I Will Make You Pay (ARC) Read online

  today, because he is worried about what Miss Henderley

  is going to say to his gran. She stayed on in the classroom

  after the final bell, marking books, and said she would

  see him later which made the weird feeling in his stomach worse.

  After-school club is held in the main hall. Tables

  and chairs are set up with boxes of toys and puzzles and

  games. When Louise, who is in charge of the club, tells

  them to start packing up, he tries to be super-quick so he

  can be first out and get away fast before Miss Henderley

  appears. But it’s no good.

  When he gets to the door, she is already standing there

  – out in the corridor – before Louise gets the register.

  They all have to be ticked off, one by one, from

  Louise’s list, as parents arrive to collect them. It’s the rule.

  Through the glass of the double doors to the corridor, he

  can see Miss Henderley talking to his gran.

  When Louise calls his name and his gran comes to

  the door, she says they just need to nip to his classroom

  for a little chat with his teacher.

  Oh no.

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  In the classroom, they both ask him the same question

  – Miss Henderley and his gran. About why he is tired on

  Thursdays. And is there anything worrying him?

  He again says, ‘No, I’m not worried about anything’

  – and keeps looking at his gran.

  His gran has lots of different faces. She has a face

  when she is pretending that she isn’t tired. A face when

  she pretends she isn’t cross. Right now she is pretending

  about something but he doesn’t know what.

  When they get outside and are walking home, she

  holds his hand and then ruffles his hair and says that she’s

  sorry. And she tells him not to worry. For some reason

  this makes him want to cry.

  ‘I didn’t say anything to my teacher.’

  ‘I know, lovely boy. I’m not cross. It’s not your fault.’

  When they get home, she makes him hot chocolate in

  his favourite mug – the one with the big, green dragon.

  ‘I have a new idea,’ his gran says. ‘For next Wednesday.

  We can try something different. You can come with me

  but we’ll have to keep it our extra-special new secret.

  Like hide-and-seek. I’ll need to find you somewhere to

  hide. Can you do that for me? Be very, very quiet. And

  hide. Like a game.’

  This is the best news. The best news in his whole life.

  ‘So I can come with you. For the new secret?’ He is

  not sure he understands how this will work but it sounds

  much, much better than the old secret.

  ‘Yes. A new secret. You still mustn’t tell anyone, es-

  pecially not at school. You can come with me but you

  will need to hide. So shall we try that?’

  ‘Yes please.’ He throws his arms around her neck and

  kisses her cheek.

  52

  CHAPTER NINE

  Matthew

  Matthew has his feet up on his desk, leaning back in his

  chair. He has an odd feeling that is making him frown.

  He narrows his eyes, trying to place it…

  Ah yes – rested; he had quite forgotten. This is what a good night’s sleep feels like. He smiles as he remembers

  the shock first thing this morning.

  He had been woken by Sal shaking him, her eyes

  darting from side to side in alarm. She then gripped his

  forearm, with her other hand in the air, signalling that

  he should listen. He had assumed a strange noise. Some

  evidence of an intruder?

  He listened, already glancing for a weapon. A plan.

  But no – nothing…

  Another look sideways confirmed something even

  odder than the silence. The alarm clock said 8 a.m. This

  could not be right. For the last five, maybe six months,

  Amelie had set her own clock.

  To 4.45 a.m.

  They had tried everything. They had read books and

  scoured websites. They had followed the guy on Insta

  with umpteen daughters, millions of fans and buckets of

  advice. Nothing worked.

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  Maybe she doesn’t need much sleep, Sal’s mother had

  mused over their last Sunday lunch together. Like Margaret Thatcher. She didn’t need much sleep…

  The comparison made Matthew go cold.

  They tried putting Amelie to bed later. Earlier.

  Dropped a nap. Added a nap. Cut out dairy. Increased

  dairy. Nothing worked…

  Until today; until this blessed morning when their

  clever, brilliant and totally wonderful daughter slept

  through, not just until eight o’clock … but eight thirty.

  Matthew taps a pen on the desk. He hums. He smiles.

  It’s over, he says to himself, just as the phone rings.

  He takes a deep breath, fearing it may be his new

  client couple cancelling their appointment. Sadly, this

  happens a lot – people losing their bottle. He checks his

  watch. His agency is doing OK these days – off the back

  of some high-profile success – but for all that, it’s been

  a quiet month. He could do with some new bookings.

  ‘They’re back.’ The voice on the line is familiar. ‘I

  thought they had gone, Mr Hill. Do you remember? A

  good while back now. The last time I spoke to you we

  both thought that they had gone for good. Turns out we

  were wrong. They’re back and there are more of them.

  You have to help me.’

  ‘Still tiny?’ Matthew asks, his heart sinking. His caller

  is a ‘frequent flyer’ named Ian Ellis who bombarded him

  with calls soon after he set up the agency. Ian believes

  miniature people want to kidnap him. Like Lilliput. He has been ringing on and off for years.

