Every Little Breath: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists

It took just a few days for Casey to settle into a new routine. Morning walks with Phoebe along by the river, chatting with Mrs Fletcher, the occupant at number four, when she fetched the post (it hadn’t escaped her attention that the woman appeared without fail regardless of the time, which suggested she kept a lookout for neighbours to talk to), then setting up her MacBook on her balcony, enjoying the warm summer weather and the peaceful surroundings of her new home, as she designed websites for her clients.

Her radio show took up four nights of her week and on Mondays and Tuesdays, she had to make dual trips to Mundesley, where she also had a part-time sales job at East Coast Radio. It wasn’t her first choice of work, but she had needed an in to get a shot at the deejaying, which had for a while been her dream career, gradually earning the friendship and respect of her colleagues, and eventually being rewarded with her own late-night show.

It was hard settling into a routine when the show didn’t finish until the early hours and she then had the drive home, meaning she wasn’t often in bed until 2.30am, but she didn’t complain. An in was an in and hopefully, given time, she could manoeuvre to an earlier slot. It was playing havoc with her sleeping pattern, though, which is why she found herself running late on Wednesday morning, much to Phoebe’s annoyance.

As they returned from their walk, a car pulled ahead of them into the driveway and, recognising it, Casey sped up, a smile on her face as Ricky climbed out, balancing heavily on his walking stick. ‘Surprise.’

‘What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting a visit.’

‘Which is why it’s called a surprise.’ He kissed her cheek before stepping back and giving her the once-over, nodding in approval, before reaching back into the car and pulling out a box. ‘I think this country life is suiting you. Oh, and I thought we could toast your fresh start. Just not with toast. I brought a different kind of breakfast.’

Casey glanced at the Krispy Kreme logo, salivating. All thoughts of her breakfast smoothie going out of the window. Her grin widened. ‘Come on up.’

They ate on the balcony. Strong coffee and a selection of doughnuts on the table as Phoebe lay patiently on the floor, solemn brown eyes glancing up at every movement in the hope they would share. Ricky hadn’t forgotten her and he had brought her a chewy bone, but she had long lost interest in that, convinced there were better treats up for grabs.

Casey knew she had him to thank for the move. Ricky had been the one who had spotted the apartment, had nagged her to go see it when she had initially been looking at houses closer to the city. She wasn’t losing anything by viewing he had told her, and he had been right. She had fallen in love with the place on sight and he had been quick to allay any fears she had about moving further out, pointing out the convenience of Coltishall in proximity to the radio station, as well as how good it would be for Phoebe.

It turned out it had been a good move for both of them. She owed Ricky big time.

Her coffee mug empty, she got up to refill the kettle, loving that the accommodation layout meant that she could chat to him while he was still out on the balcony.

‘How are things with Jared?’ she called through, aware his attention was distracted as he peered over the wall, and guessing he was admiring the view. It was pretty spectacular and had been one of the things that had sold her on the place. From her top-floor position she could see not only the grounds of the house, but the river that ran through the village, plus the far-reaching fields.

‘He’s good. He says hi.’

‘Things are getting serious between you two.’

‘We’re having fun.’ Ricky was being coy, but then he always was when he was in the early stages of a new relationship. ‘Looks like you have some eye candy going on downstairs,’ he commented, conveniently switching the subject. ‘You kept your new neighbour quiet.’

‘What? Who are you talking about?’

Casey rejoined him on the balcony, realised Ricky was actually looking down at the gardens of the ground-floor apartments. She peered over the wall.

In the garden directly below, a man stood drinking coffee while watching a large shaggy dog sniffing around in some bushes. He had his back to them, so Casey couldn’t make out his face, just a headful of dark, bed-ruffled hair, but she could see that, apart from a pair of jeans, that were worn low on his hips, he appeared to be naked, and that what was on show of his body was lean and toned.

‘Look at that bum.’

Casey was, though she ignored the little lick of lust that skittered through her belly. She was newly single and the last thing she wanted was to form any kind of attachment to a neighbour. That was far too close to home. Instead she downplayed it. ‘The bum’s nice, but for all you know, he might need a paper bag for his face.’

‘He doesn’t. I’ve seen it. And it’s just as fine as the rest of him.’

‘You are such a man-whore.’

‘Just window shopping. I want him to turn round again so you can see his pretty face.’

Ricky leaned further over the balcony and Casey grabbed at his arm. ‘Stop it, he’s going to see you.’

Ignoring her, he put his fingers in his mouth and wolf-whistled loudly.

Before Casey could react, the man started to turn and, mortified, she quickly stepped back before he spotted her.

‘Ricky!’ she hissed. ‘Stop it.’

Her request fell on deaf ears. Ricky, who had no shame whatsoever, was still peering over the wall then bursting into laughter as he lifted his hand in a wave.

