Behind Shadows: A Psychological Mystery Thriller (The Adam Stanley Series Book 1) Page 2

  I tried to resist, but it was useless.

  "What the hell do you expect me to do? I caught the woman sucking your cock, for Christ's sake!” My voice sounded much stronger than I felt.

  "Maybe if you paid me some attention, I wouldn't be tempted. I have women falling at my feet. But you—my own wife, you never even notice me." He yanked my arms above my head and trapped them in one of his.

  His hardness pressing against my belly alerted me to his arousal. That was all I needed. I tried to wriggle out from under him, but he was too heavy.

  With his free hand, he yanked my nightie up, shoving his knee in between my legs.

  "Michael, you're hurting me!" My voice now quivered.

  I was transported to another place and time. Being pinned down, the dark shape over me, and the stench of alcohol—all scarily similar, yet vastly different.

  Petrifying fear gripped me as I remembered a cold, dank room, and a grimy, bare mattress. I knew these images weren't real. But the fear was real, and the anger bubbling deep within me most definitely real.

  I opened my mouth to scream but instead a roar escaped from deep within me. Accompanying the roar was a sudden burst of strength that enabled me to yank my hands free. In quick succession, I grabbed his hair, pulled his head towards me and sank my teeth into his face.

  The salty taste turned metallic.

  Michael screamed and leapt to his feet.

  I got upright just as fast, surprised by the strength I'd found.

  He howled like a baby, hopping from foot to foot, his hands pressed against his cheek. I raised myself to my tiptoes and hissed into his ear. "Now, leave me the fuck alone!"

  I closed the door behind me.

  ***

  I lay snuggled next to my daughter's tiny body all night. The steady rise and fall of her breathing soothed me, and God knows I needed soothing. My stomach was in knots, and uncontrollable tears soaked the pillow proving Doctor Freda didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. I did have emotions, but I’d just learned to hide them from an early age. However, the events of last night had been too much even for me to ignore.

  What had happened with Michael was bad enough, but the memories that had surfaced horrified me the most. Memories I'd blocked for such a long time.

  The birds in the garden began their morning song and I knew the children would wake soon.

  I heard the toilet flush, followed by the squeak of floorboards on the landing.

  I slid out of bed and crept downstairs.

  Michael stood at the kitchen sink filling the kettle, dressed in a tight fitting grey t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. His body tensed as I entered the room.

  "We need to talk, Michael," I said.

  As he turned around, the breath caught in my throat. A deep cut under his right eye appeared swollen and inflamed.

  "Oh shit! I didn't mean …" I put my hand to my mouth to stop myself from crying.

  His cheeks coloured. "I'm pretty sure I deserved everything," he said, unable to look me in the eye. "What do you wanna do now?" Wiping his hands on his pyjamas, he leaned back against the bench, his shoulders stooped and his chin almost touching his chest.

  I shrugged and shook my head. "I don't know," I said. "I just can't think straight at the moment." I pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down heavily.

  We’d met in Italy, almost six years ago now. I was twenty-one, Michael a little older at twenty-four.

  My interior design course had finished and I was lucky enough to score some work from a builder, giving me hands-on decorating experience.

  After three years in Italy I was used to vain, flirtatious men. Michael, just another in a long line, loved himself more than he could ever love anyone else.

  There was no denying he was handsome. With his tall, athletic build and broad, shoulders, clothes hung from his body to perfection, no matter what he wore. His bright blue eyes—the first thing I noticed about him—stood out against his olive complexion. Natural golden glints shone in his brown, stylishly messy hair. He was always preening himself in front of the mirror. However, good looks wear thin I'd found.

  It began with a one-night stand, as I guess many relationships do. I'd never been happier in my life at that stage, or as free. I wasn't interested in anything more serious than a quick fumble, perhaps a drink or two, maybe dinner.

  Michael had other ideas, and he pursued me until I relented. Maybe because he wasn't used to rejection, who knows? For the first six months, I couldn't have asked for a better, more doting and affectionate man. Then as soon as I got pregnant, and we married, everything seemed to change.

