I hadn’t been home for long, trying to work out how to calm the kick I felt to my stomach, when there was a knock at the door.
When I opened it, I saw Laura standing there.
‘Laura!’
She walked in and held me for a few moments. I buried my face deep into her shoulder. I could smell her hair, her clothes. I could smell London on her and all of a sudden I wanted to go back there.
‘I heard it on the news,’ was all she said.
When we pulled apart, I looked over her shoulder and saw someone watching from a distance. It was Martha, Jake’s wife. As I looked, I thought I saw her wipe her eyes. She watched me for a few seconds, and then she turned away.
‘You okay, Jack?’ I heard Laura ask.
I watched Martha get into her car and drive away. There was more than grief in her face. There was something else.
‘I don’t know,’ was all I said, and then I looked at Laura and added, ‘I’ve got to go out.’
She looked shocked as I brushed past her, climbed into my car and drove away, heading after Martha.
David Watts ignored the phone at first.
He was still on his bed, his knees up by his chest, staring out into space. The ringing didn’t register for a while and when it did he didn’t move. All the phone had done so far was bring bad news. Why should now be any different?
But some kind of reason kicked in and he wondered whether it was the American with some better news.
He lowered his knees slowly and reached across for the handset. ‘Hello?’ he whispered.
There was silence at first. He started to panic, worrying whether it was her again, the voice from his past. Then when he heard the electronic distortion, his breathing quickened.
‘You haven’t done it yet, David. I’ve heard nothing.’
She wouldn’t leave him alone. She was going to keep going until one of them broke their cover. He felt his anger come quickly, his fury at the invasion of his life beating down any fear he had left in him.
‘You bitch!’ he shouted down the phone. ‘You fucking little whore!’
‘Emma not back yet?’ She laughed, cold and harsh. ‘Looks like she got the wrong taxi at the airport.’
That stopped him dead. It was the calm way she said it, almost whispered, like she was talking about a seating plan for dinner. He thought he was about to pass out.
‘You heard it right.’
He started to panic at the harsh anger in her voice.
‘Who is going to look after you now?’ she continued. ‘You are a fucking cop-killer now. I heard it on the radio. Not even the police will help you now.’
He sat back down on the bed.
‘But I’m done with random footballers now, David. I’m coming after you. You can still stop it at any time, but I’m coming after you, and I’ll keep on coming after you until I get you. Emma’s first, then your family, and then you. And I’m a patient woman.’
The sound of a dead line flooded the bedroom. David fell back onto the bed, his mind reeling, his arm going across his stomach to comfort the cramped feeling he had there. Where was Emma? Did she have her? What could he do now? He could tell the press about Annie Paxman, say what she wanted him to say, and then just leave the country. He had enough money to go wherever he wanted, maybe eventually play for another team in some far-flung corner of the globe.
He closed his eyes, tried not to think about what might be happening to Emma. He could see her smile, her face. Anything else was too much.
He knew what would take away the pain. That’s all he needed right now. No more pain.