Bright Lies: A Chilling Psychological Thriller Read online

  A spike of agony in his knuckles suggests that Jack’s cracked his own hand, but he takes no heed. Adrenaline is coursing through him, carrying all cares away.

  Andy screams, “You’ll pay for that.” He is still taller, he looks strong and he’s quick to react, too. With a swift kick to the shin, he catches Jack off balance.

  Jack falls, his knees and elbows jarring painfully as he rolls on the concrete floor. Andy kicks him again, striking his chest and winding him. Seeing a foot about to stamp on his face, Jack rolls out of the way and jabs a punch upwards to Andy’s groin. The result distracts Andy long enough for Jack to get on his feet again.

  From the corner of his eye, Jack sees Emily is standing stock still, horror on her face. “Flush the drugs away,” he wheezes.

  She doesn’t move.

  There’s no time to say more. Jack barrels into Andy, delivering an uppercut to the jaw and a clout to the solar plexus at the same time. His right hand throbs on contact. It’s definitely broken.

  Andy tries to grab him in a bear hug and nut him, but Jack wriggles free. He senses he can win. Thumping Andy’s face, he’s oblivious to the grunts and groans, the powerful blows hitting him in return. He mustn’t stop. If he lets his anger subside, Emily’s abuser will walk away. Devoid of a conscience, Andy will keep on crushing lives until the day he dies.

  “I’ve got money, mate. We can work something out,” Andy gasps, blood trickling down his chin.

  “No way,” Jack pants. Why should he show mercy to a man who has none for his prey? Jack remembers the day his mother died, the times she begged her husband to―.

  “Stop.” Emily finds her voice.

  Jack looks up, sees her pointing to the doorway and the black uniforms approaching. It’s over. He edges away from Andy, his body an echo chamber for pain as his energy floods away.

  There are only three officers: two men and a woman. Jack wonders if he can somehow evade them, find the drugs and run. As one of the policemen stands in front of the door, that hope vanishes.

  “I’m Police Sergeant Gerald Tait,” the other man says, holding up an ID card, “and this is…”

  Jack doesn’t hear the other names. Andy staggers towards the sergeant.

  “I’m David Anderson.” He slurs the words, broken bones and teeth obviously affecting his speech. “I want to get my stepdaughter away from this drug den.”

  “You were having quite a fight,” Gerald Tait observes.

  “He attacked me,” Andy says. “Still, you’re here now and I can take her home. Come on, Princess. Let’s get you out of here.”

  “Don’t let him take her,” Jack shouts. “He’s a paedophile. Emily, tell them.”

  She catches his eye. Jack sees her terror. She won’t speak out: Andy’s hold is too great.

  “We’ll get you medical attention and take a statement later,” the officer tells Andy. He addresses Emily. “Are you Emily Dennis?”

  She nods.

  “And your name, sir?” he asks Jack.

  “Jack Biddle.”

  “Do you live here?”

  “Yes.” Jack can hardly deny it.

  “There’s a strong smell of cannabis. Do you mind if we take a look around?”

  The fight has left him. Jack bows to the inevitable. “Go ahead.”

  Emily’s art box is the first place they check, as there is little else to see on the ground floor. Gerald Tait examines the bag of drugs with interest.

  There’s only one way he can help Emily now. “Those are mine,” Jack says. “She knows nothing about it.”

  To his relief, she has the sense to stay silent.

  Andy looks smug. Jack realises there is one more thing he can do for her after all. “Tell the police, Emily. Tell them about his MacBook, the one he hides behind your picture. Then they’ll know what he is. They’ll know you’re not lying.”

  Finally, Jack has the satisfaction of seeing fear in Andy’s eyes.

  PART 4 Unlocking

  Chapter 51 December 2019 - Emily

  I feel Mum’s eyes boring into me as I walk away from the bright pink van. Each footstep seems like a lead weight.

  I’m glad she came with me today, although she can’t understand why I want to see Jack. She won’t accept that I made the first move on him all those years ago. When the police told her about David and brought me home, she thought she’d get her little girl back.