He glanced back at Casey, a wide grin on his face. ‘He just smiled and raised his coffee cup at me. I think I’ve pulled for you.’

‘You are so embarrassing.’

‘Well actually, he didn’t see you, so maybe I pulled for myself.’

Casey shook her head, went back inside to pour the drinks. ‘He’s all yours. I am giving men a break for a while.’

‘Marcus has really put you off, huh?’ Ricky asked, this time grabbing his walking stick and following.

‘He was just so clingy, wanting me to go on holiday with him, meet his family.’

‘You had been seeing each other for nearly six months. That’s usually how things progress.’

‘It was too much, too soon.’ Casey reached into the fridge for the milk. ‘He was suffocating me.’

She could feel the weight of Ricky’s stare and it cranked her irritation levels up a notch. They both knew the real reason why she would never commit, why the second any relationship started to get serious, she ran for the hills.

‘Not every family has a psycho, Casey.’

She was well aware of that, but still.

Besides, what did Ricky really know? He had never known Gareth, hadn’t been there in the courtroom when she had been forced to recount what had happened. It was easy for him to sit there and judge.

She put the milk away, stirred the coffee, handing him a cup.

‘This has nothing to do with my past,’ she lied. ‘Marcus was a fling. It was never supposed to become serious.’

Ricky nodded, but she knew he knew better. Just as she knew it was shitty to lie to him.

He may not have known Gareth or Steve Noakes, but he had his own demons and knew all about hers.

They had met seven years ago in one of the counselling groups that Casey’s mother had bullied her into attending. It was run by one of Cecelia’s friends and was for victims of trauma and PTSD.

Casey hadn’t wanted to go, had only attended to shut her mother up, quite certain she could work through things herself. She had met Ricky there on her third session, immediately warming to him after he shared the story of his dad’s violent reaction when he found out his only son was gay. Ricky had long left home and although some of his physical scars had healed, he couldn’t walk far without the use of his walking stick. His mental scars also ran deep and it was through helping each other face the demons of their past that a firm friendship had been built. He had been a permanent fixture in her life ever since.

‘Maybe the quickest way to get over that fling then is with another fling,’ Ricky commented, following her back out onto the balcony and helping himself to another doughnut.

The man had the appetite of a horse, yet never seemed to put on any weight, despite his disabilities. Ricky always laughed and called it his nervous energy. Casey was jealous. She knew it would take a week of exercise to burn off the two doughnuts she had eaten.

‘I am not going to hook up with my neighbour. That would just be awkward. Anyway, he’s probably married or living with someone. He is all yours to perv over.’

Ricky waggled his eyebrows and grinned at her, before biting into his doughnut.

As it turned out, Ricky wasn’t the only one doing the perving. And over the next week, Casey found herself enjoying the view from her apartment most mornings, as her new downstairs neighbour – who seemed to have an aversion to shirts – was frequently outside.

She didn’t go out of her way to notice, but it was difficult to avoid him when he was down there with his dog, soaking up the early sun, while enjoying his coffee, and looking like he could give the Diet Coke man a run for his money. She had seen a front view now and, although she hadn’t yet caught a glimpse of his face, it was enough to pique her interest.

She wasn’t planning on approaching him, but what was the harm in having something pretty to look at to kickstart her day?

It was a Thursday morning when their paths finally crossed. Casey had overslept again, waking up to a restless Phoebe who was whining frantically like she was going to pee herself. With no time to shower or run a brush through her hair, she slipped on the rumpled T-shirt and jeans she had worn for her radio show, and went to grab her trainers, only to find one of them was missing from where she had kicked them off by the front door.

‘Damn it, Phoebe!’

There was no question that the dog had hidden it somewhere. Phoebe loved shoes, particularly Casey’s old trainers, and that should have been warning enough to put them away, but Casey had been tired and eager for her bed and she hadn’t been thinking clearly.

Phoebe sat obediently by the door, looking up with guilty eyes, her tail thumping.

She wasn’t going to lead Casey to where she had hidden the shoe and there wasn’t time to find it. Grumbling under her breath, Casey went through to her bedroom and threw open the wardrobe door, looking at her shoe rack.

She wasn’t big on footwear, didn’t have a shoe fetish like Zoe, and her collection consisted of one pair of heels, her knee-high winter boots, two pairs of strappy sandals and hidden at the back where they wouldn’t offend her eyes, the bright-pink crocs her mother had given her a couple of years back. Casey refused to wear them, though had held on to them simply because Cecelia had bought them for her. Right now, though, they were her only option and she hurriedly slipped her bare feet into them, while cursing Phoebe under her breath, and hoping to hell that she didn’t run into anyone while on the dog walk.

