He remembered the flour on the worktop. The heat emanating from the oven and the uncooked batch of cookies waiting to go in. He could still hear the jingle of cartoons playing in the air. And Grace, in her wheelchair with mouth open, her eyes wide with shock. As past and present merged, Lloyd’s grip on the shotgun tightened. He renewed his earlier vow. This ended today.

Giving Lloyd one last, sorrowful glance, Joanne left through the back door.

‘Petunia knows everything!’ Naomi called after her. ‘She’ll call the police.’

‘Petunia’s dead.’ Lloyd looked at her pointedly. ‘Had some trouble with her breathing in the end.’ He watched as the meaning of his words registered. Saw the last rays of hope leaving Naomi’s eyes. Had he known earlier about her meeting with Naomi, he would have got to her first. ‘She shouldn’t have come here . . .’ he continued. ‘Just like you. I warned you, yet here you are.’ His words were broken by sobbing as Morgan shook in her chair. ‘You brought that little girl here,’ Lloyd said. ‘Look what you’ve done to her.’

As for Petunia, he’d barely had to lay a finger on her. She was already knocking on death’s door. Lloyd’s presence had frightened her enough for nature to take its course. Taunting her with her oxygen tank, he’d kept it just out of reach. Then he’d watched, fascinated, as the last rasping breath left her cracked blue lips. Her death would be recorded as due to natural causes. They wouldn’t pin it on him. But this . . . He gazed at the women before him. They had the potential to ruin so many lives. He took no pleasure in killing, but he needed to ensure that the Ward woman and her stepdaughter took their secrets to their graves.

He stiffened as the back door slammed. From the sound of the heavy footsteps, that wasn’t Joanne. He turned his head towards the looming figure of a man.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Naomi felt like she had turned to jelly as she stared down the barrel of the gun. Lloyd’s sanity had taken leave and no amount of reasoning would get through to him. The slam of the back door made her jolt in her chair. John the handyman entered the kitchen, paling as he took in the scene. Naomi had never been so happy to see another living soul.

‘John!’ she cried, as he surveyed the chaos. ‘He’s lost his mind. Call the police!’

With dull realisation, she remembered that Lloyd was the police.

Hooking his thumbs into his jeans pockets, John looked from Naomi to Lloyd. His brow was shiny with perspiration, but his demeanour was oddly calm. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Just a bit of police business that needs taking care of,’ Lloyd said coolly. ‘You don’t need to be party to this.’

Her gut churning, Naomi stared in disbelief.