  She got me.

  It was rocky at first, but we’ve both had counselling. We’re as close as we’ve ever been, which is just as well. Our flat in Bath is dominated by the tools of her trade. There isn’t much space left for the two of us. We’ve learned to rub along together again. It doesn’t mean we always agree.

  Memories of both Jack and David flit into my mind every day. They don’t sting like they used to. For months, I cried myself to sleep in anguish because Jack didn’t reply to my letters.

  I like to think I’ve moved on, but I never want to hold onto boyfriends for long. Maybe when I see Jack, I can work out what’s missing.

  The prison visitors’ centre, a square brick box, is signposted. Several people have congregated outside: a priest, a couple of mothers with noisy children and a stunning black girl in a leather coat and high-heeled boots. The door opens as I arrive and I follow the lead of the others, giving my name and showing ID. Everyone is patted down by a security guard and we have to leave bags and phones in lockers. This should be a happy time, when families are reunited, but the atmosphere is sombre.

  We’re escorted, one by one, to the visiting room. It has the atmosphere of a portacabin, and our hosts have been chosen for their lack of joy. Dour, fiddling with their earpieces, they don’t say a word.

  I’m told to sit at a scratched Formica table that might have been white once. There’s a counter selling drinks and snacks. Luckily, I clocked the families ahead of me taking a few pounds in with them, and I did the same. There’s enough to buy a cup of tea for myself and black coffee for Jack. I hope he hasn’t changed his preferences. Sipping the tea, I stare fretfully at the door where prisoners are brought in, one by one. The image of Jack in my head is three years out of date. Will I recognise him?

  As it happens, his hair’s shorter and he’s carrying more weight, but I’d know him anywhere. Jack doesn’t spot me, though. His eyes scan the room, puzzled. I wave.

  “Emily?” He walks over to me, then his face breaks into a smile. He holds out his arms for a hug.

  Reluctantly, I rise to my feet and let him embrace me. Although I didn’t expect to feel anything, there’s a tingle of excitement. I pull away, afraid he’ll notice.

  “It really is you.” We both sit down, and he strokes my hair. “Pink?”

  “Oh.” I laugh. “Of course, you’ve never seen it like this.”

  “That fairy cake colour suits you. So does the length.”

  “It grew back in the end.” I grin. My weird hair, as Mum calls it, has broken the ice. “Do you still drink coffee?” I push the plastic cup towards him.

  “Sure do.” He fixes his gaze on mine while he takes a swig. “I can’t quite believe you’re here. What made you decide to travel all the way from Bath, out of the blue? I mean, it’s not like you ever got in touch before.”

  The grin freezes on my lips. “I wrote to you six times before I figured you wouldn’t answer.” I almost blush at the recollection. The letters were short, because writing isn’t my strong point, but they were gushing with declarations of love.

  Jack’s brow wrinkles in puzzlement. “I didn’t receive anything. I suppose it’s because of child protection issues. You weren’t sixteen yet and we’d been together… I guess they stopped the letters.”

  He’s silent, although his eyes betray his hurt. A pang of sorrow needles its way through me.

  “I didn’t think you cared,” he says.

  “Same here.” I shake away the sadness at what might have been. My life is peachier now than ever before.

  “Well, water under the bridge.
” Jack’s tone is rueful, then it brightens. “You seem different, Emily, in a good way. Grown up. I know you’re older, but it isn’t that. You’re more confident.”

  “Thanks. I’ve had counselling, and I’m sure that helps.” A private education does, too. Miss Broadstone phoned Mum when David was arrested, saying she hoped I’d come back to Marston Manor. She promised no gossip, judgements or bullying, and she’s kept her word.

  “Still painting?”

  “Yes. My school gave me an art scholarship. I’ve got a place to do fine art at BCU next year. Actually, I’m already selling paintings through my website. I’ll show you some images.”

  I reach down for my bag, then recall both it and my phone are in a locker. “Sorry, I can’t today, but maybe I can send a few photos in the post.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Hey, Elvis.” Another lag, a bald man with garish tattoos on his hands and neck, calls over from the next table. “Give us a tune.”

