Familiar Strangers Page 23

  ‘I… I…’

  ‘Shut up.’

  The ground below my feet feels like it’s shifting. I know it’s not, that it’s just in my head, but I walk away from her anyway, attempting to calm down. What will I do now? Dad knows I was abducted, thanks to Joanna sticking her nose in. She’s still there, by the wall where I left her, staring over at me. My mouth is completely dry, my head burning, I need to get some water.

  I wanted to tell him, to assure him that as far as I was concerned, it changed nothing, that he was still my dad. He didn’t know anything about the abduction so I have no reason to blame him. I wonder what his reaction was when he discovered his favorite daughter was really buried at the end of his yard.

  ‘He cried,’ Joanna says when I eventually muster up the courage to go back over and ask her. ‘He wanted to know if you knew but I said I didn’t think so.’

  ‘Does he know Katie Collins was my sister?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I don’t want to continue talking to Joanna about this because she feels like an intruder in our secret. It’s our secret, it doesn’t belong to her. Danny had no right telling her. She must have really loved him to marry him, even after hearing what happened. Weird that, I’d have run ten miles in the opposite direction rather than get involved with such a fucked-up family.

  ‘I’m parched. I need to get some water before I go in and face him or I’ll collapse.’

  I think of Jeff, sitting in there by Dad’s side. I wonder if they’re talking, discussing me or Danny, or just sitting there, Dad trying to swallow the truth, Jeff wishing he was someplace else.

  ‘There’s a deli over there,’ Joanna says, pointing to Jack’s Deli across the road. ‘Or there’s a vending machine inside.’

  I don’t want to answer her, to make normal conversation with her after what she’s done, so I walk in the direction of the precinct. ‘Do you need change?’ she says, taking her purse from her bag. I grab the purse and walk ahead of her into the building. Dad turns to look at me when he hears the doors open. I freeze.

  ‘It’s over there,’ Ms. Know-All says, her manicured nail pointing at the machine in the corner. Afraid to take my eyes off Dad in case he disappears, I stand for a moment watching him watching me. Do something, Dad, say something. He smiles, just a small one. It forces its shape onto his shrinking face. But it’s enough for now.

  Joanna walks back over to Dad while I make my way to the vending machine. Two dollars, I need two dollars. Opening the zip on her expensive Gucci purse, I take out a bundle of notes as a young woman pushes past me, cursing and swinging her arms, knocking the purse from my hand. It opens out – credit cards, identity cards, loyalty cards, probably all in alphabetical order, fill the pockets of the wallet. Bending down, I’m about to close it over when I see something that looks out of place. A slip of white notepaper.

  I open it.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  To Rebecca Wall,

  My name is Katie Collins. I need to talk to you. My cell is 1 504 6070143 Email – KatieC10@gmail.com. I’m only in town for a few days. It’s crucial we meet up.

  I HAVE SOMETHING VERY IMPORTANT TO TELL YOU.

  Call me.

  Katie

  I read it again, this time the room fading from my consciousness. It was her. Joanna. Perfect fucking Joanna, with her perfect eyelashes and perfect house. How could I not have seen it? I knew it was someone in the family but she completely dodged my radar. How could I possibly have suspected Danny or Dad?

  Oh my God. Joanna killed Katie Collins. She had the note all along. She is the one who arranged to meet Katie. What does this mean? Poor Liam. Poor Danny. The bitch stood by and let Danny get arrested. How could she do that?

  I lift my head. All I can see is Joanna. Dark green eyes open wide, locked on mine, unable to blink. MAC Chili-coated lips, open with fear. Slowly I stand, holding the stare, clenching the note in my hand.

  Joanna walks towards me, calculating her next move, I imagine. How to explain this. I cannot let her have one more moment of control. I must get the note to Turner before she has a chance to take it from me and make up some story, manipulate the situation. Lie. Kill me too.

  Turner has to be told Joanna is the one who had the note, the only one who could have made that call. I can’t believe she was letting Danny take the fall for this. Turning on my heels, I head towards the door. Joanna follows me.

  ‘Becca, Becca,’ she calls out, her voice swelled in panic.

  ‘Detective Turner,’ I shout, pushing my way towards the door, one hand in the air parading the note. ‘Turner, I have it. I found the note.’

