I Trust You (9 page)

Chapter 16

I
t was nearly dark when Marisa pulled up at the terrace of houses in Thornhill. She took her little bag from the back seat and knocked on Lee Powell’s door. The house seemed to be in darkness, but eventually he opened up. He didn’t utter a single word, just stood back and allowed her to enter.

              Lee went straight to the cabinet in the corner of the room and brought out a bottle of brandy. He poured a glass and handed it to her.

              Marisa gulped it down, feeling the heat soothe her.

              He observed her carefully. ‘Are you okay?’

              ‘I’ve left.’

              ‘That much I gathered.’

              ‘Can I stay here? I haven’t got anywhere else to go.’

              ‘Of course. You can always stay here, Marisa. I’m not in the business of abandoning people. I’ve seen too much of that in my life.’

              She smiled gratefully, dropping down onto the leather sofa. ‘You know, he always asked me to trust him, ever since the day we got married, and I always have.’

              ‘But you don’t anymore.’

              Marisa shrugged her shoulders. ‘I just don’t know.’ She described the scene they’d had at breakfast that morning with Eliot using the dog to intimidate her.

              ‘Do you think he knows I came to the house?’

              ‘Maybe he’s got a camera in his study, in which case, Eliot knows we’ve been investigating his dad.’

              ‘Shit. He’ll also know who I am, too. So might Gerry Coleman if Eliot’s reported back to Daddy. I’m not sure we can stay here.’

              ‘You don’t actually think they’d try to hurt us?’

              ‘Your precious husband nearly set a vicious dog on you – what more warning do you need?’

              ‘I don’t think he’d have allowed it to attack me. It was meant as a message. To frighten me, bring me into line.’

              Lee sighed. ‘I don’t know anything much about your hubbie other than the fact he’s a prize arsehole. But I do know Gerry Coleman is a dangerous man.’ He left her to finish the drink, marching upstairs to return to the living room ten minutes later carrying a large sports bag.

              ‘What’s that for?’ Marisa eyed his luggage suspiciously.

              ‘We aren’t safe here. If you were able to find me so easily, then the Colemans’ sure as hell will.’

              Marisa nodded slowly. ‘You’re right.’ She polished off the brandy and got to her feet. ‘Let’s go.’

*

They chose an unexciting bed and breakfast in Gosport. Marisa was lying on top of the covers still fully dressed. In her haste, she’d not packed any night clothes.

              She glanced across at Lee, fast asleep beside her, snuggled under the covers with his boxers and a t-shirt on. Marisa reached for her mobile phone. It was seven am.

She had twenty nine missed calls from Eliot. She swept the screen across to read the messages. They were increasingly frantic – where was she? Could she please call home? He just needed to know she was safe. He was going out of his mind with worry.

Marisa felt a surge of compassion for her husband, followed by a sharp stab of guilt. How could she have put him through this? What was wrong with her? She scrolled down to find the phone screen, ready to return the call.

              A sudden shifting movement in the bed prevented her from completing the action. Lee had sat bolt upright, his hair spiky and dishevelled. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

              ‘But he’s called dozens of times. I can’t leave him not knowing if I’m alive or dead – it’s wicked, inhumane.’ She was on the verge of tears.

              Lee took the phone from her hand and turned it off. ‘We need time to work out what we’re dealing with first. This guy’s been keeping tabs on you for the last ten years. Of course he’s going crazy not knowing where you are right now. He’s a control freak. Let him stew.’

              ‘I’m not sure I can do that.’

              Lee’s expression hardened. ‘I’m afraid you’ve got to. If you call Eliot now and tell him where you are, he’ll be straight on the blower to his dad to pass the information on.’ He clasped her wrist. ‘Don’t you understand that yet? Gerry Coleman can’t allow us to reveal who he really is.’

              Marisa shook off his grip. ‘I don’t want to replace one bully with another.’

              ‘I’m
not
a bully.’ Lee lifted her hand and gently kissed the area he’d hurt. ‘I’m sorry. I just don’t want those bastards to find you.’ He allowed his kisses to navigate their way up her arm until they reached the crook of her neck where they became more urgent.

              Marisa rubbed her cheek against his stubbly face, running her hand under his t-shirt and feeling the firmness of his muscly chest and stomach.

Lee placed his mouth over hers and shifted her round so that she was lying under him. ‘Why are you wearing so many bloody clothes?’ He muttered in frustration.

              She chuckled, pushing him back so she could undo her shirt and drag off her heavy jeans.

Chapter 17

T
hey decided to leave Marisa’s car in an underground car park near the port, continuing to the terminal on foot. Lee bought the tickets. They jogged up the gangway as the next Redfunnel to the Isle of Wight was about to set sail.

              Marisa headed straight for the café below deck and bought them both a strong tea and a bacon roll. ‘It’s a little soon for us to be going away together.’ She smirked over the top of her porcelain mug.

              ‘Very funny. Dad’s place isn’t far from the seafront at Ryde. I tried to get hold of him last night but there was no response. He never leaves the island. We’ll find him somewhere.’

              ‘I’m looking forward to meeting Bill.’

              ‘Dad’s no hero, but he’s made a decent go of his life in recent years. Don’t laugh, but he’s a postie now. He starts his shift at the local depot at five.’

              ‘I’ve often thought what a great job that would be,’ she replied, entirely genuinely. ‘Working in the outdoors, seeing your local area and being part of the community. Especially somewhere like this. It must be gorgeous in summer.’

‘Not so glamorous in winter.’ He sipped the tea. ‘But it’s an honest way to earn a crust.’

