It seemed she was surrounded by wicked men.
Whatever had gone on in that building, the body in the bath wasn’t Oliver’s responsibility.
He also worried that Rob would get the better of him, struggle free, then what?
He wanted to message Meagan, but they’d decided not to communicate until it was over. They couldn’t risk leaving a trail.
Oliver sat in the kitchen, sipping his coffee, wishing it was this time tomorrow and it was all over.
After Oliver finished his coffee, he showered, dressed and left his apartment. He planned on going to work to take his mind off the task, to keep busy, try and act as normal as possible, avoid suspicion. He wanted to see Meagan, hold her, tell her everything would be okay, that it was all in hand, plain sailing and straightforward. But would it be that simple? So many things could go wrong.
They’d agreed that meeting up at the station may jeopardise their plan; they couldn’t risk being seen together, now that Oliver knew what Meagan wanted him to do.
He passed the crowds of people on the way to the station; men and women in suits, blurred figures, mobiles balancing on their shoulders pressed to their ears, loud voices, briefcases swinging – just another day.
Oliver struggled to concentrate. His head was rushing with thoughts, his body aching with anticipation.
As he got to the station, he waited on the platform, too frightened to look around in case Meagan was there.
Once he reached the office, he got his head down and threw himself into his work.
It was late morning when Meagan’s phone alerted her of a message; a short, one sentence text.
Getting on the plane, see you in a couple of hours. Rob.
Meagan felt weak, uncertain she could go through with it, but the plan was in action, and she had little choice. This was the first step to her new life. It had to be done.
She switched off her phone, because she feared Rob would use some app to locate her, quickly dressed and left apartment six.
She walked along the King’s Road fighting the paranoia, certain that people were staring, watching her, judging. She crossed the road, entering the same coffee shop where she’d met Sarah a few weeks ago.
It was busy. There was a queue of people standing impatiently waiting to order, tourists planning their day, office staff getting a quick caffeine hit at the end of the busy morning.
A waitress greeted her, furiously wiping a stubborn stain from the edge of a table, her finger pushed into a J-cloth. ‘Hi. You want to take a seat?’
Meagan shook her head, her mind going into overdrive. Maybe she knows. Why did she ask me the question and not anyone else? Singling me out and not the others? As Meagan watched the waitress move behind her, she fought a helpless feeling as she reached into her handbag. She was considering calling Oliver, telling him to forget they’d ever met.
The waitress greeted an elderly couple coming in through the front door arm in arm. The spotlight was on them, the waitress fussing, asking them to take a seat. See, it’s not just me. Get a grip. Breathe woman, breathe, you can do this.
Meagan ordered a latte and sat in the corner of the room. She had time to kill. Her mind drifted once again to Oliver. She wondered if he wished it was only time he was killing.
Oliver left the office at 5pm sharp, heading back to his apartment. He needed to go through everything in his head and plan this evening, get it right.
Meagan had given him the code to the front door of the building and explained where her apartment was. She only had one key to the apartment so Oliver would have to find a way to break in. ‘Damage the door a little,’ she’d said. Not a problem. My grandad was a locksmith and taught me the tricks of the trade.
He’d find an autoinjector containing botulinum in the storeroom of the basement hall. Meagan described where he would find it. His orders were clear. Break into apartment six, stab the autoinjector into her husband and leave.
He contemplated how it would play out, how he’d feeclass="underline" taking the life of another person, watching him take his last breath, ending Rob’s existence. He pictured Meagan to make it all seem worthwhile. Oliver suddenly felt ill; he couldn’t eat, his body was shaking uncontrollably. He wanted to call Meagan, see if there was another way. He already knew the answer.
He left home at just past 8pm and made his way to Albuquerque House.
As he stood outside, he looked up at the four-storey building, the path leading to the front door and the lights at the front of the block.
The side road was practically empty, a couple of buses and the occasional car passed as he looked to the High Street.
Apartment six was on the second floor; he’d enter the building, keep as silent as possible, go to the basement, get what he needed, then slowly creep up to the second floor.
He punched in the code to open the main door. The numbers were so small. Now he understood why the residents used a key. It took him several goes, tapping, re-tapping, pressing cancel and trying again. Hearing a loud clunk, he pulled the door towards him.
Once inside, Oliver made sure the place was safe for him to move. There were no security cameras. Meagan had told him the building was often vandalised, and they’d been ripped off the walls.
Oliver stood for a moment, struggling to stem the nervous energy which had built in him. He breathed deeply, in and out, steadying himself by placing his hand on the wall.
Okay, just relax, Oliver. You break in and poison the bastard. Remember what he’s doing to Meagan. How cruel and evil the fucker is. If anyone deserves this fate, this ending, it’s this fucker. You can do this, just go to the apartment, break in and bang. Take him out.
Oliver slowly made his way down to the basement.
8
Twenty years ago - Before the phone call
Tricia had finally recovered from the flu. She was feeling better.
Meagan had made toast and brought it up to her mother’s bedroom, placing it on the side table. ‘I made you food, Mummy. It will help you to get well.’
Tricia sat up, watching her daughter, wishing it could just be the two of them. ‘Thank you, Meggy, you are a sweetheart.’
When Tricia came down a short while after eating, she found her daughter colouring a picture with crayons.
‘Mummy, are you better now?’
‘I am, my lovely; I’m much better. Where’s your father?’
‘In his room; I heard him talking on the phone. Mummy, why is Daddy always angry?’
Tricia crouched beside her daughter. ‘Honey, it’s okay. He has lots to deal with. You need to understand that, okay? Sometimes adults behave in a peculiar way. It doesn’t make them bad people.’
‘I think Daddy’s bad.’
‘Oh Meagan, don’t ever think that. Your daddy loves you more than anything.’
Tricia went to the stairs. ‘Sean, are you hungry?’
When he didn’t answer, she asked Meagan, ‘No Sarah today?’
Meagan looked up. ‘Her daddy is angry. I don’t think she’s allowed over.’
‘Why?’
Meagan explained what happened the other night; Sarah’s father coming over, shouting at their front door.
‘Okay. Look, get something warm on you, we’ll go and see them.’
They spent a couple of hours at Sarah’s. The girls played in the garden on the climbing frame, bouncing on the trampoline and overeating. Mr Tunney made coffee for the adults and produced a homemade cake from the oven.