The Role Model: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists Page 11

  Opening my bedroom door, I know that Mum is out at work, but that doesn’t mean I don’t listen out for any noises just in case she has returned unexpectedly without me hearing her. But the house is silent, so I leave my room and trot down the stairs, only stopping to pull on my jacket before leaving the house and locking the front door.

  It feels good to be out in the sunlight, although it is admittedly rather pale sunlight that is peeping through the puffy white clouds that always seem to be hanging over this part of the world. I’m in no rush to get to the shop and back, instead opting to take my time because every second I am out here is one more second away from that revision. I also find it easier to dispel the thoughts of Rupert when I am outside, as if the fresh air is somehow a mild antidote to the torment of knowing something about myself that would disgust anyone else who knew it.

  As I turn the street corner, the shop comes into view up ahead, and I think about what I might treat myself to with the £3.50 I have jangling around in the bottom of my purse. A can of something fizzy is a given, but I’m not sure whether to pair it up with crisps or chocolate yet, and I’m still debating that as I enter the shop and walk past the bald Indian man behind the counter.

  In the end, I opt for crisps and pick up a large packet of cheese & onion before grabbing a cold can from the fridge and turning back to the counter. But as I do, I see the stack of newspapers beside it, and it’s impossible to avoid reading what’s on the front page.

  MYSTERY OF MISSING TEEN – PARENTS APPEAL AGAIN FOR HELP

  The headline is accompanied by what is now the familiar photo of Rupert that has been widely circulated and used in all the reports surrounding his disappearance. It’s a picture of him taken on a family holiday last summer and shows him smiling as he stands in front of a brilliant blue sea. I must have seen that photo a hundred times over the last week, although it still hasn’t replaced the lasting image I have of Rupert in my mind; the one of his lifeless face on the ground, eyes open and staring soullessly back at me.

  I don’t think anything will get rid of that one.

  ‘Terrible, isn’t it?’

  I’m snapped out of my daydream by the words from the shopkeeper, and I see him shaking his head as he looks at the stack of newspapers nearby.

  ‘I was hoping there would be some good news by now. But it doesn’t seem like it,’ he adds as I place my items on the counter between us.

  ‘Yeah,’ I reply as I fish in my purse for the required money, and I’m happy that the man has nothing else to add as I pay him and take my items out of the shop.

  Back out on the street, I do my best to shake the image of Rupert’s photo from my mind and try to think about something more comforting. After hopefully passing my exams and getting the grades I require, I will soon be able to leave this town as I go to university, and with it the memory of what has happened here. I have no doubt that things will become a little easier once I am in a new place, far away from things that can remind me of my past. It will be a fresh start, in more ways than one, and I look forward to it, almost as much as I look forward to tucking into my snacks when I get back home.

  I’m back on my street again and only about a minute away from my front door when I hear the scrape of a shoe on the tarmac of the pavement behind me. Turning around, I see a man in his mid-twenties walking towards me, and I can’t help but notice how scruffy he is as I turn back around and carry on my way. But then I notice that he is now walking alongside me, and I’m not sure whether to slow down or speed up to avoid any awkward interaction when he makes that decision for me.

  ‘Hi, Chloe.’

  I stop walking immediately and look at the man, trying to figure out who he is and how he knows my name.

  ‘I’m sorry. Do I know you?’ I ask, unable to place him.

  ‘No, but you do now. My name’s Jimmy, and I’m the man who knows your dirty little secret.’

  I say nothing as I rack my brains for any way that he might know what that secret is. He is too old to be at my college so he can’t have been at the house party that night. And as far as I knew, there was nobody else at the park when I was there with Rupert, other than my mum, who turned up a little later. So maybe I’m okay. Then again, what other dirty little secret could he be referring to if not Rupert?

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I ask, deciding that’s the best thing to say in this situation.

  ‘I’m talking about the missing lad that everybody is looking for,’ he says, eyeing me up and down as I stand before him, clutching my treats from the shop. ‘I’m talking about the lad that your mother has buried in the woods.’

  22

  HEATHER

  It’s good to be home.

  It’s even better to have a glass of wine in my hand.

  I make my way into the living room, where I pick up the remote control and try to find something to watch on the TV that isn’t just another news report on poor Rupert. But it’s not easy. It’s that annoying window of time between six and seven o’clock in the evening which means nearly all the terrestrial channels are broadcasting the news. It wouldn’t be so much of a problem if my digi-box wasn’t on the blink again because then I would have had way more channels to choose from, but thankfully, I find some cooking show on BBC2, and that will have to do for now.

  Anything but another report showing that picture of Rupert standing in front of the sea on a family holiday.

  As I try to lose myself in the banality of a couple of C-List celebrities standing over a sizzling pan of meat, I am reminded of the fact that I’m sitting in the exact place where Tim died. While the carpet and sofa have changed since that fateful day, the memory of what happened here has not. I did consider moving not long after, but I had enough on my plate with raising Chloe, training for the police and trying to come to terms with the fact that I had killed a man to add a change of address to the equation. I figured I’d move a few years later, once I had settled into my new job and Chloe was a little older. But then there were all the reports of the housing market crash and how it wasn’t the right time to be moving, so I put it off and now here I am, still in this house that harbours a deadly secret. But if I’m honest with myself, there is another reason why I haven’t sold up and left this place behind, and I’m pretty sure it’s the determining one.

