John hated Lloyd. Why wasn’t he getting help?

‘Don’t listen to him,’ she pleaded. ‘We’ve done nothing wrong. Please. Get us out of here.’ She tugged on the handcuffs.

But John wasn’t listening.

‘Are you sure about this?’ he said to Lloyd. A look passed between the two men. A look Naomi couldn’t decipher.

‘It’s too late to do otherwise,’ Lloyd responded, ignoring her protests.

‘But . . .’ John began, his gaze falling on Morgan, whose shoulders were juddering as she cried. He lowered his voice, leaned into Lloyd. ‘She’s just a kid.’

‘Old enough to be placed under arrest,’ Lloyd said. ‘This is police business, son. Best you leave it to us.’

‘Don’t listen to him!’ Naomi’s horror deepened. ‘He’s going to kill us, just like he killed the Harpers. You’ve got to get help!’ She pulled on the handcuffs, which bit into her skin. John turned a deaf ear to her pleadings, instead addressing Lloyd, his face out of view.

‘What are they saying?’ Morgan whispered, as both men spoke in low tones.

‘I . . . I don’t know,’ Naomi said, desperately trying to wriggle free. But there was no leeway with the handcuffs. Even if she managed to drag the chair across the room, where was she going to go? ‘We need to buy some time,’ she whispered to Morgan. ‘Ed’s on his way home.’ But she could imagine the greeting he would receive as he was met with the barrel of Lloyd’s gun. Perhaps that was what Lloyd planned. But where was the sense in that? Her heart stalled as the men glanced over. The same thick brows, the same sandy hair, and now the same soulless look in their eyes.

Son. He called him son.

‘No,’ she whispered, as the likeness became apparent. John was one of them. All that talk about him leaving her house in the morning . . . the rumours of them having an affair. John was a voluntary pawn in this game of chess. Had he taken the ladder away when she’d been stuck up in the loft? She recalled the day she had rung for help. Had he been there all along? All that guff about not trusting the local law had been a smokescreen. His presence had added fuel to the fire of the gossip. He was a strikingly handsome man, much nearer her age. Her husband was away chasing his ex-wife . . . some could go as far as calling Ed neglectful of his new family. She watched John cast one last regretful glance before he left. Why was he abandoning them? Was he also implicated in the Harpers’ murder? Was that why he was playing along?

‘John?’ she called after him. ‘John!’

Lloyd chuckled.

‘You’ll rot in jail for this,’ Naomi screamed as her calls were ignored. ‘All three of you. And then you’ll rot in hell!’