the mooring rope over one of the rocks which protruded out of the dark blue water.

              Marisa glanced about her. There wasn’t another living soul in sight, only the gulls observing them with interest from their nests on the cliffs high above. Eliot manoeuvred himself towards the stern, pulling off his t-shirt as he did so, revealing his sun-kissed skin, glistening with sweat.

              ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Marisa laughed, tipping her head back so she could see nothing but blue sky.

              Eliot moved closer, pulling down his shorts and kicking them off impatiently. ‘I just thought, what an incredible place to make a baby, out here on the water, on a beautiful day like this?’

              Marisa creased her forehead. ‘
Seriously
darling?’

              He had reached her by now and hooked his arm around her waist, guiding her down onto the hull of the boat. Marisa could feel the warmth of his skin and the frantic rhythm of his heart pounding against her chest.

              She slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders. Eliot did the rest, tugging at the material until their naked flesh was intertwined and his tongue was exploring his wife’s breasts and stomach.

              Marisa went with the flow, lying back and closing her eyes as Eliot touched all the places he knew she liked and brought her to the very brink before pushing himself inside her with a throaty moan which made her shudder with pleasure.

              It didn’t last long. The exhilaration of the trip and the excitement of the threat of discovery meant they both reached orgasm quickly. Afterwards, Marisa realised how uncomfortable she was. The bottom of the boat was hard and the weight of Eliot’s exhausted body was weighing down on her. She shifted to one side.

              Eliot lifted his head up and smiled. ‘How was that, sweetheart? You seemed to enjoy it?’

              She planted a kiss on his lips. ‘It was certainly a surprise.’

              He released her from his grip and began pulling on his shirt and underwear. ‘Sex has just been so mechanical for us recently, what with making sure it’s the right time of the day and month. I thought we might enjoy something different.’

              Marisa wriggled back into her dress, which still felt a little damp from its previous soaking. She gazed about her at the tall cliffs, feeling the swell begin to strengthen beneath the boat. ‘How did you know about this place?’

              ‘We used to row out here as kids. Sometimes, one of us would clamber out onto the cliff and climb to the top.’

              ‘Without any protective gear?’ Marisa looked up to the distant pinnacle of the jagged rocks which loomed directly above their little vessel.

              Eliot was unhooking the rope and making an effort to restart the engine. ‘Helmets and harnesses weren’t heard of in those days, darling. I used to shin up these rocks in nothing but a pair of canvas sneakers. I don’t know of a single person who was ever injured doing it.’

              Marisa said nothing. She imagined this was a case of selective memory. Not for the first time feeling a jolt of anger for those parents who placed their children in such danger when she herself would have sacrificed
anything
to have a child of her own. She felt the hot sting of tears forming in her eyes once more, having to breathe steadily to hold them back.

              Eliot was still tugging uselessly at the chord of the engine. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ he muttered angrily.

              Marisa experienced a stab of fear. The tears could no longer be prevented from springing to her flushed cheeks. ‘Are we stranded?’ Her voice was shrill and panicky.

              Eliot kicked at the motor with his flimsy shoe, cursing even harder at the pain the action caused him. By this stage, Marisa was quietly sobbing, rocking in her seat at the back of the boat.

              ‘I’ll sort this out,’ he called over gruffly. ‘I’ll secure the boat to the rock again and climb to the cliff top. It’s only a short walk from there down to the town. I’ll get one of the skippers to come out and get you. It’ll only take me half an hour, max.’

              Marisa wailed, her sobs becoming short, rasping breaths. ‘You can’t climb up there! You’re not a twelve year old any longer – you’ll be killed!’

              ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, sweetheart.’ Eliot grimaced. Then he seemed to get a hold of himself, stepping round the deck to join her. ‘Try to stay calm, okay?’

              She nodded, her face streaked with tears.

              Eliot clasped her hands. ‘This isn’t a problem. I’ve climbed that rock hundreds of times, its child’s play. You need to trust me, alright? Do you trust me?’

              ‘I trust you,’ she murmured, trying her best to still the rising panic.

              ‘Good.’

              Eliot made sure that the boat was tethered securely. He glanced back towards his wife before balancing on the gunwales and reaching out to find a decent handhold on the rugged cliff face, ready to begin his ascent.