  Jack looks around. Half the prisoners are still chatting to their nearest and dearest; the others stare at him expectantly. He stands up.

  A prison officer marches over. “Sit down.”

  Jack nods and obeys. Seated again, he yells, “This one’s a ballad,” before belting out a rendition of Always On My Mind. Throughout, he gazes into my eyes.

  A shiver runs down my spine. Despite the cheesy words, it’s flattering to be serenaded.

  There’s the odd jeer or wolf whistle, but at the end, the song gains a round of applause. “Thanks,” Jack bellows.

  “My party piece,” he says to me. “Elvis has won me friends, and I need them.”

  “Does your uncle visit?” I remember he was the big Elvis fan.

  “No. The lads here are all I have.” His tone is matter of fact. If it bothers him, he doesn’t show it. “I keep busy. They gave me an occasional slot on prison radio after I met a couple of guys from the Bob’s.”

  “Who?” I ask, without expecting to know them.

  “Ray from the Ravers. He was done for dealing. First offence, so he was unlucky to go down.”

  “Was it really his first offence?”

  Jack responds to my disbelief. “Yeah, first time he was caught. That guitar case was asking to get searched sooner or later, wasn’t it? Want me to say Hi to him for you?”

  “No. He told David where to find me. I can’t forgive him for that.”

  “David’s here.”

  I jolt backwards in my chair. Feverishly, my eyes dart around. I never expected to see him again after Mum’s divorce.

  “Not in this room.” Jack takes one of my hands and strokes the palm. “He can’t hurt you now.”

  The panic subsides. I pull my hand away, disturbed that I’m enjoying his touch so much.

  “I’m sorry I freaked you out,” Jack says. His features radiate sympathy. “David doesn’t deserve that reaction, Emily. Let it go.”

  “I’m sorry. I really thought I had.”

  “One day you will. Anyway, he’ll get what’s coming to him. He was moved to the prison two months ago. Ray saw him and put the word out.”

  “So?” I say, confused.

  “So, the lads will take care of him.” Jack’s voice is grim. “Sex offenders are reviled inside. They’re kept apart from the general prison population, but accidents happen. Boiling water, home-made knives, fist fights. That sort of accident.”

  “What does that mean for you? Ray knows I wasn’t sixteen when we were together.” I fear for Jack’s safety now, although he wasn’t charged with underage sex. Mum thinks he should have been, but I confessed to lying that I was sixteen.

  “There aren’t many lads here who haven’t slept with a fifteen-year-old. They weren’t thirty-two at the time, like David. Emily, I wanted to kill him, but now I’m glad I didn’t. Until you’ve done time, you can’t imagine the insufferable boredom of waking up in the same cell, with the same routine stretching ahead of you, day after day.”

  Maya says guilt is unproductive. I agree with her, but remorse fills me as I hear what Jack has been through. If we’d never met, he wouldn’t be here. “Sorry,” I say, aware it sounds feeble.

  “Don’t blame yourself. It was my choice.” He speaks without bitterness, until he mentions David again. “He’ll have it worse. He’s in for longer, and he’ll always have to look over his shoulder. It will be a rare moment when he can afford to relax his guard.”

  I chew my lip, stopping only when I taste the metallic tang of blood. A better person would feel pity for David. I just feel numb.

  “I’m glad you didn’t kill him,” I say. “You’d have got life, wouldn’t you?”

  “Ten years plus, even for a piece of scum like that. Ray didn’t know David was a nonce. He’s sorry he told on you.”

  “He sold me for the reward money. Cassie didn’t even have that excuse.” I hardly knew Ray, but Cassie’s betrayal hurts. I trusted her. Taking a deep breath, I focus on the man in front of me. Jack didn’t let me down like the others.

  He drops his voice to a whisper. “Ray’s doing good business inside. Sells mamba, dope, all sorts.”

  “There are drugs in prison?”