No such luck. Mrs Fletcher’s door opened as Casey made her way along the hallway and although Casey tried to explain she was in a rush, the woman wasn’t easy to shake, excited because she had listened to the radio show the previous night. Finally, Casey managed to get a word in edgeways, signalling that Phoebe needed to pee, rushing down the hallway towards the main entrance, but then the door to number one opened and the Diet Coke man she had been ogling stepped into her path.

She realised it was him immediately, despite the fact he had slipped on a T-shirt, dipping her head and hoping to slide past him undetected, not needing another hold-up.

‘Casey?’

Something familiar in that surprised tone caught her off guard and she ground to a halt, much to Phoebe’s annoyance, everything inside her heating up.

It wasn’t him. She was imagining it. Her shoulders tensed and slowly she turned to face him, hoping to hell that she was wrong, but knowing that she wasn’t.

Finn bloody Murphy.

Her first thought was, could she pretend she didn’t recognise him? Though she knew her shocked expression gave her away. The second was, what the fuck do I look like?

As if reading her thoughts, Finn’s gaze did a full sweep of her, from her burning cheeks down to the shocking crocs and back up again.

She had crushed on PC Finn Murphy so badly, had damned him to hell after that hot kiss they had shared was followed by his blistering rejection and he had broken her teenage heart. Of course she had moved on and it was all now in the past, but standing here in front of him, the years rolled back and she was nineteen again.

‘Casey Fallon. I can’t believe it’s you. I didn’t realise you lived here.’

No, I can’t believe it either, Finn. Seriously, I really can’t bloody believe it.

Phoebe whined and tugged on her lead. Casey held tight, her feet unwilling to move.

‘Finn, I… What are you doing here?’

Stupid. Stupid. He’s here because he lives here. He just stepped out of his door.

For a deejay who was supposed to have all the words, she was really struggling to find the right ones.

To make matters worse, he didn’t just live here, he was the guy she had been perving over for the last week. Her favourite morning fix. If only he had turned, if only he had looked up, things would have played out a hell of a lot differently to this.

Phoebe chose that moment to give a warning yelp, followed by another whine, jerking Casey to her senses. She was about to use the dog to make her getaway when Phoebe squatted and decided to relieve herself all over the hallway floor.

Ground, swallow me up now.

Casey cringed, while Finn grinned, seeming to find the whole situation highly amusing.

She was certain he was struggling not to laugh, those dimples of his that had been appealing fifteen years ago, now cutting into a face that had become harder and more rugged, his features more defined. He had definitely improved with age.

‘Wait here. I’ll go get something to clear this up with.’

Like I’m gonna go anywhere.

Mortified, Casey remained rooted to the spot where she was, quite certain things couldn’t possibly get any worse.

She was wrong.

Moments after Finn returned with a wad of paper towels, a bucket and some disinfectant, a perky-looking blonde sauntered into the hallway, wearing a shirt that barely covered her arse. Finn’s shirt, Casey presumed.

She was pretty, petite and sleep-tousled, and it was obvious where she had spent the night.

Wife? Girlfriend?

‘Oh, now I get what you meant when you said accident.’ The woman laughed to Finn, as if it was some private little joke they had just shared.

Casey wished she was anywhere but here.

‘I can take care of this.’ She tried to take the paper towels from Finn.

‘It’s fine. I’ve got it.’

‘While you two bicker, I’m gonna go get dressed.’ The blonde gave Casey the once-over, a sly smile on her face, flicked a quick glance at Finn, then turning on her heel, she disappeared back inside the apartment.

‘Give me the towels.’

‘I said I’ve got it.’

‘No really, she’s my dog. My mess.’

They went to drop to the floor at the same time, bashing heads.

‘Ouch!’

‘Shit, sorry.’ Finn had his hand on her arm now, his warm touch sending little sparks through Casey’s already burning skin. ‘Are you okay?’ He was looking at her so intently, so seemingly worried he had hurt her that she had no choice but to meet his gaze, notice that his eyes were more vividly blue than she remembered; the lines around them adding character.

For a while after his rejection, she had fantasised about bumping into him again. Of course, it hadn’t been in this kind of scenario. Oh no, in her fantasy she was slim and glamorous, witty and successful, and he had realised what a huge mistake he had made.

Having her dog pee a river outside his apartment, while she was wearing last night’s knickers and her mother’s pink crocs was never on the agenda. And to make matters worse, he was her freaking neighbour. She couldn’t even walk away from this mortifying situation with her head held high, knowing that she would never see him again.

‘I’m fine.’ She forced the words out through gritted teeth, trying her best to make them sound pleasant. ‘And honestly, go back inside. I can knock when I’m done.’

‘It will be quicker with two of us.’

He was right, of course, but that didn’t make the situation any easier and Casey struggled through uncomfortable small talk while they scrubbed at the floor, shooting occasional daggers at Phoebe who had slumped down beside them and was looking far too put out for a dog that had just caused such chaos.