  ‘Yes. Thumb-size still. Different clothes though, now.

  I think it might be something to do with Brexit. They

  look European. And they’re armed. I’ve told them I voted

  remain but it’s made no difference. They won’t let me

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  cross the hall to the bathroom. And I very much need

  the toilet. I do not wish to be indelicate here but we are

  in danger of an accident, Mr Hill.’

  Matthew bites into his lip. Ian became horribly persis-

  tent at one point, ringing several times each day. Matthew

  tried to be kind and he tried to get Ian help. He was clearly one of the people on the fringes of society who had sadly

  stretched the patience of his GP, the local hospital and

  the emergency services. As a nod to his former police

  colleagues, Matthew often in the past tried to ‘talk him

  down’ to limit Ian’s 999 calls.

  There would be spells with a lot of calls. Then long

  spells with none. And then eventually the calls stopped

  completely and Matthew had rather forgotten about Ian

  – hoping his problems had resolved.

  ‘Right – well, this is a surprise after all this time, Ian.

  So could anything have triggered this? It’s just I thought

  we’d agreed they’d gone for good the last time we spoke.

  Anything happened lately that might
have brought them

  back?’

  There is a pause. Matthew can hear Ian sucking in a

  long breath. He expects the usual blabbering describing

  the activities and the clothes of the ‘little people’ to ramp up a gear, but instead there is another sound. Matthew

  strains to make it out and pushes the receiver closer to his

  ear. To his horror, it sounds like distant crying.

  ‘Are you all right there, Ian?’ Matthew is used to feel-

  ing irritated by Ian. Sad. Frustrated. Angry that society

  has no resources to deal with people like him. A whole

  range of emotions, in fact. Now, for the first time, he

  feels truly shaken. Also very guilty.

  ‘Nothing has happened, Mr Hill. Nothing has trig-

  gered this. Why did you have to ask that? You people

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  always fishing for your blessed triggers. You have absolutely no right to ask me that.’ And then – another first. Ian is the one to end the call.

  Matthew sits up straighter. He finds that he is uneasy

  – both to hear from Ian again and also how this particular

  call has made him feel. And then the intercom announces

  the arrival of the ‘stalker’ case couple. He presses the but-

  ton to invite them upstairs, still thinking about Ian as he

  warns over the speaker about the steep flight of stairs that

  he always worries will be the death of someone.

  By the time he is standing – door held wide, ready

  for his clients – Matthew has decided to break a promise

  to himself. Yes. If Ian rings again, he is going to arrange

  to visit him.

  ‘Sorry we’re a bit late. Parking trouble.’ Tom, who rang

  him in the supermarket and later booked this appointment,

  is stretching out his hand. Firm handshake but nervous

  face. This is not unusual. He has his hand protectively

  on his girlfriend’s back and Matthew glances between

  them as he signals for them to sit down, offering coffee.

  ‘I have a decent machine in the kitchen next door.

  Bear with me while I get things going and then we can

  chat properly.’ Matthew likes to watch his clients from a

  secret vantage point, through the crack in the door, to try

  to assess what he is dealing with. He and Sally now live

  in a cottage near the sea but he has kept this flat adjoining the office and finds it terribly useful.

  He watches as Tom takes his girlfriend’s hand and

  gives it a squeeze. Tom is athletic-looking – dark hair

  cut short. A close-fitted T-shirt beneath a very nice blue

  jacket. Flat stomach. Matthew would guess mid-thirties?

  His girlfriend looks a tad younger; late twenties, fair

  and slim – even borderline frail – in a floral dress with a

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  denim jacket. Tom is smiling his encouragement but she

  is very pale and clearly not comfortable at all. Matthew

  wonders if this is the result of the stalking, or reluctance

  to attend the appointment.

  As he brings the tray through with their three cups and

  a jug of foaming milk, Matthew decides to plunge right in.

  ‘Right. So Tom gave me quite a lot of detail over

  the phone, Alice. An awful time for you. I’m truly sorry

  to hear what you’re going through. But before we talk

  about options going forward, I need to know how you

  feel about coming here. Involving me, I mean.’

  ‘We both feel that the police aren’t doing enough.

  That they don’t seem to have the resources.’ Tom is lean-

  ing forward. Agitated. ‘It’s quite a shock to us both. How

  little they seem able to do.’

  ‘Is that right, Alice?’ Matthew widens his eyes. He

  sympathises with Tom’s concern. If it were Sally, he’d be

  exactly the same, but he needs to hear from Alice.

  Finally she glances at her boyfriend, finding a small

  smile for him, before turning back to Matthew. ‘I’m not

  going to lie. This was Tom’s idea, not mine. He’s very

  worried about me. Hoping that you can add to what the

  police are doing.’