  They were subtle changes at first, he was less attentive and more critical and I began to withdraw into myself more and more. But we’d got by, learned to live with each other’s quirks and oddities. We had a relatively good marriage.

  At first, we'd juggled the children between us since we were both self-employed. That was until his building work began to dry up and my interior-design business began to soar.

  It was a no-brainer that Michael should stay at home with the children while I was the breadwinner—which seemed to stick in his craw. He hated admitting to his friends that he was a house husband.

  He also hated how overprotective I was, and said I interfered too much. He accused me of being paranoid because I wouldn't let him leave the kids alone in day-care.

  Things had become worse recently though. The fact that we weren't having sex was the main problem—I'd lost my libido since Jacob was born. I knew Michael was frustrated, but I couldn't help myself.

  Then the arguments began. It was obvious that something was very wrong, but I'd ignored it, hoping things would settle down again.

  Now I knew the reason for his attitude, and I can't say I was too surprised.

  Just last night, before we left home, Michael called me an embarrassment, because I’d refused to change out of my jeans. If dinner or a dance—the theatre even—had been our destination, then fair enough. But we were going to a house party, for Christ's sake, not a bloody fashion show.

  In the cab on the way there, he'd sulked like a spoiled brat and continued to be horrible until we arrived at his friend's house. Then, as though someone had flipped a switch, my moody husband turned into Prince Charming once again.

  Most women he met hung off his every word. To think that those same tired old lines had hooked me once upon a time—not anymore though.

  His smarmy, cheesy patter worked a treat, especially on women of a certain age, but he'd always insisted flirting was as far as he ever went. And although I'd had my suspicions in the past, I'd never thought he would have the gall to do it right under my nose.

  “Who was she?” I asked, a twinge of hurt making me wince and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  He shrugged. “I met her at the party. I was stupid,” he said as he fiddled with the corner of the tea-towel in his hands.

  "Don’t worry. I’ll move out.”

  I gasped and took another deep breath and held it until I felt light headed. Once I’d composed myself, I looked at him. "Do you want to move out?"

  "It's not about what I want anymore, is it?" He whispered.

  "Things can't stay as they have been, Michael, that's for sure."

  I was no saint. During the three years I'd spent in Italy, I'd been promiscuous and lost count how many sexual partners I'd had. I was always searching for something to fill the emptiness I felt and I was well aware of how sex could be an entirely meaningless act.

  But once I met Michael I thought I’d made it. He was handsome, funny and easy to get along with. But I still sometimes yearned for the excitement of my old ways.

  Watching Michael having raw, exciting sex on a toilet seat with a stranger had got me going. Last night's shower performance was proof of that.

  I knew I wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. The only emotion I showed was directed towards the children. But I loved him in my own twisted and dysfunctional way. I
was hurt by his actions but understood why he’d done it. He needed more of a physical relationship than I’d been capable of giving him.

  “I don’t want you to move out,” I said.

  He grabbed the bench top to steady himself. "You mean …? Oh, Amanda, you won't regret it, I swear to you," he said as he walked towards me. He held out a hand and grasped mine, squeezing tight. His hand trembled and his beautiful blue eyes brimmed with tears.

  He bent to hug me, but I held up my hand and shook my head. “It’s not over—not just like that,” I said. “You need to prove yourself to me, Michael. I need to know I can trust you and that you’ll never humiliate me like that ever again.”

  “I promise, Mand. I love you, and I will make it better.”

  "We’ll see, but if you ever pull another stunt like you did last night you will regret it, I promise you. Next time you’ll get more than a tiny nip on your cheek."

  Chapter 2

  Amanda

  The following Saturday was a beautiful day, unusually warm for mid-October. Michael suggested we make the most of the weather and take the children to the zoo.

  It had been ages since we’d been out as a family. I contemplated refusing to go, but Emma was so excited that I shrugged and said, “Why not?”

  I set about packing for every eventuality: nappies, wipes, changes of clothes, snacks and drinks.

