Oliver watched as she made her way along the communal hall. The wheels of her shopping trolley were the last thing he saw disappearing up the stairs.
He stood alone on the path outside Albuquerque House. It was like he’d been stabbed, and he couldn’t let his breath out. What the old lady had just said to him… It couldn’t be true.
But then, insanely, it made sense.
The numbers had switched: the numbers had changed, with apartment six becoming apartment seven temporarily. She said the numbers were back to normal the following morning. Could Meagan have done it? Swapped them around, tricked him, making him kill the wrong guy?
For fuck’s sake. The more he thought about it, the more realistic it seemed. Meagan had begged him to kill her husband; she’d said the second floor, the first apartment on the right past the lift, then she changed her story, insisting she’d told Oliver the apartment was on the left. She’d definitely told him apartment six was on the right side. Oliver was one hundred per cent convinced.
She could easily have swapped the numbers and made him break into the wrong apartment. Oliver thought hard, wondering why she’d done it. What was the purpose of making him kill the wrong man? Unless… He tried to figure it out, his head rushing, his brain on fire, trying to piece it all together. Unless she worked with someone and had planned it all in advance. His mind drifted to the guy who kidnapped both Meagan and Claire. The guy who asked Oliver to transfer fifty thousand pounds. The same guy who’d turned up looking for his partner and making threats. It would explain everything.
Oliver stepped back, holding the side wall, realising the truth of what had happened. It was the only thing that now made perfect sense.
Meagan and the kidnapper had both fucked him over, used him and then spat him out. They’d planned it together all along. She had tricked Oliver into breaking into the wrong apartment, making him kill the wrong person. She had framed him, blackmailed him and then run off with the money. He knew it now, it made sense; she did it, knowing Oliver’s hands were tied. He was unable to go to the police, unable to go after her. She had something over Oliver that would see him locked up for the rest of his life.
Meagan was a fucking genius. She reeled me in, shafted me and threw me to the lions. Oliver dropped to his knees, and holding his head in his hands, he screamed on the steps outside Albuquerque House.
34
Present day
Phil drove with Meagan sat in the passenger seat of the pickup truck. She had the music blaring, her feet on the dashboard, her head buried into her hands and she was laughing uncontrollably.
The events of the last few weeks were running through her mind, and she was barely able to contain her excitement, the reality of what they’d achieved.
Phil screamed out, ‘Fifty fucking grand, Meagan. Fifty grand! Can you believe that arsehole?’
She yelled, hysteria taking over, her body tingling, unable to contain her emotions. She looked across at him and stroked his face, watching the motivation in his eyes, the wild expression.
‘It was so easy; I can’t believe the arsehole fell for it. Happy days, Phil. Happy frigging days.’ She picked up the mask which was sitting between the front seats. ‘I love this. Very effective. Bloody scary though.’
Phil looked across. ‘You did fucking amazing. A right little actress in the making.’
They’d conned Oliver with a plan they’d hatched when they met in a psychiatric hospital.
After Meagan had killed her mother, she’d gone off the rails, unable to cope with the guilt.
Her father went to prison, taking the blame for the death of his wife, keeping the secret to his dying day a couple of years back. Meagan had nothing to do with him. She had decided that being placed in a cell for a crime he didn’t commit was punishment enough. Meagan guessed he’d suffer in much the same way as her mother had.
Aunt Anne had stepped up to the mark, taking her niece in, looking after her, acting as her legal guardian and adoring her. And Anne had watched Meagan’s destruction as she rebelled against society.
During her early teenage years, Meagan was constantly in trouble; petty crimes at first on a small scale, getting into drugs, dealing, mixing with the wrong crowd. When she’d committed one too many offences and was arrested for grievous bodily harm, they locked her up. ‘You’ll serve time,’ her solicitor had explained.
Meagan pleaded with the court, playing the victim card.
She had a psychiatric evaluation. The diagnosis was paranoid personality disorder, often delusional. It was attributed to the trauma she had watched her mother suffer.
Meagan had been so damaged by her father’s cruelty to her mother that she subconsciously distrusted men. Men in general. But Phil was a tool, a way to help her get what she wanted. She was using him as a revenge mechanism. So far, it worked for her.
Phil had been locked up for fraud; he was a conman of the highest order. He’d faked a bipolar condition and gained entry to a hospital where he’d be loosely monitored. Anything was better than prison.
Meagan and Phil had struck up a relationship, eating meals together, talking whenever possible. The attraction was instant, but not sexual.
Phil had a plan, but he’d need help. He explained the idea to Meagan, and it was something they’d put to work as soon as they left the hospital.
He’d planned the con for years, and all he needed was help; someone who could play the victim, entice the opposite sex, get what she wanted. Meagan was perfect.
Meagan was released a couple of years before Phil. She’d taken regular medication, put her head down and it seemed like she’d finally got her life in order.
Once outside, she was down on her luck with nowhere to turn and no money. Her aunt had died years ago, willing the farmhouse to a charity. It was her final response to the shit that Meagan had put her through.
Meagan met Rob and fell for him hard. He was the perfect gentleman at first, treating her like a lady, showering her with gifts, providing a home; all the comfort she needed until he started slapping her about. The abuse was verbal at first, she could deal with that, just about, but it became severe, until he was knocking her about and beating her daily. She feared for her life, needed a way out. Meagan was trapped with nowhere to turn and nowhere to hide.
She received a text message from Phil. He’d been released, let out earlier than expected for good behaviour. He wanted to meet her and put the plan in action immediately. Meagan was worried, as she couldn’t even take a piss without asking her husband.
Rob had a trip planned, telling Meagan he’d be away for a couple of nights. That was perfect; she used the opportunity to meet Phil and get the ball rolling.
A couple of weeks later, it was time. She’d been attacked by her husband, kicked and punched like a rag doll, so it wouldn’t be difficult to find someone who would offer a helping hand.