“What? Of course he does.”

  “No, I mean physically. We haven’t had sex

  for months. I constantly feel like a housewife,

  not his lover. It feels like all I do is welcome

  him home from work, make him dinner and

  comfort him. Do you see what I mean?”

  “Yeah sure I see do. Who doesn’t want to

  feel intimate with their partner?”

  “Exactly. It’s not just the sex though. I want

  to feel attractive and loved again. I see him

  every day but we rarely kiss, we may hug or

  cuddle on the sofa, but it’s just not the same

  as it used to be.”

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  “I see where you’re coming from Sandy and

  you’re right.”

  “I am? I’m not being selfish or harsh on Si

  am I?”

  “No you’re not. Sandra you are an attractive

  woman, you really are and there are many

  men out there who would kill to have you. I

  mean look at me, I regret the day I woke up

  and Tanya was gone. I have nightmares

  constantly. I always imagine her and when I

  imagine her, she hates me. Maybe it’s because

  I didn’t fight to keep them. I didn’t do enough

  to keep Tanya in my life and that’s why I

  haven’t seen her or the kids in years. It’s my

  fault. That’s why Simon needs to make an

  effort with you because you may meet

  someone who does love you and who does

  want to look after you and he may give you

  everything you’re missing and more.” I’ve

  never spoken to anyone like this before, it’s

  most likely the alcohol, mixing whiskey and

  wine wasn’t the best idea.

  “Ryan that is so cute.” Sandra says as she

  stares at me.

  “You deserve better and there are plenty of

  men out there who would make you happy,

  I’m sure of it.”

  Sandra looks down to her glass and takes

  another drink.

  “Maybe. But I don’t want to hurt Si, we’ve

  been together so long and Sam would be so

  upset.”

  80

  “You need to think of yourself. Everything

  will work out if you were to leave him. Have

  you tried talking to him about this?”

  “I have tried but he never likes talking about

  it, especially about sex.”

  “Well if he won’t listen, maybe you need to

  just leave the house. Don’t tell him where

  you’re going so he knows what his life would

  be like without you. If you wanted to, you

  could live with me for a little while?”

  “That could be an idea.” Sandra says as she

  stares at me. “Ryan, I really like you and

  you’ve opened my eyes to what I need and

  want in my life.”

  “I’m glad I could help you Sandy, I really like

  you too.”

  “Maybe it’s you I need in my life.”

  I pause. Did she really just say that? What

  does she mean? She wants to be with me?

  “What?”

  “Ryan I said, I want you in my life.” Her

  words slur slightly. “I want you.”

  I look at her, her eyes staring into mine. She

  bites her dark red bottom lip seductively.

  “Sandy… I don’t know what to say.”

  “Do you want to be with me?” She asks.

  “I can’t. You’re married and we hardly know

  each other.”

  “I know but as soon as I met you, I was

  attracted to you. You’re so handsome and I

  really want you and now we’re alone I just

  want you even more.”

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  My stomach turns inside out. I really do like

  her but I can’t do that to Simon and I can’t do

  that to Tanya and the kids.

  “Sandy, sorry I just…”

  Sandra gets up from her chair and walks over

  to me and pulls me out of my chair.

  We stand face to face, staring into each

  other’s eyes. I need to kiss her. She looks

  stunning.

  “We can’t do this. You’re with Simon and

  I’m still looking for Tanya and the kids.”

  “Ryan, please.” She kisses me.

  My lips respond, followed by my mind, her

  soft lips; her soft skin. My hands move to her

  waist and she comes nearer. Our bodies draw

  closer. She stares at me.

  “We can’t. We’re both married and we are

  both drunk, we don’t know what we’re

  doing.” I say, hoping Sandra would stop…

  But she doesn’t.

  I lie in bed with the covers off, next to

  Sandra. She’s asleep with her leg on the duvet

  whilst hugging it to cover half her naked

  body.

  I stand up from the bed and look back down

  to where I had lain then I look to Sandra; her

  eyes open.

  “Ryan,” she croaks.

  “I’ve got to go, thank you for dinner.”

  “What about desert?” she says as she sits up.

  “It was good.” I chuckle.

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  I stare at her and she stares back. The alcohol

  however, is taking over. My balance becomes

  nonexistent. I need to go home.

  “Don’t go Ryan, come back to bed and stay

  the night with me.”

  “I can’t, I’ve got to go.” As I turn to leave, I

  stumble. I stand up straight and try to regain a

  sense of direction and balance.

  I stagger out of the bedroom and down the

  spiral stairs, down into the open-plan bottom

  floor of the Cann’s home.