              ‘Speaking of which, won’t they miss you at the docks today?’

              ‘I’ve taken some holiday. I’d plenty owing. Apart from seeing the boys, where am I going to go?’

              Marisa found his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. ‘This could be a bit of a holiday for us then?’             

He grimaced. ‘With you on the run from your nutcase husband? Great. How romantic.’

*

The weather was dull when they reached the seaside resort of Ryde. Bill Powell’s house was past the Castle Hotel and on one of the roads near to St John’s Station. When they reached the door, at the end of a neatly tended front garden, Lee pressed on the bell.

              There was no response. He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s nearly twelve. Dad may not have finished his shift yet.’ He fished a key ring from his pocket and opened up. ‘We can make ourselves at home while we wait.’

              The hallway was dark and dingy. The house was Victorian and Marisa suspected that it suffered from a lack of natural light. Lee dropped their bags and inspected the ground floor. The living room was tidy, as was the kitchen. If someone had eaten breakfast in there that morning they’d done a great job of cleaning up afterwards.

              Lee mounted the stairs, ‘come on, I’ll show you the spare room. You can make yourself comfortable in there. I’ll take the sofa.’

              Marisa was about to debate the issue of bed allocation when her senses were assailed by an unmistakable smell. Alcohol.

              Lee halted at the top step. ‘
Dad
?’ His voice was hesitant and wavering.

              Marisa had a terrible sensation of dread. She clutched his arm and weakly held him back. ‘Maybe I should go and look first.’

              ‘No, I need to see what’s going on.’ He stumbled onto the landing and almost fell into his father’s bedroom.

In here, the smell was unbearable. Bill Powell was lying on his back on top of the covers. Bottles of whisky and other liquors were discarded all around him. Drips of liquid and vomit were trailing out of his open mouth. The man’s eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling.

Lee fell to his knees at his father’s bedside, reaching for his cold, limp hand.

That’s when Marisa saw the empty bottle of pills on the side table. ‘We shouldn’t touch anything,’ she croaked.

‘I don’t give a crap.’ Lee was convulsing with dry sobs. ‘He’d not had a drink in thirty years. I swear he hadn’t. Why this? Why now?’

Marisa glanced about them at the room. Something about the scene made her uneasy. She looked at the perfectly neat shelves and chest of drawers. She could’ve sworn the beige carpet had been recently vacuumed. ‘Do you Hoover the floor if you’re about to top yourself with a dozen bottles of booze and some tranquilisers?’

Lee wasn’t listening.

She crept forward and put her arms around his waist, pulling him up. ‘We need to go. I’m so sorry, but your father has gone. We’ve got to get out of here. It isn’t safe.’

              He didn’t answer, but allowed her to help him back down the stairs. They grabbed their bags and made for the front door. Lee paused on the threshold. ‘There’s a car opposite. A black BMW. I’ve never seen it on this street before.’

              ‘Can we get out the back way?’

              He nodded, still watching the stationary vehicle. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

              The path between the two gardens led directly onto the railway line. There was just enough room between the tracks and the banking for them to run along single file.

              ‘Are the tracks electrified?’ Marisa called ahead.

              ‘I don’t think so, but don’t stand on them, just in case.’

              ‘Very reassuring,’ she muttered under her breath.

              They continued for about half a mile before stopping for a breather. There were still some houses visible on both sides of the embankment but it was clear they were moving towards the outskirts of the town.

              As soon as she’d caught her breath, Marisa laid her hand on Lee’s back. ‘I don’t think your dad did that to himself. I’d put money on somebody else having been in that room. The whole house had been thoroughly cleaned out.’

              Lee stood up straight and placed his hands on his hips. ‘Who would do this? Why my Dad? He was just an old man trying to top up his pension. He’d never done any harm to anyone except me and
I’d
fucking forgiven him.’

              Marisa remained quiet and let Lee cry for a while. Then she took out her mobile phone.

              ‘What are you doing?’

              ‘Calling the police. I’m just going to tell them where to find your dad. The rest will have to be up to them. We can’t get involved. It’s too complicated.’

              He waited until she’d finished the call. ‘They might be able to trace your number?’

‘Not for days, they don’t have the technology. That’s a lifetime away for us.’

              Lee was aware he had to pull himself together. Marisa was having to take control. He’d survived without his dad before, he would do it again. ‘Could this have been
Coleman
?’ He practically growled the name.

              Marisa shook her head. ‘Why would he kill your dad? He couldn’t have wanted him dead simply because Bill remembered Gerald as a young man. There must be dozens of others who knew him from back then too.’

‘We need to find somewhere safer before we consider it any further.’

              At that moment, they heard the toot of a distant horn. A small diesel train, with no more than three carriages was rumbling towards them. It suddenly juddered to a halt about a hundred yards up the track.

              ‘I know these old trains, they stop and start every few metres. The doors between carriages aren’t electric, they open manually. If you follow close behind me, we could climb on board.’

              Marisa took a deep breath. The train was so slow she didn’t really fear getting run over, her greatest reservation was about whether the tracks they had to clamber over would be electrified. But then there didn’t seem many other options available to them. ‘Go ahead, I’ll follow.’

              The train was stationary for at least ten minutes. By the time it finally trundled on with its journey, Lee and Marisa were seated in a musty carriage, their bags safely stored on the shelf above their heads.

              ‘Where does this thing go?’ Marisa glanced out of the grubby window, seeing nothing but a tangle of buddleia and gorse.

              ‘I’ve got no bloody idea.’