Trust No One: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists
Trust No One: Chapter 33

‘M aybe we should get away for a bit,’ Janice suggested, nursing her vodka and Coke as she watched Fern pace up and down her kitchen. ‘We could go to Tenerife. That has a good temperature all year round.’

Although Janice Plum was worried by everything going on, the one silver lining of this situation was that her friendship had been rekindled with Fern. She was back in the zone. It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends. No, she had all of her Zumba pals and the local mums, but Fern had always been one of the cool ones. Fern St Clair didn’t hang around with just anyone.

Of course Fern’s friend options were being killed off. Howard had always come higher on the pecking order than Janice, but he was gone now. The police had been in touch with Fern not long after Howard’s phone was found in the woods out near Fritton. As she had been the last person Howard had spoken to before his gruesome death, they had needed to ask her some questions.

Fern had been careful not to reveal any details of why the killer might be targeting them. If the police found out the truth about that night at Black Dog Farm, the pair of them could be in a whole heap of trouble. Janice wasn’t sure what was worse: being targeted by a stalker or spending her days in a prison cell.

Getting out of the country seemed to be the only way they could stay safe. Plus of course, it would be nice to have a girls’ holiday, a pre-Christmas break. Martin wouldn’t begrudge her that: she worked hard looking after the house, and he could take care of the kids for a couple of weeks.

‘Get away?’ Fern stopped pacing, stared at her incredulously. ‘Are you seriously that stupid that you think a holiday is going to fix this?’

‘Well, it can’t hurt. And at least we would be safe while we tried to work out a longer-term plan.’

Fern dragged her fingers back through her hair, resumed her pacing. ‘How did I get left with the idiot of the bunch?’ She muttered this to herself, but it was loud enough for Janice to hear.

She bristled. ‘Hey, I don’t have to be here, you know! I do have other friends.’

‘Whatever.’ The outburst brought Fern to a halt though. She paused by the counter, picking up her own drink. Janice had watched her pour at least three shots of vodka in the glass and was starting to wonder if her old friend had an alcohol problem.

‘What we need to do is replace out whoever the hell is doing this and put an end to it.’ Fern paused, considering. ‘Have you managed to track down that Rita Works woman yet?’

‘Not yet. I’m still trying, but honest, Fern, the woman is like a ghost. I’ve sent her three messages and she hasn’t even opened them.’

‘What about Gary’s mum and his friends? I told you to talk to them.’

‘I have.’ Speaking with Gary’s mum had been a difficult conversation. As she wasn’t on any social media and Janice didn’t have a phone number for her, she’d been left with no choice but to track down her address and pay her a visit. Doreen had been a mess, not coping at all well with her son’s death, and hadn’t been much help with Janice’s questions. When the woman had collapsed sobbing, her husband had come to the door and angrily insisted that Janice leave.

The only thing she had managed to ascertain was that neither of Gary’s parents had ever met Rita Works.

Gary’s best friend, Keith, had been a little more helpful. He had been in the year above them at school and remembered Janice. They’d met for a drink at Gary’s local, where she also got to speak with a few of Gary’s other friends. Again though, none of them had met Rita. Keith knew that they had hooked up via the dating site Plenty of Fish, but wasn’t sure if the relationship had ever made it offline.

Janice told Fern, ‘He reckoned Gary was planning to meet up with Rita in the real world the night before he died, but apart from that–’

‘I thought you said you were good at replaceing people?’ Fern pouted, knocking back more vodka.

‘I usually am. I’m trying my best.’ A thought occurred to Janice and her eyes widened. ‘Oh my God, Fern. What if she was the one who killed him? Keith said they were meeting up. Maybe they had a fight and Rita killed him by accident.’

‘By chaining him to a chair and setting him on fire?’

‘Maybe it was a kinky game that went wrong.’

Fern shook her head. ‘A kinky game? Would you listen to yourself? What do you think, she only meant to burn his cock off, but the match slipped?’

‘I’m just coming up with suggestions, there’s no need to be sarcastic. All I’m saying is, if Rita was supposed to meet him just before he died and she’s suddenly disappeared, maybe she killed him. She could be a female serial killer. They exist. Maybe Gary’s death had nothing to do with the notes.’

‘So explain why Howard died? Did Rita kill him too?’

There it was, the giant-sized hole in Janice’s theory. She had momentarily forgotten about Howard. She was quite liking her Rita idea. Deflated, she sipped at her drink. ‘Maybe we should start a list.’

‘A list?’

‘A list of potential suspects.’

Although Fern turned her nose up, she didn’t rubbish the idea, reaching into one of her kitchen drawers for a notebook and pen. ‘Here you go.’

Janice opened the book, picked up the pen. ‘Who should I put on it?’

‘Olivia.’

‘I thought you said Olivia had received notes too?’

‘That’s what she said. I don’t trust her though, so put her name down.’

‘We should add Rita too.’

Fern rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever. And add Noah Keen, Olivia’s boyfriend. There was something about him I don’t trust.’

Janice started to write the name, pausing as another thought occurred to her. ‘Do you think him and Olivia could be in on it together?’

It definitely held up better than her last theory. Olivia had motive and her boyfriend seemed too interested in what was going on. Maybe he was helping her to get revenge.

Although Fern didn’t actually say the words, Janice could tell that she thought it was a plausible idea too. Olivia had been there when Gary had died; she could have been lying about the notes. After all, it made no sense that she would be targeted too, especially as she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Janice thought back to the cruel prank they had played on Olivia in high school. Although they had never been formally identified, Olivia knew who was behind it. Even if she couldn’t remember what happened the night of the fire, she probably hated them all for the video.

Janice did feel bad about that. Fern had been hellbent on revenge, still wanting to punish Olivia even after everything she had already been through. None of them had expected to see Olivia back at school and Fern had been so bitter when she returned, unable to see that she had suffered enough.

Janice had willingly gone along with her revenge plans at the time, only now considering how awful they had been to her.

Does Olivia hate us that much that she wants to see us dead?

‘We should check out Margaret’s brother too,’ Fern said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘I had forgotten about him. Malcolm Grimes, I bloody hated that kid. He was fucked up in the head enough to do something like this.’

Another plausible suspect, though Malcolm Grimes had been a hot-headed kid. If he knew what had happened the night his sister had died, he wouldn’t have left it seventeen years before getting revenge, Janice was sure of it. She added him to the list anyway.

They spent another half an hour considering suspects, but the list remained at four names. Fern was insistent that Janice be the one to check out Malcolm Grimes, wanting to keep tabs on Olivia and Noah herself. Janice intended to do her own investigating anyway, figuring it wouldn’t hurt.

Fern didn’t bother to see Janice out. She stayed at her kitchen counter drinking a fresh vodka and Janice told her she would message her once she had news, before saying goodnight.

She buttoned up her coat and put on her scarf, knowing it was cold outside and a sharp frost was forecast. Letting herself out of the front door, she made sure the latch caught as she pulled it shut, and clicked her keys at her car. As she walked towards it, the outside light came on, illuminating the words scratched into the bonnet of her Toyota.

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