  I get to the front door to notice two sets of

  keys hanging on the wall next to the front

  door. I take one of the sets of keys and check

  the cut of the key by inserting it into the door.

  It works, so I leave, shut the door and lock it

  behind me.

  I put the keys into my pocket and begin to

  sway home.

  My vision blurs as I look up at my house at

  the top of the slope. Continuing to take steady

  steps across the road, I follow the path from

  the pavement up to the house, planning the

  route that I shall take home.

  I look around at the empty cul-de-sac. There

  are no lights on at any windows on the street.

  The street lamps are dim, barely shining down

  onto the pavements.

  I look over to the grubby house which has no

  movement whatsoever. I look back towards

  my house and step onto the pavement. As I

  walk up the pavement, I sway more and more.

  My feet feel as if they’ve evaporated. I

  collapse face-first onto my lawn. I smell the

  83

  grass. My outstretched hands clench into fists,

  gathering up grass and mud. I try to move but

  I can’t. My entire body is numb. My senses

  disappear.

  Sandra’s face enters my mind. I watch her

  face move and shape into Tanya’s. Her eyes

  look at me. Her face has no emotion, but

  soon changes to anger. Tanya turns away

  from me and walks away.

  We’re in a dark room, I recognise the smell

  of the muskiness and I recognise the shadows

  that smother me and Tanya. My throat

  tightens; my Adam’s apple moves and vibrates

  as I open my mouth. With no words coming

  out, Tanya appears in front of me.

  “Help me Ryan. You really, really need to

  help me, before it’s too late.”

  She disintegrates and the room crumbles

  around me. The shadows darken, the walls

  collapse and each segment of wall becomes

  part of the shadows.

  I don’t know what’s going on. What is Tanya

  trying to tell me? I know this is only a dream,

  but it feels so real.

  84

  Recollection

  Killing For Your Love

  Chapter 18

  I spend most of my days studying local

  newspapers, judging the murders, searching for

  the article describing Lizzie’s dead body.

  I fear for her. I fear the day that I do find her; the

  day that I can in fact identify the body in the

  morgue.

  I have made sure that nobody can find me. I am

  being searched for by the police. Whether that’s

  because they are delusional enough to think I’m

  guilty of killing my family, because I am

  searching for Lizzie and the kids myself or

  because they are actually worried that I could be

  missing or have committed suicide. It’s definitely

  not the latter; they are treating me as a suspect…

  Just when I thought I had found Lizzie it wasn’t

  to be. I thought it was her, from behind it looked

  exactly like her but thankfully it wasn’t. She

  wouldn’t go into another man’s house; she

  wouldn’t do that to me.

  The two people won’t go to the police to report

  me; I hope nobody else saw me.

  My eyes open slowly. I lie in bed and look to

  the ceiling with the warm waking up feeling all

  over my body.

  85

  How did I get home? I remember collapsing

  outside on the lawn but only vaguely.

  The images of the shed enter my mind.

  Flashbacks of the fox and its insides scattered

  across the floor.

  I need to clean the shed and get rid of the

  fox.

  As I stare at the ceiling planning what to do,

  my thoughts are interrupted:

  BANG BANG at the door.

  I sit up. The cold air seeps under the duvet

  counteracting the temperature of the mattress

  and swathing my back. The duvet flops off

  my chest. I look ahead of me, to the usually

  empty wall and I’m horrified. I stay in my bed,

  staring at the wall. Who did this?

  I stare at the newspaper headline letters that

  have been cut out and stuck onto the wall to

  read ‘Beneath men sit’. It’s not just spelled out

  once; it’s repeated a number of times across

  my wall.

  BANG BANG again. Deep voices drone

  through my walls from outside.

  I stare at the letters. Who did this?

  I swing my legs from under the duvet and off

  the mattress.

  Looking down to my leg, I notice flecks of

  mud up my leg. The bottoms of my feet are

  covered in mud too. What happened last

  night?

  BANG BANG rings out through the house

  followed by. “Mr Milligan, please open the

  door.”

  86

  I can’t stop looking at the wall. I walk up to

  the lettering and stare at the pile of

  newspapers on the floor.

  BANG BANG.

  I knock off the lettering. The letters drift and

  swirl down onto the floor.

  I put some clothes on: jeans, that I never

  really wear anymore and a brown polo shirt.

  I leave the room, shutting the door behind

  me.

