Diane Jeffrey - He Will Find You - A nail-biting and emotional psychological suspense for 2018

Sitting down on one of the beds, I run my hand over the hearts on the quilt cover. Quite unexpectedly, a chill runs down my spine. I scan the room. It’s beautifully decorated. There are toys, games and children’s books everywhere. And yet, there’s something I don’t like about it. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. The sense that someone was very unhappy in here? No, that’s not it. Scared more than unhappy. In danger, even. As if something bad once happened in here.

I laugh at my silliness. I’ve always had an overactive imagination. Julie would have taken it seriously, though. My elder sister is into feng shui and mental wellness. She’s reluctant to set foot in Dad’s house now on the pretext that it has had negative energy and bad vibes since Mum died. I’ll have to invite Julie to stay with us at the Old Vicarage. She’ll have the chi flowing, or whatever it is you need to do, in no time.

I decide to start unpacking. Maybe when I’ve tidied away all my things, I’ll feel at home in this house.

Mi casa es tu casa .

Hopefully Alex will be home soon. That will help, too.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life , I say to myself. A completely different life to the one I’ve had until now.

To: kaitlyn.best@newzmail.co.uk

From: alexanderriley9987@premiernet.co.uk

Sent: Mon, 01 Aug 2016 at 23:34

Subject: KISMET, KATE

Dear Katie,

I was thinking today how lucky I am that you sent me a friend request on Facebook. You can’t imagine how glad I am that we’ve reconnected after all this time. And speaking of Facebook, I was beginning to think I’d never get to see a photo of you other than with your family and friends on your wall. Thank you so much for your selfie! You’re beautiful!

I love you being part of my day. Thanks to all your emails and texts, it feels like you’re close even though you’re so far away. Plus I like to know what you’re doing and where you are. You’re very funny, and you made me laugh out loud this afternoon when I was in a boring meeting with my accountant.

Katie, you said this is moving too fast for you and you feel a bit overwhelmed, but I’ve never felt a connection like this before. We’ve only been in touch again for a month, but it’s as if I’ve known you for so much longer. Perhaps it’s because of all we have in common. At the same time, I have this urge to make up for lost time. Two decades! You understand, don’t you?

I don’t believe in fate or anything like that. But I do wonder if things sometimes happen for a reason, and I think that you coming back into my life at this moment in time was meant to be! It feels so right. You’re the real deal.

You said Kevin was going to the pub with his mates tomorrow evening. Would you like to FaceTime? I love hearing your voice on the phone, but it would be even lovelier to see you!

Sorry if I’ve come on a bit strong this evening. I’ve been on the single malt! I’ll say goodnight now and leave you in peace! You’ll be my last thought before I go to bed and my first thought when I wake up. And I’ll probably dream about you, too. Hope that’s all right with you.

Night,

Alexxx

~

I’m desperate to get out of the house, but it doesn’t look like we’re going to be able to go outside the next morning, either. The rain is still beating down, although, looking out through the bars of our bedroom window, I can see a tiny patch of clear sky over the lake. My mother used to say if there was enough blue to make a pair of trousers for a sailor, the weather would turn out fine. Wishing I’d inherited her optimism as I stare at the sky, I reflect that the seaman in question would have to be fairly small.

I sigh, and Alex pleads with me to get back into bed. He’s lying on his back, his hands clasped behind his head. He seems to be appraising my bare body. I kneel on the bed next to him.

‘Lie on your tummy,’ I order. He doesn’t move for a second or two, but then he turns over. I start to knead his shoulders. He groans – in pleasure, I hope, rather than pain, but just in case, I massage his muscles more softly.

‘Is this new?’ I ask, running my fingers over his right shoulder. ‘I haven’t seen it before.’

‘Is what new? Oh, the tattoo. Well, I had it done before Justin Bieber if that’s what you mean.’

‘You’ve lost me.’

‘Bastard has the same tat. It’s Banksy.’

‘I know that,’ I say, admiring the artwork inked onto Alex’s skin. The picture is of a girl with her hand stretched out towards a red balloon. ‘My nephew Oscar is a big fan. We’ve taken him to Bristol a couple of times to see Banksy’s street art and some of his works on display at M Shed.’

‘Well, Girl with a Balloon appeared on a wall somewhere in London, not Bristol,’ Alex informs me. ‘I still haven’t decided if I want the caption inked on next to it.’

‘What is it?’

‘There is always hope,’ he says.

I examine it again. The balloon is heart-shaped. It’s not clear to me if the girl has let go of the balloon or if she’s trying to catch it. Either way, it’s out of her reach. Before I can ask Alex any more about it, he jumps out of bed.

‘Breakfast in bed,’ he says. ‘You wait here.’

I’m left for a while to muse on Alex’s choice of body art design. I would have thought he’d go for something more athletic, but I’m not sure what exactly. I suppose you wouldn’t have the five Olympic rings unless you’d actually competed in an Olympic Games. Or the Nike logo unless they sponsored you. And a slogan like “no pain, no gain” would be a bit trite. But something along those lines. I didn’t even know he had a tattoo. I’m surprised at this, although I’d only seen him naked once before coming here, and on that occasion the lights were dimmed.

I allow myself to reminisce about that night. It was four months ago. I close my eyes and can feel myself smiling. I remember Alex stripping off his clothes in a few seconds flat and then climbing into bed. He lay on his back, propped up on his elbows, watching me undress as he waited for me to join him. I’d been amused and turned on by how keen he seemed. Thinking about it now, it’s hardly surprising I didn’t see the tattoo on the back of his shoulder.

I noticed the scars, though. At the time, I didn’t dare ask him about those. Now, I’m burning with curiosity.

Alex comes back into the bedroom, carrying a tray. Smelling the toast, I’m conscious of how hungry I am. I plump the pillows up behind me and sit up straight as he puts the tray down carefully on my lap and gets into bed next to me.

‘Don’t get too used to this,’ he warns, twirling a strand of my red wavy hair between his fingers and then taking a mug from the tray.

At first I don’t understand what he’s referring to, but then I catch him looking down pointedly at my tummy.

‘Lie-ins will soon be nothing more than a distant memory,’ he adds. ‘Or is the plural lies-in?’ He slurps his tea.

‘No. You were right first time. Lie-ins.’

‘Ask the language expert,’ he says. He puts his mug down on the bedside table, and then he starts to fondle one of my breasts. ‘And is it my imagination, or have these already got a bit bigger?’

‘It’s wishful thinking on your part, I’d say,’ I reply, mirroring his grin. ‘Seeing as we’re on the subject of bodies …’ I begin in a more serious voice.

‘Ye-es?’

Gently, I take his arm and stroke his wrists. ‘Can I ask about your scars?’

‘OK,’ he says, but then there’s an awkward silence and I regret bringing it up. ‘Well, it’s not a big secret. I was nineteen,’ he says eventually. ‘I’d left school. I was supposedly on a gap year, but I ran out of money very early on, got dumped by my girlfriend when we were in Australia and came home. I started to hang out with the wrong crowd, we were taking drugs, I got depressed …’