The Ex: A totally gripping psychological thriller with a breathtaking twist by S.E. Lynes

Author:S.E. Lynes [Lynes, S.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781803145105
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2022-08-25T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 41

Blood beating in his temples, Sam pulls out his phone, dials 999.

‘Ambulance,’ he says, fighting to keep his voice clear. ‘My grandmother’s been attacked. We’ve… I think we’ve been burgled.’ He places his hand to Joyce’s back, feels an almost imperceptible rise, keeps his hand there as he gives the address. ‘Alive? Yes, yes, I think so… No forced entry. The back door was open.’ His eyes acclimatise to the darkness. ‘I think she’s been hit,’ he half sobs. ‘Head injury, oh God, come quickly. Come quickly, please.’ He puts his shaking hand gingerly on Joyce’s head. Sees a blackish patch at the corner of her mouth. The woman is telling him the ambulance is on its way, to try not to panic, to stay with her.

‘There’s blood,’ he says. ‘There’s blood at her mouth, I think. She might have been hit with something and then fallen… Yes, I’ll try, I’ll stay with her, yes… Yes, of course. I won’t move her… Talk to her? Yes. Yes, OK.’ He closes the call.

‘Hey.’ His voice is a tremor. ‘It’s me, Sam. The ambulance is on its way and you’re going to be OK – you’re going to be all right.’

She stirs, groans. He returns the flat of his hand to her back. ‘Don’t move. Stay still if you can. It’s going to be OK – soon have you up and about.’ He pulls the duvet from her bed and covers her, eyes the pillow, but the woman said not to move her so he leaves it.

Joyce groans, louder. He has the impression she’s trying to speak.

He lies down next to her, ear to the carpet so he can see her face. Her forehead is beaded with sweat, her eyelids low but not closed, her mouth open, her breathing a laboured rattle. Her nose is bloody and wide. Broken, he thinks.

‘Hey.’ He reaches under the duvet, finds her hand. It is clammy, hot. He holds it, feels a response – weak but there. ‘Hang on. You’re tough as boots, aren’t you? Toughest woman I know. Ambulance is on its way. I’m right here, I’m here with you, soon have you up those ladders, come on, don’t close your eyes now, open them, can you open them, that’s it, keep them open, don’t go to sleep, Joyce, OK? Stay with me, come on, keep your eyes open, those upstairs windows won’t paint themselves.’ He laughs, tears coursing now down his face.

Joyce’s mouth moves but all he hears is a strained noise.

‘What? What’re you saying? Eh?’ He pushes his ear to her mouth, feels her breath against his ear, hears her whisper: ‘Naomi.’

She gasps, her eyes widen – huge, round – meeting his for a second. Something unreadable in her gaze, something troubled flickers, before she exhales a long, rushing sigh.

Her eyes close.

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