  I am not halfway down the stairs when I see

  the front door is open. I step off the last step

  and look around to the basement door which

  is also wide open. There is movement down

  in the basement. I lean in and look down the

  stairs. No one is in sight. I step down the

  creaky wooden steps. I see lights shining and

  moving around the basement. I step down off

  the bottom step and the lights shine into my

  eyes.

  “Mr Milligan?” a deep voice speaks.

  “Who are you? Why are you in my home?” I

  say angrily.

  “We’re the police. I’m inspector Hughes and

  this is Detective Seymour. We need to search

  your property due to the investigation of a

  murder that took place last night. We are

  searching all the properties on Mulberry Lane.

  Do you have any objection to the search?”

  The shed enters my mind; the fox, the blood,

  the segments of brain spattered across the

  walls, the guts all over the floor. “Do you

  have a search warrant? And does it specifically

  87

  say you can come into a home uninvited?” I

  ask, anger making my voice harsh to my ears.

  “The basement is clear.” Seymour says.

  Hughes nods to his colleague. “I think you’ll

  find we can do what we like, Mr Milligan,

  especially if you don’t answer and the front

  door is open. Let’s go up stairs Mr Milligan.”

  They follow me up the basement steps

  toward the front door. I turn to the two

  muscular men. Hughes’ crinkled face is

  leathery with beady eyes, one brown and one

  green. The deep scar on his neck is jagged and

  uneven as if someone used a blunt knife to

  attack him.

  What am I going to do about the fox?

  “Mr Milligan we have a search warrant to

  search the properties on Mulberry Lane and

  the surrounding homes around this area.

  There was a murder last night; another blonde

  victim who lived on Mulberry Lane.” Hughes

  says.

  My mind is compacted with fear. The fear of

  the fox being discovered, how could I explain

  that it wasn’t me? The fear that murder victim

  is Sandra Cann. I need to stay calm; I have

  done nothing wrong at all. Someone is setting

  me up for some reason.

  “What? Who?” I ask.

  “We cannot reveal who the murder victim is

  at this time.”

  “Oh please I need to know.”

  “And why’s that sir?”

  “Because I have friends who live on this

  road.”

  88

  “Lucy Brekken was murdered last night. She

  was raped then stabbed to death. Her

  husband, Graham was also murdered we

  believe. Her body was in the home and we

  found traces of his blood there but he is

  missing. We are searching all the properties on

  Mulberry Lane for any indications of his

  location.”

  I am frozen to the spot. I feel dizzy. They are

  going to find the fox and they’ll pin this death

  and the other murders on me.

  The two men walk off to search my home.

  They are going to find the newspapers also

  which will make them suspicious.

  The leading officer comes up to me; his voice

  is distant, he has to repeat himself.

  “Sir?” I hear him say. “Sir can you hear me?”

  “Yes, sorry. I’m just hung-over from last

  night.”

  “Do you remember what you did last night,

  Mr Milligan?”

  “Of course I do, I went over the road to

  Sandra Cann’s house and we had a meal

  together. Her husband asked me to keep an

  eye on her because of these recent murders.”

  “When did you leave her home?”

  “God, well it was very late. I can’t remember

  a specific time.”

  “Right. Did you hear any noises? If you were

  out late then you could be our only hope in

  finding the murderer.”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Okay Mr Milligan. We don’t need a

  statement from you at this time, but we will.

  89

  We will need both yours and Mrs Cann’s

  statements. We are asking everyone on

  Mulberry Lane of their whereabouts last

  night.”

  “I understand officer. I will answer any

  questions you have.” I say calmly.

  “We will search the house now, however.”

  “Yes that is fine, I’ll be outside.”

  What about the newspaper cut outs? I need

  to get them to hide them. I begin to speak

  again, “Actually officer, can I get something

  from my room?”

  “What could you possibly need at this

  moment in time Mr Milligan?” He asks

  looking me up and down.

  “Well I haven’t tidied my room and…”

  “It’s fine Mr Milligan I expect I’ve seen a lot

  worse. I’ll see you outside.” Hughes says.

  I stand in the hallway by the front door and

  watch the thick set of Hughes make his way

  up my stairs.

  Once he disappears upstairs, I look through

  the kitchen door and out of the kitchen

  window to see Seymour searching the garden.

  He looks around at the fences. He takes long

  strides toward the gate and looks around the

  area. I hope he doesn’t find the blood trail

  leading to the shed.

  As he looks around, my head feels numb.

  The numbness drains my body and progresses

  down me. My hearing disappears as I wait for

  the shocked expression of Seymour. I

  continue to stare as Seymour pauses. He looks

  back to the house then at me but I don’t think

  90

  he sees me. He walks toward the shed with