She’s stopped shaking now. ‘The head wound didn’t kill him,’ she adds.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. She turns to me, eyes sharp. ‘Isn’t it time you told me what’s going on? You said I’d be going home. Then this man shows up to kill me, and you said, “He’s here,” like you knew him. So tell me. Who were you expecting?’
I lick my dry lips, suddenly aware of how exposed I feel without a shirt.
‘I need something to wear,’ I say lamely.
She exhales sharply. ‘I put some of Danny’s shirts in the wardrobe. I’ll get one. It should fit.’ She heads upstairs.
Why isn’t she running for the door or calling her loving husband?She brings me a designer shirt that I could never afford to buy for myself. It fits like a glove.
She finds the whisky in the kitchen and pours us both a glass.
‘You can leave, you know,’ I say.
She gives me a sardonic smile. ‘I don’t know what’s waiting for me out there, do I?’
‘We should lock the doors and windows.’
‘I’ll do it,’ she says quickly.
She’s taking charge. And now… Now I have to tell her. But how? The guilt gnaws at me, though I know I have no choice.
When Joanna returns, my gut twists.
She’s holding a crowbar.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Joanna
We haul the man into a chair, and Neville ties him up. I stand back, still in shock.
Who is he? Why is he after us?
Neville’s injured. I should help him… but can I trust him?
Before I decide, he’s back with his arm strapped in a makeshift sling.
‘I should fix your shoulder,’ I say, remembering the first aid kit I stashed in the bathroom.
I clean his wound, but something about him unsettles me. Not just the chaos we’ve been thrown into, but him.
‘It’s deep. You’ll need stitches.’
‘Do what you can,’ he says, eyes flicking to the man wriggling in the chair.
Suddenly, the man lunges, straining against the ties. Neville raises the hammer. I watch in horror as the man gasps, then slumps forward.
‘I think he’s had a heart attack,’ I say. Neville suggests he might be faking. I kneel beside him and check his pupils, then his pulse.
‘He’s dead. It was a heart attack.’
‘Jesus,’ Nev mutters.
I fix him with a look.
‘Isn’t it time you told me what’s going on? You said I’d be going home, and now this man shows up to kill us. And when you heard him arrive, you said, ‘He’s here,’ like you knew who it was. So, who were you expecting?’
