What My Husband Did: A gripping psychological thriller with an amazing twist by Kerry Wilkinson

Author:Kerry Wilkinson [Wilkinson, Kerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781838888596
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2020-11-17T00:00:00+00:00

My eyes are open, but then they’re not. The clock says five hours have passed. Whatever noise was coming from Kylie’s room has now gone silent. Except… there’s something tickling the edges of my thoughts. I was asleep but then I heard… something.

A second later and a booming crash thunders through the house.

Twenty-One

WEDNESDAY

I head down the stairs, still blurry and confused from the abrupt interruption. It’s only the grogginess that stops me from moving so quickly that I miss the splinters now lying across the hallway floor. The white of the moon glows through the newly created hole in the glass of the front door, with the shards glistening bright like a carpet of crystals.

There’s the sound of a door from above and then Kylie’s on the top step.

‘What happened?’

She’s speaking with the sleepiness that I feel.

‘I don’t know… I guess someone…’

Kylie edges down the stairs and stops next to me, looking over the banister towards the half-brick. We both know what’s happened.

We’re also both barefooted.

‘I’ll get some shoes on,’ Kylie says.

‘No. I’ll do it.’

‘Should we call the police? They might want to see this before it’s cleared away.’

‘What are they going to do? It’ll take an age to get someone out at this time.’

‘They might get DNA off the brick, or something?’

I consider it for a moment. ‘I think they’ve got more important things on.’

Kylie doesn’t question this, though she does sit on the stairs as I tiptoe around the edge of the glass and pluck my wellies from the rack that’s close to the door. I crunch across the carpet and then open the front door. The frozen breeze bristles through and there’s nobody there. Whoever threw the brick will be along the lane and on their way back to Leavensfield by now. There’s no question it will be a villager who did this. I head across the drive to the road anyway, looking both ways across the deserted tarmac. My car sits untouched on the driveway.

I close the door when I get back inside. Kylie is still on the stairs.

‘Anyone there?’ she asks.

‘No.’

‘Do you think it was Gemma?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ I pause and then add: ‘You should go back to bed. I’ll clean this up.’

Kylie watches me for a moment and then pushes herself up. ‘I think you should call the police.’ She hovers, waiting for a reply that she doesn’t get – and then she heads back to her room.

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