‘Talking of the fire,’ I say. ‘Did anyone notice there’s a piece of clothing burning on the fire? The remains of a top or maybe a jacket, I think.’
Everyone shakes their head, none of them seeming to see what I could see – that it could belong to the killer. I open my mouth to suggest it, then catch Finn’s eye. It’s more important that I tell him what’s happened to his mum.
I rise from the sofa, my legs feeling less numb, and crouch at Finn’s knees. I rest my arm on the armrest and twiddle a strand of my hair around my finger. ‘There’s something you need to know,’ I say, placing my other hand over his. ‘It’s awful news. I’m so sorry.’
‘What is it?’ A shadow crosses his eyes. ‘You’re freaking me out, Amelia.’
‘It’s your mum—’
‘Mum?’ He covers his mouth as though he knows already what I’m about to say.
‘She’s dead, Finn,’ I say, and squeeze his hand. ‘Someone killed her.’
Chapter 31
Present Day
Amelia
Finn is in bits, his eyes wild, his body shaking, as he struggles to take off his coat. Dad arrived back moments after I told Finn about his mum. And at Finn’s insistence, he took him to see Ruth’s body.
‘What the hell was she wearing?’ Finn says now, as though that’s important.
I jump to my feet and take his arm, lead him to the sofa, and sit down beside him. ‘I’m so sorry, Finn,’ I say, as he thrusts his head into his hands and sobs. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
Eventually, like a lost child, his sobs slow to small jolts of sadness, and he lays his head on my shoulder.
Tears burn my eyes. I’m devastated for Finn. But I’m afraid for us all.
*
It’s gone midnight, and the wind howls around the cottage, rattling windows. There’s still no power, and the wood burner and candles have almost burned out. The silence is unbearable. We have no answers to Elise’s disappearance or Ruth’s death. The only comfort I hold on to is that we are together – safe, for now.
Dad is sitting on the floor, his back to the wall. ‘Tomorrow we’ll start again,’ he whispers into the silent room.
We haven’t seen Rosamund since she went up to bed earlier. She must have been exhausted, and I remember how tiring pregnancy can be. Better she sleeps, than lie awake, her mind whirring with worry about Elise, when there’s nothing any of us can do.
‘Goodnight,’ Thomas says, raising his hand, as Maddie pushes his wheelchair into the downstairs bedroom. She closes the door on him, and heads upstairs to her own room without a word.
Finn is sleeping next to me on the sofa, and I rise, grab a blanket from a pile Maddie got from the airing cupboard earlier, and move to one of the armchairs. Dad gets to his feet and drops into the chair Maddie vacated. ‘I’m knackered,’ he says, closing his eyes.
I wonder, once we are all settled, whether I will actually sleep. My head feels thick and heavy, as though I’m carrying rocks inside my skull. They bump against my thoughts and worries, bruising them.
The candles snuff out one by one, and eventually the fire is nothing more than red embers. Dad and Finn snuffle and snore, and as the wind cries, whipping around the cottage like a phantom, my eyelids finally fall heavy over my eyes.
Chapter 32
A Year Ago
Amelia
Despite the long day at the beach, and feeling so tired at dinner, Amelia struggled to sleep, her mind whirring with thoughts of the ridiculous game of Truth or Lie, followed by Elise’s outburst, and Rosamund calling her stepdaughter a liar.
She tossed and turned for several hours, before rising and padding towards the window, gripping her Kindle in her mitts, intent on reading the night away.
She pulled back the curtain, and sat down in the wing-backed chair positioned so she could take in the view of the ruins and forest, the full moon lighting the area.
It was around midnight a flash of white in the forest disturbed her reading. Had she imagined it? Someone dressed in white flitting through the trees? A child perhaps? A shudder ran down her spine, as she peered closer to the window, the memory of Finn claiming ghosts wandered there – his dead sister – fresh in her mind. She swallowed. She was being ridiculous, and being spooked wasn’t going to help her already overactive mind. She pulled the curtain across, and continued reading.
It was almost 2 a.m. when she heard a distant scream. Heart beating way too fast, she leaned forward and peered through the gap in the curtain like a nosy neighbour. The sky was clear of clouds, the moon high above the ruins. She shuddered, her eyes flitting to and fro. But all was silent and still. It must have been an animal. The other cottages were in darkness. Everyone was sleeping. She returned to the bed, propped her body against the headboard and began reading once more.
Before she’d even finished a chapter, she fell into a deep sleep. Within the midst of a strange dream, she heard a squeaking sound. It was real – outside the realms of sleep – she felt sure of it, but however much she tried, she couldn’t break free of the dream.
It was a car engine starting up that finally woke her, followed by a squeal of car tyres. She glanced at her phone: 2.30 a.m. She leapt from the bed and raced towards the window.
Outside, red tail-lights disappeared into the distance. Someone was leaving Drummondale House.
When the car was out of sight, she returned to bed once more, and squeezed her eyes closed. Trying to forget the scream, the squeaking, and the disappearing car, she pulled the duvet over her head, burying herself in it, as though it was a cocoon. One thing was certain: Drummondale House was making her increasingly uneasy.
*
Amelia was on the sofa, cradling a cup of tea when an urgent hammering on
