Blood Loss

I might have got away begins to unravel. They’ll be able to trace his flight to Glasgow. Thank God he got a cab to the hotel in Paisley where I picked him up after my late shift. Will the police trace the cab? Will there be CCTV at the hotel? Sweat prickles in my armpits and I feel sick.
A picture of Robert appears below the text and I stare at his dark hair and easy smile. For a moment I miss him. He was to blame, though. He shouldn’t have led me on like he did and made me believe we had a future together when he never had any intention of leaving his wife. He shouldn’t have made me feel that I don’t matter.
‘Hi Sarah, everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
I jump and quickly minimise the screen. Mark’s standing beside my monitor with a soppy look on his face. I’m sure if he had a tail it would be wagging. Thankfully, he wasn’t able to see the screen from that angle.
‘Just seen my bank statement,’ I lie with a small laugh.
‘That bad, eh? How about a coffee to distract you from your pain?’
His wide smile would be attractive if it didn’t make his nose appear more hooked and I can’t help comparing him to good-looking Robert. Mark is certainly keen on me, though, and it occurs to me that his liking for me might actually be useful. If I get involved with him it may throw suspicion away from me. I might even be able to work up to moving in with him so I don’t have to live at Mum’s and that might make it harder for the police to find me. ‘I’m working until four but could meet you after that.’
‘Cool. I’ll see you at the entrance.’ He strolls away casually, but as he turns for the stairs he raises his fist in a gesture of triumph.
I smile to myself and bring up the news article again but I’m soon frowning as I consider what will happen if the police discover my number plate. I had to remove the tape the other day because the rain was causing it to peel off in places and it looked suspicious. I can’t afford to ditch my car. I’ll have to ask Desperate Derek next door to sort me out a new number plate. He won’t ask questions and he’ll do anything for me if there’s a kiss and grope as payment. I shudder at the thought but don’t see that I have a choice. I wonder briefly if he’ll swap my car too, for a fuller payment.
I close the internet and sit back in my chair. Now that Robert has been identified I need to think my situation through again. The article has appealed for witnesses who may have seen him. Will any of the staff at the hotel where we’d spent a weekend in January recognise him and describe me? I think back to the waiter, bar worker and receptionist. Unlikely. They all spoke limited English and probably work too many hours to watch the news.
The bigger risk is the coffee shop where we first met. I’d been sitting reading a magazine when Robert had passed by only to stumble over the strap of his laptop bag and slop coffee onto my magazine. He’d told me to wait there and rushed down the road to the newsagents to buy another one. We’d got chatting after that and met the next evening for dinner. Whenever he was in the area for work we met at the café until the relationship escalated to hotel rooms and finally, six months later, to the lodge in Scotland. He was the first man in my life to treat me with some measure of respect and kindness. Or at least the appearance of it. At last, I’d thought, I was going to have the loving home that so eluded me and create a family of my own. Stupid, gullible bitch.
I can’t put it off any longer. I need to go back to Manchester to gather up my belongings from the bedsit I rented then write a letter of notice to the landlord. He’ll soon find another tenant. No, wait. My mind splinters in different directions. Think, Sarah! If I don’t pay the rent by Monday, he’ll evict me anyway – use his key, dump all my stuff and wipe a cloth around the room for the next person who wants to pay cash. I’ve seen him do it to other tenants. My work colleagues at the local minimarket and bar will guess I’m not coming back, and as I’m only known to them all as Trina there’ll be no link to the real me.
Thank God I’d decided on a new identity there and enlisted Derek’s help in getting new fake documents to enable me to find a job and rent a room. No-one wants to be known as the daughter of a murderer, and even though it happened a while ago it re-surfaces sometimes. Still, escaping my bleak history has created some advantages. Going back to Manchester would be the worst decision I could make as it might trigger someone’s memory if they saw me. I lean back in my chair, grasp the edge of the desk and inhale deeply. I have to stay in Milton Keynes even if it means being Sarah again. I have to bide my time until I can think of a new plan and that could possibly include a guy called Mark.

Chapter 19


The Following July | Jenna
I give Merlin a thorough hose down and use the sweat scraper to remove all the sweat and water then put him back in the stable. He stands quietly and drops his head in a doze. I clean and put away the tack, and amble back to the house. I feel knackered and wonder how I’ll have the energy to stand all night behind the bar. When I walk