  ‘Becca, Becca,’ she calls out after me. ‘It’s not what it looks like.’

  It is what it looks like. Everything is spinning into control.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Dad standing up, looking at me with a concerned expression. He doesn’t know what’s going on. His whole life, he hasn’t known what was going on.

  The door swings open with one push. Left? Right? I don’t know… Go right. Mom always said, ‘If you’re ever lost, Becca, turn right.’ Funny I can think of that now.

  ‘Turner,’ I call out, officers in uniforms looking bemused as I pass their stations.

  ‘Can I help you?’ one guy says, standing up. I rush past him, Joanna closing in behind me, the clanking of her high heeled shoes on the tiled floor becoming more rapid. Click-clock, click-clock.

  ‘Detective Turner,’ I shout again, continuing to hurry as I enter a narrow corridor. Joanna’s pleas ringing in my ear. ‘Wait, Becca… I can explain.’

  I’m going to run out of options if she doesn’t appear soon. Where the hell is Turner?

  ‘Rebecca.’

  I hear her voice, her dull, unexcited voice. Turner is standing behind me when I look around.

  ‘I have it. I have the note.’ I say, holding my hand out. ‘I know who met Katie Collins at Treehill Park.’ Turner’s eyes move to the piece of paper imprisoned in my grip.

  Click-clock, click-clock, Joanna is now running down the corridor, away from us.

  ‘You might want to stop her.’ I say, gasping for breath while pointing in Joanna’s direction. But before my words have an impact, Joanna is apprehended by a man in uniform as she tries to escape.

  With the evidence safely in Turner’s possession, I walk down the corridor. I have no job, no place of my own. Maybe it’s time to make a fresh start. Move away from here and own my new identity. New Orleans is nice. I open the door to where the only other person deceived by this lifelong pretense waits outside. Will I call him Dad? Probably.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Four Weeks Earlier

  Slipping out from under the duvet, a shadow in the dark room, Joanna gently pulled on the handle that she had never fully closed when she came to bed. The less noise she made, the less chance Danny would wake up. Out in the hallway, she lifted her feet off the wooden boards with precision. A creak could do it, startle him, put an end to her plan.

  The woman was not going to ruin everything. Not now. Not with Joanna’s whole world finally moving in the right direction. She had taken a risk marrying Danny. His past kept him awake at night. But it had paid off. Joanna had it all now; the fancy house, the fancy car, the best of friends. And, in a couple of weeks’ time, the baby.

  She knew if this woman ever got to meet Becca, Joanna’s whole world would be destroyed. Danny would be questioned and possibly even arrested for the death of that little baby all those years ago. When she found Katie’s note in her father-in-law’s mailbox, Joanna knew the past had arrived to taunt the future. Her future. And she was not about to let some trailer trash passer-by destroy that.

  At the bottom of the stairs she walked in the darkness to the cloakroom, switching on the small light inside the door. Her heart was beating faster. Anxious? Excited? Joanna wasn’t sure. It was the same feeling she’d had the day she searched Becca’s apartment to see if Katie had sent a note there too.

 
; Taking her jacket from the hook, she realized it didn’t fit anymore. It wouldn’t close over the bump. The night was cold, icy cold, she could feel it sneaking in below the front door. So she took Danny’s navy jacket and tried it on. Perfect, it closed all the way up, covering the bump and keeping her warm. With the sleeves pushed up, she pulled on a pair of Uggs, tucked in her pajama bottoms and walked to the kitchen. 1.45am; the meeting was at 2am. Fifteen minutes, plenty of time. Taking the keys from the hook by the door, she stepped out into the dark night, the whistling wind providing a camouflage for the car’s engine as she backed out onto the empty road.

  Rehearsing her story, Joanna moved through the night’s shadows, arriving at the pre-arranged spot. The bridge. ‘You can’t miss it. It’s the only one. It crosses the dried-up river.’ No one else would be there at that hour.

  Thinking she was meeting Becca, Katie had agreed to wait until Becca had finished her shift at work. She would have agreed to anything, she was so desperate to meet her. Her sister.

  It was never meant to happen the way it did. The push, the fall, the body just lying there, blood flowing from the back of her head. But she wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t go away.

