In the dream, I always come back to this point. I’m in the cupboard with the baby and I hear footsteps outside. Echoing across the marble hallway. Growing louder. They pause outside the door of my hiding place. I hear a click and I see the handle start to move, and I know I don’t have the strength to hold it shut. That’s where it ends – I always wake up.

Now, I stood in my kitchen, vibrating with fear. Someone had been in here. Someone knew who I was. Someone who had broken into my house and left me this message. How long had this been there – had the police spotted it during their searches? Why now, with Anna dead? Was it possible the two things were connected – that somehow they had known I would pass that way with Brandy, as I did every morning, and that I would be the one to find the body? I didn’t remember putting on that scarf on the day of the murder, and surely I would have noticed if it had fallen from my neck as I ran away? There was only one thing I could think of to explain both these things, and to be honest that was almost more scary than the idea I had somehow blacked out and done the murder myself. It seemed insane – was someone framing me?

It didn’t make any sense. I should tell the truth. Throw myself on the mercy of the detective with the kind, tired eyes, and maybe he would understand why I had run as I did. This message on my fridge proved that somebody knew who I really was, the name I hadn’t used in almost twenty years.

The sudden rush of an engine made me jump, lurch against the counter for support. I ran into the living room and looked out the window. A police car had drawn up to the green just opposite. Several uniformed officers were interviewing passers-by, while behind a cordon white-suited techs were still crawling over the grass. This investigation was in progress even as I stood here panicking and doing nothing.

I could tell the truth, yes. But look what had happened to me before, when I threw myself on the mercy of the police. No. I could not face it, not yet.

How many murders does the average person come across in their lifetime? None, right? It’s why you all like to watch it on TV, because you don’t know the reality. For me, it was now four. Whichever way you looked at it, those were not great odds.

Casey

Casey

SEPTEMBER 2000

Suddenly, Abby had an audition. It was for Blue Lines, a long-running medical drama, and she would be playing a new nurse, tough but romantic underneath it all, who would have a flirtation with the lead doctor over half a series.