  It’s because I feel that as long as I am the one living here, then my secret is safe.

  I don’t know what it is, but I have this belief that allowing a stranger to buy this home and make it their own will somehow unleash its past into the public eye, and considering that I have gotten away with Tim’s death so far, I’m reluctant to tempt fate and change anything. I’m not sure if that means that I’m going to stay here forever, but maybe it does. I obviously have to take the secret of Tim’s fate to the grave, so I might as well live here until I go there too.

  Of course, it’s not just the one secret that I have to take to the grave anymore. Rupert’s whereabouts is the second one, and it’s the thought of that which makes me worry again about Chloe. I called upstairs to her when I arrived home from work ten minutes ago, but she only responded with a muffled shout about revision, so I didn’t want to interrupt her. But the sound of her bedroom door opening lets me know that she might be coming to me for once now.

  I hear her footsteps descending the staircase and turn around to see her, doing my best to put a little smile onto my face as if to say that everything is alright in the world, which of course, it is not. But then I see Chloe’s expression, and my false smile quickly fades. She looks troubled.

  Even more so than she did on the night that Rupert died.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, grabbing the remote and switching off the cooking show.

  Chloe says nothing as she slumps down onto the sofa beside me and stares blankly at the black TV screen in front of us, so I can only assume at this point, and my best guess would be that it has to do with what happened with Rupert.

  It turns out it is.

  But it
’s much worse than I feared.

  ‘Somebody saw us,’ Chloe says, her voice low and her eyes still focused on the TV.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Somebody saw what happened to Rupert.’

  I rack my brains for any way that could be true.

  ‘What are you talking about? Who saw us?’

  ‘Jimmy saw us.’

  ‘Who the hell is Jimmy?’

  No answer.

  ‘Chloe. What are you talking about? This isn’t funny!’ I say although I am still hoping this is some kind of weird joke.

  ‘I know it’s not funny. It’s bad.’

  That chilling response does nothing to ease my nerves, and I grab my daughter’s hand and force her to look at me.

  ‘Chloe, tell me what is going on. Right now!’

  ‘A man stopped me on the street earlier and said he knew what we did that night.’

  ‘How does he know that?’

  ‘He says he was in the park and saw your car turn up. He watched you walk over to me. And he saw you bury Rupert.’

  I think back to that dreadful night in the park. It was obviously pitch black, but I was sure that no one else was around. There were no signs of anybody.

  Then I remember the sound of the twig snapping in the woods.

  Was that him?

  Was that Jimmy?

  ‘What else did he say to you?’ I ask, trying to keep calm, although the grimace on my daughter’s face lets me know that I am squeezing her hand too tightly.

  ‘He says he wants you to meet him,’ Chloe replies, removing her hand from mine. ‘Tomorrow. At the same park. Five o’clock.’

  ‘I can’t do tomorrow. I’ll be at work.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s optional, Mum.’

  Chloe still seems very calm despite what she is telling me, and I’m not sure why. If this is true, we are in serious trouble.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? You could have called me!’ I tell her.

  ‘I needed some time to think. I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth. I thought that maybe...it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘What?’ I ask, taking hold of her hand again.

  ‘I don’t know. I thought that I’d imagined it somehow. Like an hallucination. Because of all the stress I’ve been under.’

  I think about what my daughter has just said, and while it does sound a little ridiculous, I understand where she is coming from. To say the last seven days have been tough would be the understatement of the century. I can’t blame Chloe for feeling like her brain is muddled right now. I sure as hell know that mine is.

  ‘But it wasn’t an hallucination?’ I ask, trying to get some clarity.

  Chloe shakes her head.

  ‘No. It was real, alright.’

  ‘You have no idea who this guy is?’ I ask. ‘Did you recognise him? Could it be somebody from your college?’

  ‘No, he’s older. Mid-twenties, I think. Said he was called Jimmy. I tried to find a photo of him on social media, but I can’t do much with just a first name.’

  I nod my head. I don’t bother saying that Jimmy is probably a fake name too.

  ‘So he didn’t say what he wanted?’

  ‘No. Just said he wanted to meet you tomorrow.’

  ‘Just me? Not you?’

  Chloe shakes her head.

  I’m suddenly aware that I am holding in my breath and let out a deep exhale. Apparently, I’m so stressed now that I have to remind myself to breathe. But somehow, I don’t think my anxiety levels are going to diminish any time soon. Not until the meeting tomorrow, at least.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Chloe asks me, searching my face for some sign of hope.

  ‘I’ll have to go to the park and meet him,’ I reply, shrugging my shoulders. ‘What else can I do?’

  ‘Be careful,’ Chloe warns me, taking her turn to give my hand a squeeze now. ‘This guy could be a nutter.’

