THE EIGHTEENTH
A thump at the bottom of the stairs lets me know the post has arrived so I make my way down hoping that the little hats I ordered for Bean have arrived. As I bend down to pick up the pile of letters and a small parcel, every joint creaks in protest. I am now at the point where I just want Bean to arrive; I am fed up with being the size of a house, not sleeping and feeling the constant need to pee.
Slowly I make my way back up the stairs, grateful that I have the place to myself so no one can hear me cursing under my breath. Taylor is in London for meetings all day and Stix is working downstairs in Cake so I have the place to myself for some much-needed peace and quiet after the events of the weekend.
Sitting down at the breakfast bar I reach for my coffee as I begin sorting through the post. I am delighted when I open my parcel to find the soft cotton hats that I had ordered had finally arrived. They had been the one thing I had forgotten to include in my hospital bag so I feel relieved that I can now add them to Bean’s bits and pieces. It seems silly to be dwelling on such little things but at the moment the bigger picture seems far too terrifying to contemplate.
Most of the letters are bills which I put to one side for sorting out and paying later in the afternoon but then one with a colourful array of stamps addressed to me catches my eye. The handwriting seems vaguely familiar and I briefly wonder if I know anyone currently on holiday. But then my eye catches sight of the postmark; despite the smudging of the ink I can make out the word ‘Algiers’.
My heart begins to beat a rapid tattoo in my chest and I wonder briefly whether I should even open the envelope. I hold the letter in my hands, weighing up the options. On the one hand, it feels too light to be anything sinister but, on the other hand, anything coming from Richard is bound to be bad. With a sigh, I dial Henry’s number, hoping that he can deal with whatever is inside.
Henry is understandably cautious when I explain what has arrived and he advises me not to open the letter and to wait for him. I assure him that I won’t do anything silly and he promises me that he will inform Detective Stanton and let me know how they want to proceed. Henry rings off after a couple of questions about how I am getting on and says he will call me back shortly. Placing the envelope gingerly to one side I continue to open up the rest of the letters, grateful when there are no more surprises to be had.
Half an hour later I receive a brief call from Henry telling me that both he and the detective will be down to pick up Richard’s letter later in the day. I let out a sigh and think to myself that there goes my peaceful day!
~*~
“So what does it say?” I ask Henry. The mysterious letter has finally been opened after lots and lots of probing and whatever else the police deemed necessary to make sure it wasn’t a bomb or filled with anthrax or other similar nasties. As Detective Stanton said, we just couldn’t be too careful when it came to Richard, particularly as the envelope was addressed to me.
Henry quickly scans the letter before nodding at the detective to hand it across to me. I take it, my hands encased in latex gloves as instructed and quickly read through the short note:
Dear Abigail,
I hope that someday we will all be able to put aside everything that has happened and you will forgive me for my actions. But until then I feel it is for the best that I stay out of your lives. I have found a place where I can be happy and live the life I always wanted.
I wish you all the best in the final stages of your pregnancy and hopefully you will tell your daughter about the uncle who loves her very much.
All the very best,
Richard
I read the words over and over wondering if I am missing something here. “Seriously?” I mutter to myself, shaking my head. “Am I crazy, or does this just not make any sense?” I ask Henry and Detective Stanton.
They both look troubled, exchanging glances between themselves that makes me wonder if they know more than they are letting on. Henry lets out a sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. “I think,” he says slowly as he takes a moment to ponder his words. “I think this letter is probably a decoy.”
Detective Stanton nods her head and I am forced to ask her, “How do you mean?”
“Well, everything Richard has done since he escaped custody is to get as far away from here as possible in a very public way. I don’t think it was any coincidence that he headed straight for his grandmother’s house where he must have known he would be recognised. And then there was the sighting of him on the bus and the ferry ticket at Marseille bought with his card. And now this letter which very subtly points to him having crossed the Med into Africa.
“His words seem conciliatory but that is completely at odds with everything we know about Richard. The profile we have worked up on him tells us that he is not the kind of person to just walk away. Everything he has done so far seems to be building up to something so it makes no sense that he would just stop.” The Detective rubs her forehead and exchanges a look with Henry.
“If anything I would place money that this letter is a ruse to get us to back off and reduce the security we have surrounding you all, if not get rid of it altogether. And then, when you are at your most vulnerable, that is when Richard will strike.”
I feel myself going pale at the detective’s words and Henry quickly jumps in to calm my fears. “Please don’t worry, Abby. There is no way we will be reducing security, if anything I think I will be getting more men on board, particularly for the foreseeable future until we have a better idea of where Richard is.”
“Um, okay,” I murmur as I clasp my hands together nervously. When Richard had been arrested it had been such a relief to get rid of the constant scrutiny, of people watching my every move. But now it’s worse than ever and I can’t even begin to contemplate a future where I need to have a security detail so that I can take my daughter for a walk or down to the park or the beach. That’s not living, surely?
Henry pulls Detective Stanton to one side and they begin to talk quietly about security arrangements. I block out their words more interested in their body language; if I am not very much mistaken, there is definitely something going on between those two. I suppress my grin, now is really not the time to be interrogating them over their love life. At least something positive might have come out of this mess, I think to myself.
By the time everyone leaves, I am exhausted. I curl up on the couch hoping to catch up on my sleep deprivation with a short nap but instead of a peaceful slumber I’m haunted by familiar nightmares of waking up to find a figure in my room, but this time instead of Hannah holding the knife over my pregnant belly, Richard is my attacker.
~*~
“Abby, wake up!” I feel a hand on my shoulder but my mind is so busy fighting off Richard that before I know it my fist is connecting with something hard.
“Oomph.” The very real grunt seeps into my subconscious and, as I open my eyes, an image of Taylor, doubled over and clutching his balls, comes into focus. “Nice right hook,” Taylor bleats out.
“Oh shit,” I say scrambling to sit up. “Oh, Taylor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise it was you.”
“Another nightmare?” Taylor asks looking concerned.
“Yeah,” I say still feeling groggy, the images playing on a never-ending loop in my mind.
“This one seemed awful,” Taylor comments. “Was it the letter from Richard? Did that trigger it?”
“I think so. I was the standard nightmare, but this time instead of Hannah attacking me, it was Richard. I’m fine, though,” I say lamely.
Taylor raises an eyebrow seeing through my empty words. “Clearly not, Abs. You landed quite a punch.”
“Sorry, Taylor. Are you going to be okay?” I feel terrible for hurting him, even if it was unintentional.
“Yeah, I’ll survive. We may not be able to have any more kids, though,” Taylor jokes weakly.
“What time is it?” I ask realising that I must have been asleep for some time if Taylor was home already.
“Just after seven,” Taylor responds glancing at his watch.
“Stix!” I gasp out.
“Relax, she’s helping the others finish up downstairs. I thought we could all go out and grab some burgers down at the marina, if you are up for that?”
My stomach lets out a grumble reminding me that I haven’t eaten since before Henry’s visit. “Sure, that sounds great. Let me just freshen up and then I’m all yours,” I say struggling to get up off the sofa.
Taylor holds out his hand and helps me up before pulling me firmly into his embrace. He kisses the top of my head as his arms slide down my back. “It’s going to be okay, Abs. I promise,” Taylor murmurs into my hair.