  Joanna had tried to tell Katie Collins that her sister wanted nothing to do with her. That she had sent Joanna to tell her to leave her alone or she’d kill herself, just like their mom did.

  Joanna thought that would scare her. That Katie would go away when she heard that. But she was wrong. Katie demanded that her sister tell her to her face. Said she was going to meet her, whether Becca wanted to or not. Katie had spent most of her life searching for her sister and was not walking away now that she had found her.

  Joanna recognized Katie’s determination, her strength. Her ability to win.

  It infuriated her. She was not going to lose everything. Frantically, she moved closer to Katie, grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to the ground, cracking her head off a rock. The dark night disguised the color but Joanna knew it was blood flowing from Katie’s head. Bending down, one arm wrapped around the baby bump, she leaned over Katie’s face and felt soft breath escaping from Katie’s lips. Joanna could sense the life in front of her draining away but there was still time. She could make the call.

  With one hand on her back, the other pushing the soil below her, Joanna pulled herself into a standing position, feeling the cell phone in her pocket. She looked down at Katie, the past lying at her feet. She wrapped protective hands over her bump, the future. If she did make the call, what would happen to the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect murderer?

  Joanna walked away.

  A LETTER FROM JACKIE

  Thank you for taking the time to read my debut novel, Familiar Strangers. If you enjoyed it, and I really hope you have, I would love to hear your thoughts via a review. Knowing what you think of the story is important to me.

  The story came to me when I visited my aunt in a nursing home. People who didn’t know their own name, or that of their loved ones, could somehow move into their past and live there momentarily, like time travel. It was very stressful for the families, which stayed with me. To lose someone before they are dead must be a different kind of grief and I wanted to portray this agony in Becca’s story.

  The other thought that played in my mind, was what if one of these patients revealed a dark secret from their past?

  I hope you enjoyed this journey with Becca as she discovers the truth behind her own identity, the lies she has been subjected to and the strong woman she proves to be.

  The story is not true and all the characters are fictional. Researching the types and stages of Alzheimer’s disease, was both interesting and sad. Depicting the loss of a loved one was painful.

  Thank you for your support. I would love to have your continued support as I progress on my writing journey.

  You are welcome to contact me with any questions or comments any time. I’m available on Facebook and Twitter.

  Best Wishes

  Jackie Walsh

  https://twitter.com/JackieWalsh_ie

  https://www.facebook.com/jackiewalsh.ie/

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  What surprised me most about writing a novel, is how an isolated venture could bring me in contact with so many wonderful people. Without their encouragement and knowledge, I would not have got to where I am today. Amongst these people, some wonderful friends.

  Patricia Gibney, who has been an endless source of encouragement during each stage of the process and also my traveling partner.

  Louise Phillips, a genuine champion for anyone starting out on this journey.

  Niamh Brennan and Grainne Daly, two great writers with whom I laugh a lot.

  Declan Burke, who has played an important role in developing my writing.

  Conor Kostick at the Irish Writer’s Centre, who suggested, that with a lot of work I might get there.

  Well, here I am, but not without the support of the most important people in my life, my family. My Dad, my sister and brothers, nieces and nephews, sisters-in-law, without whom nothing is worth it.

  And to my Mam, who I know is looking down and loving this, thank you for always encouraging me. The pain of losing you can never be put into words.

  To all my friends, my fun, especially Cora Potts who has encouraged and contributed to my dark sense of humor, thank you all for your support throughout my life. To my little nephew, Jason Carr, who is already writing great stories. Keep it up young man.

  To Keshini and Lindsey, my publishers at Hera Books, for putting your faith in me and for helping shape my story into something better.

  To the staff at Lollipops, wonderful strong women whose dedication to their job has allowed me the space to write.

  To Layla my dog, and the reason I get up early every morning, you have changed what I care about.

  To Paul, my husband. Your love and support is the rock on which I stand. Thanks for always being there and for encouraging me to follow my dreams. I love you.

  To anyone who has taken the time to read my book.

  Thank you.

  First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Hera

  Hera Books

  28b Cricketfield Road

  London, E5 8NS

  United Kingdom

  Copyright © Jackie Walsh, 2019

  The moral right of Jackie Walsh to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781912973095

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.