Only You: an absolutely gripping psychological thriller by S. Williams

Author:S. Williams [Williams, S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books - crime, thriller and mystery
Published: 2020-10-04T16:00:00+00:00

43

Blea Moor, 1998: The End of Summer

Blea Fell through the lens of the camera looked like it was a secret in stone. The windows were mirror-blinded by the sun shining on them, preventing any chance of observing what was going on within. There was no car parked on the track; both parents being out, doing something with the baby, probably. Maybe taking it to the doctor. Apparently it would never go to sleep at night; would stay up screaming until morning.

A real night-owl, Bella had said.

Jamie smiled when he thought about Bella, and panned the front of the house, eyeing the building through the camera lens, trying to see through the windows.

Bella, Bella, Bella. Jamie muttered her name under his breath like a mantra.

Jamie settled himself into the coarse grass, rocking his hips against the ground. He was lying down on his stomach, his camera on a stubby tripod. Beside him was a book of moorland birds, on the off-chance he was spotted, and a bottle of diet Coke. In his Nike backpack he had a selection of chocolate bars, a half loaf of white sliced bread, and a packet of cheese and onion crisps.

Jamie looked through the lens at the house for a moment longer, snapped off a couple of shots, then sat up.

On top of the hill overlooking the house, Jamie had positioned himself between two gorse bushes; not enough to impede his view, but hopefully enough so he couldn’t be spotted from the house, should anybody happen to look his way. And if anybody got curious, he had his ornithological book, where he had marked out local birds with a highlighter pen. He was dressed in a pair of army combat trousers and a fleece. Although the sun was out, there was a brisk wind, bringing the smell of the sea in from the west.

Jamie began building himself a chocolate and crisp sandwich.

So far he had managed to photograph Bella in the kitchen, making herself a coffee, then sitting down on the tatty sofa writing in her diary. Or diaries, he corrected himself, biting into the sandwich. The chocolate was just the right side of soft, and as he chewed, it mixed with the crisps and white bread, until the whole thing became the consistency of slurry in his mouth. He’d stolen the crisps and chocolate bars from behind the bar when he’d left that morning; his parents still asleep. Jamie wouldn’t be surprised if they were still there, lying in their bed, reeking of alcohol and old-people sex.

Sometimes Jamie would watch them, sleeping. Sometimes he would watch them, and wonder what it would be like to stab them with the kitchen knife. Over and over.

Jamie felt a slight shiver as the sun went behind a cloud. Stuffing the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, he lay back down and positioned himself behind the camera. As he looked through the lens, the house suddenly sprang forward, the beaten stone of its walls in sharp focus. Jamie moved the camera slightly so he could look through the kitchen window.

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