  Emma had chosen her own outfit and dressed herself this morning. She looked cute in her navy-blue leggings and a pink roll neck jumper, her golden curls held back with a purple, butterfly headband. Both the children had been blessed with Michael’s full-bodied curls, but my colouring and although I hated my pale complexion and the colour of my hair, it was lovely on them.

  Emma had her own bag and followed me around the house packing. I laughed as she peered into the fridge—the concentration on her face was priceless.

  She tucked her favourite blanket into the top of her bag. "I'm weddy, Mummy."

  I knew I'd have to start correcting her speech soon, but she sounded adorable. She'd always been advanced for her age in many ways except for her childlike pronunciations.

  The drive to the local train station took ten minutes. It made good sense to travel into the zoo on the train, cutting out all the parking issues.

  The kids were so excited. They'd never been on a train before. Emma didn't stop chattering for a second. The bag on her back was almost bursting at the seams—I didn't think she would carry it for too long.

  Michael and I sat together.

  Every time I looked at him, an image of him with that brazen hussy flashed before my eyes and it made my heart break a little bit more. Not that he’d have guessed how I was feeling. If asked he’d have probably said that things were back to normal with us, but it was far from normal for me.

  He reached for my hand and held it the whole journey. He'd been making a huge effort all week, but I still felt cold to his touch.

  The children were sitting across the aisle from us. Every time we went round a bend Emma squealed with delight, grabbing hold of Jacob, who laughed hysterically at his big sister. Everyone in the entire carriage cracked up laughing at them too.

  We walked from the train station at Camden Town. The wind had picked up a bit, but it was still warm. By the time we arrived at the zoo's entrance, in Regents Park, we were sweltering hot.

  We got in a queue behind a busload of Japanese tourists. Michael groaned, rolled his eyes, and looked at his watch. But the well-organised tour guides cleared the crowds, getting us through the gates and in front of the reptile house within a few minutes.

  The one and only time I'd been to the zoo was as a schoolgirl with my class. I could still remember my excitement at seeing all the fantastic wild animals I'd only read about in books.

  "Okay, where to first?" I asked.

  "How 'bout we go in the opposite direction to everyone else?" Michael said, nodding at the throng of tourists just ahead of us. "The aquarium's right here."

  "Good thinking, Batman, the aquarium it is then,” I said.

  Emma was trying to undo my grip on her arm with her free hand, her eyes darting everywhere.

  “Emma, would you please stop doing that?"

  I pulled her to the side of the walkway and crouched down in front of her. "Right, before we do anything, Emma, you need to listen to me."

  "Wook, Mummy, monkeys," she said, paying no attention to me whatsoever.

  "Emma, are you listening to me?" I shook her arm which seemed to do the trick.

  "Yes," she said, startled.

  "You have got to keep close to me and hold my hand at all times, do you hear me?"

  "Okay, Mummy, can we see the monkeys?"

  "Later. We'll go to the aquarium first." I laughed, feeling exhausted already.

  Michael led the way with Jacob in his pushchair, and I held on to Emma for dear life.

  I'd always hated crowds and noise, but I didn't want to spoil the day so I fixed a smile on my face.

  The seahorses, one little yellow one in particular, had Emma mesmerised. I couldn't tear her away from the tank.

  "Come on, sweetie, there are a lot more animals to visit yet," I coaxed.

  "Five minutes, five minutes, Mummy, pwease." Her face almost touched the glass.

  "She is pretty, isn't she?" I said, kneeling beside Emma in front of the tank.

  "Can I take her home, Mummy?" She gazed at the tiny creature longingly.

  "No, honey. They need to stay at the zoo."

  We finally made our way to the exit. Michael and Jacob were sitting outside the door, waiting for us.

  "Thank goodness! I was about to send out a search party, you've been ages," Michael said standing up.

  "Emma fell in love with a seahorse. She wanted to take it home with us." I raised my eyebrows at him and smiled.

  "Mummy pwomised to get me one fwom the shop," Emma said. Her big blue eyes sparkled.

  Michael cocked his head to one side, his eyebrows mimicking mine. "Oh, she did, did she?"

