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One Small Mistake(120)

Author:Dandy Smith

Terrified, I leapt out of bed and flew downstairs. The spare house key was missing. I called Christopher, and in a petrified rush, explained what had happened.

‘I suppose I can’t report it as a break-in since he used a key and nothing was stolen,’ I ventured.

‘It’ll be difficult, but you need to change your locks. When’s Ethan home?’

I paused, the pain of our failed marriage rippling through me, momentarily blotting out the fright of Jack having been in my bedroom. It hadn’t even been a week since Ethan left; he spent the first two nights at a hotel in London before flying to Slovenia for work. He’s still there now and I have no idea when or even if he’ll return to our home. He might just send someone for his things and that will be it. ‘Not sure,’ I hedged.

‘You shouldn’t be alone. Can you call him and find out?’

I sighed. ‘He isn’t going to be back for a long while. We’re …’ It took a moment to get the words out. ‘We’re separating.’

Silence crackled down the line. ‘I see.’

‘I haven’t told my parents.’

‘I’d ask if you’re okay but …’

‘I am.’

If we’d broken up before you went missing, I wouldn’t have coped. But with you gone, it put things into perspective. Now I have focus. Now I have to find you. ‘It was the right thing to do.’

Even though I couldn’t see Christopher, I could sense his warmth, could imagine the crease of concern between his brows. He cares about me. He’s even forgiven me for almost getting him caught inside Jack’s house.

‘Do you want me to come over?’ he asked.

‘I’d like that but I’m actually going to visit Kathryn to see what I can find.’

‘On Jack?’

‘Yes.’

Having seen Jack with the girl who looked like you, Christopher was starting to come around to the idea he was involved in your disappearance. Although he couldn’t ask the rugby club for employee records in an official capacity, he’d requested them from a friend of a friend, only to discover their records don’t go back that far, thanks to a fire that burned all their paper files years ago.

‘If Jack has her and she’s still alive, where do you think he’s keeping her? We were in his house and I’m sure she wasn’t locked up in a room somewhere.’

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘We used to go to this cottage every summer with his family, but Kathryn sold it last year. He’s an architect though – maybe she’s in one of the buildings he’s working on?’

‘Let me know what you find out. In the meantime, I’ll call a locksmith.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,’ I told him because I needed to get used to doing things by myself, though it was good to know that although I may be single, I wasn’t really alone.

I got to Kathryn’s around ten in the morning under the pretence of needing photographs for a collage I was making for Jack’s upcoming birthday party. She welcomed me inside and told me all the photographs and other memorabilia were in Jeffrey’s study.

‘I’ll make a pot of tea,’ called Kathryn, padding down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Jeffrey’s study hasn’t changed: floor-to-ceiling cherry wood panelling, large desk and leather chair, grand fireplace and high, arching windows. The floorboards beside his desk were lighter, the varnish having been scrubbed away. I remembered Kathryn knocking on Mum’s door gone midnight just days after the discovery of Jeffrey’s body, her hands red and blistered from bleach and hours spent cleaning her husband’s blood.

In preparation for my visit, Kathryn had pulled some boxes of photographs from the large cupboard behind his desk, but I walked past them and started dragging out more boxes, ones filled with paper and journals and photo albums. It didn’t take long to realise the journals were Jeffrey’s, penned in his cursive script. I flipped through, only stopping when I saw Jack’s name.

I look into Jack’s eyes and all I see is rot. He’s violent and selfish. A sociopath. He’s going to take that poor girl and burn her inside out, leaving her charred and writhing. Jack isn’t my son. He isn’t, but Kathryn thinks I’m—

I slapped the book shut as Kathryn glided into the room.

‘Tea,’ she announced.

I quickly shoved the journal back in the box and made sure my smile was pleasant before turning and taking the cup she held out to me.