  “Of course.” Jack raises an eyebrow. “I thought it was common knowledge.”

  He glances sideways and lowers his voice again. “It’s not for me, though. You get into debt that way, and then the big boys own you. I want to make something of my life. I didn’t get an education before, so I’m doing a psychology degree. I figured that if I could understand myself, I could change myself for the better.”

  I tackle the elephant in the room. “You mean your anger issues?”

  “That’s a big part of it,” he admits.

  “Can’t you get counselling? It’s helped me a lot.”

  The best lesson is that I can choose how I react to events. It’s not easy, but over time, I’ve learned to forgive myself. Mum has, too. She felt terribly guilty for bringing David into my life.

  A shadow crosses Jack’s face. “The prison service is short of money for counselling. For everything, come to that.”

  I’m wondering if there’s some way of paying for his counselling with my art sales, when he asks, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “No.” It’s too complicated to explain about my fleeting relationships.

  A light flickers in his eyes. “I could be out in six months. Would you wait for me?”

  I nod, trapped by his expectations, unable to watch his hope die.

  Jack punches the air.

  The screws are looking suspicious, giving him evils, and he settles back down in his chair. “I love you,” he says. “Life inside isn’t great, but whenever it got tough, I thought of you.”

  It’s the first time he’s used the L-word. I believe him, too. Jack wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it.

  I can’t echo it. Once, I would have walked through fire for him, but we’ve been apart for too long. I’m still trying to work out who I am and what I want.

  I loved him once, though. When light fills his hazel eyes, I can imagine loving him again.

  Our silence is my comfort blanket. Eventually I say, “I have to go.”

  Jack grips my hand. “Write, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  I don’t look behind me as I walk away, because the tears have started now. He mustn’t see them.

  The officer who escorts me out is young: tall, with a blond beard. He’s friendlier than the others. “You’re the first visitor Jack’s had,” he says. “Will you come again?”

  “Yes.” Mum won’t like it, but I’ll just have to deal with that.

  “Good. He deserves a break. I knew him before, on the out, as they say. I’d trust him with my life. With my children’s lives, even. Still can’t believe he ended up here.”

  “Nor me.” Guilt seizes me again, and then, because it seemed a strange thing for him to say, I ask “How many children have you got?”

  “A two-year-old girl and a baby boy. Ask Jack about me. I�
��m Dean. We go back a way.”

  It’s darkening now on this winter afternoon, as I stumble back to the carpark. My eyes, still adjusting to the gloom, are dazzled when Mum switches on the headlights.

  She’s sitting in the driver’s seat. I tap on the window and wait for her to open it. “Why did you move?”

  “I thought you wouldn’t want to drive. Are you okay?”

  I shake my head. She’s right, of course, but I wish she’d asked first. I reach across her to switch off the lights.

  “What are you doing?” She grips my hand and squeezes it gently. “You really aren’t okay, are you?”

  “No, it’s just the bobowler.” I point to the moth circling and swooping towards one of the beams.

  “A what? That little thing?” Mum flicks a switch. The delicate creature changes its mind and flutters upwards.

  “Thanks.” I walk around the car and hunch into the seat next to her. Why did I say I’d wait for Jack? The lie hangs on my conscience. Yet, why should it? When a lie brings hope, surely it becomes a gift?

  I stare through the window, fancying I see the bobowler soar away to freedom. Suddenly, my heart is flying alongside it, higher and higher. With a rush of certainty, I realise I didn’t lie to Jack after all.

  A MESSAGE FOR YOU

  Thank you for reading Bright Lies. I’m glad you stayed until the end, when Jack and Emily are reunited. I wish them luck and I hope you do too.

  Please spend a few minutes reviewing the book on Amazon and Goodreads and help other readers share Jack and Emily’s journey.

  Bright Lies is the darkest thriller I’ve written. My earlier books are a lighter read with a bigger cast of characters. Read on to find out more about The Bride’s Trail, the first story in the 5 book Trail series. (If you’re in Kindle Unlimited, you’ll be pleased to know it’s a KU title!)

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