The Stranger Within (31 page)

“Rhys, they’d been shopping. Stop lying.”

“I’m not! They went on the way back, I swear.”

I no longer know what to believe. For months my judgement has been unreliable and I can’t afford to make another mistake. Perhaps Rhys has learnt to become dependent on lies, just as I am, from his time with me.

“Look, Callie,” he says, when I don’t reply. “I can prove it. Just call my mum and say you couldn’t get hold of me and wanted to check if I’ve heard from Dillon. She’ll understand. Then she’ll tell you she’s in Dubai with my dad. For his work. Go on, do it now.”

It is a juvenile game to play but I agree to call Mrs Marshall. I do need to see him tonight and it will be safer if we are shut away in Rhys’ house. In my car it’s possible someone could see us together. “If you’re telling the truth, I’ll see you at eight,” I say.

“Thanks,” he says, the relief in his voice palpable. He must really believe he will win me over and things will resume between us. It is then I know for sure that meeting him tonight will not be the last time he demands something, or threatens me with exposure.

I make the call to Eva Marshall and I know before she picks up that Rhys was telling the truth; at least about her. The ringtone is different, each elongated beep single instead of double. And when she picks up I quickly learn that her husband is with her and they are in Dubai, not due back until tomorrow morning. I thank her and hang up. The brief call will cost a fortune, but at least now I can prepare myself for tonight without worrying about being caught.

              Back in the living room, I give Luke his juice, relishing the thank you he gives me in a squeaky voice.

“Sorry I took so long, just had to answer the phone.”

“It’s okay,” he says.

This is how it is supposed to be. This is what I have longed for since I married James. I know Luke has only just begun to warm towards me, but I won’t let Rhys or anyone else ruin things.

              I think of Dad, how, if he was having a good day, he would be proud of me sitting here with my stepson in comfortable silence. I wonder if I will ever be able to introduce everyone to him, to let him see that he is a grandfather. But then I remember Dad’s recent outburst and know without doubt this is impossible. It would be too traumatic for him to suddenly learn I have a family. And not only that, he has met Rhys now, so how can I know he won’t bring it up? Trying to convince Dad to keep a secret would be impossible.

It has been over a week since I have been to visit him – James has needed me here – and I can’t see how I will be able to go any time soon. Thankfully, Jenny has agreed to visit him on extra days; I just hope Dad is okay with this. It’s not just because Luke is home from school, but thinking of excuses to present to James is becoming difficult. I am his wife. Why would I leave his side when his son is missing? I can’t even call Dad; having a phone only incites his paranoia.

              When James gets home, Luke and I are eating lunch together in the kitchen. He is so distracted he doesn’t notice the significance of what he is witnessing. I ask him if he wants a sandwich and he shakes his head. “No, got to get on with stuff.” And as he walks out, Luke and I turn to each other, not saying a word but probably thinking the same thoughts.

              I find him upstairs in his study, trawling the Internet, researching statistics on missing teenagers. When he looks up at me, his eyes are swollen and red. I sit down on the armchair by the window and lean forward so I can stroke his arm.

              “Do you think we’ll find him?” he asks.

              There is only one answer I can give. “I think he’ll turn up. I just don’t know when.”

              James tries to smile. “I keep wondering what he’s doing. I look at the clock and I think: what’s Dillon doing at this very second? And then I wonder if he’s even breathing.”

              I am surprised James says this. So far he hasn’t allowed himself to believe something has happened to Dillon. “Don’t think like that,” I say, and I wonder if my words are more for my benefit than his.

              “Thank you, Callie,” he says, grabbing my hand. “For being here for me. Always.”

              My chest begins to feel heavy, a physical manifestation of the burden I am carrying. Of the lies I have been forced to deliver to my husband. “Don’t thank me. I’m your wife. I love you.” I can’t look at him as I say this but at least the words are true.

              “We’ll get through this together, won’t we?” he says, and I sink to the floor and crawl closer towards him, leaning my head against his knee.

              “No matter what,” I say.

              The words stick in my throat.

Rhys answers the door within seconds, as if he has been hovering in his hallway, waiting to see me though the glass, or watching from a window like Mrs Simmons.

“I told you I wasn’t lying about my parents being away,” he says. He is dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt with a designer logo emblazoned across it, and I wonder how I ever thought he looked older than his age. At this moment he looks every bit the teenager he is.

He tries to hug me but I pull away. He smells strongly of alcohol and the familiar overpowering scent of his aftershave, and it almost makes me retch. I have no inclination to warn him now how off-putting it is.

“But it’s my birthday! You remembered, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Where did you get alcohol?” I say, backing further away.

He smiles proudly. “It’s my dad’s. I took it from the cabinet. Well, I am eighteen now. I’m allowed to drink. Do you want some?”

I shake my head. “Rhys, I haven’t come here to drink with you.”

“How about coffee?”

“No, I’m fine.”

He shrugs and flicks his hair out of his eyes. “Let’s go in there.” He points towards the living room and I am relieved he is not trying to get me upstairs today. I follow him in, watching his unsteady steps as he negotiates his way to the sofa. Clearly he isn’t used to drinking. Flopping down, he tugs at the neck of his top and I see a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. He looks me up and down. “Why are you wearing trainers? You never do.”

I stare at my feet but don’t say anything. He is right; I don’t think I’ve ever worn these trainers before. I’m also wearing jogging bottoms that I’ve only ever worn around the house, and the oldest top I could find. “Look, you wanted to meet me tonight,” I say, ignoring his question. “What’s so urgent?”

He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again. “Why do you have to be such a bitch? I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Just forced me into coming here. It’s practically blackmail. Can’t you see that?”