  ‘Let’s hope not,’ I reply, feeling my daughter’s hand gripping me but actually enjoying it because it’s giving me strength. ‘Maybe he just wants something simple.’

  ‘Like money?’

  I shrug. ‘What else could he want?’

  We sit in silence for the next few minutes, out of things to say but no doubt with plenty to think about. I wish I knew the answer to my last question, but I’m going to have to wait until tomorrow to find out what Jimmy is after.

  I just pray that it is something that I can give him.

  For all of our sakes.

  23

  HEATHER

  I check my watch and see that it is two minutes to five. Glancing nervously around the park, I look to see if there is any sign of the man who is supposed to be meeting me here at this time.

  Where is Jimmy?

  My heart won’t stop racing until I find out.

  I spot a figure approaching from the car park and wonder if that could be him until he gets closer, and I realise that he is a little old for the person that Chloe described. She said Jimmy looked to be in his mid-twenties, and this man looks close to forty. Then I see him turn around and open out his arms for the child running behind him. He’s just some father taking his kid to the park.

  He’s definitely not a guy on his way to blackmail someone.

  Looking left and right, I see nobody else of interest other than a couple of teenagers sitting on their bikes over by the railings and an old woman pottering around by the flowerbeds. Checking my watch again, I see that it is one minute to five.

  Is Jimmy going to show?

  Or is this just one big hoax?

  I had to pull a sickie just to be here at this time today, feigning stomach cramps halfway into my shift this afternoon and bailing out on my colleagues back at the station. I hate lying, and I’m not sure if any of them actually bought it, but as lies go, it’s definitely not the worst one I have ever told in my life.

  I’m just about to check the time again, estimating that it must be five by now, when something disrupts me out of nowhere.

  ‘Good afternoon.’

  The sound of the male voice right behind me almost makes me jump out of my skin, and I spin around to see the young man standing nearby. He’s mid-twenties. He’s smirking. And he is here at five o’clock.

  This must be Jimmy.

  ‘Thank you for meeting me,’ he says. ‘Let’s take a walk.’

  He starts moving away from me across the grass, but I don’t follow him.

  ‘What do you want?’ I ask, expecting him to stop and turn back to me. But he doesn’t. He just keeps going. He obviously wants to take the lead.

  I briefly consider not giving him the power, but what choice do I really have? He is holding all the cards here.

  Walking after him, I just about catch him up in time to hear him speak again.

  ‘As I said to Chloe, I saw what happened in this park just over a week ago,’ Jimmy says, strolling with his hands in his pockets as if he is out for a leisurely walk and not a discussion about something that could make the national news if it was to ever come out. ‘I know what happened to poor, unfortunate Rupert, and I know what part you played in that too.’

  ‘Where were you?’ I ask, not that it really matters. But for some reason, I need to know.

  ‘I was over there when you first arrived at the park,’ he says, pointing to the row of hedges in the distance. ‘But I ended up in there.’ He points to the woods to our left. ‘That’s where I watched you bury him.’

  ‘I heard you,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘I’d hoped it was nothing, but it must have been you.’

  ‘Yeah, I accidentally snapped a twig. I was worried you’d seen me, but I guess not.’

  We walk on in silence for a moment as I think back on the memory of that night. But there are no more answers to be found there. Only the ones I am seeking now.

  ‘It wasn’t my daughter’s fault,’ I say, figuring that it’s worth pointing that out just in case it can help improve this situation. ‘It was an accident.�
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  ‘Was it an accident that you dug that hole?’ he asks me, glancing at me with a grin that makes me hate him even more than I already do.

  ‘I was just trying to protect my daughter. Do you have kids? If not, then you won’t understand.’

  ‘If it was an accident, then why hide it? Why not just call the police and tell them the truth?’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that. I didn’t know if they’d believe her, and even if they did, I didn’t want her life being ruined because of it.’

  ‘So you decided to ruin it another way instead? You decided to keep it a secret and subject her to a lifetime of guilt?’

  It does sound bad when it’s put like that.

  ‘I panicked,’ I confess, breaking off from the walk for a moment and hoping that Jimmy will do the same. ‘I know it was wrong, and I feel terrible for what I did, but it’s too late now, isn’t it? I can’t change it. I can only make things worse.’

  ‘For yourself and your daughter, maybe,’ Jimmy says, still walking, and I’m forced to catch him up again. ‘But not for Rupert’s family. Don’t they deserve to know what happened?’

  ‘Of course they do. But I can’t tell them. I can’t tell anyone. Otherwise, Chloe’s life will be ruined.’

  ‘And yours,’ Jimmy reminds me. ‘She’ll get prison time, but you’ll get plenty too.’

  He’s stating the obvious there, so I don’t bother replying.

  ‘But maybe it doesn’t have to come to that,’ he goes on, only now pausing and standing still for the first time since this conversation began.

  ‘What do you want?’ I ask, preparing myself to be given a figure so large that it will clean out my bank account and leave me needing to work extra shifts at the police station for the next ten years.

  ‘That’s a good question,’ he muses, running his hand over the stubble on his cheeks. ‘What do you think it is that I want?’