  "Not a real one." I laughed. "I had to say something, or we'd have been in there all day."

  "Well let's hope we can find one then, if Mummy promised." He smiled at Emma.

  Our next stop was the gorillas.

  Jacob went berserk and almost screamed the place down, he held himself rigid with fear while Michael struggled to release the clasp of the pushchair.

  Once he was in his daddy's arms, his screams calmed to sobs. Michael wafted his hand in front of his nose, telling me Jacob needed changing.

  We weren't getting very far at all.

  At the Oasis café, I ordered drinks and got a map of the zoo while Michael took Jacob into the bathroom. Emma and I sat down at a table studying the map.

  "Oh wook, Mummy, they is penguins and a dwagon."

  "A dragon? Are you sure?" I couldn't imagine what she'd seen. "Show me."

  She handed me the booklet and there certainly was a dragon.

  "Ahh, a Komodo dragon. You are right, Miss Emma—and yes, we can go later."

  "Go where?" Michael said as he pulled out a chair.

  "A dwagon! Wook, Daddy, wook, Jake, a dwagon."

  I pushed a mug of coffee across the wobbly, plastic table to Michael, and emptied a bottle of juice into Jacobs's cup. "Someone smells sweeter—don't you, baby?" I said handing Jacob his drink and a piece of apple.

  Refreshed, recharged, and eager to continue on our way, the penguins were the next stop—followed by the butterflies, pelicans and parrots. By the time we got to the big cats Jacob was sound asleep.

  "Aw, Michael, I wanted him to see the lions," I grumbled. Though I had to admit his flushed, chubby little cheeks and his cherry lips, pursed into a continual kiss, was just too cute. I bent and kissed him several times in the hope he might wake up, but he was spark out.

  "Let him have half an hour and we'll wake him up. You take Emma into the bugs. I'll wait here for you."

  I glanced across the path and noticed the giant wooden, cre
epy crawlies on the roof of a cabin and a B.U.G.S sign emblazoned above the entrance.

  "You scaredy cat." I laughed. "How about you go in, and I'll stay here with Jacob?"

  "Piss off!" Michael’s smile lit up his cheeky eyes as he plonked himself down on the bench and crossed one denim-clad leg over the other.

  "Aw, Daddy, you sweared." Emma scowled at Michael, her arms folded across her chest.

  "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Mummy knows I don't like spiders." He shuddered.

  "Michael, you're gonna frighten her. We have to go in now if only to show her there's nothing to be scared of and that you're a mardy bum. Hey, Em, is daddy a mardy bum?"

  She giggled. "Yeah, Daddy, you're a mardy bum."

  "You're right, but ask me if I care." He laughed, giving me a glimpse of the fun-loving, easy-going man I married. My heart fluttered. Maybe there was a chance of salvaging something from this train-wreck of a marriage after all.

  "Come on, Mummy, wet's go." Emma tugged on my arm.

  "Okay, if I must." I didn't want Emma growing up with the same irrational fear as her father, but even so, the thought of coming face to face with hundreds of bugs made me squirm.

  The entrance was dimly lit and creepy. I'm not sure if the bugs preferred it this way or if the staff got a kick out of giving everyone the heebie-jeebies, but less than two minutes in and I itched all over.

  Emma, not at all bothered, stood on a platform with one of the guides looking at a red-kneed, bird-eating spider. "Wook, Mummy, his name's Bowis, come and see!" Her face beamed.

  I shuddered, more than a little freaked out. "I'm okay thanks, sweetie, you carry on." I kept my distance and left Emma to run back and forth in awe of the horrid, crawly things. Large glass tanks featured a whole host of bugs. There were hissing cockroaches, huge beetles, crickets, and praying mantises to name but a few.

  My phone rang. I dug in my handbag while a guide explained to Emma what was happening inside an anthill. I found my phone and walked back towards the entrance.

  "Hello, Amanda speaking."

  "Good morning, Amanda," a woman's voice said. "My name is Judy. I got your number from a mutual friend. I believe you're an interior designer?"