Rhys shakes his head then leans back against the headrest. “Just sit down, will you?”

I sit at the far end of the couch. I never thought I would be here again and it’s making me nervous. My head is pounding and my heart thuds in my chest. I am desperate for water but to ask Rhys to get me some will waste time I don’t have.

“Do you remember our first time? In my bedroom? Don’t tell me you don’t think about it.” He inches closer to me. His words sound false, as if he has memorised them from a film. This is not Rhys. At least not the Rhys I spent time with. I would never have labelled him desperate.

“It was a mistake. We were a mistake. Look, I’ve said all this before and nothing has changed. I love James.” Saying his name gives me strength. I know that I can do whatever is necessary to end this now.

He looks away from me. “I just –”

“What, Rhys? Did you think I would come here to sleep with you? One last fuck, for old times’ sake?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Or is it that you want me to keep sleeping with you to keep your mouth shut? Is that it?” I am echoing the incorrect suspicion I had about Max. But this time I’m sure I am right. Rage is boiling in me; I can no longer see any good in Rhys. Everything he did to help me in the past has been wiped out by the stranger before me.

“I’m not giving you up. I love you, Callie. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? I don’t care about uni or my music, or anything. I’d give it all up for you. To keep us together.”

He is scaring me now, the words he is speaking still at odds with the Rhys I have known. What if he tells James? I can’t let that happen. For a second I picture taking him for a drive. Perhaps he is too drunk or upset to think about putting on his seat belt. I imagine finding a long stretch of road, pressing my foot to the accelerator then slamming on the breaks until he smashes through the windscreen.

“Callie, I’m not a toy you can play with then throw away when you’re bored.” He stands up and walks over to a cabinet in the corner of the room, pulling out a bottle of gin and taking a long swig. The room has fallen so silent I can hear the glug of the liquid slipping down his throat. I should stop him, but I don’t say a word. It will be easier this way.

“I need to use the bathroom,” he says.

While he is gone I notice he has left his phone on the sofa. I don’t know if he knows it is there or whether it fell out of his pocket, but either way it is good for me. I grab it and study the screen. It is a Blackberry, so I am not used to the menu and it takes me a while to find his text messages. All the time I listen for his footsteps on the stairs. When I find his inbox I notice he has hundreds of messages, going back weeks. I start at the beginning and delete every message I have sent him, removing any evidence of our communication. I do the same with his call log. Then I delete my name from his contacts.

When he comes back down he sits in the same place and notices his phone. Picking it up, he waves it at me, taunting me with his silent threat. “Is this really what you want?” he asks. “I just think you should be sure, because, you know, once I’ve done it there’s no going back, is there?”

I edge closer towards him. “Please, Rhys, just think about this. What good would it do, telling James? It won’t change anything with us. I still can’t be with you.”

He stares at me, his eyes narrowing. “You’re such a fucking bitch, aren’t you? You didn’t need to say that.” And then a smirk spreads across his face and he begins tapping something into his phone.

“What are you doing? I ask. “Stop it, Rhys, just give me the phone.”

“You’re really not going to change your mind, are you?” he asks, looking up at me.

I don’t answer.

“Then I’ve got nothing to lose. I’m calling Dillon’s dad. Telling him everything.”

And that’s when I lose it.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Now

DS Connolly stares at me, open-mouthed. I don’t think he wanted to believe I am a monster. Up until now, I’m sure he has been hoping this has all been a mistake. Not even my disease can excuse this; after all, Dad is far worse than me and he has never come close to doing what I have done.

              “I think we need to take a break,” he says, finally averting his eyes. “Someone will take you to a cell until we’re ready to resume.”

I sit on the hard bed and, now that I’m alone, my thoughts crash around my head until I feel as if it will explode. I need to be calm, to accept my punishment, because nobody is to blame but me.

              How ironic that in trying so hard to protect my marriage, I have now lost James for good. I long to see him, to touch his face and feel his hair between my fingers, but from now on I will have to make do with memories. It is for the best that he isn’t here. There is no more left to say.

Hours pass like this until finally a uniformed officer comes to collect me. DS Connolly and DC Barnes are already in the room, fresh coffee in front of them. They don’t offer me anything this time, but that’s okay, I don’t want kindness. That will only make this harder.

              “So…what did you do when you left Rhys Marshall’s home?” DS Connolly asks, all the warmth gone from his voice.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I rush out of Rhys’ house, no longer caring if anyone sees me. The car seems too far away, as if I will never reach it. Everything is distorted, out of shape and unreal. What have I done? It is over. Now there will never be a future for James and me. I thought I was making things better but now they couldn’t be worse. I need to get away from here, away from that house, so that I can think clearly.

              In the car I lock the doors and turn the radio up as loud as I can stand it, just to drown out my thoughts. But of course it doesn’t help. How can it?

              Once more I end up at Wimbledon Common, only this time everything has changed. I turn off the engine and the lights and sit in silence, my fingers tapping the steering wheel, my whole body shaking. I have no choice but to think now. I need a plan.

              I could go to Dad’s. It’s past nine o’clock and I doubt he’s asleep, but what will his reaction be if I turn up so late? The chances are it won’t be good, for either of us. I am alone. I have lost everyone and everything, and now it is only a matter of time.

              There is no way I can turn up at Bridgette’s. If she is at home it’s likely Aaron will be with her and I haven’t even met him. What would he think of her crazy friend turning up in such a state? They are still in the early stages of their relationship and I wouldn’t want him to judge Bridgette by the company she keeps. Debbie and Mark are not an option either. James will think to look for me there and he will want answers. But how can I give him any when there is no chance he will ever understand what I have done?