  ‘Or aren’t doing,’ Tom interjects, the sarcasm in his

  voice barely disguised.

  ‘And where are you at with the police? Who’s handling

  it?’ Matthew keeps his gaze on Alice.

  ‘They’ve put DI Melanie Sanders on the case now.

  I’m told she’s very good. Is that right? I understand you

  worked together a bit.’

  Matthew narrows his eyes. So Alice has been reading

  up on him – checking him out. He takes in a slow breath,

  remembering that she is a journalist, after all.

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  ‘Yes. I do know her and she is. Very good, I mean.

  We trained together. And we sort of worked on a missing

  persons case quite recently. You’re in good hands.’

  ‘But they won’t provide surveillance.’ Tom is lean-

  ing forward again. ‘Doesn’t that surprise you? I thought

  it would be the first base – that there would be some

  kind of protection offered. I mean, this guy is actually

  threatening her. May have been in her house. May even

  be watching her.’

  Matthew taps into his computer to call up the notes

  he took from his second chat with Tom on the phone,

  when he called him back after getting home from the

  supermarket. ‘So has there been nothing from Forensics?

  From the light fitting, the house or the cake box?’

  ‘Apparently not,’ Alice says. ‘He must wear gloves. Be

  quite clever. Or at least experienced at this. The police

  seem to think it’s someone who reads my columns in the

  paper. May have some personal grudge.’

  ‘And you really can’t think of anyone. Ex-boyfriend?

  Someone from a court case you’ve covered? Anything

  like that?’

  ‘I honestly can’t think of anyone.’ Alice’s face changes

  and Matthew watches her closely. He notices that she lets

  go of Tom’s hand. Interesting.

  He glances between them. Tom looks so worried, his

  foot flicking up and down. Matthew again takes in the

  expensive jacket. An alpha guy. Yes. Privileged-looking.

  Probably used to being in control of his life. He will

  dislike this feeling of helplessness. Matthew’s already

  checked Tom’s LinkedIn account and profile with his

  law firm. A high-flyer. Private school, then a first in

  Law from LSE. Matthew’s not naturally drawn to the

  public-school type and so bristles. He tries to process

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  this response and checks himself; it’s unfair to judge Tom

  because of his background. It’s understandable that Tom

  would hate this. Matthew couldn’t bear it if Sally were

  ever targeted…

  ‘So I was wondering if you could agree to surveil-

  lance,’ Tom says. ‘To look out for Alice on Wednesdays.

  This guy – he seems to target her on a Wednesday…’

  ‘He’s not a bodyguard and I’m not a celebrity, Tom.

  We can’t expect Mr Hill to trail around after me. I can’t

  go through my whole life expecti
ng protection.’

  ‘I don’t do personal security per se,’ Matthew says.

  ‘Yes, I know that. I saw that on your website.’ Tom’s

  voice is more agitated. His face anxious. ‘But I was won-

  dering if we could book you for a day a week to work

  on this case. And if we made it Wednesdays, you could

  keep an eye on Alice and hopefully nail some evidence

  to catch this guy at the same time. Put an end to this.’

  Tom’s eyes are really wide. Pleading.

  Matthew twists his mouth to the side. He takes in

  Tom’s desperation and finds that he likes him after all.

  He can’t deny that a regular booking would be welcome.

  But it’s not the kind of agreement he’d normally make.

  A bit too much like security. He’s worried about setting

  a precedent.

  ‘What do you think, Alice?’ Matthew keeps his tone

  neutral.

  ‘I don’t honestly know. I mean – I am afraid. I hate

  admitting that. But I do dread what’s coming next from

  this guy. I would feel better if someone was at least work-

  ing actively on this. I have no idea why Wednesday is

  significant. Or whether it’s just a coincidence so far.’

  ‘It looks more like a pattern than a coincidence to me,’

  Matthew says, glancing again at his notes.

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  ‘Yes, I agree.’ Alice is looking at him more directly now

  and he sees real fear in her eyes. For some reason he finds

  himself thinking again of his wife. And his daughter too.

  ‘I tell you what. How about I agree to work on this

  case this coming Wednesday. Keep an eye on things from

  first light through to when you feel safe. Say, when Tom

  is able to join you in the evening? Did you say you’re

  staying in Dorset?’ Again he glances at his notes on the

  screen.

  ‘Yes. My sister’s place. It has very good security; I feel

  reasonably safe there. But I have an interview set up for

  Wednesday and I really don’t want to cancel it. If you

  could come with me, or watch out for me, I would feel

  much happier.’

  ‘I thought you were taking a couple of weeks off

  work?’ Matthew is still cross-checking the information

  Tom gave him on the phone.

  ‘Yes. I’m not going into the office at the moment.

  While we wait for this to quieten down. But I set this

  interview up a while back. It’s with a local actress who’s

  not often available. It’s a bit of a coup so I don’t want to

  give it to someone else. Professional pride.’