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I smile, glad she remembered my name. “I am.”
She pats my hand with her cold ones, making me frown. “Such a good girl.”
I give her a soft smile before reaching over the back of the sofa for the red knitted blanket. I cover her, tucking it into her lap to keep her warm.
“I’ll back in a few,” I tell her, leaving the room.
The hallway is as dim and dull as the front room, the wallpaper peeling from the walls. A yellow patch covers most of one wall and the ceiling.
God, Alex, why didn’t you come to me for help?
There are stairs to my left, but I carry on walking down to the kitchen, gagging when the smell hits me.
My god.
Plates covered with leftover food, and piles of dirty washing, fills the sides and sink. The cupboard doors are non-existent, the one still attached barely hanging on.
Not wanting to stay in here a second longer, I grab the cleanest glass I can find and swill it out. I fill it before searching for her tablets.
I find a basket filled with different bottles and packets of medication, and grab it, taking that and the glass of water with me to the front room.
“Do you know what the medication is called, Jessica?” I ask, setting the water down on the side.
She gets that distant look in her eyes, like she’s having trouble remembering. “Naproxen, I think.”
“Naproxen, that’s good. I think my dad had to take that. He used to get headaches all the time,” I tell her, feeling one of my rambles coming on. I’m already feeling the effects of leaving the house too soon. I’m tired, sore, but there’s no way I can leave her here on her own like this.
I sort through the medication, reading labels. There’s so many of them. She can’t possibly be taking all of these.
One of the labels catches my eye, and I bring it up closer to make sure I’m reading it right.Methotrexate.
I fall back on my arse, taking the basket of medication with me and spilling the tablets all over the floor.
He wouldn’t.
No!
I shake myself out of it, placing all the medication back in the basket and finding the right ones. I quickly read through the instructions, making sure I have the right dosage, and pass them to her. I get up, pacing the floor, when a picture on the mantelpiece stops me. I walk over, picking it up and lifting it closer.
In the picture are a middle-aged couple, so far removed from each other and unhappy, standing in a garden. They’re both staring into the camera with no emotion whatsoever. It’s supposed to be a family photo. The woman in the picture is holding a crying baby, and two kids are standing side by side, their appearance skinny and pale. The boy is staring at the girl, but she’s staring at the camera, looking as robotic as the parents behind her.
Why would she have this on show?
I put it down gently, ready to leave. I’ve seen enough, but a picture on the far end has me turning pale. I grab it quickly, nearly knocking the pictures close by off the mantelpiece.
“Jessica, who is the lady in this picture?” I ask, moving over to her.
She opens her eyes, smiling when she sees what I’m holding. “Oh, I’ve not seen that picture in years. That’s my daughter, Claire, and my son, Conrad.”
“No, no, no,” I chant.
This cannot be happening.
It can’t.
But it all makes sense.
Alex is the killer. He’s the person we’ve all been searching for.
