I Will Make You Pay (ARC) Read online

  With his other hand he takes out his own phone. He

  presses the speed-dial key to Mel Sanders and prays she

  will answer. It starts ringing…

  ‘Please, Alice. I know this is terrible. But you need to

  look again. Do you recognise the room…’

  At last, Mel answers.

  ‘Mel. Matt here. New development with the Alice

  stalker case. A video has been posted online of her mother

  in respiratory distress.’

  ‘Jeez. So what’s it showing? Is her mother hurt? Being

  hurt? Where do I see this, Matt?’

  ‘It’s tagged on Alice’s twitter feed. @alicejourno-

  henderson. All lower case, no punctuation. Alice is with

  me now. She’s in shock, but stay on the line and I’ll give

  you what details I can get from her.’ He turns. ‘Alice. Do

  you recognise the room?’

  She won’t look, so he puts the phone right in front of

  her face. ‘I’m sorry, but this is urgent. The room, Alice.

  Do you know the room?’

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  At last she looks properly at the phone, a frown ap-

  pearing instantly on her face. ‘Yes. Yes, I do. It’s her room at the home. At the nursing home.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure. That’s her bookcase in the background.

  With her copy of Wuthering Heights on the top. I read Wuthering Heights to her when I visit…’

  Matthew puts his hand up to signal for Alice to wait

  a moment.

  ‘Right, Mel. The video is apparently showing Alice’s

  mother in her room at her nursing home. What’s the

  name of it, Alice?’

  ‘The Heatherdown Nursing Home. Mitsford. It’s on

  the coast between Brixham and Paignton. Room 14.

  Second floor.’

  He repeats the details to Mel.

  ‘Right, Matt. I’ve got the video up now. Jeez. This

  bloody nasty piece of work. What’s he up to now? OK –

  so I’m in Scotland. We’re about to arrest Alex. I’ll get a

  DS to phone the home right now. You do the same. See

  who’s quickest to check the status on the mother. I’ll get a

  car sent round immediately; see what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘This may not be live or even contemporaneous; this

  could just be a recording,’ Matthew says. ‘This could still

  be Alex.’

  ‘Yes, I know. What a bloody turn of events.’

  ‘Right. You get the call into the home and I’ll try

  this end. Talk soon.’

  Matthew ends the call and leans towards Alice. ‘Call

  up the number of your mother’s home. Dial it. Now. I’ll

  speak to them.’

  ‘Is he with her? Has he hurt her?’

  ‘Just dial the number for me, Alice. Please. Now! ’

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  She picks up her phone and fumbles for a minute

  through her contacts. Eventually she dials and hands the

  phone to Matthew.

  ‘What’s your mum’s full name?’

  ‘Harriet Wallace.’

  ‘Right… Hello, I’m a private investigator working

  with the police. We have an emergency situation – rea-

  son to believe someone may intend harm to one of your

  residents, Harriet Wallace. Room 14. You need to check

  on her right this minute. I’ll stay on the line and you need

  to report to me what you find. Immediately please. The

  police will be phoning too. They’re on their way. You’ll

  hear police sirens outside very soon.’

  The receptionist is at first uncooperative. She asks a

  lot of questions, wondering if this is some kind of hoax.

  Matthew barks at her, demanding someone more senior.

  He’s passed to someone else. He repeats himself and at

  last there appears to be action…

  ‘OK. I’m holding on the line. You need to tell me

  if Harriet Wallace is OK. I have her daughter with me.’

  This is now too much for Alice. She’s slumped on to

  the floor – sitting with her back against the wall – tears

  pouring down her face as she uses the kitchen extension

  phone to call her sister with this update. She tells Leanne

  to wait on the line too. Then Alice is sort of mumbling

  almost incoherently to her sister. Blaming herself. Saying

  that Leanne was right; that they should have moved their

  mother to a different home as soon as the stalker used

  peonies. Mentioned her mother’s favourite flower.

  ‘We should have seen this coming. This is my fault,’

  Alice says finally, looking up at Matthew. But then the

  senior nurse at the home is back on the line.

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  ‘Mrs Wallace is asleep. She’s well. She was on her own

  in her room. Stable. I’ve ordered a member of staff to stay

  with her. Do you mind telling me what on earth this is

  all about? We can hear police sirens. In fact, I can see a

  police car turning up outside. What the hell is going on?’

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  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Alice

  I watch my mother being wheeled on the trolley bed into

  the private ambulance. She’s wearing a full oxygen mask

  so I can only see her eyes.

  They’re strained but I can read them precisely. Mum

  has raised her eyebrows just a little and is widening her

  eyes at me. I know from the nurses that she’s uncomfort-

  able and has pain in her chest and sides today. She’s also

  very worried about what’s going on here but she’s trying

  to hide all this from me. Trying to signal that she’s all

  right. Not to worry. That everything is going to be all right.

