Maggie Jamieson Crime Thriller. Noelle Holten
ma’am. Do you mind if we come in for a few minutes for a chat?’
Both officers knew that if they left the property without actually seeing Louise, there could be trouble; Robert could be inside coercing Louise to get rid of them.
They heard the chains rattle and multiple bolts being undone. Clearly Louise was concerned for her safety. The door eventually eased open slowly. One chain remained, and Louise poked her head between the gap.
‘There! Satisfied?’ The officers heard her mumble some not so savoury words underneath her breath.
‘Uh, no – sorry, ma’am. Could you please open the door fully?’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake …’ Louise shot back the final chain and wrenched open the door. ‘Happy now?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Sorry to have upset you. Can we just come in for a quick chat?’
‘Please yourselves.’ Stepping out of the way, Louise ushered the two officers into the living room. They could see curtains twitching in the street outside; Louise was clearly keen to get them out of sight.
‘When was the last time you saw Robert?’ The officer closest to Louise asked while his colleague stood looking around the room.
‘The last time I saw that waste of space was when I called you guys. Yesterday I think it was, it could’ve been the day before. Fucked if I know. There is a restraining order in place but that seems to do jack shit – which is why I never got one before! I mean, what is the point of having it if he can swan over here, do some damage, and then the police act?’
‘We understand your frustration, Mrs Millard. But it really is the best option. And with the panic alarm and your house being flagged – the police will respond immediately.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I get it. Just pisses me off.’
Before leaving, the officers advised her what she should do if Robert turned up at her house again but neither were confident she would heed their advice. They only hoped the next visit wasn’t for something more serious.
Patrick stood back from the bathroom window. Fucking prick should mind his own business. He gripped the sink and tried to control his breathing. It wouldn’t have bothered him so much if he hadn’t been drinking that evening. But he had, and he was fuming now. Blaming it on the alcohol made him feel better. He’d often say to Lucy, ‘If I’d been sober, that would never have happened,’ but Patrick knew the truth. It would have. Patrick hated feeling out of control, hated people treating him like a muppet. It wasn’t his fault if people kept winding him up. People like Lucy. People like Lucy’s dad. They did it on purpose. Especially when Lucy used her probation speak. If she’s going to treat me like an offender, I may as well behave like one.
Patrick loved Lucy despite all the arguments … the other women in his life were just a means to an end. A man has needs, and if Lucy didn’t want to fulfil them, he knew plenty of other women who would. Maybe he should make a move on Mel, make Lucy really appreciate what she has. He’d never leave her though. There was no way she’d leave him either. He’d make sure of that.
He flushed the toilet when he heard her come back inside and went into Siobhan’s room.
Inside the house, Lucy shut the door and leaned against it. Looking around the kitchen, she knew she’d have to clean up before going to bed. She turned on the hot water tap and started to fill the sink. While she waited, she wiped down the counters, and the dining table. Bitterness filled her mouth at the fact that her sister had reciprocated Patrick’s flirting. Actually enjoyed it. Especially after Lucy had confronted her and told her how she felt. Lucy wiped the table harder, her jaw tight. She thought her sister was better than that.
Lucy could hear Patrick upstairs with Siobhan. Although unusual, she was grateful that he was getting Siobhan ready for bed. She didn’t have the energy. It still made her suspicious, though. Patrick never did anything without expecting something in return, even for his own child. She wouldn’t let that prey on her mind; instead she wanted to get the kitchen cleaned and get up to bed before Patrick came down, that way, she might avoid any argument.
As she was finishing the last of the dishes she heard him on the stairs. Staring out the window at the overgrown back garden, her heart sank. She’d missed her opportunity. With a sigh, she prepared herself for whatever insulting comments he was about to unleash on her.
‘So, what’s your dad’s problem then?’ The accusation in Patrick’s voice was undeniable.
‘What are you talking about? My dad barely said two words all evening.’
‘Ah. OK. Are we playing that game then? I hate when you play dumb, Lucy … really fucking annoys me.’ Patrick’s lip curled in that sneer that Lucy recognized; she had to think fast, or something bad was going to happen.
‘Seriously, Patrick. I have no clue what you’re talking about.’
Patrick prodded her shoulder sharply as he accentuated each word spoken. ‘Don’t. Worry. I. Know. Exactly. What. I. Am. Talking. About.’ He then tapped his nose and winked. Making his way to the fridge, he peeked past the open door, staring at Lucy as he took out a can and cracked it open. He knew she hated that sound.
Lucy cringed and turned away. He won. She placed the tea towel on the counter and started to walk off. Patrick’s phone pinged indicating he had a text message. Just as Lucy reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard Patrick call out, ‘Well, will you looky here! Looks like your sister might fancy a piece of me.’ Lucy stopped dead in her tracks. Her head was screaming, Ignore him. He’s just doing this to wind you up. She clenched her jaw and began to turn around. What the hell was Mel playing at? When did she start texting MY husband?
Lucy was on her way back to the kitchen when Patrick came out. ‘Oh, you’re back. I thought you were slinking off to bed. And not even a goodnight kiss.’
‘What did my sister want?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’
She swallowed down her rage.
‘Forget it. I’m going upstairs.’
She made a move to turn around, but Patrick was fast. He grabbed her by her upper arm and pulled her close. He gripped her mouth, his thumb and index finger pinching her face so her lips puckered, and he kissed her. Hard. When she eventually broke free, he leaned into her ear and whispered, ‘I wonder if your sister kisses better.’
Patrick smirked as he sat down and looked at the text from Lucy’s sister.
Hi, Patrick. Great to see you tonight. If you ever fancy a pint, give me a bell. Would be great to see you and Lucy again. X M.
Of course, he didn’t tell Lucy about the last bit. He could use it to wind Lucy up. She might even appreciate him more.
Sipping on his beer, Patrick withdrew into his dark place. He knew that alcohol was a bad mix when he was in a mood, but he didn’t care. He drank for many reasons, but mainly to stop the demons that haunted him.
As a child, he was abused sexually, and rather than deal with the abuse, his mother ignored the problem. As Patrick’s dark thoughts spiralled, he was suddenly fifteen years old standing in his bedroom.
It was dark outside and he was shaking with fear, trying not to think about Uncle Stan … He looked at the baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire that he had spent weeks making ….
He nearly