Okay, technically none of this was Phoebe’s fault. She had tried to alert Casey that her bladder was bursting and if Casey hadn’t overslept they wouldn’t be in this situation. That didn’t make any of this any easier though.

‘When did you move in?’

‘A couple of weeks back.’

‘Which apartment are you in?’

Jesus. Is this an interrogation? ‘Number nine.’

‘Up on the top floor.’ Finn paused scrubbing, glanced at her again, grin back on his face, immediately getting Casey’s back up.

‘What? Why are you grinning at me like that?’

‘No reason. I was just curious.’

And then it dawned on Casey. Ricky wolf-whistling, Finn glancing up. He wasn’t stupid and would have put two and two together.

‘How long have you lived here?’ she countered, keen to move on to safer ground.

‘A couple of years.’

‘Are you still in the police?’ This was better. She had found her tongue, was leading the questions now.

‘I am.’

‘Your wife is pretty.’ Dangerous ground, Casey.

‘I’m not married.’

‘You’re not?’ Casey’s gaze slid to the apartment door.

Finn stopped scrubbing again and she was aware of him looking at her. ‘Oh, you mean Vicky? Yeah, she’s my umm…’ He trailed off.

‘Well, she’s pretty.’

It had been a stupid comment fuelled by nosiness, but now Casey knew and she didn’t appreciate the little ball of jealousy that had knotted itself in her gut. Finn wasn’t hers. He had never been hers. And they hadn’t seen each other in years. Of course, a man who looked like him was going to have a girlfriend. And a pretty one at that.

And even if he didn’t have a girlfriend, Casey wasn’t interested. She had just broken things off with Marcus and the last thing she needed was to become involved with someone else.

She managed to keep the rest of their conversation to small talk and safer topics, thanking him for helping her clear up Phoebe’s pee, and eager to get away.

‘We should catch up sometime.’ Finn lingered by his front door and his suggestion conjured up thoughts in Casey’s mind of wine and nibbles with him and his pretty blonde girlfriend.

No thanks.

‘That would be great,’ she lied, keen to get away. ‘Well, best not keep this one waiting.’

With as much dignity as she could muster, Casey led Phoebe out of the main door and down the steps at the front of the house, fairly certain Finn was still watching her and quite sure she would never suffer a more embarrassing encounter in her life.

She took Phoebe for a longer walk than originally intended, reluctant to return home in case she bumped into him again. Of course, she couldn’t stay out forever though, and glanced warily around when eventually sneaking back inside.

To her relief Finn’s front door remained closed.

Back upstairs and she fished for her keys in the pocket of her jeans, keen to get showered and put the kettle on.

As soon as she opened the apartment door and stepped inside, she sensed something was wrong.

It wasn’t anything immediately obvious, just a feeling she had, one that had the hairs raising on the back of her neck, and over the years, Casey had learned to trust her gut instinct. The fact that Phoebe seemed on edge, too, only added to her fears.

She removed the dog’s lead, watched as she started sniffing around, following her through into the bedroom. Casey’s bed was still unmade, the strappy pyjama top and shorts she had worn bunched up in the middle of the duvet. Normally, she wouldn’t leave it in a mess, but getting Phoebe out had been urgent. Still, nothing seemed wrong, though there was a faint odour in the air that was off, and Phoebe was definitely unsettled.

Then she spotted the slightly ajar drawer in her dresser, her favourite perfume was twisted so the back of the bottle was facing her, and the two framed pictures that sat on the dresser, one of her family, the other taken on a day out with Zoe and Ricky, were tilted at a slightly different angle.

Had someone been in her apartment?

They were such tiny things, but she was sure she wasn’t imagining them, and they were enough to have her dropping to her knees to look under the bed, checking in the wardrobe and cupboard and any other conceivable place an intruder could be hiding.

The windows were closed, all of them locked, and there was no damage to the front door. She was up on the top floor, which would make it difficult for a burglar to break in.

Besides. Nothing had been taken.

Throughout the day, she tried to reason with herself, tried to convince herself she was mistaken. Paranoia had played a big part in her life, which was part of the reason why her mother had made her go to therapy.

After everything that had happened with Steve Noakes, it was understandable that she was automatically distrustful of certain situations and people. Sometimes she had to talk herself down from overreacting.

This time she was certain she wasn’t being paranoid and so when she left to go to work that night, she tied a piece of cotton around the inside of the doorknob. She held on to the loose end as she let herself out of the apartment, bending down and pulling it taut as she taped it to the wall. There was just enough slack that she would be able to open the door a fraction and see if it had been tampered with when she returned home.

It was a temporary fix until she could get a security camera and the lock changed, which perhaps really was an overreaction, but Casey knew better than most that when it came to self-protection, it was better to be safe than sorry.