  This breaks me. It’s worse than the time with the

  police. Worse than the row I had with Leanne over the

  timetable of moving Mum. Worse than the rest of yester-

  day – Wednesday, bloody Wednesday – spent with Matthew Hill and then later with Tom as we all worked out the

  logistics of how to move my mother somewhere secret.

  Somewhere safer.

  Though Mum’s disorientated and tired and has the

  same severe breathing trouble she’s had for the past six

  months, she knows nothing of what’s really gone on. She

  doesn’t know about the camera concealed in the plant

  delivered to her room, allegedly a ‘gift’ from me. She’s

  unaware of the video posted of her online. The stalking.

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  She knows only what we’ve told her, namely that her

  care needs are changing so we’ve decided it’s best for her

  to be in a more specialised home near Leanne, who’s not

  working and can visit more easily. And so our mother’s

  priority, true to her nature and her selflessness, is to put

  us first. To show that she’s all right. That people should

  not worry. Make a fuss.

  I climb the two steps into the ambulance to hold my

  mother’s hand and to stroke her hair back from her fore-

  head. I again take in the smile in those pale grey eyes.

  The same face and the same reassuring expression that

  kept me safe right through my childhood.

  It was always Mum. Only Mum. Dad died very sud-

 
denly of a heart attack when I was a baby and I don’t

  remember him at all. But in school I would get upset

  on Father’s Day when everyone else was making cards.

  Mum would have this same look in her eyes when she

  comforted me.

  And when I sat my first piano exam too. I was nine

  and I was petrified. I was doing well in my music les-

  sons and my teacher was predicting a distinction. But the

  pressure was all of a sudden too much. I froze when they

  called my name in the waiting room. I turned to Mum

  and asked her to take me home. Legs of lead.

  I can’t. I can’t do it.

  Mum stayed completely calm. She wasn’t cross. She

  wasn’t disappointed. She simply pressed her palm against

  my cheek.

  Of course you can, my darling girl. I know that you can.

  There’s no hurry. They’ll wait a moment. And it doesn’t matter how it goes … only that it goes. Just do your best and who cares how it turns out. Pass or fail, I certainly don’t mind. And then my mother leaned in very close to my face with precisely

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  this expression. Slightly raised eyebrows. A slight widen-

  ing of her soft grey eyes with a smile of love in them.

  Yes. That special smile that reads, It’s all right, Alice.

  It’s going to be all right.

  I turn away to brush a tear forming. I wonder how I

  will manage without this force of love in my life.

  ‘Now – you know that I’m not allowed to travel in the

  ambulance with you. Something to do with the insurance.’

  Another lie. Her mother’s daughter. Papering over my

  worries just as she does. The truth is I’m nervous about

  being followed. I’m planning to drive in circles again to

  throw anyone off. I kiss my mother’s forehead.

  ‘Will you be OK with the nurse?’

  Mum nods and widens her eyes even more.

  ‘OK. Try to rest. And Leanne will be there when you

  arrive to help settle you in. The place is lovely. I’m sorry

  you have to move but they have the right nurses for you

  at the new place. And I’ll be back to visit you very, very

  soon so we can finish Wuthering Heights. OK?’

  Again Mum nods, moving her right hand to her mask,

  but I reach out to still her.

  ‘No, Mum. No need to talk. I love you too. Try to

  rest. Leanne is going to send me pictures of your new

  room. It looked marvellous from her visit. They’re trans-

  ferring all your things. Your books. You’re going to be

  very comfortable there; you’re going to be all right. And

  I’ll visit you very, very soon.’

  One final kiss on her forehead and I go back down

  the steps and blow a kiss as the nurse closes the rear doors

  of the ambulance.

  Why am I not braver? Why am I not braver?

  Only now do the tears fall properly, as very slowly

  the ambulance pulls away.

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  I watch. A child again, watching Mum leave the play-

  ground when I was small, wanting to run after her. I’m

  back in that piano exam, Mum’s voice a whisper in my

  ear. I’m arriving back in England after the horror of my

  time with Alex – Mum in the arrival hall at the airport.

  That same smile in her eyes. It’s going to be all right…

  I watch the ambulance get smaller and smaller and feel

  my nails squeezing into my palms. I wish I could travel

  with her but Matthew agrees this is best. Safest.

  Everyone thinks that any more stalking and tailing is

  unlikely, which is why Matthew’s not booked to watch my

  back today. Tom – in a complete panic after my mother’s

  video was posted – offered to book Matthew every single

  day until the whole investigation is resolved but I don’t

  want that. I’ve had enough of it all…

  It’s Thursday. Alex is now in custody.

  He’s the prime suspect for the stalking. And prime

  suspect for sending the ‘gift’ of the pot plant with the

  hidden camera. The footage was eventually taken down

  after police intervention, but not before it had appeared

  not just on Twitter but on Facebook and Instagram too.

