Finders Keepers Edie Baylis (phonics readers .TXT) 📖

That was the first thing he’d thought when the murder was first reported a few days ago, but this latest update proved it. No forced entry...

He shivered. Now those nutters had finally got what they wanted would they leave him alone?

Joe stared at the burner phone. He remembered he’d been all set to destroy that last night. Surely there was no need for it now? But there was just something... something that was telling him this wasn’t over yet. And he was dreading what that meant.

He moved to the mirror and stared at his reflection. Christ, he looked bad. He’d have a shower, hope his hand remained sturdy enough for him to shave without slitting his own throat and then iron his new shirt. Whatever happened, he’d make an effort for Alan today. It was the least he owed him.

Burying Alan would signify the end of this shitty chapter in his life and perhaps then he could move forward?

Despite not wanting to, the urge to look at the phone again was overwhelming. Gingerly picking it up, Joe switched it on. Fuck. A message.

With shaking fingers he opened the text:

Call me. Now.

Feeling a fresh cold sweat break out on his brow, Joe obediently pressed the call button.

JOE’S NAUSEA INCREASED as he made his way to the Plough and Harrow. Why he’d suggested meeting here he had no clue. He was sure he must be having some kind of mental breakdown. Had he lost all sense?

He shouldn’t have looked at that burner phone again. He should have kept his eyes as far away from it as possible; or thrown it away, eaten it, anything. Looking at it must have put out a prompt to the ether for the psycho to get back in contact.

Stupid, stupid.

As he turned into the road, Joe spotted the nasty outline of the man and his pace slowed. How long could he drag out reaching there?

Sighing, he continued at a normal pace, realising the longer it took, the more time it gave his mind to dream up worst case scenarios and he’d already imagined far too many of those.

‘Alright?’ Keith said as Joe approached.

‘Not bad,’ Joe muttered, thinking he was far from alright because he was here. With him.

Keith nodded towards the door of the Plough and Harrow. ‘Fancy a drink?’

Joe stared at the man with half an ear. What were they? Mates or something? The fucker had tried to drown him in his own fucking toilet! ‘I’d rather make this quick if you don’t mind.’

Keith cut Joe a look. ‘In that case, walk.’ He moved off up the road, leaving Joe to scuttle behind trying to keep up with his long strides. ‘What’s the news?’

Joe glanced sideways. ‘What news? I don’t have any news.’

‘Don’t play thick, dumbass,’ Keith spat. ‘Are they back in the house?’

Joe’s brain worked overtime. ‘Who?’

Keith stopped dead and Joe walked straight into him – the man’s back as hard as a brick wall. ‘I haven’t got time for this,’ he snarled, turning around. ‘Your missus. Is she and the old bitch back at the house yet?’

Joe shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ Why did it matter? These guys had got what they wanted, hadn’t they?

‘I’ll make it a bit simpler. I forgot how fucking stupid you are. Has your girl told you anything? Anything at all about the police – that sort of stuff?’

Joe frowned. ‘No.’

‘Where are they?’

Joe shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen her. She texted me the other day to say she was coming to the funeral and that was it.’ He looked down at his suit. ‘That’s where I’m going now.’ You know, the funeral of my mate that you killed...

Keith’s eyes narrowed. ‘She must have said something. You need to fucking think.’

Joe swallowed, remembering all too clearly the last time he’d been slow in giving his answers to this man. ‘I haven’t seen her.’

Keith’s mouth formed a snarl. ‘Then find out everything you can today. I want to know where they are and if they’re back at the house. I want to know what the police have said. I want to know every fucking detail. Everything. Do you understand? I’ll call you later, so make sure to answer.’

Without waiting for a reply, Keith sauntered off down the street, leaving Joe feeling like the groundhog nightmares had begun all over again.

Seven

TEAGAN IGNORED THE muffled buzzing of her phone from the bottom of her handbag, glad she’d remembered to turn the ringer off. There wasn’t much worse than someone’s phone ringing loudly at a funeral, apart from perhaps it being your own funeral.

She suspected it was Darren Harding. He’d sent her many texts and left several voicemails over the last few days, but she’d been loath to return them. Admittedly, she was being a bit of a coward by putting off getting back to him, but his general attitude the last time she’d seen him was not the best and well, they didn’t have what she’d thought in common after all.

After Joe, Teagan decided she was done with spending time on detrimental relationships and besides, she’d had other things to deal with. But she would have to at least return his calls and explain what had happened. Despite her decision about not wanting to pursue a relationship, it wasn’t fair to blank him. But she’d deal with that later. Right now it was more important to be here for Joe.

Aside from how things had worked out between them and what he’d put her through, she still cared for him and felt it only decent that she should make the effort to come to Alan’s funeral.

She eyed Joe dressed in a suit and less unkempt than the last time she’d seen him, glad he’d made the effort to spruce himself up. But he still looked worried. Stressed.

As Alan’s coffin was lowered into the earth, Teagan bowed her head and bit back the urge to cry.