  I take in a deep breath as I remember the messages from

  Leanne’s friends. Have you seen this? It looks like your mum.

  I try to imagine Alex in the interview room facing

  DI Sanders.

  Will he buckle? Is it him?

  Is it finally over?

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  CHAPTER FORTY

  Matthew

  Matthew flips three small pancakes with a metal spatula.

  It’s forbidden – metal implement in a non-stick pan – but

  Sally’s not here to police him. The pancakes are a good

  colour. They’re also small and thick; American-style – the

  kind he and his daughter love best.

  Matthew admires Sally’s taste on most matters but in

  two areas, he’s baffled. She is obsessed with opera, which

  he fails to understand. And she is entirely wrong about pancakes. She likes traditional pancakes – large and thin,

  rolled with lemon and sugar. Matthew shudders at the

  thought of all that flipping and burning and the sharp

  intake of breath when you taste the lemon. No. All wrong.

  This morning he’s in charge, so there is jazz on the radio

  and the pancakes will be fat and fabulous.

  ‘One order of pancakes with blueberries coming up,

  madam.’

  ‘It’s not a restaurant, Daddy. Why are you talking as

  if we’re in a restaurant?’

  ‘We can pretend it is.’

  ‘Why would we do that? We’ll have to pay.’

  ‘No, we won’t. My restaurant. My rules. Pancakes are

  on the house today.’

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  ‘Like on the roof?’ Amelie frowns. ‘You’re a very

  silly daddy. How can I eat the pancakes if you put them

  on the roof?’

  ‘No, no, no. On the house means free. But never mind, sweetie. Here you go.’ He puts two of the plump pancakes

  into a bowl and spoons on some blueberries and a huge

  dollop of yoghurt. He puts a tea towel over one arm and

  delivers the breakfast to his daughter on her booster seat

  with a flourish that makes her giggle.

  ‘Where’s Mummy?’

  ‘Mummy is picking up the dry cleaning. Now – be

  careful because the pancakes are still hot. Try just a little bit. Shall I cut it up so you don’t burn your mouth?’

  ‘No. I’m not a baby.’ Amelie holds out her arm, rigid

  and determined, to keep him away. Matthew takes in the

  familiar warning in her eyes. Do not let her see that I am a tiny bit afraid, he thinks. No tantrums today. Please.

  ‘OK. Well, try a tiny bit with the yoghurt to see how

  hot it is? Yes?’

  ‘OK.’

  Matthew watches his daughter cut the pancake with

  her little fork. Her eyes relax. Matthew’s shoulders relax.

  He takes out his phone to see if there’s a new message

  from Mel Sanders. He can still hardly believe how fast

  the investigation is progressing, and is praying she will

  say yes to his latest off-piste request.

&nb
sp; He knows it’s a long shot – asking to watch the Alex

  interview. More than anything at times like this, Matthew

  wishes he had an official role. Official status. A long time

  ago he had toyed with the idea of retraining. He was fas-

  cinated with different techniques for interviewing. Also

  profiling. He did a preliminary negotiation course once

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  and loved that too; for a time he’d wondered if he could

  get a new qualification which might make him useful

  again to the force in some new and different guise.

  But he looks now at his daughter tucking into her pan-

  cakes and reminds himself of the reality here. The need to

  earn a living. To make a go of his agency. There’s no spare

  time for courses. He won’t go back in the force – how-

  ever much Mel urges him. No. Too late for any of that.

  At last, his phone rings.

  ‘Hi, Mel. So what’s happening?’ He pours some more

  orange juice into Amelie’s bright pink plastic cup and

  spoons a few more blueberries into her bowl, his phone

  tucked between his chin and his shoulder.

  ‘Well, he’s furious. Claims we’ve infringed his human

  rights by stopping the marriage. Is talking about suing us.’

  ‘Good luck with that, Alex. So – delusional?’

  ‘Definitely. No surprise there. We’re waiting for the duty

  solicitor, then they’re doing the interviews about breaking

  his terms of licence first. The team are looking at his phone already. A string of messages to the girl since he got out of prison but we’ve found nothing yet to link him to Alice.’

  ‘So can I come up? Be useful? I can help out if you

  go into labour early.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Seriously, I’d like to see the interview.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Matt. You know I can’t authorise that.’

  ‘Unofficially. Sort of adviser. Observer.’

  ‘You gone mad? You seriously want to come all the

  way up to Scotland?’

  ‘I do. There’s a flight from Exeter to Glasgow. I can

  be with you by mid-afternoon. When do you expect to

  interview him?’

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  There’s a long pause, as if Mel is seriously considering

  this. Good.

  ‘Oh, come on, Mel. You know we work best as a

  team. I can be helpful. We can bounce off each other.

  When are you getting a shot at him?’

  ‘I’m just observing for now. When it’s my turn for the

  stalker inquiry, I’m sending in a very good DS so I can